#Knives would be the one across the bar in both cases | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

patchouliauthor · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, i absolutely love your work. But can i have another shawn spencer oneshort please?

Hand Over the Evidence | Shawn Spencer X GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, minor limb severing, legal system, alcohol, guns, knives, blood, use of “y/n”

Word Count: Like 5900

A/N: I admittedly don’t know much about the law enforcement system so bear with me. I’m back back back again. My life literally did a complete 180, but I am back due to popular demand (aka like 3 people in my inbox). Love ya, mean it, here’s something I’ve been cooking up.

Summary: You’re a detective in Santa Barbara and you team up with the eccentric fake psychic Shawn Spencer to investigate a bizarre string of restaurant break-ins. The seemingly harmless incidents escalate when a severed hand is found at a high-end bistro, accompanied by cryptic napkin messages. While tensions rise among the team, the case takes a chilling turn, hinting at a calculated and sinister motive.

There was never a dull moment in Santa Barbara, at least not where you worked. As a detective with the Santa Barbara Police Department, you never got bored. Especially not with the eccentric Shawn Spencer always weaseling his way into your caseload. Is weaseling the right word? Considering you actually thoroughly enjoyed his antics, you’re not quite sure. They always kept you entertained. The jury is still out on psychics, but if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Even for Santa Barbara, this case was unusual. And you knew “unusual.” You formerly worked for the FBI as a criminal profiler, and if it weren’t for your father falling ill, you probably still would be. But you moved back home from Quantico and settled into a much lower stakes job working for the SBPD. Despite your background, this newest case definitely gave you a pause.

It was simple really. Just a string of break-ins in some of Santa Barbara’s premier restaurants. What stumped you was that there was nothing stolen or broken; the only sign of a break-in was the broken locks and the scrawled notes left on napkins.

“The feast is set, but the guests are missing.” You said, reading the newest napkin note.

“This is a waste of time.” said Detective Carlton Lassiter.

You looked at him quizzically. “I’m not so sure about that, Lassiter.”

He rolled his eyes. Lassiter rarely got along with anyone, let alone you. You beat his score on the Marksmanship Qualification Program by three points, and he’s yet to live it down.

“There’s clear intent here.” You said.

“Sure there is.” He replied. “The intent to make me waste my time.”

Juliet, ever the diplomat of the pair, offered another perspective. “It could be just someone with a grudge against these restaurants, like maybe a competitor trying to scare their rivals.”

“Or…” Shawn trailed off as he leaned dramatically against the doorframe. “...A ghost chef exacting revenge on the living.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “No one asked you, Spencer.” Shawn sauntered into the room, unfazed.

“I’m just saying,” Shawn continued, “if you put the napkins together, they could spell out an ancient recipe for vengeance.”

“Vengeance stew,” Gus muttered nervously, adjusting his tie.

You ignored them both, instead turning to Chief Vick. “This feels calculated. The phrasing, the escalation… This is building towards something bigger.”

Chief Vick looked skeptical, but sighed. “Keep me updated. I can’t justify allocating more resources to this until we have more to go on.”

Lassiter smirked as he left. “Don’t worry Bureau, I’m sure you’ll crack the code of the magical napkins before the lunch rush.”

You didn’t rise to the bait.

The next crime scene was no laughing matter.

Yellow tape stretched across the high-end bistro, chicly named La Table Éclair. The tables were overturned, chairs in disarray, and broken locks littered the floor. No one batted an eye at that when they realized what was in the center of it all. A severed hand, palm-up, on the mahogany bar.

“The hand that feeds will starve,” you muttered, reading the scribbled napkin next to it. “The ring binds no more.”

Gus took one look at the grisly scene and promptly fainted, crumpling into a heap at Shawn’s feet.

“Gus!” Shawn exclaimed, catching him with surprising ease. “Buddy! Stay with me. You’re too beautiful for the floor!” Your eyes were trained on the evidence, cameras flashing from the crime scene photographers just over your shoulder. Shawn set his best friend down gently before approaching to get a better look.

Despite the grim atmosphere, Shawn couldn’t resist leaning closer to the dismembered hand. “Well, look at you, Lefty,” he said, as if addressing an old friend. “You’ve really let yourself go. What happened? Bad breakup? Lost your grip on life?”

You could almost feel the warning look Juliet gave him, but you were too busy analyzing everything about the scene in front of you.

Gus started to come to, standing up slowly and trying to pretend like that never happened. You almost had to laugh; how many crime scenes had this poor man been dragged to? He stood next to Shawn, whispering. They did that a lot, you noticed.

You tried to look at Lassiter, in part to ask what he was thinking and in part to see if he realized just how wrong he was yet. Realistically, you knew better. Even when he knows he’s wrong, he rarely will admit it. He avoided your gaze. Shawn notices this and starts speaking loudly. “You know you’ve really gotta hand it to Detective Lethal Weapon over there. Look who was right all along, Lassie.” You smirked at his comment.

“Bag up the hand.” Said Chief Vick. “We’ll have Woody take a look at it.”

Back at the station, you and your colleagues stood in the autopsy room sharing theories.

“Clearly, this is the work of someone who couldn’t hand-le the heat in the kitchen. Look at the message! ‘The hand that feeds will starve?’ That is some classic chef drama. They are probably sautéing vengeance as we speak.” Shawn quipped.

“It’s obvious what is happening. These are just vandals who started with pranks and decided to up the ante for attention. Leaving the hand is just a sick calling card. Probably some wannabe gang trying to cause chaos.” Lassiter replied.

“I don’t know about that, Lassiter. It feels like whoever did this wasn’t just targeting the restaurant– they were targeting someone connected to it.” Juliet added.

Shawn rolled his eyes. “It seems like you are forgetting there’s a handless Joe walking around here, Lassie.”

“I think you mean a handless Jane.” Woody said as he entered the conversation. “This is clearly a ladies hand.” The team all turned to look at him as he continued. “This is classic intimidation. And the cut on the hand is jagged, probably done while the victim was still alive, and certainly not done by any professional. This is just like those old mob cases I read about! Except, with fewer italian accents and even more bistros”

“Wait!” Shawn said. “I’m getting a vision!” He said as he put his hand to his temple. He then looked at that hand, confused. He grabbed his hand with the other one and slammed it on the table. He then mimicked the motion of chopping it off. Lassiter rolled his eyes, and Chief Vick and Juliet looked at him with mild concern. You, of course, barely noticed, too lost in your own thoughts about the case.

“I’ve got it!” Shawn finally said.

“Spencer, if you say one word about the mob even once, I swear I will have you arrested for obstruction.” Lassiter replied.

Shawn ignored him. “It was-”

You interrupt. “What about the ring?”

Everyone paused. They turn to you like they just noticed you were even here.

“The ring?” Woody asked.

“Yes. Can I see it?” You asked him.

He seemed confused until it dawned on him that you are onto something. He grabbed the ring as you gloved up your hands, before handing it over to you.

You analyzed this ring. There was nothing particularly amazing about it. It was a simple gold band, delicate and feminine, with a square cut ruby gem. The gem was nothing to sneeze at, but certainly not your taste. You then noticed some engraving on the inside of the band.

“MK.” You said aloud.

“Who’s MK?” Juliet asked.

“Michael Keaton?” Shawn added, playfully.

“Hopefully it’s not Mila Kunis.” Added Gus.

“Will both of you just shut u-” Lassiter says before a loud beep interrupts him. Woody quickly runs over to the source of the sound, his computer.

“It looks like we have a hit on the fingerprints. This lovely limb belongs to none other than Isabelle Noir.” He said.

“Isabelle Noir?” Juliet asked. “The famous lockpick?”

“That could be the message the culprit is trying to send.” Chief Vick said. “The hand of a lockpick? Broken locks?”

“But what did Isabelle have to do with all of this?” Juliet asked.

Isabelle Noir was more than a lockpick, but a local legend. However, after serving her last bit of time she had been completely off the radar.

“If this involves Noir, there’s more than enough people who would like to take a shot at her.” Lassiter said.

Chief Vick folded her arms, her expression dark. “We need to figure out who would go to such extremes to send a message—and why now.”

“Maybe it’s a rival?” Juliet suggested. “Someone who wanted to take her spot as the best in the business.”

“Could be, but leaving the hand feels personal,” Lassiter interjected. “A rival wouldn’t need to make it this grotesque. It’s got vendetta written all over it.”

Shawn, who had been unusually quiet, snapped his fingers. “Isabelle isn’t the target! The culprit must be using her to get to someone else!”

Gus raised an eyebrow. “You mean like a partner in crime?”

“Exactly! Or an ex-partner in crime. What if MK doesn’t stand for a person, but a...place?” Shawn grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

Lassiter scoffed. “Oh, please, Spencer. You’re just throwing darts in the dark as usual.”

“Am I, Lassie?” Shawn replied, leaning casually on the examination table. “Think about it. Severed hand, cryptic messages, and a lockpick famous for slipping through people’s fingers—literally. It’s not about her. It’s about who she’s connected to.”

“Do you have anything resembling proof, or are we all just supposed to ride this train of baseless speculation with you?” Lassiter shot back.

Before Shawn could answer, Woody, who had been clicking through files on his computer, spun around in his chair.

“Shawn may be onto something. There was a known associate of Noir’s named Marvin Kale. He and Isabelle worked together on several heists about five years ago. Their partnership ended abruptly after a falling out. Word is, Marvin kept going while Isabelle...well, she didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Shawn asked.

“Didn’t want to. She turned herself in not long after, served her time, and vanished.” Woody said.

Juliet frowned. “And Marvin Kale?”

“Still active in certain circles. No arrests, but lots of rumors.” Said Woody.

“If this is about Kale, we need to track him down. Now.” Lassiter said commandingly.

“But where to start?” Said Juliet.

You looked up to see Shawn and Gus quietly exit the room, going unnoticed except for by you. You let them go, more focused on the case than anything else. “Wasn’t there supposed to be a grand opening of a new high end restaurant in Montecito tonight? Maybe it’s worth checking out.” You said.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Said Chief Vick. “What’s the name?”

“Monarch and King.” You replied.

“MK.” Lassiter added.

Chief Vick looked at her team. “We’ll be there. Detective Y/L/N, you have experience going undercover. You’ll be our covert officer. We’ll have eyes and ears inside the restaurant.”

“On it, Chief.” You replied. It had been a while since you went undercover, but you were excited to do it again.

“Do you think that’s the best idea?” Lassiter says. “Maybe I should be the one, Chief.”

“I’ve got this Lassiter.” You said confidently.

“We know you do.” Said Chief Vick. “Do us proud.”

This was the most exclusive event in Santa Barbara. The strings Chief had to pull to get you on the guest list must have been extensive. Of course it’s not you, it’s Rowan Blake. The name even sounded exclusive; like someone you have to pay to see. You put on your best attire, hoping that it was enough to at the very least go undetected. You were far from opulent, but you did clean up quite nicely, when you had the time to do so and a place to go.

Your taxi stopped, as did your racing thoughts. There was a time and a place to spiral, but this was not that time. You immediately became Rowan, and you thanked your driver with a generous tip.

The building was quite impressive; a mediterranean style like many buildings are here in Montecito. Stucco walls with soft shades of ivory and beige, ornate iron detailing, arched windows, dark wood. It was beautiful. What made it stand out the most though was a large carving in the top middle of the building, just above the grand double doors: The letters “MK.” You buried a smirk beneath your stoic expression.

As you approached the doors, the door attendant caught your eye. He looked young and nervous, like he didn’t expect to have such an important job. Poor thing, you thought to yourself. This is going to be easier than expected. You approached the desk where he stood and smiled.

“Rowan Blake?” You told him. He quickly scanned the names on the list in front of him, landing on your faux moniker. He gulped before looking up at you. “You may go in. Have a nice night.” He said with an awkward smile. You graciously smiled back and walked inside.

The interior was just as elegant as the exterior. Rich velvet curtains, polished marble floors, and intricate gold designs. There were subtle crowns adorning the walls, as well as portraits of supposed royalty. There was a large ballroom floor in the middle, likely just for this event, and plush leather chairs surrounding sturdy dark tables on the edges of the floor. Intimate booths with curtains lined the walls, as well as a large open bar. Chandeliers offered soft, low light throughout the room. You scanned the room, trying to memorize as many faces as you could while still maintaining the casual nature a typical guest would have. You walked confidently to the bar, trying to fit in as much as possible.

Once at the bar, you ordered a Vesper martini. You weren’t much of a drinker, at least not anymore, but you knew that one would take a bit to make. You listened in on the conversation nearby, but did not quite hear anything useful.

“Hello gorgeous.” A voice said behind you. Confused, you turned to face none other than Shawn Spencer. You tried to suppress your shock.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You said under your breath.

“The same thing you’re doing I presume.” He answered quietly.

You gave him a look. “Shawn-”

“It’s actually Montgomery Kinsington.” He interrupted.

You almost had to stifle a laugh. “...Seriously?”

“What?” He smirked. “Too fancy?”

He turned to the bar and called over the bartender. “Excuse me sir.” He said with an ambiguous and ridiculous accent. “I would like the Crown Jewel please.”

“Is that coming out of your pocket or Gus's?” You whispered. “That’s only the most expensive cocktail you and I have ever seen.”

He smirked once again, a Shawn Spencer special. “You know, it’s sort of like we’re on a date, Lethal Weapon.”

You returned the smirk at the nickname he had given you. “Not remotely. I’m here to solve a case. You’re here to wear a ridiculously flashy suit and order a $55 cocktail.”

“Who says you can’t do all of the above?” He smiled, grabbing his drink and sneaking off further into the party. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold in the grin that split your face.

After some scanning, you lock eyes with a man, sipping his drink. He smiled over his glass. You returned the smile. The man was decently attractive, tall with salt and pepper hair and some stubble along his jaw. His eyes never left yours as he took another sip, gesturing you over to him. During this sip, you noticed his ring. Gold with a red stone, albeit much more masculine than the one sitting in evidence currently. It certainly could be a coincidence, but your gut said to investigate, so you approached him confidently.

He smiled as you approached, shooing away the company he already had. When you got close enough to him, he leaned down to your ear so he could be heard over the music playing.

“And who may you be?” He asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You replied flirtatiously. At this, he chuckled lowly and placed his hand on the small of your back, lightly pushing you away from the rest of the crowd. You instinctively stiffened slightly, but allowed him to guide you wherever he wished to go, keeping your guard as high as it could be.

“How about if you tell me your name…” He said, lightly pushing you to a booth for more privacy. “...I’ll tell you mine.”

You smirked. “My name is Rowan. Rowan Blake.” You said.

He rested his head behind your ear. “That’s quite lovely. I haven’t seen you around, are you new to the area?”

You reached the booth and sat down. “Not so fast, you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

He grinned, sitting down and pulling the curtains closed. “I’m Mr. Kale, but I let pretty people like you call me Marvin.” He pauses while he takes another long sip of his drink. “I don’t believe we’ve met, have we? Are you new to the area?” “You are just full of questions, aren’t you… Marvin.” You replied coyly.

He chuckles. “It just seems like you’re not really here. Like you’re only observing and not participating.”

You grin. “You can say I’m just here for the entertainment. I’m not really in the business of entertaining myself, really.”

“Really? I find you quite entertaining.” He says. “So what’s your story?”

“Not much of a story to tell. I’m just here for some fun. But I have a feeling there’s more going on around here than meets the eye. What do you think?” You ask him.

Marvin leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low. “There’s always more than meets the eye, isn’t there? Some people can’t see it. They’re too busy looking at the surface, missing the important stuff.”

“Is that so?” You replied.

“Oh painfully so. But there are also those people like the two of us. Dancing around the truth, yet it is so deliciously obvious. People like us? We don’t mind a little game. It keeps things lively.” He answered.

You batted your eyelashes at him. “And what kind of game are we playing?”

Just then the curtains are yanked back. You both are startled and look at who ruined your conversation, only to meet the face of Shawn Spencer. Typical.

“This isn’t my booth! So sorry to interrupt you two.” He said.

“Not a problem.” Marvin replied.

Shawn shot you a knowing look before closing the curtains. You looked back at the man across from you, trying to get back to where you were.

“Let’s take this somewhere more private.” He said, getting up. He took your hand and helped you out of your seat before walking you back through a door on the side of the room. Alarm bells started going off in your head, but your search for answers muffled the sound.

The room was lit by a singular candle on a table sitting in the very center. Two chairs sat across each other, and the room smelled slightly of bergamot. Marvin led you in before shutting the door behind you.

“How did you know this was here?” You asked. While you tried to remain flirtatious, you feared that it came across as a bit fearful. Whether or not he caught it, you weren’t sure.

“Did I forget to mention?” He said. He raised your hand and gave a soft kiss to your knuckles. “This is my establishment.”

Your eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize.”

He chuckled at that. “There’s a lot to learn about me, Rowan.”

Illuminated by candle light, he poured two glasses of wine. You had enough sense to know that if you have any of that, he has to have some first. To reassure you, he took a sip from his glass. You followed suit, taking a much smaller sip.

“I must be honest Rowan. I would very much like to kiss you.” He said softly.

You tensed up internally, hoping that he couldn’t tell. “Well. What’s stopping you?” You replied.

He laughed softly before reaching up to cup your face. Your head started spinning. What’s going on? You thought to yourself.

Before you can even think, Marvin collapsed. You had to steady yourself on the table, fighting whatever was taking control of your system. Just then, the door swung open, and through the light flooding the room, you realized that you are not alone. A figure stood in the darkness the whole time. You fell to your knees, clutching the edge of the table for any sort of stability. In your final moments of consciousness, you realized that Shawn is who entered the room. You tried to muster the strength to warn him when everything goes black.

You woke up slowly, head heavy, to find yourself bound to a harsh wooden chair. You could feel rough rope digging into your wrists tied behind your back. It took a few seconds but you regained feeling in your shoulders, unfortunately. Every joint in your body hurt like hell, like you hadn’t moved in 10 years.

Again, you felt the presence of others, and you slowly lifted your head as much as you could to find two, also unconscious and bound to chairs surrounding a table. Across from you was Marvin and a woman you did not recognize. The woman was not bound by her arms, though they were tied behind her back, but instead bound around her chest and abdomen to the chair. She had dark, disheveled hair, and her head hung backwards over the back of her seat.

As you regained your strength, you were able to lift your head more, taking in the surroundings of the room you were in. It was elegant, but old and dusty, like it had been forgotten about for some time. You turned to your left and your stomach dropped. Another person was tied next to you: Shawn, still unconscious. The sight of him jump started you, and you started pulling at the rope holding you. You pulled with such force you almost knocked your chair down backwards, and your skin started to burn. You cursed under your breath.

“Giving up already, Detective?” A voice said from behind you. You stilled. Shawn started to slowly wake up, as did Marvin and the mysterious woman across from you.

You heard heels clicking on the ground, coming your way. Eventually, a woman walked into your line of sight. She looked polished, with a dark red gown and a modest updo. She smiled.

“The guests are finally arriving, but I didn’t expect to have you two here.” She said gesturing to yourself and Shawn. “What a lovely turn of events.”

“What is this?” You ask.

She giggled. “Well, it’s a feast, silly!” She said, hands clasped in front of her. You noticed her choice in jewelry. Gold band, red square cut stone. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Marisol Kane. It’s lovely to meet you, Detective.”

The woman across the table spoke up quietly. “Marisol, let these people go.”

“I don’t want to hear one word out of your whore mouth, Isabelle.” She replied, warmth suddenly gone.

“What is this about?” Marvin said, finally conscious.

“What is this about? This is about you stealing the woman I love and turning her against me!” Marisol yelled, brandishing a knife.

“Allow me.” Shawn quipped. You wished you could stop him but even with free arms there is nothing to stop that mouth from running.

“It starts with you, Isabelle Noir. You’re the stuff of criminal legend. The Picasso of lockpicking, except instead of painting, you were cracking safes and stealing hearts. And then, one day, you vanished. No goodbye, no farewell tour, just poof—gone. Everyone assumed you’d gone straight or, at the very least, decided to retire somewhere with a beach and a fruity drink. But no. You’ve been here. Hiding. Because someone made sure you couldn’t run.

And that someone? Marisol Kane. Marisol, your obsession with Isabelle is, how do I put this delicately, certifiable. You were her best friend, but secretly, you wanted to be so much more. And when you found out she said yes to Marvin—Marvin! Of all people—something in your brain just… snapped. You couldn’t stand the idea of Isabelle loving anyone else, especially not him.

So, what did you do? You decided to get back at Marvin for all the pain that he caused you. By leaving his fiancée’s severed hand at a rival eatery, adorned with the ring he gave her. You meticulously left a trail of breadcrumbs leading us all the way to Mr. Kale himself, hoping that the initials alone would be enough. You’ve been pulling the strings this whole time, letting him twist in guilt and regret while you’ve been keeping Isabelle locked away like some tragic fairytale villain. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?

No, you’re not just satisfied with Marvin’s misery. You want revenge. And what better way to get back at him than to kill the woman he loved, right in front of him? Let him watch as you take away the one person he couldn’t protect. It’s dark, it’s twisted, it’s, honestly, a little too on the nose, but hey, points for commitment.

But you forgot one teensy little detail. Me, Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. I knew your whole plan all along, and trust me, law enforcement is already on their way.” Shawn leaned closer to you and whispered. “They are on their way, right?”

Marisol slammed her knife on the table.

“That’s not all…” Continued Shawn. “The worst part is, no matter how this goes, Isabelle is never going to love you the way you love her.”

Marisol looked at him, engulfed in rage. “That’s enough. You think you know everything. But you don’t. Not yet anyway.” She took your chair and pulled you closer to her, picking up the knife and holding it to your neck.

Shawn’s grin dropped.

“You know how I feel, loving someone who does not feel the same.” She pressed the knife further into your skin. “Now you get to watch as they die.”

Your eyes widened and your life flashed before your eyes. Was this really your final moment?

“Don’t do this!” Shawn yelled.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” Marisol replied.

Shawn paused. “Because you’ll never get away with it.” He said.

Marisol shrugged. “Oh well.” She began to push the knife further when Shawn spoke up again.

“Because what will it prove?”

Marisol laughed chillingly. “Not good enough, Spencer.”

You steeled your expression and prepared to greet death when Shawn spoke up one final time.

“Because if you hurt Y/N, you will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, praying that you don’t find me.”

That gave everyone a pause, including you. Marisol loosened her grip on you slightly, before chuckling.

“Love is weakness, Shawn.” She replied.

Suddenly the doors swung open and police entered the room, led by Lassiter and Juliet. Marisol pressed the knife tighter to your neck, using you as a human shield.

“Put the weapon down now!” Lassiter commands.

Marisol refused, staring coldly at the weapon pointed directly at her.

“You don’t want to do this, you could walk away from this.” Juliet added.

Marisol laughed sadly, before looking over at Isabelle. Isabelle silently pleaded with her to put down the weapon. She did not.

“I was never going to walk away from this.” She murmured under her breath before slamming the knife into your shoulder. You barely registered the pain, just as you barely registered the sounds of gunfire and Marisol’s collapsing body. Her grip on the knife remained, and she yanked it out of your wound on her way down.

Everything started moving in slow motion. You could hear yelling. Was that Lassiter calling for paramedics? You couldn’t be sure. Your shoulder felt warm and wet, and then the pain set in. A loud noise ripped throughout the room, and it took just a moment to realize it came from you.

You looked at Juliet, your friend and confidant. You had never seen such concern across her face. She rushed over to you and untied you, gently lowering you to the floor. Your whole arm and chest felt like it was on fire. Shawn and Gus appeared next to you too, though you could barely see through the spots in your vision. How’d Gus get here? Am I dying? You thought to yourself. No. Not yet. You’re just in shock. Even in this state you had to be the voice of reason.

Juliet applied pressure to the wound. Shawn shouted at someone you couldn’t see, and Gus grabbed your other hand, holding it tightly. You could hear the other officers securing the scene, moving what you assumed to be Marvin and Isabelle out of the way.

“You are going to be okay, you can’t die on me yet.” Shawn’s voice cut through the noise. “Not when there’s so much left for me to tell you.”

It took everything in you to move your eyes over to meet his. He looked as if he was going to cry. You mustered out a faint. “Not… going… anywhere.”

As you slipped from consciousness, you saw the lights of the ambulance through a crack in the wall, and then nothing.

The antiseptic smell hit you first, then the faint beeping of the machinery you were hooked up to. You knew exactly where you were, Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital. You hoped you never got used to waking up in this fashion, head heavy and eyes blurred. Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the bland atmosphere and the warm sunlight coming in through the blinds. The room was standard and cold, but your eyes lit up when you saw who was there.

Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, and even Chief Vick, all lost in conversation.

“You know, maybe we should throw a big party. Maybe with a ‘Congratulations on Not Dying’ banner. Thoughts?” Shawn asked.

Gus rolled his eyes. “No, Shawn. You don’t just throw parties for someone in the hospital.”

“Why not? It’s uplifting! I’ll get balloons and a cake that says ‘Y/N, Please Never Scare Us Like That Again.’” Shawn replied.

“It’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Juliet added.

Lassiter crossed his arms. “The worst idea he ever had was pretending to be a psychic.”

“That is your small-minded interpretation of my God-given abilities.” Shawn replied, mockingly offended.

“Here we go.” Gus said.

You stirred and the team turned to look at you. They sighed a collective sigh of relief.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Juliet said. You smiled weakly in reply.

“How are you feeling?” Shawn asked.

“They almost bled out after being stabbed in the shoulder, how do you think they are feeling?” Gus added.

“You gave us a real scare back there, Bureau. Next time, try not to throw yourself into danger like some action movie hero.” Lassiter said.

“Yeah Y/N, how dare you do something brave and selfless. Lassie would prefer you to run away screaming.” Shawn quipped.

“I’d prefer for you to not end up in the hospital.” Lassiter said, grumbling.

“Lassiter just means we’re all really glad you’re okay.” Juliet added.

You smiled. Chief Vick spoke up. “We’re really proud of your bravery, and we’re glad to see you back.” She turned to everyone else. “Let’s give Detective Y/L/N some space.”

As the team left, you mustered the strength to speak. “Hey Lassiter.” You said. He turned back to look at you. “Nice shot.” You said and he almost cracked a smile.

“Considering your score on the Marksmanship Qualif-” You continued.

Lassiter interrupted by rolling his eyes and swiftly walking out of the room. Even Chief Vick smirked a bit at that.

Gus and Shawn were the last to leave. They headed toward the door when Shawn suddenly stopped. Gus turned to look at him and Shawn gestured for him to go ahead. Gus looked back at you and then back at Shawn. “Don’t say anything stupid.” He said.

He just grinned and looked at the floor in return. Gus smiled at you before walking out of the room.

Shawn turned back to you, eyes still on the floor and hands in his pockets. He walked back to sit down next to you.

“So, what are all the things you haven’t told me yet?” You asked.

He finally looked up at you. “You remember that?” He asked back.

“Answer my question first.” You said.

He chuckled a bit. After a moment he finally spoke up. “You scared the hell out of me,” he said softly, his voice unusually sincere. “I thought I lost you back there.”

You began to speak but he stopped you and continued. “I’ve been doing this thing where I crack jokes and avoid feelings because, you know, feelings are terrifying. But seeing you like that, seeing you hurt, it made me realize I can’t keep avoiding this.”

He leaned closer, his expression raw and unguarded. “I’m in love with you. There, I said it. I love you. I love the way you see the world, the way you keep me grounded when my brain’s flying off in eight different directions. I love the way you call me out when I’m being ridiculous and how you secretly laugh at my jokes when you think I’m not looking, and-”

You smiled and interrupted him. “Shawn.”

He looked back at you, looking completely vulnerable. You didn’t mind it, seeing him this way. It was different.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I love you too.”

His face lit up and he let out a small, incredulous laugh. “You do?”

“Always have.” You admitted.

Shawn blinked, clearly taken aback. For once in his life, he was speechless. He ran a hand through his hair, his usual smirk replaced with a genuine, boyish grin.

"Wow," he finally said, sitting back slightly but still leaning close enough that you could see the sparkle in his eyes. "Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, I hoped. But hearing it? That’s...wow."

You chuckled softly, wincing a little at the motion, and Shawn immediately leaned forward, concern flashing across his face.

"Hey, hey, no laughing if it hurts," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Doctor Shawn prescribes...uh...smiling. Smiling’s safer."

"Smiling’s overrated," you teased, even as a small grin crept across your face.

"Not when you do it," he shot back, the flirtation in his tone genuine, not just his usual banter.

For a moment, there was silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Shawn reached out hesitantly, his hand brushing against yours on the bed.

“You know Gus sped me to the hospital in his work car? It may not look it but that thing can go pretty fas-”

"Shawn," you said.

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me already."

His eyes widened slightly, but only for a second before he leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was afraid to hurt you, but it didn’t take long for him to melt into it. His hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

When he pulled back, his smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it.

"Okay, officially the best day ever," he said, his voice breathless.

"Even better than the time you solved the case of the stolen pineapple?" you teased.

"Way better," he said without hesitation. "Though we might need to commemorate this moment with a pineapple smoothie. For tradition, obviously."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me now," he said, grinning. "Forever."

"Forever doesn’t sound so bad," you replied, and the way he looked at you in that moment made you feel like it really wouldn’t be.

#shawn spencer oneshot #shawn spencer #psych #psych fanfiction #james roday rodriguez

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dvggered · 11 months ago

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Happy Birthday Jackie!!

@insanislupus

Rebekah peeks over Gordon's shoulder as he pulls the shortcake she had compelled him to make from the oven. Judgmental as she is, she knows she would completely ruin this recipe if attempted so she's best as an observer in this scenario. The original finds a nice countertop and hops onto it to watch. “Don't forget my special garnish Ramsay,” she calls out, knowing he won't because he's compelled.

In a short time, there is a beautiful strawberry shortcake dish before her just calling Jackie's name. It's not quite ready just yet though. Her eyes flick up to stare at him deadpan and impatient. He gets the message clearly and grabs one of the beautiful knives from his collection and wordlessly runs the sharp blade down his forearm causing a steady stream of blood to drizzle across the whipped cream covered dessert like a work of art. It’s perfect. Rebekah wraps it in a cute little box covered in anatomically correct hearts and adds a beautiful blood-red rose to finish the look.

With all her little gifts in place, she impatiently waits for Nik and Jackie to get home. The moment their feet cross the threshold Rebekah is beside them, linking arms with Jackie excitedly. “Sorry Nik, the birthday girl is mine now. You can possibly have her back in a few hours but no promises.” She smirks at him and then Jackie looking to the other girl for permission to steal her away just in case she wants to stay with him for whatever reason. The moment Jackie begins to nod and her lips part to say something, the original is pulling Jackie away not even bothering to wait for Niklaus to respond.

Their first stop is the bar of course. Rebekah compelled quite a few people specifically for this night, including a really hot and tasty bartender (she had checked, quality control). He had two bourbons already waiting as soon as they walked into the room and Rebekah grabbed both glasses, handing Jackie one. “To the most incredible best friend and sister. You deserve the world but sadly I do seem to have my limitations surprisingly so this will do.” Rebekah winks at the hybrid and they clink glasses in a toast.

Four more glasses down and the two girls are starting to feel the buzz set in. Rebekah excitedly pulls Jackie from the couch they were settling into. She’s almost vibrating with the excitement to give Jackie her birthday gifts. “Up up! Let's go!! You have to see your birthday gifts now that drinks are started! I can't wait any longer!”. Jackie smirks up at Rebekah “Okay okay, jeez bex, you're worse than a chihuahua when you get excited.” The hybrid is at Bekah's side in a blur and Rebekah is grinning ear to ear.

Rebekah guides them to a forgotten room tucked into the compound. She places her hands over the hybrid's eyes “No peeking!” she blurts and pushes them through the door, switching on the lights and letting the room shine in all its glory. Rebekah pulls her hands from Jackie's eyes and gives the hybrid a moment to register what the room is meant to be. It doesn't take long before Jackie is turning to Rebekah with a huge grin “Bekah, did you make a room for my heart collection?!” Rebekah fully returns the hybrid's grin nodding excitedly. “Yes, I did!! Let me give you a little tour! Then we have a special little birthday dessert.”

They go through each little compartment of the room Rebekah had custom created (by compulsion of course). Everything is also spelled by a witch to ensure the hearts stored are kept viable if desired. There's a little experimentation desk with all sorts of examination equipment just in case Jackie felt the urge to explore a little deeper. As well as 2 full walls of individual boxes for each heart to be stored into. Her previous heart fridge gifted from Nik is also blended into the decor just in case she still wants it for sentimental reasons. The last tour stop is to a special corner made just for Jackie's dog baby, so she can rest if Jackie is in here for a while.

“Bex, this is insane.” Jackie actually seems in awe for a few minutes and Bekah absolutely revels in it. “I'm so glad you like it! Now for dessert, let's go!” She pours herself and the hybrid an overfilled glass of wine from the cart she had put next to the room. Just in case Jackie needs a buzz in the future, she is fully stocked with all her favorite drinks.

When they get to the kitchen the cake box is still perfectly presented on the kitchen island waiting for its owner. As well as four poor, hot souls who crossed Rebekah’s path during this planning process. They were all compelled and would be finishing out this party with them tonight much to Rebekah’s delight as she had already run quality control and knew that the brunette in particular was delicious and even seemed to enjoy her bite. Too bad her heart was likely to end up in one of those shiny new boxes by morning. Maybe Jackie would let Bekah have a little fun with her first as a thank you.

The original promptly guides Jackie over to the box waiting for them and hops up on the counter again. “It's all yours love, however, I'd love it if you shared a bite because damn can Gordon make a cake. Jackie pulls the box open and finds the blood-drizzled strawberry shortcake waiting and beautiful. “Damn bex, this looks so good.” Jackie walks over to grab 2 forks and gives one to Bekah. They eat basically the whole thing while discussing stealing Randy Fenoli from ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ for a gown collection. Gordon had worked out so well they might as well see who else they can kidnap next.

Jackie finishes off her last bite of cake and downs the rest of the champagne they had paired with it. The moment the fork hits the plate Rebekah pops off the counter. “Okay, truly the last surprise. These lovely four will be joining us for the rest of the night, possibly even joining your collection if you want. If possible though I'd love more time with this one” Rebekah wraps her arm around the cute girl she was dying to get another taste of and smirks at Jackie. Jackie's wicked little grin meets Rebekah's and it's very clear they will be spending the rest of the night throwing their own little blood soaked party.

#��──❁ Jackie ♡ insanislupus ❁───#long post #its late but its full of love

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scarletttries · 3 years ago

Text

Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Adrian Chase Vigilante x Reader

Rating: Not explicit, but includes alcohol use, some PG-13 action and mention of a bad date experience (nothing violent).

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s note: I’ve been obsessively listening to Taylor Swift’s “Message In A Bottle (Fat Max G Remix)” all week as it is pure dopamine to me, and naturally that inspired me to write a love letter Adrian story.

***

"Cheers!" you all shouted cheerily pleased to be celebrating another job well done. You had just closed a case with the 11th Street kids and when Emilia had put herself out there and asked if anyone wanted to join her for a beer, you and Adebayo had been quick to call for a gals night! Through much pouting and a surprising comprehensive lecture about how a separate-gendered social calendar only exacerbates the harmful dichotomy of the patriarchy, Adrian had also been invited and the four of you sat in Harcourt's favourite bar clinking your beer bottles together.

You and Emilia exchanged a warm look as Adebayo started talking about the options for dog Halloween costumes she was considering for her fur babies, and as always Adrian's gaze was fixed on you as much as he thought he could get away with before someone kicked him under the table for being creepy. He couldn't help it, ever since the day you two met as part of a mission he was just drawn to you. You were fun and smart and just seemed like the most real person he'd ever met. He wanted to know everything about you, and spend all his time around you, telling you his thoughts and hearing your replies. The way you lit up when you laughed made him want to save all his best jokes for you, his stomach fluttering whenever your eyes met his. He had spent so many restless nights wanting to tell you how he felt, but every time he got you alone and you gave him your undivided attention, bright eyes shining up at him, he chickened out, terrified he would never mean that much to you. Little did he know there was already a reason you smiled so brightly at him, and blushed when he scooted to the seat next to you for car journeys, and struggled to sleep when you thought of him too much - you already felt completely the same way about the sweet, beautiful, genius, murder moron.

So that's why he'd fought to come out with you all tonight, never wanting the miss the chance to spend time with you and hoping that maybe, with a little Dutch courage, tonight might be the night he came clean about how he felt. He laughed as you and Harcourt told the table about the worst undercover mission you ever tried to pull off (pretending to be a fortune teller and palm reader in New Orleans, but never figuring which one was which), which lead Adrian to the story of how he thought he was psychic as a kid but it turns out he was just hearing his constant inner monologue, which made you crack up as Adebayo started doing an incredible impression of a young Adrian's inner monologue. "I wish I had more knives, why aren't invited to my brother's friends birthday party, I thought we were BFFs, now I'm going to climb a tree and jump off and see if I break any bones. Hey look a firefly!" You were all in tears as she covered his mannerisms perfectly, and you smiled brightly at him loving each and every one of those things that made him him.

"Another round? Harcourt? Adrian? Also Adrian?" You gestured to both Adrian and Adebayo, who made the same excited nodded motion that set you off laughing again as you stumbled to the bar. Adrian watched as you walked away, a dopey smile plastered across his face from hearing you laugh so naturally.

"You have to say something dude! This is painful to watch." Adebayo slapped Adrian's arm, bringing him crashing back to reality, and straight into denial.

"Say something to who? A waitress? (y/n) is already getting our beers, the wait won't be painful." Feeling very confident that he had covered his tracks, he turned back to watch you at the bar. Adebayo sighed,

"Seriously man, you're clearly crazy about 'em, you don't even stare at Chris this much!" Harcourt looked up, agreeing, and nodding towards the bar,

"Seriously Ads, you better ask them on a date soon, before someone beats you to it." Spinning in his seat Adrian looked back to the bar, just as you lent across it, making what looked like flirty eye contact with the bartender fetching your beers. His heart dropped into his stomach. Harcourt was right. You must get so much attention that he was stupid to think you he would even register on your radar of interest. He just wanted to disappear, his eyes falling to his lap, unable to look at you any longer now that your bright smile was for another man.

"She's probably just being polite." Adebayo reassured him, glancing back to see you collecting up four beers to bring over, after what had actually been a very average conversation about beer orders, with you only leaning over the bar to get a better look in the fridges behind it. You carefully carried the bottles back to the table, about to ask Adrian if him and Chris ever underestimated their own strength and accidentally crushed beer bottles with their bare hands when they were drunk, when the familiar sound of Paris Hilton's 'Stars are Blind' started playing, your ringtone and a collective favourite of yours and Adrian's. "Just a second" you waved to the table of thank you's as you saw your best friend's face on your phone,

"Hey babe, what's up?" you answered, causing Adrian's head to whip round for the second time that night. Your best friend started rambling down the phone, "Babe, I need your help. I'm on the worst date ever and I'm hiding in a bathroom and I need a lift because I let the guy drive me here. We've been at the restaurant for 45 minutes and he hasn't stopped talking long enough for us to even order a drink yet. I might die of dehydration while he tells me about his time as a Fraternity president 15 years ago." You laughed and agreed to come pick her up, getting the restaurant details and promising to cause a scene so it would seem like an emergency, just glad you were close by already and had only had time for one light beer. You moved back to the table, a little bit rushed as you grabbed your jacket and bag, not wanting to prolong her suffering and apologised, "Sorry guys, I've gotta dash to meet a friend on a date, that rounds on me, have a great night!" already halfway to the door as they all waved.

Adrian looked on, devastated, pretty much only hearing the word ‘date’ from your exit and assuming the worst; you were going to meet someone else, someone you already liked. He really had no chance with you, did he? He picked up the beer you have bought for yourself, downing it in one swift movement, secretly hoping you had pressed your lips against it for a sip before you left, the closest he would get to his lips on yours, and then hating himself for wishing that.

"Calm down man, they're probably just meeting a friend, don't get in your head… You know, I think (y/n) likes you back." Adebayo said hopefully, throwing a desperate look at Harcourt, who quickly flagged a bartender and did the international hand symbol for a round of shots, her skill at non-verbal communication always proving invaluable.

"Yeah, definitely, I don't think they’re dating anyone else." Emilia offered, not wanting to get into this if she could help it.

"I know you're just saying that to make me feel better," Adrian practically sniffled, "there's no way (Y/n) would like me back, they're like the best person ever and I'm just some guy." He continued on like this for 15 minutes, singing your praises as shot after shot landed in front of him at Harcourt's request, until he was slurring his words about your sexy butt. "It doesn't matter if I like the sexiest person I've ever met anyway, because every time I try and bring up how I feel, I lose my usually unstoppable ability to speak." Adebayo nodded and hummed thoughtfully, as if she was a great scholar, rather than a drunk and excitable messy. Harcourt slammed down her latest shot and suggested boldly

"So write down how you feel! Then it doesn't matter if you finally shut up." Adrian’s eyes grew wide, nodding frantically

"Harcourt you're a genius, pass me a napkin, I'll spell it out with my blood," he scrambled for a knife where one would usually be in his Vigilante suit, forgetting he didn't keep one in his jeans.

"Hell no," Adebayo shouted ,clasping his hands to stop him, "this is a love note, not a ransom note! No blood and no napkins." Pulling a notebook and pen out of her backpack she neatly tore out a page and handed it to Adrian. "You want to be concise, but sensitive. Articulate, but accessible. You need to say how you feel, but leave out all the creepy thoughts we all know you're thinking." She mused, oblivious to Adrian who had already started scribbling.

"What have you got so far?" Harcourt offered, genuinely interested in this glimpse into Adrian's mind. He proudly held up the piece of paper, a smug smirk on his face at his poetic prowess, which so far just had 'I LOVE YOU' written in large letters on it, messy like a child had written it.

"It's a good start, let's expand on that." Adebayo continued.

***

You had successfully charged into an out-of-your-price-range restaurant, pretending to be your friend's doctor having finally found a matching donor for her prostate transplant, leaving her wishing she had come up with her own lie. You ushered her out as she apologised to her date (who still hadn't managed to order) and tipping the poor waitress that had been hovering by her table for the better part of an hour with no progress. The two of you had gone straight to the nearest drive through, finally getting the dinner she had hoped for, and laughing about all the awful lines she had heard from her date that night. She apologised for pulling you away from your work drinks, and you told her it was nothing, but you were a little disappointed not to be spending more time with Adrian this evening, also hopeful that one of these nights the two of you would finally get to talk about your feelings. After fries, burgers and milkshakes were all polished off, you gave your grateful friend a lift home, reassuring her that she was right to call you and that you'll always be there for each other. She gave you a huge hug as you pulled up in front her building and told you she would repay you by organising another night out, so you could invite your 'work crush' to that. You agreed to that deal, and once you saw her safely inside you headed home, smiling that you'd have an excuse to invite Adrian out soon.

As you pulled up in front of your building, you could see a familiar figure outside your apartment door, pacing back and forth. Walking quickly up the outside stairs of the complex, you called out, "Adrian? Is everything okay?" Worried he had come to fetch you for a work emergency. He jumped and span around, clearly in his own world, clutching a folded over piece of paper tightly in his hands.

"Hi, is your date over already?" He said looking behind you, dreading the thought of another man walking up the stairs behind you, headed to your apartment for the night. It took a second for you to figure out what he was talking about and then explained,

"Oh, I didn't have a date Adrian, my friend was stuck on one with some awful guy so I went to rescue her. But I’ve dropped her home now" You said, half answering his question, and watching his body relax as he breathed a deep sigh, seemingly very happy with your explanation.

"Your friend was the one on a date!! That's amazing news! I mean that makes sense. And of course you rushed to help them because you are a wonderful friend, and kind and selfless and..." his nervous monologue trailed off as his eyes locked on yours, smiling at his kind words and a little confused by what was happening. As was always the case when he tried to talk to you alone like this, his thoughts dried up, and his words failed him, and he fell silent. It took all the courage and focus he could muster to hold his hands forward, giving you the note he was clutching. He couldn't look at you as you carefully took it, gently unfolding it and your mouth falling slightly open, brows furrowed as you read what had ended up being a messy collection of his thoughts. You struggled to make out some of the words in his drunken scrawl, but you quickly realised this was about to become your most prized possession:

"I LOVE YOU." It started, "I want to tell you that all the time, every day, but every time I try it's too hard to say, but it's easier to write it down so here it is. I really, really love you. Stupid amounts. I didn't even know that I could feel like this at all, but ever since I met you I haven't stopped feeling like this, and it's wonderful and amazing, but also sometimes terrible because I feel sick when I think about how much I love you. You are incredible, and kind, and fun, and so fucking hot, like really hot and I don't mean to be creepy but you have to know that I think you are really fucking hot okay? Anyway I wanted you to know because if there's even a small chance you think I could be the one that you love, then I have to give it a chance. Because then I think all the sleepless nights I spent worrying you'd never feel like this, and all the times I've felt like I had a huge secret weighing inside me will be worth it. So yeah... I LOVE YOU." The final three words were written bigger than the rest, messy hearts and kisses and smiles doodled around them, done while he stalled on sliding the note under your door like he had planned to do before you snuck up on him.

You were frozen, this felt like a dream, like it was too good to be true. You kept waiting to snap awake in your bed, or for Chris to jump out and say this was a prank, or any number of more realistic outcomes than Adrian actually handing you a confession of his love, a tangible piece of his heart. You focused on the final three words, before finally returning your gaze to Adrian, stood quietly in front you, not daring to look up to your face or gauge your reaction. You finally managed to quietly mumble out, "I love you." Without looking up Adrian quickly confirmed,

"that's what it says." You couldn't help but laugh as you repeated,

"No Adrian, I'm saying I love you."

"Yes I know it says I love you, I wrote it for you." He looked up now, face frustrated at this reading comprehension exercise, further surprised by the wide smile spreading across your face as your laughter continued.

"Adrian listen to me, this note says that you love me. But I’m saying that I love you. I love you Adrian." You repeated again, emphasising the ‘you’s and ‘I’s, the ridiculousness of this conversation not lost on you. His eyes squinted and then slowly widened as it finally sunk it that you were requiting his declaration of love, that this plan had actually worked, and this confession was finally happening.

"Really?" was all he could blurt out before your lips crashed onto his, not wanting to use your mouths for anymore exasperating conversation. His arms quickly moved around your waist pulling you against his chest so tightly you could almost feel each other's racing hearts. You leaned back a little, breaking the kiss to bring your nose to boop his, and you both beamed, giggling at the miscommunication you already knew would be your first in-joke as a couple. With faces so close you could feel the warmth from his flushed cheeks, the strong tequila smell on his breath was slightly overwhelming. You figured 'girls night' had helped him work up the courage to come here, and you were very grateful for that, but you were also very aware that you were not anywhere near as drunk as Adrian. It slightly killed you not to immediately invite him inside, but you wanted to do this right, so you gently cupped his face in your hands, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Adrian, I'm really glad you told me you love me, and I really love you too. And I am going to treasure this note for the rest of my life. But you are very drunk, and I am not, so I'm not going to keep kissing you or invite you in until you sober up a bit okay?" You couldn't help but glance to his soft lips as said the word kiss, already missing how they felt against yours. Adrian straightened up a bit and nodded,

"Once again proof you are good and kind and thoughtful, which are some of the reasons I love you." He beamed at his new found ability to say those words out loud to you, before he processed what you said even more, eyes widening, "does that mean when I'm sober you are going to invite me?" The disbelief in his voice made you laugh, like he had won a lottery he didn't even realise he'd bought a ticket for. You nodded and smiled again, stepping forward to give him a hug to say goodnight, but before you could move your arms up to meet his, he had vaulted halfway down the stairs, shouting "I'll see you soon, sleep well, I love you." as he sprinted into the distance, a man on a mission.

You let your mind hold on to the thought of how much fun your life was going to be with Adrian as your love, not letting the small voice worrying this was all just drunk talk get to you. You cleaned yourself up and pulled on shorts and a cropped shirt to sleep in, before getting cuddled up in bed for the night. You read over the note from Adrian a few more times, cheeks aching from your smile, before you finally managed to drift off, making a mental note to call your best friend in the morning with the news.

***

The next morning you awoke to a loud knock at the door. You glanced at your phone. Since you had the day off you hadn't set any alarms, and it was now exactly 9am. You got out of bed, running your fingers through your hair as you went to the door. Through your front window blinds you could see the shadow of a figure excitedly shifting about and the smile you had fallen asleep wearing quickly returned. Opening the door, you found Adrian on your front step where you had shared your first kiss the night before, holding flowers, a cuddly toy eagle, and some small device you couldn't quite make out. He immediately burst out with,

"Good morning! I love you! I wasn't sure when you'd wake up so I thought I'd stand here for a while, but then I got bored, and I missed you, so I thought 9am was a good enough time to knock. These are for you," he said, handing you the flowers and teddy, melting your heart with his sweet gifts. "And this is proof that I am now sober,” he said thrusting the device in front of you. From here you could see it was a Breathalyzer, with a reading of 0.0 on the front of it. Setting down your romantic presents as you both walked into your home, you turned back to the smiling doofus,

"Where did you get a Breathalyzer?" You quizzed, secretly thrilled with the bizarre start to your day.

"Oh, I took it from a police car. But it's not illegal because I'm gonna give it back." He said, like it was the most sensible answer in the world. You smiled, scooting yourself up onto your kitchen counter pulling Adrian close so he was stood between your legs, which quickly wrapped around his waist. "Well in that case, consider yourself invited in. Good morning and I love you too." You said, your tone loaded with excitement and anticipation as you pulled Vigilante in for a deep kiss. His hands trailed along the outside of your thighs, up your hips, slipping under your cropped shirt to wrap around your bare waist. "Fuck, I really love you." He replied happily before leaning in for another deep kiss. Returning that Breathalyzer would have to wait.

#one shot #writing #adrian chase #peacemaker vigilante #vigilante #adrian chase x reader #reader insert #peacemaker

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marvelandimagine · 4 years ago

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I think some people mad about the arm is not necessarily about the fact that Ayo disabling the arm itself, it's more of the fact that it was not necessary and the fact that Bucky had no idea they can do that. If I were to be honest, I think it was not that necessary because Ayo is well capable of taking him down without having to disarm him and she is definitely not threatened by him. I think what some people find upsetting about that scene is the fact that it kinda comes off as Ayo putting Bucky in a position where it would make him feel like he doesn't have full control of his own body after all. The Wakandans, especially Ayo, T'Challa and Shuri had every right to feel betrayed and upset but the point is they should have told Bucky about how the arm can easily be disabled like that, they didn't know Bucky was going to set Zemo free when they gave him the arm and regardless of the things they have done for him and if they were ones who gave him the arm, they should have at least told him about it, because it's connected to him, it's a part of HIS body. It doesn't matter if it was necessary to disarm him or not, the point is they should have told him about it because apart from the fact that it's his body and that it was a bit insensitive given his history, it's also a point of vulnerability, and the fact that she did it in front of Walker (and possibly Zemo) --- people who can easily turn on Bucky, could easily that to their advantage and attempt to disable it themselves. Just my thoughts on it.

Thank you for sharing your perspective, anon!

I’m going to use this long-ass reply to address this stuff with Ayo and also voice some thoughts I’ve had over the past few weeks seeing people paint Bucky into being this complete soft and harmless human that needs 25-7 protection which I don’t jive with — and this is me, a complete Bucky stan.

Many moons ago, I saw a post that compared 1940s Bucky moving with stealth and a loaded gun on the train to the Winter Soldier doing the same thing, essentially discussing the similarities and debating how much of non-brainwashed Bucky was in the Soldier. And I think the fandom forgets or chooses to neglect the following when painting him as this fragile, peace-loving guy:

Bucky was an incredibly skilled sniper in the United States Army. His job is to eliminate threats in the most efficient way possible, and he’s good at it. HYDRA gets their hands on him and + the serum, this gets magnified. It wasn’t like HYDRA turned him into someone with the ability and mental capacity to kill — that was already there. The brainwashing and torture just carved out the rest of him to leave those honed skills and an amplified ruthlessness with no moral issues, no sense of self to contend with. That ruthlessness is part of Bucky, whether people like it or not.

When Bucky is outside of HYDRA for the first time and hiding in Civil War and gets attacked, he’s so brutal in his actions that Steve Rogers, the man who literally was ready to die to save Bucky and free him when no one else believed in the good in him, intervenes because “Buck, you’re going to kill someone.” Bucky responds that he’s not going to kill anyone, but the fact remains: with or without HYDRA control, Bucky has a strong capacity for violence that hovers on brutality — again, what’s the most efficient way to eliminate or neutralize a threat? Like, I don’t want to kill you, but I’ll knock your ass out with cinder blocks to the chest.

Bucky has a good heart, he’s loyal, he’s smart, he’s caring, he’s the longest-standing POW in history and was turned into a slave for decades, put through unimaginable trauma and torture and horror with no escape. Bucky is also a strong and incredibly skilled super soldier who has a bionic arm, is a trained sniper, is unnervingly precise with knives, and self-describes himself as “semi-stable.” Zemo notes in the bar that “it didn’t take Bucky long to get back into form,” and he’s right because the ruthlessness and skill of the Winter Soldier is a part of him and always has been. We see it when he has his hand around Zemo’s neck and tells him he will kill him, when he rips the glass from his hand and throws it across the room.

And I’m sure the Wakandans know all this about Bucky, this light and his ability for hard-to-stop violence, whether from talking to Steve and Bucky or doing their own homework. And they still choose to help him out of the goodness of their hearts because he’s been put through hell and they believe they have the capacity to help him and it’s the right thing to do — they’re betting more on those positive attributes. And they put a failsafe on his arm, a literal weapon, and chose not to tell him. You know why I think that shows how much they did care about him? Because they could’ve blatantly come out and said “Hey, we don’t trust you,” and hurt him outright, but they didn’t because they’re betting on the light in Bucky to outweigh the dark or any future manipulation. That it’s a worst-case scenario function they hope to never have to use — so they’re prepared if shit hits the fan, and if it doesn’t, Bucky doesn’t have to be hurt feeling like he can’t be trusted. I see no issues here, they’re just being cautious.

Now coming to Ayo, my QUEEN Ayo. From that beautiful, beautiful opening scene, we get to see her support, her reassurance, her belief that Bucky will be able to work through this, even when he doesn’t believe it himself. She watches him fight and struggle and cry, and you can feel the hope in her and how moved she is when she gets to tell him it worked, he did it — he’s free. And she says it not once, but twice. And you can hear not just the comfort, but the PRIDE and warmth in her voice directed to him, who I’m sure she’s watched throughout the whole deprogramming process and gotten to know and is happy to see him work through the pain and come out on the other side.

And then she sees that same individual make a decision in freeing Zemo that she perceives as a “fuck you” not just to her country, but to her, someone who was charged with protecting her king. She could’ve just disarmed Bucky the second they met up, but she doesn’t. She takes the time to explain her side and her feelings, her guilt and her shame, and basically implies that she feels betrayed by Bucky because Wakanda helped him and now he’s doing something that’s hurting her country. And still, she doesn’t attack or just go get Zemo. She gives Bucky the benefit of the doubt and a whole 8-hour American workday to do what he has to do because again, she believes in the best of him. And then that time limit runs up, and he chooses to get in her way.

And that’s the final straw. She’s angry, she’s guilty, she’s frustrated, and she feels betrayed hurt by someone I think she did respect and care about, someone whom she worked with and helped and supported when he was his most vulnerable. Did she “need” to disarm the arm to fight Bucky? Probably not. But is she doing it in the heat of battle and adrenaline and a whole bucket ton of emotions, including what she sees as the White Wolf blatantly disrespecting her country and her as a person and even friend and she just says fuck it, I’m done? You hurt us and me, and I’m going to hurt you back? Oh yeah. And Bucky looks shocked, not because he’s a poor fragile baby and “oh no, my arm, how could you?? my TrAumA”, but in the dual realization of “oh shit, how’d you do that?!” and “oh shit, I think I crossed a line here.” And also, I don’t think a single person in that room would be able to recreate the disabling sequence other than Ayo — it’s way too targeted and specific for someone like Walker to pick it up in the whole three seconds it took.

People need to stop reducing characters to these black and white extremes of soft and hard, of good and bad. Doing so completely devalues and ignores the REALITY of the complexity of being human, and Bucky and Ayo are both great examples of that played by stellar actors who portray that range and depth extremely well. End of the day, my thought is that the failsafe in the arm was justified and people need to stop coming for Ayo based on this ridiculous narrative that Bucky is too traumatized and sensitive and too much of a fave to ever be challenged or he’ll explode into dust. Boy deserves a life of freedom and healing and mental health support, but he’s also still a formidable opponent with the capacity for violence and skillset to kill. People are more than one thing.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!!

#Bucky barnes #winter soldier #falcon and winter soldier #falcon and the winter solider spoilers #faws spoilers #faws #james bucky barnes #marvel #dora milaje #wakanda #Ayo #Steve Rogers #falcon and winter soldier spoilers #marvel fandom #I really went off on this one huh #fatws #fatws bucky #fatws ep 4 #fatws spoilers

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tricksters-captain · 4 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 2

AN: I’m splitting episode 3 into two chapters because so much happens.

Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.

In this chapter: Despite your protests, Bucky seeks out Zemo (Based on S1 EP3)

(PART 1 HERE)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 5,196

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 3, violence, strong language.

You watched Bucky as he sat beside you on the aircraft.

“Do you mind?” Bucky’s side eye didn’t make you look away.

“I’m just trying to see what’s going through that head of yours.” You confessed. You were all on your way to Germany to visit Zemo. It wasn’t a plan you were happy with but it was the plan.

“Don’t bother.” Bucky frowned, looking down at his hands on his lap. “And don’t ask me if I think this is a good idea again.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” You turned away from the man.

“What was it then?” Bucky asked.

“I was going to ask if you were sure you wanted to do this.” It was another question you had already asked 20 times or more but you couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of anxiety about this trip.

“She has a right to be worried, Buck. The last time you were alone with Zemo, you ended up putting (Y/n) through three windows.” Sam reminded you both of what happened the last time you were in Berlin.

“It won’t happen this time.” Bucky tried to reassure you both but you still felt uneasy.

After another hour or so Sam announced that you were almost there.

It was a short drive to the prison from the airport but once you were inside, you felt your chest begin to tighten again.

“He’s just through that corridor.” The German guard gestured up ahead and that’s when Bucky stopped you.

“Alright. Give us a sec.” Bucky instructed the security guard before turning to you and Sam. “I’m gonna go in alone.”

“Why?” Sam asked,

“You’re Avengers. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky said as he looked between the two of you.

“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together.” Sam felt he needed to remind Bucky of the past again. However, Bucky stood his ground.

“He was obsessed with HYDRA. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.”

“Buck...” You started,

“I got it.” He repeated himself before you could say anything else.

You watched Bucky head through the doors alone.

“Let’s wait outside. This place gives me the creeps.” Sam encouraged you to follow him to which you didn’t do without hesitation.

Sam brought you a hot drink as you sat on a bench outside.

“I forgot how worried he can make you.” Sam admitted as he sat down beside you.

“I’ve seen what he went through, Sam. All of it leading up to Zemo. I just... I don’t want it happening to him again.” You knew you couldn’t explain the extent of why you cared for Bucky.

“You love him.” Sam said. It wasn’t a question but rather a statement. “I can see it clear as day. Anyone could if they stuck around long enough.”

“Why are you bringing this up, Sam?” You sighed, looking away from him.

“Because it’s also obvious that he loves you too. You run around driving each other crazy with worry but you have none of the good stuff that comes with being in love with someone.”

“What do you know about love, Don Juan?” You chuckled as you tried to lighten the tone.

“I know it when I see it.” Sam smiled but there was a sadness behind his eyes.

“Things are complicated, Sam.” You muttered, “You already know that.”

“Well I also think that if Bucky got some he’d be a whole lot less angsty all the damn time.” You knew Sam only said it to make you laugh but you still gave him a whack for the comment.

“Shut up, Sam.” You shook your head, trying not to smile at the inappropriate comment.

Sam kept you entertained by a couple of silly games of rock, paper, scissors before Bucky returned.

“Come on, I got some information. We gotta go.” Bucky hurried you and Sam along.

“Just like that?” You were surprised that Zemo even spoke to Bucky at all.

“A location. I’ll explain everything once we get there.” Bucky wasn’t giving you much information and it was making you a little suspicious.

“Hey, hey, hey...” Sam ran after Bucky, stopping him. “You gotta give us a little more than that.”

“Zemo agreed to help us after hearing that there were more super soldiers. It was his life ambition to stop the winter soldier programme and he’s given us a lead.” Bucky explained.

“And you’re just gonna trust his word?” You probed.

“There’s not much else we can do.” Bucky did make a point.

It didn’t take long to reach the large warehouse/garage that Bucky wanted to go to.

Bucky on the way had started rambling about breaking Zemo out of jail in order to help you guys which sounded ridiculous to you.

“Tell me you’re joking, Buck.” You pleaded, unsure whether he had lost his mind entirely.

“He’s our best shot at finding who is making the serum and he’d be a lot more useful out than in.” Bucky opened the door to the building and you followed him inside.

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail? Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam was just as lost as you were as he shot questions at Bucky.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.” Bucky sighed as you made your way in with your flashlights.

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars.” Sam argued.

“We also have eight Super Soldiers that are loose.” Bucky retorted.

“Anyway, I thought this was a lead?” You tried to look around but the place was badly lit. There were mainly mechanic tools and lots of storage scattered around.

“It’s complicated.” Bucky frowned.

“What’s complicated is Zemo. He’s gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offence.” Sam shone his flashlight at Bucky as he spoke.

“Offence.” Bucky didn’t look impressed as he found the light switch. “Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code.”

“I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you. He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question. They didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but it’s pushing you off the deep end.” Sam stepped closer to Bucky. You couldn’t deny that Sam had a point. Zemo was the one who tore the avengers apart by framing Bucky. “We don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are.” Bucky couldn’t give up. “Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I?”

“What did you do?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky.

You were busy looking inside the car that was revealed by the lights coming on.

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky shook his head before he continued with his ‘hypothetical’.

“The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.”

“So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment? Who knows?” Sam questioned.

“There could be many reasons…” Bucky shrugged. “But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated, and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two.

At this point, you stopped looking around and looked over at Bucky with your arms across your chest. You weren’t liking how thought out this plan was sounding.

“And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated someone could use the chaos to their advantage.” Bucky continued.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural. Are you… And where are we, man?” Sam gestured around the place with confusion locked on his face.

“Bucky, I’m with Sam on this one. I’ve got a bad feeling and–––” A door opening behind you cut you short.

You turned around to see Zemo walk through the plastic door curtains.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam jumped forward instructively. Bucky managed to stop him but he didn't stop you.

You rushed towards Zemo and held the tip of one of your knives to his Adams apple as he held his hands up.

“What are you doing here?” Sam shouted at Zemo before snapping back to Bucky.

“I didn’t tell ’cause I knew you wouldn’t let this happen.” Bucky admitted.

“What did you do?” Sam pointed at Zemo in shock.

“We need him.” Bucky stated to which you chuckled harshly, pressing your knife a little harder.

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam called over.

“If I may..? “ Zemo tried to speak but you all shut him up with a unanimous ‘No.’

“Apologies.” Zemo mumbled.

“(Y/n), put the knife down.” Bucky came towards you and wrapped his hand round your wrist. “Please?”

You did. Slowly.

“Look, when Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you both backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I’m asking you to do it again.” Bucky looked back and forth from you to Sam.

“I really think I’m invaluable.” Zemo spoke again.

“Shut up.” You rose the knife again to which Zemo took a step back and pretended to zip his mouth shut.

“Okay.” Sam sighed after a moment of contemplation. “If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.”

“Fair.” Zemo nodded.

“Bucky... You understand what this means right? If they find out we took Zemo, specifically you. We’ll be on the run again and I don’t know if there will be a pardon this time either.” The concern in your eyes made Bucky frown.

“It’ll be alright. He's the only shot we got to stop these guys.” Bucky wasn’t sure if he believed his own words but he was praying that this was the best thing to do.

“Alright.” You turned to Zemo. “So where do we start?”

Zemo gestured for you to follow him before taking you into another dark room. You kept your knife in your hand just in case.

He reached for the light switch to reveal a mass of classic cars.

“So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam cocked his eyebrow at the impressive collection.

“These are mine. Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people… like the Avengers.” Zemo entered one of the cars and pulled out a bag. “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started.” Sam told the man.

“First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” Zemo took his bag and headed into another room.

“Jesus... How big is this place?” You looked around to see it was full of clothes.

“First I change and then we head to Selby.” Zemo placed the bag down before filing through one if the rails of clothes.

“How are we supposed to get anywhere with Zemo on our hands? We can’t exactly call Torres and ask for a ride but please ignore the fugitive that’s coming with us.” You looked between the boys.

“I will get us there.” Zemo told you.

“Great.” You pressed a fake smile onto your face which Zemo chose not to acknowledge.

Before you knew it you were at the airport at Zemo’s private jet.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam’s eyes went wide at the sight of the plane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.” Zemo spoke as if it was well known information. You felt a pang hit you in the chest, it happened every time you thought of Sokovia... it was guilt.

You watched Zemo greet an elderly man in a suit before you entered the jet.

You sat furtherest away from Zemo, still feeling very uncomfortable about him being free and under your custody.

You watched him sip on a glass of champagne like he had no worries in the world.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell. Oh. That’s right you do.” Zemo reminded you of the time Tony had locked a lot of the avengers up.

“Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?” Sam suggested.

“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”

Before you could blink, Bucky had lunged forward and taken Zemo by the neck.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” Bucky kept hold of Zemo for a second longer before sitting back down. You had fought the urge to get up and take hold of his arm to calm him down.

"I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” Zemo made no attempt at a sincere apology for the invasion of privacy.

“Don’t push it.” Bucky warned him.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” Sam smiled as he thought back on the memory.

“I like ’40s music, so…” Bucky shrugged.

“You didn’t like it?” Sam seemed more shock to hear this than when he saw Zemo.

“I liked it.” Bucky proclaimed.

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.” Even Zemo had to get involved.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.” Sam turned back to Bucky after giving side eye to Zemo.

“I like Marvin Gaye.” Bucky repeated.

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” Sam couldn’t drop it but you didn’t bother getting involved.

You looked at the book in Bucky’s hands. You knew Steve had given it to him before but seeing it again after all this time brought up a hundred thoughts. You remembered the many things you had told Steve to watch or eat or listen to like ABBA, Mochi ice cream and pranking him by suggesting the twilight movie as must see.

“You must have really looked up to Steve.” Zemo mentioning Steve made you look up again. “But I realised something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.” Sam warned him.

“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?” Zemo looked over at Bucky. “As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.”

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam asked but you already knew of Madripoor. Anyone with links to the underworld of crime knew of Madripoor.

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky informed him.

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” Zemo looked down at his duffel bag of clothes that you had watched him pack before.

“What do you mean by that?” You finally chimed into the conversation.

“James will have to retake the person of the Winter Soldier. You both will have a role to play also.” Zemo explained, turning to face you as you sat in the chair by the back wall of the jet.

“Bucky, can I speak to you privately?” You looked past Zemo to Bucky. Bucky gave you a look to ask where would you go so you stood and opened the cabin toilets door.

Bucky huffed before following you in.

“Bucky I’m not okay with this.” You whispered as you pressed yourself up against the wall so you could try and fit both you and Bucky a little more comfortably.

“This isn’t up to you.” Bucky sighed.

“Everything about this situation is making every nerve in my body scream this is a bad idea.” You folded your arms across your chest as you stared up at Bucky.

“How many times do I have to tell you that this is the only plan we got?”

“I don’t trust him.” You kept your voice low as you threw your hand up in the direction of the door.

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked.

“I’m starting to question it.” You muttered.

Bucky just stared at you in response.

“Yes, I trust you.” You grumbled, caving in.

“Anyway I have you if things go bad.” Bucky tried to make light of the situation but you weren't impressed.

You left the bathroom and remained silent until you drew closer to Madripoor.

Upon your arrival in Madripoor, you were handed some clothes to change into.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You held up the small material dress that you were meant to wear.

“I had to choose a disguise that would cover your face. Too many people here would know you from your days before the avengers and after.” Zemo defended his choice of ‘costume’ for you.

“So I’m assassin barbie?” You scoffed before taking to the bathroom to change.

You slid on the black leather playsuit and boots, along with the mask that Zemo gave you.

You felt exposed and uncomfortable. You managed to hide a few knives in your boots and you slid on a thigh holster to hold some more to make you feel like you were protected at least.

“Loose the knives.” Zemo instructed.

“Are you serious?” You were growing more agitated by the minute with this man.

“You are playing an escort. You can’t have knives on show.” Zemo pointed to your holster.

You bit down on your cheek as you removed it.

“Fine.” You then left the plane to Sam and Bucky waiting outside. Bucky’s eyes went wide at the sight of you but he tried to hide it by clearing his throat and looking away.

“We have to fix this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” Sam was wearing a red patterned suit and chains. He didn’t look too bad in it either.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Zemo handed Sam his phone revealing a picture of Conrad Mack.

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam took the phone and looked down at the picture.

“(Y/n) is playing your partner for the night. Conrad is known for his appreciation for the finer things in life and often has a woman on his arm Therefore, (Y/n), you must be attached to Sam’s hip the entire night.” Zemo filled you all in on the reason behind your disguise.

“Excuse me, what?” Bucky almost choked at the idea of you having to be Sam’s woman for the night.

“Well it is the only disguise that makes sense. She can’t be your girlfriend as you are the Winter Soldier. She can’t be mine as everyone knows I am loyal to my wife. She has to be the smiling tigers current whore.”

“Watch your mouth.” Bucky hissed.

“We all must play a part.” Zemo defended his choice of words. “You smell this?”

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked.

“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error. High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.” Zemo gestured across the city as a car approached you all.

“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” You sighed as Zemo opened the car door for you.

“Not if we want the answers we are looking for.” Zemo climbed into the car after you and then the boys followed.

It didn't take too long to find the way to low town. You had been to Madripoor before but it had been years ago.

You did as you were ordered when you all exited Zemo’s car. You stuck by Sam, walking in the middle of Sam and Bucky.

The air wasn’t cold but it felt thick, you could feel it sticking to your bare skin which gave you the desperate urge to take a long shower.

“Here we are.” Zemo had brought you to a bar. It was busy and filled with a lot of men.

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” You heard Zemo ask Bucky in Russian.

You heard whispers around you questioning if Bucky was who everyone thought he was. It made your gut clench with nerves but you didn’t let it show.

“Hello, gentlemen. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” The bartender greeted Sam and Zemo but barely brushed a glance over you.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo spoke for Sam. You then felt Sam wrap his arm around your waist. You leaned into him, batting your eyelashes first at Sam and then the bartender.

“The usual?” The bartender asked Sam. He nodded, afraid that if he spoke then it would give away the facade.

You were thankful you were wearing a face mask when you saw the drink made for the Smiling Tiger. You grimaced at the dead snake being cut open and then again when one of its organs was dropped into Sam’s shot.

“Ah, Smiling Tiger. Your favourite.” Zemo picked up his own drink as he looked down at Sam’s.

“I love these.” Sam forced himself to speak.

“Cheers, Conrad.” Zemo and Sam touched glasses before Sam hesitantly shot back the drink. You could tell Bucky enjoyed watching that.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.” A man suddenly approached from behind and tapped Zemo on the shoulder. You felt Sam’s grip on you tighten protectively.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me...” Zemo held his hand out to show his new bodyguard.

“New haircut?” The stranger looked Bucky up and down.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo gave him the other option. The man retreated.

“A power broker? Really?” Bucky spoke once the stranger had left.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” Sam asked.

“Only by reputation.” Zemo admitted honestly.

“In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner. You can’t visit low town without appearing on his radar.” You spoke up as you let yourself look around the room and take in just how many threats were around.

“And you know this why?” Sam looked down at you. He must've forgotten your past.

“I was a free agent before the Avengers. I've been here undercover a few times especially when I was a young teenager. Surprise Surprise evil guys like little girls.” You kept quiet in case anyone around was listening.

Zemo suddenly spoke a command for Bucky in Russian once again and that’s when another stranger put his hands on Zemo.

You watched Bucky follow orders and he didn’t hold back.

He grabbed hold of the strangers wrist and pulled him off Zemo before attacking him and several others around.

You took notice of those around with their phones out. Cameras...

You went to step forward when you felt Sam squeeze your side. He gave you a look that told you no.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo muttered to you and Sam. You wanted to punch him.

Bucky slammed another man onto the bar and that’s when you heard the wave of guns cocking.

Sam took hold of Bucky’s arm when Zemo told him to stay in character.

Instead Zemo told Bucky to stand down once you were informed you could see Selby.

Sam took hold of you hand and dragged you along side him as you all left the bar.

“She isn’t welcome.” One of the guards stopped you before you could enter the room.

“Excuse me?” Sam scoffed at the guard. “She’s with me and so she is welcome.”

“Let her in!” You heard an English accent call from ahead.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Selby was an older woman with a white pixie cut and a sly grin. Sam remained stood and so did Bucky but Sam had commanded you to take a seat next to Zemo.

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo was impressing you by how cool he was playing this. It also worried you.

“A lot has changed since you were here last. By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?“ Selby asked.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby ignored Zemo as she eyed up Sam.” What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”Zemo had risen from his seat and held Bucky by the chin.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank...Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn’t go as planned.” Selby fed you what she knew.

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo questioned.

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Selby pushed herself from her seat and walked across the room.

That’s when Sam’s mobile went off.

“Answer it. On speaker.” Selby ordered. The gun behind Sam made him pull out his phone.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation. It’s been drivin’ me nuts.” A woman’s voice came through.

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam tried his best to keep up his persona.

“Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.” The woman’s attitude was not helping Sam’s case.

“What situation, Sarah? Say it.” Sam demanded.

“The damn boat. And watch your tone. Okay? I let you slide at the bank.” Sarah snapped back.

“The bank. Yeah. Laundered so much...” Sam chuckled. “Yeah, they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see when I have that banker killed.” Sam tried to seem intimidating but at that moment you knew you were screwed. You reached down into your boot to take a knife just in case.

“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this! Sam, I’m sorry. I’ll call you back.” Sarah had used Sam’s name and that was the end of it.

“Sam? Who’s Sam?” Selby looked pissed. “Kill them!” She ordered but before her hired men could react, a bullet came through the window and shot Selby down.

You snatched two knives from your boot and sent them into the guard behind Sam.

Bucky immediately reacted with taking out the other guard.

“They’re gonna pin this on us.” You took the knives from the body as the boys took the guns.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Zemo’s order made the boys put their guns down but you just wiped your knives and placed them back in your boot.

You left the club in a hurry. Text chimes went off around you and you knew the power broker had seen what happened.

You were well and truly fucked.

“This is not good.” Zemo’s last words before the shooting started.

You took off alongside Bucky and Sam, cursing the fact that Zemo had put you in the most uncomfortable shoes on the planet.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam shouted which almost made you laugh.

“Down here!” You took a turn into an alley to get off the road as two mopeds appeared behind you.

Before you could spin around to fight, a shooter had taken them out.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Zemo looked just. as confused you felt. You weren’t aware you knew anyone who was in Madripoor at the moment.

“Well, this is too perfect. Drop it, Zemo.” A familiar face soon revealed itself from the shadows.

“Sharon?” Sam furrowed his brow at the woman.

“You cost me everything.” Sharon ignore Sam as she spoke to Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam stepped ahead of Zemo to protest him.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.”Sharon glowered at the four of you.

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked the question on everyones mind.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass, so that you could save him from him. I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.” Sharon informed you.

“Don’t blow smoke. Both (Y/n) and I were on the run, too.” Sam didn't bother with feeling pity.

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.” Sharon shot back.

“Listen, Sharon, we need your help.” Bucky interrupted her before she could say anything else.

“Please.” You added. You and Sharon were friendly for a time before the world went to hell. You figured she’d help you at least.

“This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You’ll be safe there for a while.” Sharon sighed, giving in and lowering her gun.

“Thank you.” You pressed a small smile onto your face but Sharon didn’t reciprocate.

She managed to get you to a car safely and you headed out of low town for the night.

(PART 3 HERE)

Bucky Barnes Tag List

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16 @shannon-posts @darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch @thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts @themaddies-obx

#Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winder soldier imagines #the winter soldier #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson imagines #Sebastian Stan #sebstian stan imagines #Sebastian Stan x reader #fem reader #series #some sunny day

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clouds-rambles · 4 years ago

Note

You being a Venti kinnie and a La Signora simp gave me an idea: the leader of the winds(who is simply Venti's best friend in this scenario) falls in love with the harbinger yet feels guilty about it because of what she did, so Venti has to push the relationship forward(possibly with some help from a certain water boy).

Think you could do a HCs post or scenario for that?

Anon you’re calling me out here. . . /hj

I keep thinking about this so I hope that it’s okay ^^;;

Pairings; La Signora x reader

Warning(s);

Keep reading under the cut!

Look the only reason you started hanging about the Goth Grand Hotel was because you really didn’t like the idea of the fatui causing unsupervised trouble, so posing as a bard for them was a great idea

And as tight lipped as the fatui are on the outside the Goth Grand was rife full of fatui secrets and shrines to the tsarista

The one person you didn’t really expect to interacting much with was Signora. But her off clock persona is much different, she often sits and watches your performances before the two of you sit at the bar and talk the night away

She’s harsh and blunt for sure, but she enjoys the conversation. And if you’re honest you’ve got the biggest crush on her

Which is wrong. Especially considering how the fatui have infiltrated your homeland

“[name] you should do it” Venti pushes, you pout

“I know, but you said you feel like something is on the horizon with the fatui. If something happened I-” you explain

“Don’t worry about it [name], you haven’t followed your heart in a long time” he smiles “I can help if you want~” Venti teases, you shake your head

Though his words do stick with you. And maybe not the way that Venti would want you to, you often find yourself seeking out Signora a little more than before

You love to see the small quirk of her lips whenever you approach her. You can’t help but notice the reddening of her ears when you compliment her. It’s almost addicting to see those expressions on her face

“[name]...” Venti trails off after seeing you with the harbinger “You’re horrific at flirting” he adds with a grin

“Shuddup” you groan lightly punching his arm “I just-” you trail off

“It’s time for me to intervine, [name] you’re in the city of freedom. And I will literally perish if you don’t get with her. You’ll be insufferable in like a hundred years when you regret it” you pout at Venti’s words

“I hate you” you sigh “But fine, what does the famous bard of mondstat propose?” you ask with a quirk of your brow

“Ask her on a date!” he exclaims, you nod “And I’ll help set it up~” he grins

Venti does, he schemes like you’ve never seen him do so before. And in honesty if Venti worked as hard as he schemed he would have gotten a lot more done in the last few millennia

And in all honesty the date plan looked perfect, even with Venti’s intervention. Now, all that needs to be done is the date its self

“Hi” you greet Signora “I’m glad you agreed to this” you smile, you notice a slight smile grace her face

“Hm, and I’m glad for the invite [name]” she greets back, she takes your hand and places a small kiss. You feel your face heat up at the touch. The both of you move to seats and are served a glass of wine each

“I helped create this batch” you mention taking a sip

“Oh really?” Signora asks “How long ago was that?” she follows up, you wink

“I know what you’re up to” you smile “It certainly isn’t proper to ask someone their age on a date” you jest with a giggle, Signora smiles softly and hums

“I suppose not, but I will get it out of you some way or another” she half jests half promises back

“And you’ll warm up to me before then” you grin sending her a wink

“I don’t warm up to anybody [name]” she states in a blunt manner. You chuckle at her

“Of course not” you tease “And if that’s the case you’ll never know my age” you continue. Signora pouts for half a second and the conversation moves onto more suitable things, like your music and her collection of knives.

Dinner food comes along, the two of you eat, have dessert and have an overall great dinner.

“Come with me” you tell Signora after dinner, you hold your hand out for the harbinger to take

“Where are we going?” she asks taking your hand, you grin and wink at the woman before dragging her off towards the cathedral. The two of you approach the large statue of Barbatos. “Trying to convert me?” Signora jests with a raised brow. You giggle at her

“Depends if you’re that easily swayed” you joke back tugging her across the small body of water separating the piazza and the statue “Climb with me and see the view” you tell her as you start climbing up the statue, Signora hesitates but follows after you.

You sit in the hands of the statue before you hear the harbinger approach from behind you. You put your hand in Signora’s to persuade her to sit beside you. She does so.

“Wow” she speaks after a moment, you smile softly. This city is, in affect, your baby. To see someone you have such a crush on see it for the way you do is amazing.

“Just because you’re on official business here doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the city” you tell her, she nods with a small smile.

“[name], tell me of how this city came to be” she half asks, half orders. You chuckle and look at her

“It’s a long story” you answer with a giggle

“Another one of the secrets you hold close?” the harbinger offers, you smile and shake your head

“No, no, the stories conflict one teller to another. What one bard sings another reprimands, then the library tells another story” you answer

“What’s the story as you know it?” she asks, you chuckle

“A long and boring one I assure you, nothing as exiting as the tales of Snezhnaya” you respond. Signora chuckles

“You’re avoiding my questions” she pushes, you smile

“Maybe, but how else are we to continue going on dates if I tell you all my secrets now?” you ask nudging your shoulder on hers “Besides, you keep just as many secrets close to your chest” you smile. Signora hums.

“I suppose so” She replies, maybe for the two of you to share any kinds of secrets is just to show a card at a time. But, you’re cute and Signora doesn’t mind that kind of legwork. “We should do this again” she looks at you, you nod

“Yes,” you grin “I’d like that”

“So how’d the date go?” Venti asks as you walk into your home, you walk past him to drop off your things before coming back into the room

“It was... nice” you smile

Venti claps his hands with a grin “Tell me everything”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #la signora x reader #genshin impact la signora #genshin la signora #la signora #omw to fill up the la signora tag rn

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luminnara · 4 years ago

Text

Victor Zsasz x Reader NSFW | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey/DC

I don’t see nearly enough BOP!Zsasz appreciation here, so I’m determined to change that. Reader is fem, but if there’s interest I can definitely write stuff for male or nb! The reader also has a whole backstory because I’m way more into world and character building than I am reader inserts so this is practically a little OC fic lol

This is sort of set pre-Birds of Prey, don’t worry about it too much, it’s just fun

Warnings: Violence, Zsasz being Zsasz, reader is an assassin who unalives people, light smut

This is short because I’m testing the waters! If there’s interest, I’ll write a part 2!!

Requests are open!

When Roman announced that he was hiring a new girl, Victor was less than thrilled. He liked what they had going--Roman was the money and the brains, and Victor was the muscle, the devout follower, and the one who loved to spill blood. They didn’t need anybody else, especially not a new hitman, and especially not a girl.

You had grown up in Gotham City’s East End, a district that was infamous for harboring all sorts of crime. You knew every street, every dark alley, every burnt out shell of a once-great building. The East End was a far cry from Gotham’s nicer neighborhoods, with their shining skyscrapers and big fancy department stores, but what could you say? The East End was home. It was dark and gritty and dangerous, but you loved that about it.

Besides, it’s not like you could really go anywhere else.

You had developed quite a reputation for yourself over the past few years. Places like the East End have a tendency to breed criminals, and you were no exception--as soon as you left home, you followed right in your mother’s footsteps and became a gun for hire. Thanks to your family name, you had no trouble taking on the odd merc job here and there, working for mob bosses who didn’t mind the mess you tended to leave behind. Silent, sneaky kills weren’t really your thing, but you never really got into the whole...artistic thing that a lot of other killers did. You didn’t sit there and fuck around with the blood and guts, you just...weren’t very tidy. You were quick, but you weren’t clean. If somebody wanted their enemies taken out quietly, they knew not to even look in your direction, because you were not the girl for the job.

If somebody wanted to make a statement, though...

You were more than happy to crush some skulls and splatter some blood across the sidewalk for the right price.

Of course, so much killing got to be exhausting after a while, and even brutal assassins like yourself needed to relax every so often. So, that’s how you found yourself finishing up a job and heading back to your modest little apartment, hopping in the shower, and scrubbing all the blood and dirt off your skin as if you had just spent a long day at the office. It was all normal for you--the killing, the shady bosses, the weirdos you worked with--and you treated it the same way any of those prim and proper office people in Old Gotham treated their day jobs. It was a way to make ends meet, something to pay for groceries and take care of the bills...only, in your case, you were generally paid fully in cash, and sometimes that cash had some suspicious stains on it.

But hey, work was work, right?

That night, you headed to a club you had yet to check out. Done up in a little black dress and wearing some very expensive pearls you had nabbed off of a target a few months back, you took a cab and found yourself entering The Black Mask.

It was a nice spot, the booths and bar all packed with socialites and crime lords. Waitresses and shot girls flitted around, there was a band playing on the stage, and the atmosphere seemed to be cheerful. Honestly, it wasn’t what you had expected, given what you’d heard about its owner.

Roman Sionis was a businessman, as he liked to call himself, who had been steadily growing his empire. He practically owned the entire East End now, and word on the street was he was looking to expand further into the rest of Gotham. You had never met the man, but you had enough mutual connections that Roman knew exactly who you were the moment he spotted you at the bar.

“Zsasz, go get her,” he said, gesturing towards you with a gloved hand.

Zsasz followed his gaze and tilted his head slightly. “You got it, boss.”

You were minding your own business, ordering yourself a gin and tonic and elbowing drunk men out of your way as you carved a little spot for yourself at the bar. They were rambunctious, leaning towards you with wide grins and beady eyes that told you they were hoping to get lucky tonight.

As you were getting ready to throw another elbow, the men suddenly scattered, vanishing into the crowd as if something had scared them off. The bartender set your drink down in front of you, and just as you raised the glass to your lips, the scent of musky cologne filled your nose and you looked up to see none other than the notorious Victor Zsasz standing before you.

“Boss wants to talk with you.” He said simply, his voice rough and hoarse.

But you were too busy taking in his facial features to really listen to his words. His short hair was the lightest blonde you had ever seen, almost snowy in color, a stark contrast to the black stubble that covered his jaw. He was wearing a silky dress shirt the color of red wine, or dark blood, the kind that was thick and coagulated and dripped off of knives so beautifully.

As he stared right back at you, you saw the scars that cut into his face, straight, meticulously carved lines that you were sure he had given himself. After all, just as you did, Victor Zsasz had a reputation, and while you had never met him, you had heard plenty about the sadistic assassin who kept tally marks of all of his victims.

Part of you wondered just how many he had.

You took a sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his. “I only just got here. I haven’t even paid for my drink.”

“On the house, courtesy of Mr. Sionis.” Zsasz said, regarding you with heavily lidded eyes as he looked down at you.

Just as you knew of him, he knew of you. Even though he was pretty much locked in place with Roman now, Zsasz heard plenty about everyone else in the East End. You practically ran in the same circles, and he had to admit, he was a tiny bit curious about the lady assassin everyone was raving about. He almost admired the messiness of your kills, but he also thought that you were sloppy and too quick, never taking the time to truly appreciate what you were doing.

Now, as he glanced down at the swell of your tits as they practically spilled out of your dress, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill you, or fuck you, or both.

“It’s rude to stare, Mr. Zsasz.” You teased as you caught him.

“It’s rude to keep the boss waiting.” He shot right back.

“Fine.” you sighed, pushing away from the bar. “Lead the way.”

He offered his hand and you took it, holding onto him gingerly. The crowd parted for Zsasz in a way that they never would for you, smoothly and easily, club patrons giving him polite, frightened nods as he pulled you past. His grip on your hand was tight and harsh, squeezing as if you might try to run, but in all honesty, you were marveling at how warm his skin was around yours. You didn’t hate the way he led you over to his employer, and you knew that he was being gentle, or at least his version of it.

When he brought you before Roman Sionis, he immediately let go of you, moving to stand next to his boss. Roman himself was sitting in a booth, sinking into the lavish red velvet upholstery as he held a drink in his gloved hand. He regarded you with a calm smile, immediately gesturing for you to take a set across from him.

So you did, and the rest was history.

Roman Sionis had heard of you, and when he realized that you lived in the East End, in his East End, he had to have you. He had to own you. So, he did what he always did with people, and he bought you. All you had to do was complete one little, simple job for him, and he would keep you around on a regular salary, giving you all the benefits of joining his tiny little family. You passed his test with flying colors, taking out your target faster than Roman could have hoped for, and the next thing you knew, you were spending your days lurking around Roman’s penthouse.

You stayed quiet and obedient, not wanting to give Roman any reason to get rid of you. It was a good, steady gig, one you didn’t want to pass up, but you could tell that Zsasz wasn’t pleased. He scowled at you, always waiting for you to trip, always ready to watch you fall. You got the feeling that he viewed you as an intruder, someone who was messing up his life even though you gave him more than enough space. He would raise his lip in a sneer whenever you passed, showing off gold teeth in a maddeningly handsome way that always had you hoping and praying that he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks sometimes flushed. He never seemed to care, as he never made any other moves. Maybe he was under strict orders not to fuck with--or just plain fuck---you, or maybe he legitimately didn’t want to.

You didn’t know why you had started to care so much.

You didn’t know about the way he watched your ass when you walked away from him, or the lewd way he sometimes palmed himself right out in the open. You never heard his pants and moans as he got off to the thought of you wrapped around him, and you never got to hear your name rolling off his tongue as he spilled into his hand, hips rocking of their own accord.

Yeah, Zsasz was pretty much head over heels. He was fucked.

He didn’t know why he liked you so much. There was just something about you, something about the way you walked and talked that always made his cock hard. He had reached the point where you would enter a room, and his pants would grow tight. Did you even know? Could you possibly fathom the torture you were putting him through every single day in Roman’s penthouse? Zsasz wanted to grab you and bend you over something, anything, hike that cute little skirt up and just go to town on your cunt. He dreamed about it at night, he wanted it, he craved the taste of your pussy...

But he couldn’t have it.

Not yet.

He would wait. He could be patient. After all, Roman came first. Roman always came first. Zsasz needed to focus on keeping his boss calm and happy, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted, no matter how much he wanted to press you up against the windows and fuck you so that the entire East End could see who you belonged to.

No matter how badly he wanted it, Zsasz would wait.

#victor zsasz #victor zsasz x reader #zsasz x reader #bop zsasz #birds of prey zsasz #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey x reader #roman sionis #dceu #dc imagines

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kwonhoshi0 · 4 years ago

Text

| 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 |

navigation | k.b masterlist

pairing : bakugou x f reader

genre : angst, fluff

word count : 3.1k

warnings : lord here we go, trauma, ptsd, torture, blood,spoilers in case you haven’t watched all of mha, sexual jokes, talk of vomit, stabbing, knives.

- set when bakugou got taken by the villains but instead of bakugou getting taken its you-

> quirk like elevens power in stranger things < > telekinesis <

“we don’t know too much but we have the names of two targets right now, bakugou and y/n, if you’re either of those people don’t fight come back to the camp.” after hearing the announcement from one of the pussy cats, mandalay you look at bakugou and todoroki, bakugou looked happy since it meant he had villains to fight but he heard your name and worry took over his face, you weren’t dating but god did you want to, you looked over at moonfish disgusted by him, his mouth was held open with small metal bars a straitjacket over the rest of his body.

you couldn’t unleash all your power on moonfish since you get extremely tired and you probably have a lot more fighting to do so you simply gathered 10% of your power to your finger tips, bakugou and todoroki were about to attack but stopped when they looked at you, they know how powerful you can be after seeing you fight and train, it’s what bakugou loves about you, you are badass and didn’t hesitate to put yourself in danger for others, he would never tell you this though.

with a simple flick of your wrist you attempted to break his neck, a little bit of blood coming out of your nose you wiped it away before looking back at the villain, he screamed out in pain before dropping to the ground. ‘it didn’t even look like you tried’ todoroki complimented making bakugou stare at him, ‘yeah yeah icyhot we get it’, you giggle at their antics before you feel a sharp pain in your shoulder, crying out you fall over looking up to see moonfishes knives coming at you, todoroki made a wall of ice blocking moonfish from you all, which irritated bakugou ‘I COULDVE ATTACKED HIM HALF AND HALF BASTARD’, ‘you tried before besides we need to stop the bleeding and quickly’ todoroki replied calmly making bakugou scoff, ‘i can do it move over’ his sudden calm behaviour startling you. he takes some cloth that ripped from the bottom of his t shirt earlier and wrapped it around your shoulder and armpit making you wince, ‘shit sorry’ his eyes oddly softening at your pain your eyes widen as you hear the ice wall todoroki created being scratched and broken down, but you can also hear something else.

‘Y/N, BAKUGOU, TODOROKI!!’ you look over to where moonfish was and running past him was midoriya and shoji behind them was dark shadow at his strongest form, he’s strongest in the dark which is probably why they came to where todoroki is, before todoroki unleashed his fire bakugou told him not to for a second so dark shadow could entrap moonfish. after dark shadow was contained everyone took a second to catch their breaths before they all looked at you and bakugou.

‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU EXTRAS LOOKING AT’ bakugou yelled. ‘we have to protect y/n and bakugou since they’re the ones the league want’, everyone was agreeing while you and bakugou stood there like meerkats. ‘tokoyami stand behind y/n and bakugou we’ll stay in front’ after midoriya told everyone the plan you just followed along unable to say anything.

you winced out a sudden pain in your shoulder from the attack earlier ‘shit do you need me to look at that’ bakugou said his usual angry expression now a soft worried one. ‘no no i’m okay’ you smile. you all jumped up at a sound, it sounded like uraraka, without thinking you ran through the trees everyone screaming after you, after getting through the clearing you see toga draining uraraka of her blood before you could attack her she ran into the forest disappearing saying how theres too many people, everyone caught a glimpse of her as they caught up to you. ‘Y/N YOU FUCKING IDIOT DONT DO THAT AGAIN FUCKS SAKE’ bakugou yelled making you hug him in return ‘i’m fine shut up’ he leaned into your hug making you smile at his warmth towards you, you quickly jumped realising the situation you’re in ‘hey uraraka are you okay’, midoriya already talked to her asking what happened but you wanted to check since you’re friends, ‘i’m okay thank you for asking, are you, does that hurt’ she asks taking a look at your gash, you really admire this girl she’s so caring which is why she’s one of your closest friends along with the rest of the girls in class 1a, ‘i’m okay i’m okay don’t worry about me’ you smile convincing her.

after midoriya told tsu and uraraka the plan you all attempted to head back to the camp again, before walking further you look behind you to see tokoyami isn’t there bakugou isnt either, before you can even say anything to the others you felt a hand over your mouth you do the only thing you can in that moment, you bite the persons hand and scream as loud as you can, before you can move again you feel yourself getting trapped.

you’re stuck in a ball or whatever this is, you can’t move very well but you can see, not very well but you can, you feel trapped, and helpless, you don’t cry in front of others but you can’t help it, since no one can see you, you let out a couple tears ‘bakugou’ was all you could say fearing what happened to him, ‘Y/N?? Y/N FUCK’ you look up to see him in another ball next to you, but tokoyami isn’t next to you has he been saved?, you go up to the screen of the ball your hands aligned before you looked around you, are you in a mouth..

before you could think further you saw the mouth open, falling out of it you heard the compress yell out in frustration before bakugou could grab you dabi had his hands on your shoulder making you wince out in pain his grip on you too strong for you to do anything, compress also holding onto you so you couldn’t move, you looked at bakugou and midoriya they ran at you unable to reach you in time, as the portal closed you say

‘bakugou don’t come’.

you didn’t see this part, but bakugou was distraught, he was made to go the hospital with the others but he didn’t talk or scream he sat there throughout the night of your absence in pain, not the usual screaming angry bakugou. he could only think about how he couldn’t save you, that’s when midoriya came to him along with kirishima about rescuing you, he was all for it of course, kirishima could see his pain even though you’re both friends he can see he wants you as more and he loves you as more.

- 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭 -

‘do you know why you’re here’ shigaraki smiles which you could barely see with his hand covering his face, you couldn’t move, you were strapped to a stone chair melded into the wall, you felt helpless, ‘let me guess, you want me to join your little league’ you sneer, ‘we can give you everything you want and more, you power could be useful to us’ at this you just laughed. ‘you can give me everything huh? i don’t think you can help me become a pro hero which is all i want’ what are they thinking? did they really think they could convince me with this,, unless there’s something to threaten me with. before you could think further dabi grabbed your face ‘look here princess, becoming a pro hero is easy but we can protect you, they can’t when you realise how much we can give you you’ll be begging for more’ he smirks looked down. ‘you’re fucking disgusting get off me’ you spit.

he does as you wish stepping away from you smirking, you felt sick not only were you trapped but there was no way you were getting out of this by yourself.

-𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥-

‘we heard what you’re going to do’ aizawa’s voice coming from around the corner, everyone jumped ‘you’re not going to go get y/n and that is final, from today you’re on house arrest all of you, until we get y/n home’.

after a lot of screaming from bakugou and kirishima they went to the dorms, bakugou went in this room slamming the door as soon as they got back. thoughts running through his head so fast it hurt, for what was the first time in a while, he cried, thinking about the first time he saw you, how you were nervous but tried not to show it, he saw right through it, you understood eachother well and not only did you put up with his anger but you screamed back when you needed to. from the first time he saw you he stared at you, in class and when you all moved into the dorms he couldn’t help but feel happy when he realised you were on the same floor.

still with tears running down his face he picked himself up and walked to the room across the hall, your room, the last time he was here you were gaming together, he remembered how you leaned into his shoulder and groaned when you failed a level, or how you pout when concentrating, or how your face turned red when anyone asked if you were dating. that night he slept in your bed fearing the worst.

-𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭-

‘you know y/n we aren’t just going to let you go back to your little hero friends because you said no’ shigaraki laughed taking the hand off of his face, with clear view of his dry lips and neck and his dull eyes you retort ‘what are you going to do? torture me’ you had a smile on your face, they wouldn’t do that to someone they wanted to recruit,, right?

‘correction, we’re going to torture you to death’

it felt like it had been hours of the pain, again you didn’t cry around people you tried so hard not to but it hurt, toga didn’t go easy on you, you were nothing but that of a ragdoll a dummy to play with, they went one by one interrogating you for information about ua and your classmates quirks, since you wouldn’t join the league and there was no sign of you changing your decision, toga was still interrogating you, after denying the first few questions she cut your cheek, and then your shoulder, getting angry and losing patience she stabbed your thigh making you cry out in pain, your once tear stained cheeks was now blood stained.

it had been hours, you were barely breathing, it was late probably 4 or 5am, you were covered in blood, your whole body covered in cuts and bruises, some of your fingers broken, they were going to release moonfish on you but they needed you alive for whatever reason, togas blood machine was in your body sucking the blood out, you felt weak, you were in pain and the salty tears dropping from your eyes made it worse stinging you as they dropped, you were on deaths door.

‘shigaraki i think we should give her back now, she’s going to die they should watch her die, if we give her back dead they can’t watch her die’ you couldn’t distinguish who said it, you were in too much pain to even lift your head ‘hmm i guess you’re right, toga just to be sure stab her near her stomach’ you couldn’t bare more pain, the cuts on your body the stabbed thigh was enough you were losing so much blood you felt like you were about to faint, you screamed, your scream pierced everyone in the room, the power you haven’t been able to use went into your scream making everyone’s ears literally bleed, with their hands over their ears shigaraki gave kurogiri the signal to open his warp gate, you felt a piercing pain in your waist, you screamed yet again but louder, you looked to your waist to see togas knife still in your flesh, she had stepped back because of your scream, shigaraki told everyone to undo your restraints, even though you’re powerful you were so weak, the villains in the room could kill you in an instant, you were going to die if you didn’t get help. they finished taking off the restraints, you couldn’t stand, you fell as soon as they lifted you off of the chair,

‘it’s been a pleasure working with you y/n, hope to see you again soon!’ you hear shigaraki giggle before the floor beneath you turned to a warp gate, you fell through and hit a wooden floor, crying out in pain you try moving your head around to see where you were only to realise you’re in the dorms, you turn over so you’re on your back where you experienced the least amount of pain since your back was against the chair, thinking this is some sick joke, you scream again but not to hurt anyone, only to make your presence known, you can’t move your losing so much blood you’re basically bathing in your blood. togas knife is still in your waist, you scream again, all the pain you’re feeling going into your scream. a few seconds later you heard footsteps loud ones, you felt yourself going numb, you looked towards the stairs to hear bakugou, midoriya and todoroki, everyone else were behind them not knowing what was happening, ‘what the fuck, what the fuck i know that’s y/n, i swear i heard her’ you heard bakugou say, he got down the stairs and looked around to see you, he ran so fast to you, to be by your side,

‘Y/N no fuck fuck i’m sorry’ his eyes were watery you smiled seeing the boy, ‘it’s not your fault’ you use the rest of your strength to lift your arm to hold his cheek, which made you cry out from the stab in your arm. mina yelled out ‘someone come with me now to get someone!’. todoroki sat besides you and gently put his fingers to your wrist making sure not to touch your broken fingers he checked your heartbeat, your breathing becoming irregular and forced. ‘y/n fuck what did they do to you’ kirishima whispered. you only smiled trying to comfort them, and then bakugou started crying his tears dropping next to you, making your eyes tear up as well ‘suki please dont cry, i’m here’ you tried comforting him, ‘theres something i should’ve told you before but i was too fucking weak’ he said trying to stop the tears, ‘you’re so strong’ you whisper the breath in your lungs running out, ‘y/n l/n i fucking love you, so much i wish i told you earlier but god i’m sorry i’m saying it so late i wish i wasn’t so fucking stupid’ you looked at him tears flowing making you wince ‘katsuki bakugou i love you too’ you breath, feeling yourself slipping away, ‘y/n keep breathing, shit’ midoriya said your holding your hand. ‘you’re so strong y/n stay with us’ todoroki smiled sadly.

then it all went black

when you woke up, you were on the sofa in the dorms, it had only been 30 minutes, recovery girl was next to you she healed your stab wounds and cuts first, but the wound next to your waist was hard to heal, bakugou was next to you, everyone else around you as well including all might, aizawa and the chief of police, ‘you’re awake’ bakugou smiled sadly, you smiled back, you looked down to see your broken fingers back to normal and bandages around your arms, thighs and stomach. ‘y/n i’ll ask you these questions here since these are trusted people’ the chief of police smiled, you nodded, ‘okay so first of all where were you and who were there’, you explained the dusty attic looking room and everyone who was there, after a couple minutes he asked ‘okay final question what did they say to you ask you, what did you say to them and why did they give you these wounds’, ‘they asked me to join their league they told me there’s benefits i told them something about how they can’t help me become a pro hero and after realising i wouldn’t join they tried interrogating me about ua and the quirks of everyone in this class, i refused so they hurt me and they took my blood, since the girl uses blood to change into people she’s probably going to use it, she has a lot of it now so check if it’s me before talking to me’ you felt a tear slip from your eye, quickly wiping it away you sit up wincing, ‘hey not so fast take it easy’ bakugou said comforting you by holding your hand. ‘y/n i’m so sorry we couldn’t protect you, you did amazing, ua did well accepting you’ the officer smiled.

after recovery girl told you about cleaning and looking after your wounds and aizawa and all might talked to about the encounter, they left, it was morning now around 8am and everytime you closed your eyes you see the blood and them. you sat up on the sofa the painkillers you took were working so you weren’t in much pain at all.

‘lay on me’ bakugous sudden words making you jump a little you smile, you layed on the chest of the boy you’re in love with, he stroked your head, for the next months and years to come he comforted you and through all the nightmares and all the crying he was with you, he was with you for all the fights and the injuries, he loved you through the times you didn’t feel loved, he cried with you when you needed it. katsuki bakugou loves you no matter what

a/n : alexa play drivers licence

... WHAT DID I JUST CREATE, the idea came to my mind and... IM SO SORRY BRUH??

anyway aha tag list open rn ask me in my inbox to be added ily !

also pls don’t copy my work in any way

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adorablelokie · 4 years ago

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Who is hunting who, or alternatively, is Loki going after Sylvie or is Sylvie seeking out Loki?

So far we’ve ‘seen’ Sylvie make an appearance in 6 different scenes:

- The one where she set the field on fire and knocked out TVA agents

- The one where she’s fighting the agents by the elevator in the TVA building

- The one where she’s spying on Loki and the TVA on surveillance cameras

- The one where she’s running away through a fog

- The one where she’s sitting with Loki by a small industrial lake

- The one where she’s doing a flip in a poorly lit room in a mysterious palace

And surprisingly, Loki has been around for at least 5 out of those 6 scenes. Let me show you:

1. The one where she sets the field on fire and knocks out the TVA agents.

This is a scene where Loki is probably not involved or present at all and is the lone exception. In fact this seems like an introduction scene of a mysterious antagonist of the show who will later on be revealed to be Sylvie.

I’m fairly convinced this scene happens in episode 1 since she’s still keeping her identity hidden. Judging by bts videos she takes off her cloak at some point during the mall scene which is set for episode 2.

Plus Derek Russo, who according to IMDb is only appearing in episode 1, is also involved in this scene as the unknown TVA agent who gets dragged away while he was reaching out for the orange canister.

tl;dr: No Loki here, introduction of Sylvie the enemy of the TVA and first hints of what she’s after. Likely (thanks to her cloak and a fellow actor) this happens in episode 1.

2. The one where she’s fighting the agents by the elevator in the TVA building

This is a scene where Loki actually is around. In the trailer #2 we saw Sylvie fighting two agents by the elevator in what is obviously, the TVA building.

But we also saw an alert Loki cautiously walking down a, rather monotone looking corridor. Judging by the markings on the wall this is also set in the TVA HQ.

Perhaps one’s first impression would be that Loki went rogue and is trying to escape his TVA ‘friends’, but it doesn’t appear that that’s the case. In the following shot we see a knocked out TVA agent just...lying there on the ground and Loki is, with his knives drawn, slowly making his way towards them, not away from them as he would if he was the one responsible for the poor agent’s state.

It appears that Loki is approaching the commotion/danger and is following the source of the fight. In this case I believe Loki is chasing down Sylvie, who has broken into the TVA HQ for reasons unknown. Perhaps to steal something that would allow he to travel through space and time. She does seem to be after something (note: orange canisters). But I doubt he knows about her identity just yet. I think Loki will find out who she is at the same time as the audience will, meaning, it’ll probably happen in episode 2.

tl;dr: Sylvie is in the building, Loki is there too, following the ‘crumbs’ she left behind and this might be the first time Loki and Sylvie interact in the show and/or are in close proximity.

3. The one where she’s spying on Loki and the TVA on surveillance cameras

A pretty easy one! The TVA and Loki enter the ROXXCART shopping mall (apparently, according to Decatur) it’s a scene set in 2050. They evacuate some people, but they also seem to get involved in a fight. Or at least Loki does as a random guy attacks him and he gets laid out by a roomba. No worries though, as Loki ultimately gets his revenge and knocks him out.

But from the safety of ROXXCART’s security room, Sylvie’s watching the events unfurl before her, still safely hidden in her oversized cloak (also is there a reason other that suspense for her to be so hidden? Can she not shapeshift or magically change her appearance?). I previously theorised that she might be capable of telepathically influencing people and might be behind Loki’s little roomba fight.

Thanks to bts videos and photos we know that at some point during this mall confrontation Sylvie has a rather flippant looking conversation with Hunter B-15 and this time, she doesn’t wear any sort of garments over her head. She’s no longer hiding who she is, but earlier, while she was watching surveillance cameras she was still wearing her cloak, so this is probably the scene when we get our first full glimpse of her.

Ultimately at some point after defeating the mighty roomba guy, Loki seems to realise he has an opportunity to escape and takes it, jumping through a portal waiting for him. Mobius and co are running after him, but too late, Loki’s gone. For now?

I wonder if the portal was opened by Loki himself orrrrr.....if maybe Sylvie’s to blame, and kind of helped him out there. After all, by watching trailer #2 we know she’s aware of the portals and likely knows how to use them.

tl;dr: Loki, Mobius and the TVA are in Roxxcart mall. Sylvie’s there too, being a stalker and watching them on cameras. Loki has a fight, Sylvie has a convo with Hunter B-15 and at some point Loki escapes. Our first look at Sylvie and this might be Loki’s first real confrontation with her.

4. The one where she’s running away through a fog

This one is my favorite moment because I don’t think many have noticed that the scene of Sylvie running away from chaos through fog might happen on the same planet/realm/place as Loki’s magical fight on a moving bar (possibly a fancy train? A bus?)

Admittedly, this one is hard to see, but if you watch the trailer (or if you watch it frame by frame), please spare a glance at the mysterious bulky figure running straight at her on the left of your screen.

The shrouded-in-foggy-mystery-figure seems to be wearing the exact same type of pointy, very Daft Punk looking helmets as the figures of authority Loki’s fighting off in a moving bar. They also seem to be wielding some type of a staff resembling weapon, which was also seen in the scene where Loki’s fighting, using his magic.

Even the overall fancy aesthetic looks similar to the one of Sylvie running through fog.

Even the type of font is similar/exactly the same.

tl;dr: Sylvie and Loki are both in the same place. Sylvie’s escaping a commotion possibly caused by her and Loki’s fighting off what seem to be figures of authority in that place.

5. The one where she’s sitting with Loki by a small industrial lake

This one is by far the easiest as they’re literally sitting inches across from each other. Where exactly they are it’s unknown, but they’re sitting by what seems to be an industrial lake (drainage/sewer pipes on their far right) and with lights illuminating the entire place.

At first it’s just Sylvie, but then Loki joins her. Looking at the given scenes it seems like she’s waiting for him.

Whatever’s going on in this scene I feel like it’s going to be emotionally heavy one. I think this is the scene where we actually find out who Sylvie truly is, what’s her real agenda. It might also be the first proper ‘ok, let’s sit down and talk’ moment between Loki and Sylvie. It gives me those vibes.

Also, they’re clearly not enemies at this point, in fact, judging by their close proximity and body language, it seems like they’re on okayish, maybe even friendly terms. I do believe they join forces at some point in the show.

And this scene of a portal opening up behind Loki follows their conversation. It’s the same rock structure, the same two rocks Loki and Sylvie were sitting on earlier, same ground, same source of lighting.

It seems like either someone from the TVA finds them or that Sylvie opens a portal for Loki.

tl;dr: Sylvie’s waiting for Loki. They have a heart-to-heart and seem to be okay with each other. After their conversation’s over, a portal opens up behind Loki.

6. The one where she’s doing a flip in a poorly lit room in a mysterious palace

Another very obvious one. At some point in later episodes (thanks to Loki’s injured right upper arm, we know this definitely happens after he and Sylvie have that conversation) Loki finds himself at a weird, semi abandoned (but not really, as the fire’s still lit) dark palace with golden specks and cracks everywhere.

We see a bit of light coming through the window, illuminating the room, giving this place a more pinkish tinge. Whatever this place is, it seems like a cathedral or a palace. It’s not entirely abandoned though.

Sylvie’s there too and she’s in her element, mid-flip, ready to demolish whoever she’s fighting. Loki? Who knows.

Loki is certainly looking for someone, and is on alert. Perhaps they’re actually working together to take down a mutual enemy.

tl;dr: Sylvie and Loki find themselves in the same, very aesthetically pleasing looking place and something goes down.

7. The one where Loki uses Sylvie’s sword to fight off the TVA guys.

Not really a ‘omg Sylvie’s there too!’, but I wanted to include it anyway.

I mean, it’s possible she’s there. I actually think she is and that’s why I’m including it.

Sylvie always has a sword on her person. In literally every scene we have of her so far, we could see her sword. The TVA agents don’t seem to wield swords (they have some weird glowy sticks) and Loki doesn’t wield a sword until he finds a shorter one later on in the show (it’s totally different from Sylvie’s)

This sword belongs to her. That’s for sure. Hunter B-15 does grab it from her at some point but I highly doubt she’s on her side.

However, at some point Loki is seen fighting the TVA agents (the glowy sticks are a dead giveaway) with Sylvie’s sword.

Now, these two guys don’t look like the usual TVA guards/hunters/agents so they might be from another department or are from another timeline. I believe at this point something either happens to Sylvie and she can’t fight (especially since she seems to be on unfriendly terms with the TVA) so Loki jumps in and helps her, or, he helps her out of the goodness of his heart. (Lol)

Anyway, there’s a reason why he has her swords and why he’s fighting the TVA. This frame just gives me more proof that Loki and Sylvie join forces.

tl;dr: Loki is using Sylvie’s sword and is fighting the TVA. Sylvie’s nowhere to be seen, but is probably around. Loki helps her.

Anyway, this is it. For some reason Loki and Sylvie do seem to be orbiting around each other a lot in this show. But that’s to be expected as Sophia’s one of the four leads and a possible main antagonist.

The only thing that I can’t quite decipher just yet is if Loki (and the TVA till certain point) are going after Sylvie for the time mess/crimes she caused OR if Sylvie is actively seeking out Loki for her own reasons.

Possibly a bit of both. Maybe she’s even the reason why he goes rogue and escapes the TVA, hoping to find the answers about who she is and why he’s in this mess on his own. Because I think there’s a chance the TVA might not be telling him everything and he, intrigued as only he can be, decides to find for himself.

Anyway, I can’t wait to see Loki and Sylvie wreak havoc on the TVA :)

#loki series #loki show #loki #sylvie #sylvie lushton #loki theory #loki speculation #sophia di martino #tom hiddleston #theory #speculation #analysis

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writing-by-candlelight · 4 years ago

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Hargreeves Mansion Layout: Second Floor

Thank you for coming back for part 2! If you haven’t seen part 1 (the ground floor) you can find it here. And Part 3, the third floor, here!!!

The second floor is slightly more complex than the first floor and it has a lot more rooms.

If you haven’t seen my first post; yellow symbolizes doors or double doors, green are archways, the neon pink is the staircase coming up from the floor beneath (same goes for the light pink - its the main staircase coming up from the ground floor.), the blue is the long staircase from the stair race scene that goes through the entire house from the basement to the third floor. The orange and black will be explained later.

So overall the second floor has the most rooms out of all the floors and the most colors so here we go!

So for the ‘home’ section of the house lets start on the far right.

The empty square there is the balcony area above the living room. Its thicker on the bottom since that’s where the bar is and the bar is completely covered. There also seems to be a small sitting area above it.

I’ve realized now in hindsight that the other end of the walkway ends at the wall and does not have the same sort of walkway across the top. I may correct my drawing in the future.

Speaking of the top section, this is where I’ve put Hargreeves personal rooms. I’ve placed the surveillance room here - the room where Hargreeves watches the children’s brainwaves and where Allison watches the tape of Hargreeves death. I’ve also placed it at the beginning of the hall. We only know there’s a hall since Diego walks down one on the way to Hargreeves’ Bedroom.

I placed Hargreeves’ Study right next to it. I know its not L-shaped as I’ve drawn it but I didn’t want to make the surveillance room super big so I’m just going to run with it. We see a living room and another room through a second door in the study so I assumed that this was another way into his bedroom.

The dotted line through the main walkway is just how I separated the house into sections so it may be ignored.

Now the central section is simpler.

On the bottom we have the Academy oil paintings. The small tragic things taking place from their debut until there was only Luther, Everyone leaving or dying or disappearing.

A bit further, slightly around the corner, is Grace’s charging station with its portraits. I put a dotted line around it because there are no walls but I wanted to show where it was.

Ignoring the courtyard we now get to the most complicated part.

The Bedrooms.

So Luther and Allison are side by side with their doors angled like we see in the dance scene and a lot of other scenes as well.

Then to the side is the bathroom which we see in the show has its own small hallway lined with attack posters like the rest of the hall (horrifying, I know).

Now to the interesting part. Klaus and Vanya’s rooms.

In the flashback scene we see both of their rooms. They are next to each other and both about the size of a closet with Klaus’ being slightly bigger.

But in the scene where they are older and Vanya is destroying the mansion room by room, you can see that Klaus now has a bigger room and that the sort-of-brick wall that we only ever see in Vanya’s room is a part of it.

So at some point the wall was knocked down and both rooms were given to Klaus. It even seems to have both doors, as in one scene Five enters through one and leaves through the other. This results in this chaotic mess of the room:

See? Both doors!

Moving on.

Any black sections on my ‘map’ are just thick walls or areas filled up with dirt or cement (though that last bit is more likely for the basement.)

The rest of the layout is sort of only based in canon since I had to change things around for them to fit (this is what happens when you film in multiple locations and not one house)

Now Diego’s room is the one at the end of the hall as we see in the flashback of Grace walking along it. Now I know in this scene we also see a hallway veering off to the left but it doesn’t make sense with the layout of the house, since that’s where the house ends, so I’ve erased it.

Diego’s room is the smallest of the rooms (once Vanya’s wall is removed) and it doesn’t change much at all so I have little to say about it. But its canonical location is interesting. Originally Diego’s room is diagonal to the third floor staircase (which I’ve striped orange) and has a slight angle to the door. Thing is, for the bathroom to have its hallway and for said hallway to be within the constraints of physics, I had to switch the rooms around a bit.

From the hallway scene we know the bathroom is next to Allison’s room and Klaus’ room is next to Luther’s. But in order to fit the bathroom hallway I had to flip them so I could cut the bathroom into the walkway. That’s why there’s a dotted line through the bathroom since the walkway wall would be there.

The creators also just...forgot??? About the staircase coming up through the floor from the ground floor? so I put the pink stairs right next to the bathroom.

This meant though that I had to put Diego’s room next to Klaus though.

I’ve added a new room for Vanya since she needed one and we are never shown were it is. I’ve put it at the end of the hall, slightly closed off from her siblings since that seems to be where Reginald would have put it.

This is from the hallway flashback just before Reginald comes in frame from that side hallway that doesn’t make sense. The open door we see is Diego’s original (nonsensical) room, which is the room I’ve given Vanya. And the stairs there are from the orange staircase that goes up to the third story. That dark doorway you see is (now) Diego’s room.

Now imagine that the hall just ends with Vanya’s door and that the stairs are folded halfway down to face Vanya’s door.

That’s how I finally got everything to make sense. It took me hours!!! Now we can finally move on to the training section of the second floor.

The second floor is the main training floor. This floor houses the training and exercise room on the far right. This room is mainly for overall training. I’ve headcanoned that it has tan oval running track, weights, workout equipment, punching bags, a climbing wall, gymnastics equipment, and an obstacle course in the center.

The sparring and weapons room is exactly what it sounds like. I’ve put it here for a separate space without all the equipment, because there is no way Hargreeves didn’t pit his children against each other. I headcanon it as having a boxing ring style space at the top and empty weapons space at the bottom with targets secured to the wall (the targets can move with a remote). This space is separated from left to right 3/4 of the way by a large metal weapons case with almost every weapon imaginable. There are dozens of types of guns, swords, war hammers, battle axes, bow and arrows, spears, knives, flamethrowers, scythes, clubs, maces, batons, both dual and singular sticks & staffs, num-chuks, shuriken, and even ‘non traditional weapons’ like ropes and chains.

We know from the scene where Five reappears in Ep 1 that they were taught how to use anything as a weapon. I assume this was either tested in the kitchen itself, or he set up a replica of a household room here.

(This is really really sad, look at it!)

We can see the following:

Egg Beaters - Hair Pull

Stock Pot - Explosive Device

Toaster - Use Cord For Strangulation

Coffee Pot - Throw Coffee In Face

Blender - Hand Mangler

Then I added a row of personal training rooms for their individual powers. Each room has an observation room - with a two way mirror and its own entrance - beneath it. I made it like a prison interrogation room on purpose because Hargreeves goes for functionality and trauma over anything else, and he would not like to be in the same room as some of their powers.

As you can see, the seventh room, which had been Vanya’s, has had its wall knocked down (hence the dotted line) and observation door boarded up. Hargreeves changed it all and made himself a small office instead. This was because it was no longer in use and because he wouldn’t want anyone to suspect anything.

And that’s it for this second installment in the mansion layout!!! Thank you so much for reading, id love to hear any thoughts!!!! Stay tuned for parts 3 & 4.

#The Umbrella Academy #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

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theunderwoodtypist · 4 years ago

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The Huntress, Chapter 1

Eyes watched her as she walked through the crowded promenade. Nervous gazes flitted her direction, quickly redirecting away from her when she glanced back. Her ears perked at any and all whispered, hushed tones. Station denizens stepped out of her path, staring with wide eyes as she passed. Station security chose to look the other way. As they had learned from past run ins with her kind. She found the club she had been searching for, the one with a curtain of beads partitioning it off from the bustling walkway outside, the large tinted windows offered very little view of the inside except some shadowy movement. She stood just outside the club, eyes flicking back and forth, studying the crowd inside through the multicolored beads. The scent of tobacco, marijuana, and other herbal inhalants burned her nostrils. She brushed the strands of beads aside and pulled the cloth covering her face down with one hand, and pulling her goggles up, resting them on her forehead, just shy of her pointed ears, with the other. The blue and violet lights pulsed along with the thumping of the music. Dancers wearing translucent garments of various colors danced on pedestals in a ring around the circular bar that took up the center of the establishment. Her whiskers could feel the faint static charge of the invisible forcefields around the pedestals, in place either to keep the patrons from getting handsy with the dancers, or to keep the dancers from escaping, she wasn’t sure which. In the back by the bar twin stair cases curved upward to a small balcony. A single doorway, also curtained by beads, lead to the back rooms. She surveyed the crowd carefully, sizing each patron up. They were a rough crowd, civilian cargo runners mostly, stopping at the station to unload and get some much needed relaxation. She recognized a few smugglers she had picked up before. Most of the patrons were honest and hard working, others simple men and women trying to make their way in the galaxy, though through illegal means. Which suited her just fine. A hunter was nothing if she didn’t have prey to pursue. The one she was after was a goblin. Nasty little things. Orange skin, pointed teeth, large ears. They were disgusting little ghouls, slimy and they smelled of bile. He was worth quite a bit, and her sources told her he knew things. Things she needed to know. His twin ran the bar here. The owner was some unknown individual, some benefactor that hid in the shadows. They probably kept the bar going to traffic weapons or drugs. Why else would someone not want their name on the documents? She approached the bar after she was satisfied with her initial survey of the crowd. The squat orange goblin looked her up and down for a moment.

“well…” he said in a slimy, rasping voice, showing her his yellowed pointed fangs. “Not too often we get mau in here… What can I get for you little kitty?” She ignored the derogatory remark and pointed at a bottle of blue liquid in the glass case behind the bar. The goblin turned and pulled the bottle out and poured a small splash of it in a glass and slid it across the bar to her. She set a rounded flat disk on the bar and tapped the surface of it. Sand-like particles orientated themselves into the three dimensional image of another goblin.

“Do you know where he is?” she asked coldly. The goblin scowled at the image.

“What’s he done this time?” He hissed.

“He owes my employer enough credits to buy a small star cruiser.” She hissed back, showing her own sharp teeth.

“Listen little kitty, why don’t you run on back to your employer, before you get your pretty little self hurt.” he growled. She smirked. She loved when they played hard to get.

“Just tell me where he is, and I won’t bring you in as well, for the two and a half thousand credit bounty you have on you.” she downed her drink in one gulp and glanced over her shoulder across the club, just to check on her surroundings. Her eyes locked onto an eros boy. He was young, not much into adulthood. His black hair was unruly, and his grey skin made him look almost like a shadow in the pulsing lights around him. He studied her with his mismatched blue and green eyes. He was armed. A handgun of some sort, holstered on his thigh, as well as a few knives. He wasn’t wearing the security band around his upper arm that meant he was permitted to carry a weapon. He had probably snuck around the security check points. He had an air of nobility, but the posture of a man who was unfazed by violence and death. He offered her a soft, gentle smile. If things went wrong… She would have to drop him quickly. She turned back to the goblin.

“Have you decided?” She asked, gesturing for the goblin to refill her glass. He obliged and she downed the drink.

“My brother is in the back rooms. I’ll go get him for you…” He said with an unsettling fanged grin.

“Good boy…” She smirked, watching him closely as he went up the stairs and into the back. She unbuckled the strap holding her side arm in place on her thigh and glanced around, looking for the eros again, but he had vanished. Good… eros tended to be excellent marksman, and small targets to hit. She didn’t want to have to deal with more bloodshed then necessary. The goblin bartender rushed out of the back rooms with a disrupter rifle in hand. She swore loudly and pulled her handgun before dropping to the floor as red hot bursts of plasmic energy streaked through the air. The cub erupted in screams and panic as patrons scrambled to get away from the weapon fire. She peaked over the bar and fired twice toward the goblin. Both shots missed, but she didn’t have a good shot. She figured he would want to take cover if he was being shot at. She had been right, the goblin ducked back into the back room, giving her enough time to scramble to her feet and find a better vantage point. There were nine fairly well covered spots in the club, each, unfortunately, left her back open, and she wasn’t sure how many of the patrons were part of this goblin’s inner circle and armed. She pulled her goggles down again and fired a few more shots as she moved, ducking behind one of the dancer’s pedestals. The boy atop it cowered, unable to get off because of the forcefield, but safe because of it as well. Disrupter blaster scorched the wall behind her and the ceiling. Patrons were still clambering to get out of the club, crawling over each other, shoving each other to the ground. They had effectively blocked the only way in or out. The goblin would be hers. She fired twice and ducked down again as disrupter blasts impacted the forcefield, their energy redistributed and funneled into the power buffers. If enough hit the field, it could overload and cause the emitters to explode. A few more blasted hit the field. She swore under her breath and fired a few more times. This was going no where quickly, and at this rate she would loose the majority of the bounty paying for the damages. She grumbled and pulled a few small disks from a few of the numerous pouches on her belt and on her thigh. She flicked her wrist back, sending them flying toward the goblin. One flashed brightly, the other erupted in a cloud of smoke. She dove out from her cover and fired twice into the cloud of smoke. She stayed still, watching, waiting… She knew she hit one of the goblins, she could see him struggling to get up with her goggle’s infrared scans. She cautiously approached the stairs. She kicked the disrupter rifle over the edge of the platform at the top of the stairs and pulled the goblin to his feet. He laughed and then winced in pain. She had shot him in the shoulder and the calf, no permanent damage.

“Why are you laughing?” She hissed. He looked into the back room. She followed his gaze and froze. There was no other goblin… He had lied… Her eyes locked onto a pulsing red light on the floor. A second disrupter was set in overload on the verge of going critical.

“It will destroy half the station!” He cackled. She swore loudly in her native tongue and dove off the balcony. She grabbed one of the heavy mahogany tables and flipped it over, ducking behind it just as the disrupter went critical. The blast blew out all the heavy tempered glass around the entrance of the club, forcing club goers, tables, bar stools, and other decor and objects through them, including herself. She hit the ground hard, coming to a tumbling halt, shards of glass and bits of the composite bulkheads were strewn around her, like someone had thrown them about like confetti. She pushed herself up and, her head spinning, ears ringing. Clearly the explosion did not destroy half the station… She struggled to her feet, barely keeping her balance, staring at the smoking front of the club. People dragged their friend’s lifeless bodies out from under debris, people wailed and screamed, others lay lifeless, killed by the blast. She looked around for her handgun. It had been knocked from her hands by the blast. The glint of gold caught her attention a few feet away. She pulled the gun from the debris and reloaded it, limping back into the club to confirm the kill. Before she could make it back inside, station security had her surrounded. She swore and jammed her gun back into its holster and pulled her goggles back up as she raised her hands over her head.

“My name is Tivali, I’m with the Hunter’s Guild, I have permission from the station master to use deadly force if necessary here.” she said as the security guards pulled her arms behind her back, fastening restraints to her wrists. She rolled her eyes but complied with every order they gave her, and answered every question. This was merely an inconvenience… A rather annoying, time consuming, headache of an inconvenience that would cost her time, money, and her prey…

#original story #sci fi #original writing #science fantasy #fantasy #bounty hunter #world building

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dead-un-arrival · 4 years ago

Text

Matt Murdock - I Can't Stop This And It's Killing Me (part 2/4)

Summary: You and Matt get to know each other better as it gets harder to keep your true identities a secret.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Combat descriptions, pure sarsasm.

Masterlist

The next night you meet up with Karen and Foggy at Josie's.

"Hey, guys." You say they both smile and say hello. "So, Foggy how is that case going? You know the one you wanted me to help you with?"

"Oh-- uh, good good." He says looking down a little.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I've known that for years." Matt comes up and sits next to Foggy straight across from you sitting next to Karen.

"Ha nice job guys." You smile at them and they laugh. Even Matt smiles a little.

"Oh come on you would've done the same thing for me," Karen said.

"No, actually I wouldn't." You joke.

"So, (y/n). I've met you twice but I still don't know what you do." Foggy said to keep the conversation moving. You knew full well that he knew what you did for a living.

"I work at Stark Industries as a tech consultant." Well, that's only part of what you do. You're really one of the agents that go on undercover missions and document data. Lying is almost all of your job so you're used to telling people you're just a tech consultant. However, as soon as Foggy asks the question Matt can hear a slight hitch in your breath and your heartbeat one beat faster. After you answer you slow your breathing to make it seem plausible.

"Ah very cool. What's it like working with the big man." Foggy asks talking about Tony.

"It requires lots of whiskey." You smart mouth back taking a drink of the whiskey in front of you causing everyone to laugh.

"What do you think about the devil in Hell's Kitchen?" Karen asks you.

"I don't know. He doesn't sound like a bad guy. Aren't they calling him Daredevil now?" Karen nods. "I think he's doing a good thing. Doing what the cops can't, which is basically everything." You joke but you were honest. You understand his point of view, stopping the bad people from hurting the good. That's the kind of thing you do every day.

Suddenly your phone rings. "Oh sorry guys I gotta take this. I'll be right back." You slip off the seat to talk to Fury.

"I'm going to use the restroom." Karen leaves Matt and Foggy

"Dude she likes Daredevil," Foggy says.

"I'm blind, not deaf Foggy." Matt laughs.

"But still at least you don't have to worry about telling her that."

"I've only just met her and from what I've heard around the office she's not really in the position to date."

"Oh come on. You're Matt Murdock you could charm almost any girl in this bar and get their number."

"Foggy, you've got us to meet stop pushing it and just let things run out," Matt says.

"Alright, fine."

You and Karen both come back to the table.

"Who was that?" She asked.

"Just my boss, I gotta go into work a little earlier tomorrow."

"Oh do you wanna go home now then?" Karen asks.

"Nah I can stay a little longer." So you all stay for about another hour and get a little tipsy, laughing and having a good time. Eventually, you all left and you walked home with Karen. Thankfully she was too drunk to mention anything about you and Matt. _________________________________________

You got to work two hours earlier than usual and instead of going to your desk, you met in the meeting room with Fury and Steve. There you had a debriefing of your next mission. It was a quick one. A simple in and out deal to collect data on a hard drive, nothing you haven't done before. You were set to leave at 8:00 A.M. So you would still get home at the usual time without Karen asking questions. You strapped into your suit and got into the helicarrier driven by another agent. Once you landed you grabbed your knives and a few handheld guns along with a sniper. You set up at the top of a hill and watched the guards circle the base. There were two levels. You shot the three guards at the top then the dozen at the bottom, now you were able to enter unannounced. Once inside, you ran up behind a guard and twisted his neck, slowly laying him on the ground. You continued down the hall and silently killing guards one by one as they came. You found the room with all the databases and held up a gun before entering. It was slightly dark but empty. You set the gun down and put the hard drive into one of the computers while it downloaded the data. Once it was finished you pocketed the drive in your suit and turned to leave when a man came in.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be in here!" He charged at you but you pushed him off and shot him in the chest.

"Shutup..." You say shaking your head. That's when more agents came in. You were able to shoot a few but ended up in some hand-to-hand combat. Their punches were weak but still left a bruise as one hit your jaw. It was now down to you and two other guards. You kicked one in the face to get him out of the way while you started attacking the other and he fell to the floor unconscious. The man you kicked stood up and pulled out a knife. You dodged his hand that held it but he did scratch your ear. You banged his head with yours losing his balance and you spun around and kicked him to the ground. You started to run out of the room but then swoosh the man threw his knife and it landed in the back of your left shoulder. "Ahhhaahowwww!" You said a little loud. You leaned against the door and pulled the knife out and threw it back at the man before making your escape.

You reached the helicarrier and sat down in one of the seats applying pressure to your wound.

"Are you hurt?" The agent asked then opened his mouth to say something again when he saw you.

"GO!" You yelled and seconds later you were in the air. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You've only met three of the Avengers. Tony, because you used to work for him, Bruce, because he worked with Tony, and Steve because he helped you with your missions and preparations. Today you got to see Bruce again. You undid the top of your suit leaving you in pants and a sports bra while he stitched your stab wound. He wraps up your shoulder and says you're good to go. You thank him and go home to take a loooonngggg hot bath. Once you get out you slip on a tank top and zip-up sweatshirt with Under Armor sweatpants and grab some ice to put on the huge bruise on your face and lay on the couch. This is going to be hard to hide. You think. An hour later you wake up to someone knocking. You groan.

"Who is it?" You call.

"It's Karen and Matt!" Karen yells through the door.

"Shit." You mumble to yourself. "Just a second!" You run to the bathroom and try to cover the bruise the best you can with makeup before you answer the door. It wasn't as noticeable but you could somewhat tell it was there. You zipped up your sweatshirt to hide the bandage wrapping and opened the door.

"Hey- oh my god what happened to you? You look like shit!" Karen worried.

"Well, it's nice to see you too. Come on in." You let Matt and Karen in and go back to your spot on the couch trying not to groan from the pain.

"What happened?" Shit think of something.

"I think I hit my head on my bedpost after I got home, we were pretty drunk." You say. But Matt hears your heartbeat and can sense you're hurt somewhere else than just your jaw.

"That's a nasty bruise (y/n)."

"Yeah, I know that Karen." You say rather harshly. "I'm sorry I just had a lot of meetings this morning." You lie about that too. Karen nods.

"Well we came over to see if you wanted to go bar hopping with us and Foggy but from the looks of it you're not in the position to do anything," Karen tells you.

"Bar hopping really? Come on you know that's not my thing but you guys should go out, have some fun. Meet a guy." You mock Karen.

"Shut up!" She yells at you and starts to get up to leave.

"Uh, you know what you and Foggy should go I'm not really feeling it tonight," Matt says. Karen nods and leaves. "You don't mind if I stay here do you?" Matt moves over to where Karen was sitting.

"No, not at all. Though to be honest nothing exciting is gonna happen." You joke he smiles.

"Are you sure you're okay? The bruise sounded pretty bad. Mind if I check it out?"

"What are you a doctor now?" You say sitting up. He says nothing but does the smirk he does while you move his hand to where the bruise is even though he already knew where it was. It was almost the size of a softball and it was blue and purple. The swelling was pretty much gone.

"What about your arm?" He asks.

"What about it?" You play dumb knowing you won't be able to think of an excuse for the wound.

"I heard bandages moving I thought you got hurt somewhere else." He says. You sigh and take off the sweatshirt revealing the bandage wrapping under your shirt. He gently places his hands on your shoulder and you groan a little at the soreness. "Sorry." He said as he moved his hand down your arm to make sure the bandage doesn't go down all the way to your wrist.

"I can't really explain what happened there if you're wondering but please don't tell Karen or Foggy." You slip the sweatshirt back on and lay down. Matt nods. A million scenarios run through his head of what could have possibly happened between last night, and now. Then he remembers you lying about your job.

"(Y/n)? Are you really a tech consultant?" He asks.

"Yes why?" You weren't lying that is part of your job. Just a small part of it.

"I'm just trying to figure out what could have happened since last night and a wound like that doesn't come from being drunk." You sigh not knowing what to say. You look at him and notice a cut on his bottom lip and some markings on his forehead.

"What are those cuts from?" You ask him.

"Oh, I bump into stuff all the time." He jokes.

"You seemed to maneuver yourself around my apartment pretty well." You answer a little suspiciously.

"Just luck I suppose." You nod dropping the subject.

Matt ends up staying a few more hours while you two chat and laugh. He likes the sound of your voice and the quick sarcastic remarks you always make. Karen and Foggy were right. You were sarcastic and dense. Matt learned much more about you without really learning anything about you. He didn't learn anything about your past but he learned what you liked to do, your opinion of some topics, and the things you didn't like. By the time he left, you gave him your number and he gave you his and told you to call him if you needed anything. She's tough. Matt thought as he left.

Part 3

#matt murdock #daredevil #foggy nelson #nelson and murdock #karen #matt murdock x reader #avengers #tony stark #imagine

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the-enamorando-deity · 4 years ago

Note

Thats great! 😍 Could I request a oneshot where Ziva David and Reader are in Gibbs team, are best friends and Ziva is really protective of her? Something very angsty with a happy ending with the sentence 'I always wondered how I'd die. Not once did I think it was by your hand'? Maybe Reader gets attacked and is hurt but still fighting until the point she has no energy left and Ziva comes right before the attacker can murder her? ❄

ok wow this got very angsty i’m sorry but i think got all the stuff <3

Ziva David x Reader, platonic

warnings for violence and injury

You always knew when Ziva was close by. Maybe it was just that you were so used to her sneaking up on Tony and McGee and yourself, but you had begun to sense her presence before she was even on the same floor. You glanced up to see Tony hovering over the wall between Gibbs’ desk and yours, watching you type.

‘You’re up to something,’ he smirked, but you gave no reply. ‘Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, probe, and it wasn’t me.’

‘No, it was me,’ Ziva hissed in his ear, making Tony absolutely shit himself. ‘Leave her alone, Tony.’

He quickly stepped back as Ziva sat on your desk, extending a black box toward you and grinning. You were a little suspicious, but realised quickly it was about the same size as the donuts you got from a little town on the coast. You had been there months ago on a little side mission, luckily with Ziva in tow.

It made everything run a lot smoother, Tony running point in the office as the pair of you hunted a very peculiar lead. It made you grow close with her, and it had been your first real case after being temporarily placed on Gibbs’ team. McGee had been requested for reassignment on a three month trial, where it would then be up to him if he would stay or return.

He’d since returned, but Gibbs had grown fond of you in the short time, whether he would be willing to admit it or not. You didn’t mind your desk not being in the main bullpen, it meant you got more work done when Tony was doing his class clown routine.

Ziva seemed to bounce with excitement as you opened the box, watching your expression quickly turn, your face lighting up. You had both tried a large selection of flavours after the case ended, since your flight back was still hours from departing.

‘Share it with me,’ you requested, watching her quickly hold her hands up to refuse. ‘I either share it with you or Tony.’

She relented rather quickly, both of you reaching for the small knives you kept in hidden compartments in your clothes, laughing at each other. ‘I taught you well.’

‘You did.’

Your heart raced as you thought back to that innocent moment, it felt so long ago when it was only mere hours. You had split the donut with her, ignoring Tony’s request to join in, and fumbling to finish it when Gibbs appeared with a more stoic expression than usual.

‘Do we have a case?’ you had asked, the forlorn look showing you there was something far worse in store.

‘No. Last night a prisoner transport van disappeared, with three prisoners inside. It was returned this morning with two.’

Silence filled the bullpen as your heart started racing, knowing that the first offender you had caught on the team was being moved for an appeal hearing. He was not only a killer, but that was the only crime he could be charged with at the time. Even that was thin, and you had been keeping an eye on his hearings if only to ensure he stayed in prison.

But he was loose now, and he knew that it was you who was the reason he was behind bars. He’d tried contacting you many times, through his lawyer and other nefarious ways, but you wouldn’t let him know how many had reached you. You hadn’t told the team either, and the look on Ziva’s face when she realised there was more to it broke your heart.

‘Y/N, are you alright?’

He had you now, and you had no escape, apart from your mind. It had been three, maybe four hours since Gibbs sent you home. You were overworking yourself to try and find the bastard, when Ziva found you hiding in Abby’s lab, shaking. You sat in your car for a good few minutes before going to turn it on, when you felt something watching you.

Before you could move, something pinched your neck, and the next thing you knew, you awoke in a blacked out room. Your head was pounding, and you swore you could hear someone calling your name. Your hearing was very fuzzy, until it wasn’t, and you realised you weren’t imaging it.

Desmond Forster looked innocent enough as he stood before you, if it wasn’t for the way he sat, prim and proper on the chair before you, cooing your name with no expression. You jumped, almost knocking over the chair you were tied to. There was a painting rag stuffed in your mouth, and it tasted worse than it smelt.

‘I could have killed you while you were out,’ he informs you, ignoring the warm tears that spilled over, running down your cheeks. ‘You look scared, Agent Y/L/N, and here I thought you were the no fear type.’

He stood and moved over to you, brushing hair from your face.

‘Are you going to be good for me, Agent?’ he enquired, taking the gag from your mouth.

Everything inside of you said to not make him mad, to do what he said, but you’d studied him, you’d caught him. You instead mustered everything inside of yourself, and spat at him.

A harsh blow landed across your face, knocking the chair over and sending you hard into the ground. The rope that had tied your arms behind you broke, but not before the back of the chair crushed your arm beneath it, almost breaking it. You cried out, and were left there.

Forster walked around and squatted beside you, his expressionless face now revealing how pissed you had made him. Reaching out to wipe the blood from your lip, he flicked it onto the floor.

‘I was hoping to get to at least fifteen, and it looks like you just volunteered to be my lucky last.’

You did everything in your power to ignore him as he spoke, lifting the chair and setting you back down. He opened his hand and held it against your face, making a single fast move and backhanding you across the cheek. You tried not to make a sound, but he wasn’t going to stop either way.

You held out hope that someone would notice you were gone, would realise something was wrong. But with every strike, the ropes held true, and you fell further into the notion that this was going to be your end. You thought about the team, and your heart started racing.

‘I always wondered how I’d die,’ you muttered, ‘not once did I think it was by your hand.’

He laughed. It was unsettling, and it made your spine tingle with fear. He had lost the last of his marbles, and he would do anything to finalise his revenge.

‘You were wrong.’

It wasn’t until then you snapped, breaking the ropes around your arms and taking a dive at him. You fought against him with everything you had, making a break for the door when you thought you could reach it. He grabbed your ankle before you could reach it, dragging you back and pulling you beneath him.

The fury you could feel steaming off him grew worse by the minute, and each strike came harder, and every miss made him want to hurt you more. You kept fighting, even when it felt like your body needed you to stop, until you had nothing left, and you dropped to the floor and reached weakly for escape.

A strange feeling came over you, similar to the one you’d had that morning. Something was different, and you heard a thud down the hall. The door broke open as Ziva burst in, the air silent as you wained in and out of consciousness. You couldn’t hear what she yelled at him, or what he yelled back.

You did see the thuds of bullets striking his chest, his own gun in his hand, but barely raised before Ziva got him. The whole time, he could have just shot you, and the thought sunk in as Ziva ran to your side. She checked he was dead before kneeling beside you, pulling off her jacket and covering you.

‘You are freezing, Y/N,’ she noted, rubbing your arms softly. ‘There’s an ambulance on the way, hold on for me.’

Nodding with what strength you could find, she sat there, holding you until they came. You were glad it was Ziva who found you, who saved you from a horrid fate. She was there for the ride to the hospital, holding your hand the whole time. When you could talk properly again, your only thought was to thank her over and over.

‘What are best friends for?’ she asked later, grinning as she signed the cast on your arm. ‘McGee said he will split your paperwork until you’re healed, and Gibbs is working on a pair of crutches for you.’

‘That’s too much, Ziva, I don’t need special treatment,’ you insisted.

She laughed as Tony entered, a pile of boxes in his arms. ‘Yes, you do,’ he argued, ‘otherwise who’s gonna to help us eat all of these?’

‘No, those are for me and Y/N, you can find your own thing,’ Ziva remarked, grabbing a box from him and opening it for you.

They argued as you drifted off, and there was no better sound.

taglist: @marvelfansince08love @mymarvelwomen @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @monihaswritersblock @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#asks #anon #ziva david #ziva x reader #platonic #fanfiction #writing #ncis #request complete

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angelharness · 4 years ago

Text

ns/fw tag is junkbox, blacklist that tag if needed

somehow this evolved into. frank getting railed. was just thinking about how there’s virtually no sub frank content and then this happened. gender neutral reader, could be interpreted as a strap-on or otherwise.

WARNINGS: smoking, brief descriptions of blood

FRANK MORRISON / THE LEGION

When Frank picks you up for your typical Friday routine, he’s tense. More so than usual, enough that you can notice it, despite being so acquainted with his usual taut air. You’ve just come from dinner with Susie and Julie at the only karaoke bar in the area, still a ways from Ormond, cheeks bitten by the cold and the crescents of ice caught on your lashes.

Stuffed on crisp fries and more than one refill of Shirley Temples, you’re a little groggy and just want to get to his house to pass out in bed, but through your coma-esque fogginess you see Frank’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. His eyes are almost unfocused, and you feel his dad’s old Ford Mustang begin to veer slightly as he begins down the route to his place.

You’re staring at the highway in front of you, but as the car inches over the dotted white line of the road and reaches well into the next lane over, you grab for Frank; a bad idea, he snaps to reality with a jerk in his shoulders, and the wheels screech and whine when he tears the steering wheel suddenly to the side. You gasp for a moment.

Frank swallows, readjusts his grip, and redraws into the proper lane. You look over at him, worried, and though he glances back fleetingly, his focus still resides elsewhere.

“Frank, do we need to pull over?” you suggest, somewhat meekly. Frank was never a good driver, liable to concerning cases of road rage, but it’s out of character for him to be so out of focus. As you expected, he takes offense to your comment, as well meaning as it was intended.

“Fuck, I’m fine, okay? Can you just—” His grip tightens further, you can hear the stiff creak of the worn leather furrowing intensely between his fingers.

He twitches when you reach a hand to rub his shoulders. As you graze down his side with a gradually increasing pressure, he jolts beneath his heavy denim jacket. He careens inward, retreating from your touch, but in the moments after, falls back into the space between you two.

You rub his hip comfortingly; Frank begins to loosen up, though his hands remain rigid, defined by furrowed veins across his straining knuckles. Your hand rests on his thigh, where you rub gentle circles. He tightens up again once more, then finally relaxes, and though there is no audible indication you can feel an exhale of relief as his limbs unstrain.

He slouches back into the driver’s seat chair, but you still see him spare you glances, less frantic but still with meaning.

It’s been a period of fluctuating silence now. Only taking his eyes off the road to struggle open the center console, retrieving a suspiciously brown box of his favorite Classic Filter Kings cigarettes, he rummages further for his lighter but resigns his attempts, the unlit cigar fixed between his fingers as he returns to the wheel.

“What’s wrong, Frankie?” you push. Your hand moves inward on his thigh. You can’t tell if it’s a gasp, but his mouth snaps open then shuts just as quickly, eyelids fluttering in fluster.

“Can we talk about it when we get back to my place?” he replies. His voice comes out smaller.

When you pull up in front of his foster parents house, the sprawling display of Christmas lights across neighbor’s lawns projects in smears of color down the windows of the Ford Mustang. His house is dark, an unfitting, unwelcoming silhouette between the neighborhood's jolly spectacles. Its windows stare back like dark, unfeeling eyes.

Frank draws into the empty driveway. His parents are always out at night, though you never borrowed to ask, thankful for its convenience. He alluded to them being out of town this weekend, though.

As Frank is now newly-nineteen, they don’t especially care much for whatever pursuits he undergoes in the privacy of his room, as long as that means he isn’t out late and getting into trouble with the law (which still makes up all of his time otherwise). You’d barely talked to them at all, actually—when Frank first brought you home, of course with the intention of sex, they hadn’t said anything at all, despite his foster mom spotting you as he rushed you up the stairs to his room.

He practically kicked you out afterward, just in time for dinner, which you guess had saved you from any uncomfortable introductions. You would rather not spend an awkward evening at the dinner table, shifting under the judgemental, wordless glares of his parents.

The car doors slam and the two of you trudge up the driveway to the door. Despite his parents' evident indifference, he’d always insist on entering from the back door closest to the stairs when they were home to ensure as minimal confrontation as possible. It’s in their absence that he hurries inside, eagerly pulling you along, breath heavier in cold plumes of crisp winter air.

The door shuts, he flips on the living room lights, a sad Christmas tree blinking to life wearily in the corner by the front window.

“The usual?” you start with a slight smile. Sex was never routine, actually, but you can tell when he needs to destress. Your relationship, never technically made official but by all other means definite, started with a teen-aged, carnal fiercoity. These escapades mellowed out and became sparser in your months together, now your time is spent in a more intimate, personal affection. To an outsider (such as Joey), they might think that that flame has lessened, but in fact you prefer the genuine romance that has developed in sex’s absence.

He’s rolling the cigarette anxiously between his fingers, gaze fixed elsewhere.

Frank is not shy. He feels so rawly and with a strengthness that wards off those who have not developed the acquired taste of his intensity.

Here, though, in the doorway of his house, breathing deep first, then shallow, he is small.

“In the car,” Frank mutters. His brows lower, frustration forming between his eyes. It’s an incomplete sentence but said with finality. He wants you to figure it out.

In the car.

You step forward and slide your hand down his arm.

“Frankie?” you say, and while it is said with understanding it comes out teasing. He parts his lips. He grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a vigorous kiss. Parting for desperate breaths but still so fervent. It’s not the intensity you are familiar with. It is, in some aspect, resigned, from a place of surrender. He’s warm, despite the December night you’ve entered from.

You’re starting up the stairs even as his hands clench at the fabric of your shirt. There’s the cold slide of zippers as you shed your jackets and stumble into his room. Blind, preoccupied with heavy kisses, he swats at the doorway to his room, finding the end of his door and slamming it shut after you.

The lights come on next. His room is as messy as usual; what clothes he couldn’t manage to cram into his drawers he’s instead kicked under the bed. It smells of old weed, never a smell you would get used to. His collection of army and pocket knives remain perhaps the most organized aspect of his room, mounted on his bedroom wall in a thick frame. Torn magazine pages are plastered about on the wall; various models in bikinis, and though a joke (he claims), it’s still the subject of teasing from Julie.

Frank tugs you along, falling back into his bed, guiding you to straddle him. His face is so red. He looks away, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Please,” he manages.

It’s the first time you’ve heard that from him, in any context. It’s so bizarre you nearly laugh, but this is also just so rare of an experience you don’t want to risk embarrassing him, in which case surely this occurrence would never present itself again.

He’d always been the one in control. Perhaps steered by his own collecting frustration, he fucks roughly and uncaringly. That is not to say he’s ever hurt you, but he’s never entirely there in the moment. He’s there for the feeling, but his mind is so many places at once you’ve never felt so alone in an inherently mutual act. His intensity carries over into his hands and touches, strokes which barely pass as such. Bruises and scratches are expected, though they heal fine enough on their own. Biting, too, wherever on your neck he can sink his teeth into it while fucking you.

Your hands must be cold, or he’s just nervous (both, you decide), as the muscles in his chest twitch when you run your fingers firmly down his bare chest. There are plenty of scars, varying in color, in recency. Old, faded scars juxtaposed by those more recent and a painful red. There are dark bruises up his forearms where he scratches subconsciously when anxious. You kiss up the bruises there, caring, sweet, but intensifying when you rise to meet his lips.

Frank was never treated kindly. Beyond that, he never opened himself up to kindness; paranoid by a history ridden so distinctly with hurt and mistreatment from those expected to care for him.

In your time with him you’ve slowly introduced intimacy. Genuine intimacy, loving kisses and compassionate touches. You like to think he’s calmed down over the years. You see that in your time alone, where he’s come to allow himself to relax and trust you, your intentions, your love for him, but you never see it otherwise. With others, he’s still Frank, still ambitious and self-destructive, careless perhaps in the desire for hurt, for what he thinks is punishment. You wonder how much of it is an act. He keeps it all hidden well behind unyielding eyes.

You run your fingers through his short hair, moving your kisses to his neck. Instinctively, his hands claw at your back, nails sinking in bare skin for security. If he’s so jumpy at just this, you’re not sure if he’d be able to handle much more.

“It’s okay,” you promise, murmuring into the crook of his neck. Somehow, it’s hot, even as snow gathers on the outside ledge of his bedroom window. Your skin is pricked with goosebumps but your neck burns up to your cheeks.

He says your name, eyes squeezed shut, a shy request for more. The kisses on his neck escalate, and you graze your teeth on the sensitive flesh experimentally. He pulls you closer. More. You sink your teeth in. Dark blood beads around the marks, and when you retract you gently dab away the red. More bites, he yelps shortly but his breath becomes distinguished and desperate. He’s still pulling at you.

“Is this ok?” you pause to ask. He nods his head and moves impatiently beneath you.

He usually is relatively silent when you do get around to fucking, and in the times when he’s not he rambles on and on, names, some degrading and others loving and some both. Teasing, too, the most relentless teasing.

Seeing him so oddly vulnerable, your hands clasping his wrists to the bedsheets, that almost drunk blush bright across his cheeks. It’s weird, so weird, but it feels incredible, too.

Pants come off, his boxers you pull down. He’s making the faintest whining, but you can’t tell if it’s out of anticipation or anxiety. You check in again and he responds a little annoyed, urging you on with rising impatience.

“Fucking christ, come on,” he finally spits, grinding pointlessly against nothing, and yet there’s immediate regret in his eyes when you grip his thigh in warning. His foggy eyes lurch to look down at the hand inching up his inner thigh. Frank is taken aback, but still you feel him move against you, pushing into your touch to ease the burning want even if slightly. You let him go.

He shoves the cigarette on his cluttered dresser, sitting up to stretch past his nightstand, but when he turns back to you you guide him to lay back down. He lays expectantly and swallows his nervousness. You take his cock in your hand. Another taut intake of air and dizzy mumbling.

“Yeah,” he urges in response to your inaction.

You start at a steady pace but quicken soon enough to meet his impatience. Hearty strokes, he pushes into your touch, needy and hot, the whimpering now very much audible. He jerks his head back across his pillow and looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, a twitch to his lips. You stop to admire the piercings on the underside of his shaft. He snarls, you jerk him sharply and he shuts his mouth with a surprised sound. Faster now, his mumblings evolve into barely restrained moans.

“Good boy,” you say encouragingly, “Such a good boy.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” His hands slide from your back, marked with the red imprint of fingers, and instead he tangles the sheets tightly in his fists, twisting them. He’s panting.

“Oh,” you muse. He groans shakily. “Do you like that? Being called ‘good boy’?”

He can only make a sound in reply. Possibly above admitting it, but when your strokes slow, he nods. You stroke faster.

Internally, you store this revelation in your head to tease him about later. Right now, you find yourself oddly warm at this nickname.

Again, “Good boy, what a sweet boy.”

He ruts into your palm and you see the glint of what might be tears stinging his eyes. He’s burning, so flushed, so needy. He relents and falls back into himself. It’s an entirely new intimacy to see him like this.

He releases with an audible shutter, chest heaving an extraordinary amount for such an act. You’ve jerked him off before without a fuss, though again in those moment’s he was still demonstrating complete control, usually with a hand knotted in your hair. Exploring that loss of control you just find so exciting, though. You’re incredibly turned on and possibly more embarrassed than he is.

You both take a moment, his breathing evening out again. You cup his cheek and run a thumb along the frame of his face, rough with scars and bruises. You kiss the light scar that runs through his lip, humming sweetly. He exhales hotly, eyes heavy and half-lidded, murky with lust.

“Fuck me,” he says suddenly. You think for a moment he’s regained his signature brashness, maybe previously lost to emotional exhaustion—no, though. He grinds against your thigh, searching so urgently for relief. You like withholding it, like watching him squirm and sputter for words, to flounder in this new sensation, flustered and aching but also groggy in his own befuddlement. But lost to an overwhelming yearning, he severs contact with the shame he’s constructed to keep him from intimacy and vulnerability, concepts still very new and scary.

Funny how new emotions manage to be Frank’s greatest, most incapacitating fear; you’d more readily believe he would kill a man before he would ever let himself be emotionally vulnerable.

“How do you want me to?” you ask. You are incredibly nervous but manage to function with the rush of acute longing thrumming sweetly in your veins.

“I—I dunno,” he mumbles hotly to the side. The unpatterned fabric of his bed sheets furrows in his clenched fingers. He glares needles at the wall, far too embarrassed to look at you as you move above him.

“What if you just relax and I’ll take control this time?” you offer, dropping the teasing note in your voice. You gently rub his shoulders, unwinding the muscle there, coaxing him into relief, the unclenching of self where he had not realized he had been tensed. He releases a breath, closing his eyes, and says with it, “yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you remind him. He stares at you almost timidly, eyes angled through his blond eyelashes.

Shifting to a fitting angle, you lean in to kiss along his jawline, then taking his face in your hands, kissing up the bridge of his nose, at his chin, at his cheek, at his lips once more.

He makes a sound beneath you.

“Mmph.” Though short and exhaled almost bluntly, it’s content. A moan comes after but he silences it, drawing in his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes closed again.

Properly pushing into him, rocking up against him. He squirms briefly and resituates himself before unclenching again and following your slowly building thrusts.

He brings an arm up over himself, to shield the bedroom lights or to avert the further embarrassment of seeing you stare. Frank tucks his face into the junction in his elbow.

“You don’t have to be so gentle.”

He manages a glance your way. It’s not a dare, not said to badger you or push buttons he knows all too well.

You sink in further and watch his chest hitch, testing broader thrusts. When his breathing normalizes, you push the remaining width deeper, now comfortably situated snug in his hips. You let the both of you adjust, then return thrusting with newly-realized confidence. Moaning, his fingers seize the sheets again and twist them.

Mumbling incoherently as you fuck into him, he shakes, jerking. You lose yourself in the feeling, tight pleasure in your belly. He encourages you even as his face burns red ear to ear.

“More,” he asks, and more you give him. It’s almost too much. Like winding up a chain with a crank, the ecstasy tightening his core wrenches him suddenly into undoing; pleasure, striking and raw, racking his body in release.

If he could have been any redder his face might have well been solid crimson, already stained with pink and a few stray tears. You catch your breath with him, staring at him, beautiful and unraveled.

You lay down beside him and somewhat hesitantly ask, “Did I do ok?”

“Yeah,” he says with the mildest smile. He still glances away, scrambling to recover his composure before looking at you again.

Frank cleans up and retrieves a new set of boxers and his discarded pants. From his nightstand he withdraws another pack of cigarettes, this one nearly empty. You give him a look when he reaches for his blocklike lighter, cups his hand carefully around it, and lights the cigarette, taking a long drag. He returns to your side, laying next to you and shifting to allow you to rest your head on his chest.

“Your room’s a fire hazard, Frankie,” you joke. He pinches the cigarette between his fingers, exhaling a gray-white ribbon of smoke.

He stares at the undecorated bedroom wall across from the bed, the only wall in his room not graffitied in some manner. He seems to contemplate speaking, turning the words over in his mouth with his tongue.

“It—it felt good,” he admits, and the dark flush reappears at his ears and cheeks.

“Oh?” You scoot closer. “You looked really cute,” you tease, “I wish I could’ve taken a picture.”

You throw an obvious glance over at the clunky camera that he tossed uncaringly onto his desk. It looks virtually unused, but now certain thoughts start a smile across your face.

He shoves you but is smiling. He presses the cigarette into the ashtray behind his bed-side lamp, the smoke eaten suddenly away.

You take the moment to kiss up his neck again. Squirming, he bites back a laugh. You cradle his face with a loving hand, guiding him to look back at you.

“I love you, Frank,” you remark, suddenly serious. Frank, for a second, looks worried, but is reassured by more kisses on his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he replies—returning the gesture in his own manner. His lips meet yours, though a moment later you part and laugh, nose wrinkled. "What?” he shoots back, seeming confused. You only shake your head. Smoke just really isn’t a palatable taste.

Eventually, you pull away and maneuver over him on the bed to stand, snagging your own clothes.

“You leaving?” he asks, and it might be disappointment. You shake your head as you ball up your shirt and pants. “No,” you reply. You push your hair from your face; “I need to wash up.”

“Unless, ah, you want me to leave,” you say, too nervous to turn around and look at him. You were completely prepared for him to kick you out after the fact, an expected conclusion but never one you looked forward to.

There’s no response, despite the shuffling of sheets, then he speaks.

“You can stay if you want to.”

It would sound displeased to anyone else, but you, fluent in his terminology, know it’s a genuine invitation.

“Can I take a shower first?” you ask with a well-meaning laugh. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he replies. You doubt he meant it, but it came out as an insult, and you cackle back at him. Confused at first, he realizes, opening his mouth to clarify, but you’re the one to speak first.

“So that’s what you think of me, got it,” you joke further. He grabs a pillow out from under him and launches it your way. You retreat from it and take cover in the hallway, still giggling to yourself, and almost prance to the upstairs bathroom.

You look away from your own reflection in the mirror, flustered again, suddenly, by the image of him beneath you still recent in your thoughts.

God.

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