#best 2 pistol case | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lana-llama-in-pajamas · 8 months ago

Text

Francis mosses x fem! reader

thick as blood

sweet as milk

"god i am down bad" you groaned getting up getting into the shower, it was.....nasty, the grout and limescale made a public bathroom seem more hygienic

but you didn't have time to think about it so you cleaned up and got out trying your best to not touch a thing, you looked over the makeup guidelines for your uniform, it had to be exact in order for the agents that came in to not suspect you. matching foundation no eyeshadow, black mascara and complimentary blush with matching lip stick

you looked in the mirror one last time before rushing out.

7 am sharp you sat at your desk watching Francis be the first heading out the door giving a small wave to you, your heart fluttered waving back. a few more residents left leaving you with a bit too much free time. most of them wouldn't come back till lunch and as stupid as dopples are for them to appear now is suicide, you look around and see a letter at your desk so you open it

dear agent 591138 it has come to my attention that no one has filled you in on your working conditions fully so I am here to do it for you. your working hours are 7am to 10 pm every full week then you will get the following work week off, we understand this is rather confusing but just know your best interest is our priority (among other things) this gives you time for recreational activities and self mental care. you do know how everything in the office works but we did just throw a gun to you like a baby. your DDD issued pistol has DDD issued bullets so we can verify the killing of the dopples or in serious cases murder of innocent civilians. an agent will contact you intermittently to check your mental health. best regards , agent 907811

what a letter. did they call you a baby with a gun? your 25.

you decided to open the filing cabinet under your desk to place the letter just to find it riddled with boxes of said bullets. you place it over them and close it staring straight into your reflection of the glass "ok lets just breath and get through it" you assured yourself before reaching into your bag for a bagel and milk, odd combination yes but its what you had in your icebox. you started to worry about your food supplies through the week from what you remember you had bread some fruit jam and POSSIBLY not rotten eggs to hold you over but you knew for a fact a grown person was not going to survive on jelly sandwiches. you looked to the phone wanting to call a cousin that lived nearby to get you some things but you decided against it for now, maybe at the end of your shift you could leave them a message with the operator. soon the middle of the day came and Nacha came in with her daughter looking rather feverish "hi so sorry we had to come back in early she's coming down with something" Nacha slid both their papers and ids through the slot holding her baby close, you looked over the info and all was in order. you even studied them and before opening the door "maybe a doctor would help more?" you asked not wanting to sound mean " oh we went to the pharmacy right before coming here, they said its probably something the kids are passing around" nacha responded happily, this woman was really upbeat it almost scares you " oh good, get better kiddo" her daughter coughed a quiet "whatever" before her mom chastised her passing the now opened door.

you looked to their papers, specifically Anastacha's.... then your stomach dropped. her eyes. her stand offish demeanor yesterday and today, you had a sinking feeling about her relationship to Francis but you weren't sure so you decided to drop the idea for now...

2 dopples came in, horrible replication so you just dropped the shutter and called the moment they spoke.

the phone rang and you picked up "hello, this is agent 907811 the one that sent the letter" the voice was manly but upbeat (imagine Gladiolus from final fantasy 15) you nodded to no one "oh hello, a little unprofessional to make wellness calls in the middle of my shift no?" you asked playfully to test the waters on the guy " intermittently, remember?" he said matching energy "noticed you got 2 already, might get more not to jinx ya" you hummed in agreement as he continued "anyway to make it easier for you instead of calling us and explaining the situation I want you to just say my name and ill know to send our boys in yellow, to save time and lives right?" he kind of lingered on the right so on que you answered "right." "great! ok the names rex." he spoke quick "wait really?" you asked absent for a minute "well no my real name is classified but everyone calls me rex, and whenever you dial 3312 it puts you straight to me~" he made you smile hearing his happiness so you giggled "well ok will do rex, time to get back to work" "yes ma'am" you heard hanging up. dreamboat was infront of you already sliding his papers to you "sorry about that Mr. Mosses" you read over the file, a blush overcoming you "boyfriend?" he asked catching you off guard "n-no, the DDD" you almost got up to let him know you were serious but fixed your seating position instead "mmm...ok" you thanked your god he had very prevalent verbal ques, made your job easy "were do you get your milk from?" he asked taking back his papers "my old apartment, believe it or not the DDD moved me in yesterday with everything I had" you chuckled thinking he took his job a little too serious and didn't want enemy milk on his turf "i give you milk now." he almost declared in an odd way. you turned red imagining unholy thoughts "the farm i deliver for also delivers here. the buildings day is Monday but ill grab a case for you tomorrow" he walked in before you could even form the words thank you but on instinct you shut the door behind him.

you tried to calm your blush to no avail, the way he just announced his caring for you! the way he said it made you swoon "i give you milk now" god it was weirdly hot!! you almost swore you heard a bit of a Russian accent when he said it. you kept holding your face praying to go back to your natural color "doll you look like a tomato" another male voice said "oh Mr. Gauss, I apologize its just allergies" you looked away for a minute before doing the usual "its winter. your a horrible liar" he tapped the glass teasingly "all is well, good day Mr. Gauss" you spoke restrained trying not to be angry with the fact he had no issue calling you a liar opening the door for him "see you later doll". you sat there a little peeved to say the least, munching on your slightly stale bagel you continue your shift.

the next morning you woke up to knocking, your heart raced putting on your robe and ran to the door opening it "its 7:30" francis looked down at you looking almost disappointed "oh my god really?? shit thank you for waking me up" you left the door wide open as you rushed to put on a fresh uniform and stuffing your makeup bag in your purse. francis watched you rush from bed to bath sighing and looking around, he placed down five bottles of milk on your counter and opened your ice box "how pitiful" he spoke looking at the carton of barely any eggs and a few rotting veggies. he took it upon himself to leave a milk out and put the rest in making you a single piece of toast. you looked actually quite presentable considering your rushing you walked towards the door hitting something hard "ow" at first you were going to cry because Francis just watched you almost break your nose but you looked up to see him looking down. god did he smell good. like bourbon and vanilla, thank god axe body spray wasn't invented yet. "I made you toast. I have to get to work." he furrowed his brows at the last bit and left you, you look to the counter to see well enough he set the toast with jam on a small plate and a glass of milk at your table.

days had passed and soon it was your friday

it was almost 10 pm but you had to stay an extra hour because the twin models were at a party. you've never really had a full conversation with them but they were nice to you even complimented you on your hair once, finally they came in beautiful gowns that made you get up to see them fully "y/n! so sorry it took so long!" Selenne said raising her hands up air hugging you from the glass which made you chuckle "its my job to see your safe return, beautiful dresses by the way" you placed your hand on the glass to match hers "why thank you, we'll show you the details in a bit" Elenois smiled passing their papers to you, you matched them up everything being in order "you should come to a party with us" selenne jumped a little visibly annoying her twin "sel she has a job to do. a stressful one at that she doesn't need more comingling with the upper-class that watches your every move" elenois huffed taking the ids back "oh actually my days off start tomorrow" you smiled "oh. nevermind, wanna wear airtight dresses and flirt with politics?" elenois laughed making you raise an eyebrow smiling, selenne slapped her sisters shoulder giggling "shes a little tipsy, yakn-" the girls went silent. all of you looking to your left to see it.

a dopple.

a twin dopple.

it was horrifying. a giant sharp mouth filled its face, no eyes no nose it snarled stretching its arm out to the girls as they screamed. you quickly opened the door hearing your own heart beat quicken with every thought, "get in the office NOW" you yelled banging on the glass to get thier attention, they did as told rushing passed El pushing her sister in forcing Sel onto the office floor next to you. the dopple sprung passed the door before you could shut it, it tripping and grabbing onto elenois' leg with its yellow claws you ran up your mind swimming from thier screams, you punched the side of its head forcing it to go down before turning its attention to you. you grappled with it on the floor yelling at the girls to get a grip and lock the main and office door, they were trembling...blood from Els leg soaking her dress as she held selenne nodding to you closing the door and locking the main one from the office. you were bloody , your fist scrapped its teeth cracking the bone a bit as you threw it againt the door earning another scream from the twins it snarled and screeched as you ran towards the stairs unclipping your gun from its holster going up a floor "all residence stay in your homes a dopple is in the building" you yelled repeating the phrase as you heard them all scamble yelling and some of the men even starting to descend the staircase before you hit the first step. the monster stood before you on the bottom step bleeding from its maw "YoU pICk uP A GOosd fiIIgHT MakeSS yoU moRe DeLishessssss" you trembled aiming "Fuck You" POW POW the pistol shot hitting its stomach, its screeches hurt your ears but you slowly backed away as it crawled to reach you it was fast ripping off quite a bit of your skirt as you kept pilling the trigger knowing it had no more than 8 rounds finally it hit its chest making the thing go down by the second floor.

you laid there on the steps breathing heavy hearing almost nothing as everyone crowded around you asking questions and tending to your leg, but you heard nothing.

you got up pushing poor mia to the side backing down stairs passed the body pulling it by the leg to the main floor and leaving it at the end of the steps, everyone but Nacha and nat following for obvious reasons. you walked to the office opening it with your key seeing the twins holding one another sobbing looking up at you, they smilied running up and hugging you close you could start to hear their voices thanking god and thanking you...the gun was still in your hand so you walked passed them slowly sitting in your chair and placing the gun on the desk everyone ran to the girls to inspect them as you dailed the number "....rex....i had to kill it in front of all of them.." you croaked "coming now kid hold on" his voice sounded shaky but you were still processing everything the smell of blood and what seemed like rot, the stinging sensation of your cuts and bruises...the sounds of your residence begging you to answer them. oh.

you breathed in a sharp breath finally being able to sense everything "please step away from the body" you stated to the mcoolys looking over at it "you really killed it" the older one spoke in shock "oh dear your skirt " gloria took off her head scarf to cover you but francis stopped her taking off his wrobe and placing it over you "the ...blood" you managed to get out "fuck the blood right now" he stated mia dressed you in it as the twins blocked you making sure your panty hose were no longer exposed, all of the men looking away either in respect or fear of thier wives.

DDD came escorting everyone upstairs as the other half stayed downstairs to clean up "didnt think we'd meet this way" you looked up from the chair the shmidts brought out for you to sit as DDD officers looked over your wounds. it was rex. a taller man in casual business attire with salt n pepper hair "you did good kid, you saved those girls and the rest of them" he held out his hand to you , you shook it nodding "thank you" he nodded back letting go to speak with a yellow suit qietly "well it seems theres no fatal injuries on any of you , they dressed your wounds so now you rest" rex looked down at you . some would say you looked like a beaten dog but maybe that was just rex "your one tough bitch y/n." he walked off with the hazmats in tow, "i think its time for you to rest baby...you look close to passing out" gloria squeezed your arm as your eyes fluttered, you were passing out and fast "ill take her home" francis spoke up "and we'll stay with her" El and Sel spoke together "she cant sleep in those clothes" el added , everyone agreed as francis picked you up slowly treating you like glass to your apartment the scent of his shampoo and his warmth made you pass out holding him tighter

you could almost hear him stiffle a tear as he held you closer.

end part 2

#thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #tnmn #milkman x reader #milkman #tnmn fanart

485 notes · View notes

jaegeraether · 4 months ago

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 80)

Alexia Putellas x Character (36) - Ridley Part Two

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**8.7k**))

Guess who's back!

(DISCLAIMER: Although I've toned it down a lot, it is still bloody. Gory. Confronting.)

This is PART TWO of TWO for Ridley. You DO NOT have to read this! This is simply me getting out what's been in my head for a while about Ridley and her darker side and military ties. I understand this may be graphic and morally grey for people, though as I said, I've tone it down a lot and have given disclaimers.

Feel free to skip these two Ridley parts as you won't be missing anything in the main story. :)

RIDLEY POV PART 2

Ridley didn’t hesitate for a second. She was moving out of muscle memory with one hand grabbing the assailant's wrist, her cast hand reaching behind her to grab their neck as she simultaneously spun and bodied her attacker into the ground. Once she was on top – she only had one more split second to determine if they were part of Cumar’s crew, and at the identification of that, she drove his own knife into his chest, her hand covering his mouth to avoid loud, alerting sounds.

It was never a nice thing, but it was so common to her now that she knew she wouldn’t lose sleep over it. Even as she watched the light drain from his eyes.

“Injured?” Becks asked.

She knew she had a slight cut from where the knife had grazed across her abdomen just below her vest as she’d spun, though it was barely a thought. “Okay.”

He nodded and grabbed the dead man’s arms. “Wombat, help move him. Fuzzy, scout.”

Fuzzy ducked off into the trees as the two men hid the body in case someone else showed up and found him. They didn’t need any alarms set off.

Ridley had questions but waited until the others returned. In the meantime, the two women kept quiet with their backs to each other, scoping the area. It was enemy territory after all.

In no time, the Becks and Wombat appeared, and they all stayed in that area, getting more irritated at the second at the feeling of staying in one place. That’s what got you killed. But it was only a few minutes before Fuzzy returned shaking his head. “Nada, pack is stashed.” He pointed to the tree and all of them took note of it.

Becks nodded and turned to Duce. “Copy. Why was he here?”

It was a valid question.

“Expected,” she admitted. “I did assume Cumar would have scouts, though I’m very surprised he’s alone.” She looked at Fuzzy. “Nothing? Really?”

“Nothing within a few clicks.”

Becks frowned. They all did. Why was he all alone?

“He’s being punished,” Ridley murmured, and they all paused. She caught Wombat’s eye. Although he hadn’t been captured with her, he did understand where it was coming from. “Cumar. Whenever someone disappoints him, he does this as a way to win back favour. You get sent out to scout alone, and he won’t accept you back unless you bring him the head of an enemy.”

There was a moment of silence amongst them all.

“So… just the one then...” Wombat said, and they all nodded in unison before they started to track north.

Each of them wore a pack now except Fuzzy, and each held with them a close combat rifle, along with their pistols and other weapons. They were allowed to choose which suited them best, though ultimately the M4A5 Carbine was perfect for this task. Only Duce carried an extra and it was a Barrett M82, a sniper rifle. She was the best sniper of the group.

They approached carefully through the trees, their three remaining packs heavily weighing them down and as Fuzzy did, they stashed their packs along the way. They found the first group of Cumar’s men and made quick, light work of them without needing to fire a shot. Although their target was purely the retrieval of the boy, Akeem, they needed to think in advance of their own safety. Should guns start firing at Cumar’s base, the others would come running and they couldn’t allow that. That, and they wanted to stay hidden for as long as possible.

And so, station by station, group by group, they took out his security teams scattered through the trees as quickly and quietly as possible. If they had chained them up, they could escape. If they had left them alive, they could make contact and put them all in danger. So they did what they were trained to do, and tied up loose ends as they moved through the area tactically.

It was the best way to think of it and not get into your head; by thinking of them as just that. Loose ends. Potential threats. It also helped to know what these men had done. They’d beaten, abducted, killed, tortured and raped. In her head, she justified it by knowing many more people would be safe now that they were gone.

As they took out the last of the security camps quickly and quietly, four of them stowed their knives, though Becks had always preferred brute force. As she confirmed with a signal that the others were done, she turned and saw him snap the last man’s neck sideways and up which was a terrifying show of just how strong he was. Becks pulled him into the brush where he wouldn’t be seen and gave his signal to Ridley.

They all knew what was required of them now. The group had cleared their path in, and now the last of the packs needed to be dumped, which was Becks’. Their packs were spread out along their route so far and stored in different positions – all GPS tracked. They contained the necessities to survive in that area. Food, water, electrolytes, medical supplies, navigational aids, weapons and more. It was essentially a supply dump in case they were stranded.

They didn’t fuck around from there, though. They needed to keep moving quickly in case they alerted anyone with an unanswered radio call to one of the groups they’d been through.

They advanced on Cumar’s place now a lot lighter, sporting only their black combat gear which held no identifiable logo. No markings nor brands nor colours that would tie them to any country or division. For all Cumar’s people would know – they were independent mercenaries. For this same reason, the bottom half of their faces were covered, Ridley knowing that if Cumar saw her, he’d known she was Australian SASR. That’s another thing to avoid. A political war.

Cumar’s place was an old prison in the middle of nowhere – inland and southwest of Mogadishu, Somalia. He’d repurposed it from abandoned, and intelligence agencies had only discovered it a few weeks prior, with the involvement of Duce’s team. From here – he was protected by the trees around him as well as the sky. As made obvious by the SEALs – anything that flew over was shot down immediately. On foot was the only method available to them.

As they moved close enough to view the large prison campus themselves, they reached a point of no return. A point, where they couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t be spotted. A point, where bullets could start firing at any second.

Duce called that point she had estimated as they approached. “P.O.N.R.”

Ridley’s mind kicked into another gear as those letters came through her headset. She could be dead any second, and it made her feel… alive.

They all acknowledged the PONR and continued, warier than ever. They barely made it another 50 metres before-

“Contact!” Fuzzy called, just before the sound of bullets littered the air. Ridley immediately identified the points as two old prison guard towers. Duce, Fuzzy and Wombat took one of the towers out, and Duce set up in it to sniper.

“Tower one down.”

Becks and Ridley took the second tower and left it empty.

“Tower two down,” she called as they assessed their approach path from there. From their position of advancement towards the prison – there was only one more tower in view which would hinder their approach. “Holding due fire. Take the third.”

Duce snipered the third tower which provided enough so that Wombat and Fuzzy could take it out.

“Tower three down. Providing cover.”

As soon as that was called – Becks, Duce and Wombat provided cover from the three towers which hindered the hostiles in the prison walls enough for Ridley and Fuzzy to approach. Gun up, she sprinted, seeing Fuzzy in her periphery. A bullet tore past her arm, grazing the skin and she immediately felt the hot flash and the blood begin to drip.

She didn’t stop. She knew from experience that it wasn’t bad enough to stop. She took aim where it came from and shot the hostile as he leant over the railing. Her shot made a whizzing sound through the air and hit her target directly. She jumped sidewards to avoid his body hitting the ground as she made it to the building, her arm slamming into the wall near the entrance where Fuzzy also arrived. He nodded, out of breath and entered the building, Ridley right behind him. They worked their way through the halls, picking off the hostiles one by one, targeting the face of the building which impeding the entry of the others. Eventually it provided enough relief for the others to enter, and separately, worked their way through the building, targeting the different areas where they thought Akeem may be.

“A-block clear.” Ridley called over the headset.

“B-block clear.” Wombat.

“North courtyard.” The sound of a groan and then a shot. “…clear.” Becks.

“South courtyard clear.” Fuzzy.

“Barracks clear visual.” Duce called. The barracks were outside of the main building and they had agreed to not unnecessary go outside unless it was their last option.

Ridley rounded a corner and the end of her carbine was grabbed and she was wrenched forwards. She immediately ducked from the knife she knew was awaiting her throat and spun, kicking her assailant hard into the wall. She swung her gun to her back and jumped back from the next swing, smacking the knife out of his hand and landing a punch to his abdomen and then jaw in quick succession. An arm came around her neck and grabbed her then, squeezing tight and lifting her from the ground. The man in front of her battered several punches into her ribs while she was immobilised by the second assailant. She managed to swing her body up and kick him in the face, feeling his nose give way as he fell backwards into the wall. Her feet hit the ground as she started to black out from the chokehold, though she found enough energy to leap up and throw her head back into the man behind her.

The man shouted something in Somali and stumbled back into the railing, dragging her with him. She was 30 seconds away from a full black out. A sudden sharp, hot pain hit the side of her thigh, and she grunted in shock. Suddenly, she had a weapon. Ridley kicked the broken-nosed assailant on the floor, ripped the knife from her thigh and slammed it into the neck of the man behind her, feeling the rush of hot blood on the back of her neck and down under her vest. Her cast hand scream in pain as she did so, though she paid it no mind. The assailant behind her dropped and she ripped the knife forwards towards the back of her head, which subsequently tore through his throat.

Ridley snatched her pistol and shot once into the head of the broken-nosed man on the floor in front of her.

“Infirmary clear.” Fuzzy.

“C-block clear.” Wombat.

She stumbled forwards and groaned, grabbing hold of her thigh. It didn’t hit the artery. She put a little pressure on it to feel the blood flow and then took her tourniquet out from her belt and slid it up her leg, tightening it above the entry wound on her outer thigh.

“D-block clear.” Becks.

She gasped as she tightened it and put pressure on her foot to test. Duce hadn’t answered in a while – and she knew exactly where she was originally headed to next. Ridley swung her gun around and did her best to run towards the cafeteria. It was very central in the building, and easily the best defended.

She entered the café to see what she’d expected. Half the room was taken up by supplies. Weapons. Drugs. Guns. Akeem was there, gagged and chain to a pole. Duce was there, bloodied and on her knees with a gun to her head by someone Ridley recognised as Cumar’s son, Bashir. Cumar was in the middle of the group, watching the proceedings. They hadn’t expected Ridley at that moment, though. She put a bullet through each of the guards before stepping into the room. Bashir hesitated his task and as his head spun to her, gun switching from Duce to Ridley, she fired a shot straight through his shoulder.

With a cry, he fell backwards, and Duce was on top of him in seconds, pinning him.

Cumar went to spin and- “DON’T you fucking move.” Ridley warned as she approached.

“Akeem and Cumar located - cafeteria. Two hostiles.” Duce made the call to the team.

Ridley heard shots and footsteps louder and closer. Her eyes didn’t leave Cumar’s. She could tell he was trying to judge if he could spin and grab his gun in time. He took a step back and she took a warning step forward. “Don’t.”

Becks entered the room and paused, waiting for the outcome.

“Not one move. On the ground, hands behind your head!”

Cumar hesitated like his son, his face turning from a sneer to curiosity. “It’s you, isn’t it? The one who escaped?”

His English was quite good for a third language.

Ridley didn’t answer. “On the ground, hands behind your head!”

He muttered something in Somali to Bashir, and she heard her name amongst it.

She took a step forward again, her gun still very much aimed at his chest.

“The one I couldn’t break… Ridley.” He murmured, his eyes lighting up as if he wanted another chance.

He’d sneered in her face. Cut her flesh. Bruised her body. He came back again and again. He wasn’t interested in anything other than pain. He had a sort of fascination with it and justified it as simply trying to get information. He didn’t. Not from her. And when he didn’t, he made her watch as… James…

That was the worse torture she’d ever endured. Not the physical, but the visual. Having to watch her friend take his last breath. A person she’d laughed with, drunk with, opened up to. That was the kind of pain that made her keep her distance from everyone, including Alexia.

“Your friend was breakable though. What was his name again?”

She knew Becks was behind her and could almost read his thoughts. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’

“Don’t hurt him!” Bashir screamed from the ground until Duce gagged him. She held him there, and Ridley could hear him yelling against his gag. Screaming for his father. Together – they were the worst kind of father and son.

“Wings-” Becks started from behind her.

“No.” She responded. He wanted to take the burden of the situation from her shoulders. But she didn’t need him to.

“John?” Cumar continued. “Jim?”

She took a deep breath and took another step forward. “Reach for that gun and I will put a bullet in your heart.”

Although Cumar wasn’t their primary target – he was so high on the UN wanted list, that he was listed only as a shoot to kill.

“Joshua? Jackson?” Another step back towards his gun.

“One more warning. On your knees. Hands behind your head. I will not repeat myself.”

“Oh… that’s right. It was James.” He said his name like he didn’t care, because truly, he didn't.

James with the kind eyes and the bright smile. James, the guy who’d saved her life when she was just starting out in the Airforce. James who had only joined to hide the fact that he was gay, and the only person who knew was Ridley, and Wombat.

A tear pricked at her eye, but she didn’t let it fall. She took a deep breath and without thinking about it – her mind turned to Alexia to calm itself. Alexia. Her skin and her smell. Her style, her laugh, her smile. Her fucking eyes and that freckle on her neck where her lips had been… Ridley’s mind cleared. Her hatred subsided.

“James.” Cumar snapped and spun. When his hand touched the gun, she landed two shots into his chest and watched as his back hit the container of weaponry behind him.

Bashir screamed against his gag and tears ran down his face.

Cumar smirked at her and turned his head towards his son where it lulled to his chest with a final breath.

Ridley stood upright, lowering her gun and felt… relief. So much so that she hadn’t heard Fuzzy enter the room.

“Fuzzy – get the kid,” Becks commanded. “Wombat – you can come in now.”

Becks must have been keeping him out to avoid emotional bias.

Footsteps behind her.

“Wombat – photograph the area. The kid. The weapons. The body. Duce – tie him for transport.”

She watched as Fuzzy untied Akeem who clung to him. Wombat with his locked jaw as he photographed Cumar as evidence he was dead. Duce as she sat Bashir up and tied his arms for transport. His focus was on one thing only – Ridley.

She felt a large hand on her shoulder. “You did excellent.”

“I know,” she replied. She felt strange emotions in the pit of her abdomen at the idea that the mere thought of her Spanish footballer had driven that hatred from her. Had calmed her. “If I hadn’t arrived first, would you have let me in the room – or kept me out like Wombat?”

Becks removed his hand and waited until she turned to look at him. “I trust you above anyone else. I trust your judgement. If you weren’t going to make the right decision, you wouldn’t have entered the room yourself.”

He was right. As usual. His words just reaffirmed what she already knew.

Her eyes swept the room, knowing they needed to move, and quickly. She touched on each of the important areas to memorise for the debrief. Fuzzy was up and ready with Akeem as he put a small vest on him and gave him instruction in Arabic. Wombat was tearing open containers – photographing the evidence. Duce was also standing with her hostage, ready to go. Ridley turned her attention away from Bashir who was still glaring at her – and only her. She’d just replaced an enemy with and enemy.

“He’s not out objective. He’s a large liability and we can’t fly back with the addition of his weight and Akeem’s.” It wasn’t an argument – it was a discussion.

“He’s worth the risk and you know he is. We need to neutralise his influence, and we can’t kill him without an order or as defence.”

She already knew this, but it was her job to question things in order to make good decisions as a group. In their line of work, Bashir would just replace his father and continue to do as he did. If they successfully took him, he’d face an international tribunal and live the rest of his life in prison.

“Agreed. I can get us just back across the border. We can make contact in the air for ground support to meet us and clear the road to land.”

Becks nodded and they relayed the information to the team. “Let’s move.”

As they’d only approached from the south, they hadn’t taken out any of the security camps in any other direction to the prison, and now they were all arriving. They hadn’t been there long though, and still had time to get to the aircraft ahead of them.

The seven of them fled the prison and now, subtlety be damned, took a vehicle and drove it south to the landing strip. Along the way there was gunfire and shots equally back and forth, though they managed to stay ahead with a decent pace.

“Reloading,” Ridley shouted and knelt to the safety of cover as Duce drove like a bat out of hell. Akeem was up front, hiding in the footrest below Fuzzy as Becks held down Bashir and both Wombat and Ridley took the offensive positions from the back.

“Injury status!”

They team shouted their okay’s one by one. Ridley grabbed at her leg which was still seeping fresh blood. “I’ll be okay.”

“Reloading!” Wombat shouted and ducked. Ridley rose to take his position, firing on what she now identified as an entire convoy coming after them. Although it was hard to see in the dark, she knew there must have been hundreds of people. It wasn’t her best Tuesday, but certainly not her worst either.

Ridley felt a large hand grab her thigh and feel around the wound. She groaned, not ready for the pain.

“You’re losing a lot of blood.”

“Very aware of that.”

Becks loosened the tourniquet, and she momentarily felt relief before the searing pain began as the blood began to flow more freely. He tightened it again. “We’ll alert medical in the air. Hang in there, Wings.”

“Coming up on the airfield!”

“Wombat, Fuzzy, take the kid and bail out. Start the pre-flight checks and get the engine running. We’ll double back.”

“Rome-” Wombat started and then saw the state of her leg. He nodded, knowing he’d be quicker on foot than she would in this state.

“Duce?” Becks yelled over the roar of the engine and the sound of shouting and bullets.

“Just around this corner. They’ll be a few hundred metres from the strip and we can double back using the F-track.”

The one they’d identified during prep.

“Copy. Get the brake lights.”

Wombat and Ridley leant over and smashed the brake lights.

“Get ready to jump, lads!”

Becks and Ridley took to cover fire and as the road turned tightly and Duce hit the brakes to slow them enough for Wombat and Fuzzy to jump out, pulling a terrified Akeem with them. As soon as they were out, she hit the accelerator again. Ridley could only see them in the dark long enough to see Wombat’s hand raised in acknowledgement of their safe landing.

Duce drove them to the F-track, which was a trail almost invisible in the dark. She managed to get far enough ahead to take a quick 360 spin into the darkness and turn the lights off as she sped backwards behind the scrub. They stayed low and quiet, Becks holding Bashir to stop him from writhing about as they watched the vehicles rush past them, still firing into the darkness. They only needed to buy themselves five minutes to get the plane into the air safely.

Lights off, they drove up the track slowly which almost parallelled the road they were just on and made a judgement call to rejoin the road in the other direction when they couldn’t see any more speeding vehicles. It was a public road – after all.

They turned and drove into the trees as far as they could before the terrain forced them to abandon the vehicle. They took to foot from there, moving in unison towards where they knew the aircraft was.

Just as they saw the aircraft, there was a slight pang of relief, though Ridley knew they were far from safe. She locked her jaw as she ran with a limp, her good hand on her gun to stop it from bouncing, and her cast hand on her tourniquet to ensure it wouldn’t unwind. Blinding pain, with each step. She hobbled behind, watching Becks half carry, half drag Bashir in front of her.

‘You deserve this for what you did to Alexia.’ She thought. It was meant to be a playful thought to ease the pain, though it did hit her hard.

She felt the bullet whizz past her head before she heard it firing. And then the sound of ATVs.

“Contact!”

Wombat started the engine and Fuzzy held the canopy open, taking aim at the hostiles. Duce made it to the aircraft first, being the lightest. She hopped in and took up a cover position with Fuzzy. Becks was hit through the shoulder and fell, clutching it. Ridley stopped to grab him.

“M.. okay.” Was all he said. They both turned to get Bashir who was already on his feet and running in the opposite direction. He wasn’t worth it.

“Go!” Becks called. Wombat pushed the throttle forward and the plane began to move. Ridley sliced the rope tied to a branch just above eyesight and Fuzzy’s pack dropped down. He always loved to hide them in the treetops, and they’d need the medical supplies for both her and Becks.

Becks leapt onto the wing and Fuzzy dragged him inside by the shoulder strap of his vest. With a heave, Ridley threw the pack into the aircraft and leapt onto the wing, grabbing at Duce’s extended hand. Before she was pulled in, blood spattered her face at a bullet hitting Duce’s extended arm. She yelled and recoiled it on instinct. Ridley pushed herself onto her knees and felt a bullet slam directly into her back, knocking her forward off the wing. She barely missed the propeller as she fell, pulling her arm in to avoid the landing gear. She gasped and clutched her headgear, grateful that it took the blow of her weight onto the ground.

Winded, she pushed herself to her feet and began hobbling along the landing strip. She saw Wombat hesitate, but Cumar’s men were just too close.

“GO!” She yelled through her headset. She saw the devastation on their faces. The aircraft was too far away from her now and they all knew that if they waited for her, they’d be caught, or a bullet would tear into a fuel tank. “…Wombat – go. That’s an order.”

Becks grabbed Fuzzy’s pack and threw it from the aircraft for her, and as she didn’t slow her run as she grabbed it and swung it onto her back, grateful.

The sound of ATVs came closer, one in particular. Ridley ran as fast as she could in the pain she was in, watching as Wombat pushed the throttle all the way forward.

‘That’s it, then,’ she thought, as she heard the single ATV leading the others approaching her.

Just before the canopy on the aircraft closed, a single bullet was fired from Duce’s rifle, hitting the ATV rider in the head. Ridley spun to watch as he flopped off, and it came to a halt. She made the decision to backtrack and take it.

“Thank you,” she strained into her headset, knowing that Duce have just given her a chance at survival.

“Come back to us,” Duce replied, emotionally, which was very unlike her.

“My note..”

“We’ll be waiting for you to come tear it up.”

Ridley swung up onto the ATV and hit the throttle. She blindly shot behind her and drove laterally across the strip to fire more accurately at the oncoming vehicles – to provide cover for her team. As the aircraft passed the treetops and she knew they were safe, she holstered her gun and ducked to give less of her body a chance of being shot at – and accelerated as fast as she could through the trees.

Was this it? Was this how she died? She wondered at her note. Every mission they went on – they each wrote a note to friends, family, loved ones. It tied up all loose ends and said whatever they wanted it to say. There was a rule that the rest of the group had to follow the instructions on the note – should they not make it back. James’ had left instructions for Wombat and Ridley to tell his crush that he loved him, to tell his family that he was sorry, and also requested that the pair wore the gayest clothes they could find to his funeral. As is the way – they did just that. And they cried, in the most flamboyant dresses anyone had ever seen.

Her note… Alexia. No one would read it until they knew she was never coming back. It was private, and they respected each other, though she did wonder as to their reactions. Leaving most of her things to Blue… except the house in Barcelona, London, and Chiquito. That was all Alexia’s.

She’d fumbled over the words for a while until she settled on simplicity.

*Tell her that I love her and that some things can’t be replaced. Tell her she is that for me...and always will be.*

The words she wrote had dragged the truth from her. She loved Alexia. She loved her.

She chanted those words in her head as she ducked and weaved through the trees. She drove until she ran out of fuel, and abandoned it, settling to go on foot from there. She hobbled along, gasping for breath and starting to get faint from the lack of blood. She didn’t even want to see the state of her back, and knew even though she was wearing a vest, the bullet had done damage to her ribs.

When she knew she couldn’t possibly continue in that state, she stopped at a tree suitable to spend some time and did just that. Taking the tree climbing spikes from the pack and attaching them to her boots, using the claws in her hands, she climbed. It was difficult with the pack, but she’d reserved enough energy for it. This is why she stayed so fit. Survival.

She settled onto a branch tall enough to not be spotted easily, and tied herself there, in case she fainted or fell asleep. Taking the medical supplies out, she was finally able to tend to her wounds as best as she could, knowing that she’d need another surgery on her hand if she ever made it out. Her leg… was another story. She bit on her packaged bandage while she packed the wound, and then used the bandage to strap it. With this, she could loosen the tourniquet.

After a little water and food, she felt herself drifting and knew not to fight it. She took a small nap in the tree, and when she woke, she planned. She took out her tablet and located her tracker, seeing where she was. During her planning, several men and ATVs passed below her, yelling about her. One of the men was Bashir, now bandaged up and leading the manhunt.

She couldn’t go down the coast as they controlled the water. Their ATVs were hunting offroad. They had checkpoints along the main road. Her best option was an airstrip nearby. They couldn’t see it from their satellite images and so they’d brushed it aside as an unlikely possibility, though there was still hope. If she could find an aircraft, any aircraft, she could get out. She just needed to cross the border.

It was several clicks inland of where she was, and she’d need to cross the road, but she could make it if she was careful, and lucky. Very, very lucky.

When she sounds of men and vehicles around her had subsided enough, she climbed back down from the tree and started to move, highly alert that she was in enemy territory. A few times, she needed to stop and drop or find a ditch to lay low in and simply pray. Pray to a god she didn't believe it.

She crossed the road and after a few clicks of terror, she happened upon the field. That’s basically what it was, a field. It was just as wide as if was long which meant she’d be spotted much easier. As with every airfield, she found a hangar and crept around the back to peer through the window. She spotted a little Cessna inside guarded by two men. Bashir was smart. He must have sent them to hide inside, knowing she may try to escape like that. Though he must have been very stretched for manpower, covering the large area they were hunting her in. He’d have men at the boats, the jetties, the checkpoints, the multiple search parties, even back at the prison in case she dared risk returning. This made her feel confident that they were alone, and by the looks of them, they didn’t expect her at all.

She took a breath and stepped inside through the back entrance. They were fully grown men with guns, yet they were not nearly as trained and experienced as she was. Ridley took them both down without having to fire a single bullet to aware anyone of where she was. She dragged them to the back of the hangar and checked over the aircraft, removing the covers and testing the flight controls. Using the step and handle, she groaned her pain as she pulled herself up far enough to check the fuel levels in the wings. They weren’t full, but with only her weight, she dared that it would get her to Mandy Bay.

Without wasting time, she unloaded all the excess weight of manuals, chocks, supplies from the aircraft and left her unnecessary pack items there also. This was it. She was going to risk taking off.

Ridley pulled the hangar doors open as slowly and as soundlessly as possible, enough to be able to pull the aircraft outside. From engine start up, she needed to go. She didn’t have time for checks. Before jumping into the aircraft, she listened around. She could hear cars close on the road, ATV’s a few clicks away, and some rustling in the trees with a little wind.

Hopping in, she primed the engine and took a deep breath. Opening the throttle a quarter inch, she started the engine and threw the mixture to full. Once the engine roared to life, she taxied the little four-seater to where she needed it, applying much more throttle than necessary to heat up the oil. The last thing she needed was the engine to seize. God knows how long it had been sitting there for.

Ridley looked around her and spotted lights coming through the trees as she sat, ready for take-off. She took as long as she dared to heat the engine up before she couldn’t wait any longer.

She applied full throttle, pulled the steering column back and took her feet off the brakes, hurtling down the field, bumping along the way.

Oil temperature in the orange. Airspeed alive. 30 knots. 40. 50. 60 – “Rotate.” She called out of habit as she pulled back. She heard gunfire behind her and chose to focus on her attitude indicator instead. She went lights out and pitched up as much as she could without stalling – to climb as fast as possible away from the bullets. The climb performance was atrocious, and so she also chose to not bank any direction for the simple reason that she didn’t want to present more aircraft for them to shoot at. Passing 3000ft, she turned and saw the lights flooding the field she was just in. She continued to climb, darting inland to gain height before risking a move across to track down the coast. She was tense the entirety of the way, watching her temperatures and the lights of the vehicles swarming around the ground to her right. She had no idea how she’d not been caught with the sheer amount of them.

They were like ants, except worse. They killed and stole and raped and took what didn’t belong to them. Cumar was dead. But she feared that without Bashir in custody – they’d just created a whole new animal.

She flew with lights out until she’d passed the border, and her tension eased a little. So much, in fact, that her thigh, hand, and back began to throb with pain and she became faint as her adrenaline subsided.

Without a headset, she was unable to make any radio calls, though she knew her team would be tracking her GPS and stand down the jets as she came in to land. The reliable Cessna was all but running on fumes as she landed around 0330, finally back on friendly soil.

Ridley taxied the aircraft over near the jets and half-faint, still managed a chuckle at the image of a small Cessna next to jets worth over 100 million dollars each. She stopped where the crowd had formed, and watched her team run over as she pulled the mixture out and shut the engine down.

Ridley didn’t even have to open her door and step out. Becks all but ripped the doorframe out as Wombat dragged her from the aircraft.

Hugs.

Kisses.

Grateful words.

Tears.

She felt her crew all help to carry her to an awaiting stretcher where she was led into the medical tent for assessment.

She was stitched up, patched up, given fluids and food. Her team came in with their General and a man in a suit as she was eating.

“Wings, this is Aamir. His son is Akeem.”

Aamir looked like a kind man, truly. He shook her hand and let them all know just how grateful he was for saving his son. He offered them the world. Anything they wanted. Being a billionaire, his favour was a great thing to have, and she knew that they’d gained that for life.

Ridley replied to him as much as she could in her weary state. Becks murmured some words to him and he nodded, leaving the group alone with their General. Together, they debriefed. Ridley ended it with her happenings, and he seemed much more than satisfied. With the death of Cumar came relief, and an offer of an award to her for her bravery and success in taking down someone the world had been trying to find for decades.

‘It was all luck,’ she thought to herself, though smiled and accepted the kind offer.

After he left, Becks handed Ridley her note. Her team looked at her eagerly. She went to tear it and found herself pausing – instead holding it to her chest. “I think I’ll keep it…” she murmured.

They knew better than to argue against that. In fact, they smiled.

At 0445 Ridley found herself outside, looking up at the stars and wishing for peace. This was her life. She looked over at Akeem entering his dad’s private jet and smiled as he stopped to wave at her. He was a brave kid.

“Headed home?” Becks asked as he sidled up next to her.

“I’m not sure,” she murmured.

“It’s a simple decision, no?”

She turned to look at him curiously. He was usually exceptionally quiet, so it was easy to know when he had something he wanted to say. He smiled at her look and gestured to the jet. “Aamir is happy to take you to London. If you leave soon, you’ll get there before she leaves.”

Her heart leapt. Alexia. He knew. How? She was leaving? Why?

Her thoughts scattered across her face, and she was too tired to hide them. “How…?”

He knocked his shoulder gently into hers. “I keep tabs on you. On all of you. You know this.”

It was how he cared. How he loved.

“I won’t tell you what to do, because I respect you too much. You make your own decisions. But what I will say is that you keep going back. You always gravitate back towards her. She makes you happy. I never thought you’d find anyone… hell, I don’t think any of us expect to ever find anyone. You’re the lucky one. And you’d be doing us all a disservice if you didn’t try to have what we all want.”

She caught her emotions in her throat. Of course he knew everything. He loved his team like his family. More so, even. “How do you know I’m not trying?”

He looked back at the jet he was staring at before. “You arrive late and dishevelled, wearing a hardened Ridley façade I haven’t seen in years. Trying too hard to cover those emotions. You left her.”

“She’s better off-”

“Without you?” He turned to her again. “Tell me – did you give her a choice before you left?”

She froze. She… hadn’t. She’d given her every single choice except that one.

‘But you did it for her,’ she thought.

“And don’t even tell me you did it for her,” he said, annoying Ridley with his intelligence.

“She’s… public. You know we need to fly under the radar.”

“Wings, you know you don’t fit into that category. Yes, you need to stay low. But you know how to protect yourself, and her. You can do it all at once. You don’t lack in that department. Most people need their time to dissociate. You’re all Ridley, all at once. The soldier, the protector, the lover. You don’t split them like everyone else does. It’s you. That’s what makes you different.”

It was the most he’d ever complimented her, and that's exactly how she took it all – as a compliment. She was whole.

“I’d put her in danger…”

Becks scoffed, and it’s the first time in her life that she’d ever heard him do so. “There is no better protection than you. And us. That is no excuse to not try.”

She lowered her head into her hands and grabbed at her hair. “How can someone like her… someone as fucking perfect as her deserve someone as fucking.. fucking.. broken and horrible as I am?” She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. “Huh? I’ve fucking slaughtered people like animals.”

“Those people were animals. You did what no one else could. That’s why we do what we do. To save everyone else. To do the things they can’t. We hurt ourselves and taint our souls so they will sleep well at night. That’s loyalty. That’s patriotism. That’s love.”

It was the most Becks had ever opened up. The most he’d ever said at one time.

That’s love.

He handed her a tablet with an open screen. “They’ve booked tickets back to Barcelona at 2pm. If you leave now, you’ll arrive just in time given the headwind. I’ve upgraded them to first class and forced the deadhead crew onto the next flight.”

Ridley stared down at her name on the tablet. “She shouldn’t take me back after what I’ve done to her.”

He smiled and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That’s how you’ll know she’s the one for you. She won’t just let you back in with open arms. She’ll make you work for it.” Ridley rolled her eyes. “Trust me. I know you, Wings.”

They both sighed and looked up at the stars again. Somehow, he’d forced her to accept herself and how she felt. She deserved to be loved.

Saying her goodbyes to her team with lingering hugs, she boarded the private jet and as she always did – she headed towards Alexia.

She was fed well on the plane and managed to shower, catch some sleep, and even dress into some clothes Duce had given her. They landed 30 minutes before Alexia’s plane was due to depart which gave her just enough time to tell the ground crew to standby on her luggage and on Chiquito.

Would she come with her? Would she even want to see her?

Ridley made her way to the gate and saw the flash of her blonde hair and that familiar frown on Alexia’s face as she passed into the airbridge. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Ridley avoided the line and went around the desk.

“Five minutes,” she murmured to the familiar woman at the gate, touching her shoulder on the way past. The woman smiled at her and nodded. She knew her.

On board, she gave a knowing nod to the cabin crew before making her way to first class, where she knew Alexia was seated. Her stomach fluttered as she watched her tighten her seatbelt and change a song on her phone. She sighed and her expression was… heartbroken. Ridley had done this to her.

Her feet moved towards her automatically, her eyes only for the Spaniard.

Ignoring the pain in her thigh and back, she knelt in front of her, holding back the urge to touch her.

Alexia’s entire body froze in surprise. Her expression flickered to wonder. Worry. Pain again. Those hazel eyes darted from her eyes to her hair, neck, lips, scar, and back to her eyes. Ridley reached up slowly, ignoring her painful ribs, and pulled Alexia’s noise cancelling headphones down and around her neck gently, hoping she wouldn’t shy away from her.

“La Reina..” “Ridley..” Alexia breathed, almost without words it seemed. There were a few moments of silence as they just stared at each other, talking without words. Alexia unclipped her belt suddenly and leant forward, closer to her. So close she could almost taste her… Ridley locked her jaw and hoped she wouldn’t see the bruises, nor the blood beginning to seep from her wound through her pants. “You left,” she whispered in a voice that betrayed her hurt. “I did.” “You fucking left, Ridley.” Anger. Ridley nodded, leaning forwards… just needing to be close to her. “I’m sorry, Lex.” Her fingertips brushed Alexia’s hair from her cheek and just that small touch send shivers down her spine. “I need to say something, if you’d let me.” A pause. “Go ahead.” “I ran… I ran, and I’m sorry. You deserve better.” She needed to open up and be vulnerable. Becks all but told her this. “Lex… you can’t understand how torn I am… how conflicted. Half of me wants you to leave and find happiness elsewhere, away from me, so I don’t taint your beautiful soul with my darkened one. The other half begs for you, yearns for you, dreams about you and selfishly wants you close to me, always.” “You always said that you weren’t good for me, but I never believed you. I still don’t.” Her eyes told Ridley that she was telling the truth. Ridley sighed and looked down in shame. “I feel like I’m not good for anybody, and I didn’t want to put that burden on you for simply loving me. I went away and couldn’t stop my thoughts. I was conflicted. But amongst my confliction, I missed one very important thing. I didn’t give you a choice.” She looked up at her again, mirroring Becks’ words and thinking on her past 24 hours. “My soul is tainted, Lex. I’ve done horrible things that I’ll regret for the rest of my life. But I also know that I’ve never felt about anyone, the way I feel about you. You’ll always be safe with me, whether it’s physically, mentally, financially… I’m still working on the emotionally part. You bring far too much out of me in that regard.” She watched as Alexia’s lips trembled.

A flight attendant tapped Ridley’s shoulder. “Boarding is almost finished.”

Ridley nodded. “I’ll be two minutes.” She turned back to Alexia; her eyes open to her emotions. “Lex, meeting you broke a spell I’ve been under for a long time. Meeting you made me realise that maybe I was worthy of love after all. You took up space in my heart before I even knew it, and now, it seems you’re there to stay. I feel sorry for the Ridley before you because she didn’t realise how much love and happiness she was missing without you. You’ve changed me forever, and I’ll happily spend the rest of my life trying to thank you.” She cupped her cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “Regardless of if you want to stay or go…” Ridley was giving her what she’d unknowingly denied her before. A choice.

Alexia’s trembled and leant down, her hands touching her, and her cheek pressed against her own. She feel of her skin against her own sent a wave of peace she’d never known through Ridley’s body. “I’m damaged..” she whispered against Alexia’s cheek. Her last, fleeting attempt to dissuade her. “You’re human…” Alexia replied softly against hers, nudging it a little. “I’m broken.” Alexia’s hand gently moved down and rested over her heart. “You feel whole to me.” Whole… whole with her. Ridley’s hands found Alexia’s wrists and gripped on, wanting to keep her right there. Wanting her close.

Alexia’s lips brushed up her cheek, over her temple and to her forehead where she gave a single, passionate kiss. Much more than she deserved. “I’m right here.” Ridley felt a shiver run down her spine at that reassurance. Alexia’s large hands were either side of her jaw now, her cheek resting against her eyebrow. Ridley let them rest like that for what felt like an age, and not long enough at the same time. Eventually and fully against every fibre of her being, Ridley pulled back and found her eyes again, her expression distraught.

Alexia blinked an emotion, and her lips parted.

“I’m sorry I ran,” Ridley whispered. “It’s okay.” “It’s not. Not at all. Now the choice is yours, Lex.”

Alexia paused to think before she spoke. “I want you, Lee. In every single way. But relationships are a two-way street, and they start with us as individuals. I want you. I lov-“ She stopped herself and Ridley sucked in a breath just as she did. They loved each other. Alexia loved her. “I… but right now you need to find that part of you that doesn’t believe you deserve to be loved, and you need to learn to love yourself. To know in your heart that you deserve to love and be loved.. because you do. You fucking do. You deserve the world.”

Ridley’s face almost betrayed her relief she’d been harbouring since her conversation with Becks. He’d said that if she was right for her, she wouldn’t let her back in easily. Ridley hardened her face to neutral, trying to hide that it was what she wanted to hear. “You’re… right.” Alexia leant forward again, and kissed her on the forehead. “I know. And I truly hope you can find that, because you deserve to have the love of your life.” She pulled back. “Is there any hope for us?” Please be hope. Please. “If you can learn to love yourself, and promise me that you’ll stay. That you won’t run away again. That you’re ready to move forwards, together.” Ridley paid close attention to her words. “I need you to be here for me, like I am for you. I need security.” “How will you know that I’m ready?” Alexia smiled. “You’ll fight for me. For us.” Ridley tried to hide her smile. Becks had been right. “Until then… can we be friends?” “Friends who love each other, yes. Yes, please. I’d like that.” Ridley knew she needed to fight for her. To not leave her again. To show her she was in it. “Hm.” Ridley looked over her shoulder and gestured to the flight attendant who came by. “No change to the manifest. Please stand the ground crew down. Leave the baggage and pet on board.” She nodded with a smile and left.

“You’re leaving Chiquito with me?” “I can’t take him away from you..” “He’s yours.” “I think you’ll find that he’s ours now.” Alexia failed to hide a look of unfiltered joy. “We can share him…” Ridley smiled and Alexia’s eyes went straight to her lips and then her cheek. She reached out and touched her scar. “Deal.” She agreed. Ridley tried to look as normal as possible as she rocked back on her heels, ignoring the almost unbearable pain, and stood. “Goodbye, Alexia.”

Alexia caught her arm as she went to turn, and pulled her back down, their faces close enough to share their first kiss. The thought certainly crossed her mind. “Ridley?” “Yes?” “Don’t leave again. Fight for me. Fight for us.” Ridley’s pride crept up. She leant over to clip her belt up, pulling it tight across her hips and wondering at how good she looked strapped up. Her thumb found those lips she couldn’t stop thinking about, and traced them softly. “I will. Do you know why?” Alexia’s eyes widened, and she shook her head against her thumb. “Because you’re fucking mine, Alexia.”

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #alexia putellas #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca #fcb femení #culers

83 notes · View notes

anim-ttrpgs · 1 year ago

Note

🌤️ Share your favorite mechanic from a game you’re working on.

I have a lot of mechanics in Eureka that I really really really love and have hardly seen anything similar to them anywhere else, but for the purposes of this ask I’m going to be answering with one of the unique ones that we haven’t talked about on here yet: The Woo Roll.

The Woo Roll is a special roll named in honor of director John Woo, well-known for his bombastic and extravagant use of practical effects in shootout scenes. Eureka boasts exciting and realistically dangerous firearms combat, and what better way to make deadly firearms combat more exciting in a theater-of-the-mind or grid-based shootout than by adding flavor and flare that emulates Hardboiled?

Firstly, it should be noted that it’s actually relatively hard to hit a target in Eureka firearm combat, doing so requires a fairly high roll. That means that participants are going to be doing a lot of missing. Besides just having a higher Firearms skill, the best way to increase one’s chance to hit is by firing more bullets in a single turn in the hopes that at least one of those shots will roll high enough to hit, which is why automatic weapons are more powerful than others: It usually only takes one single bullet hitting to disable a human target, so even with a low Firearms skill, firing more bullets at once greatly increases the chance that at least one will hit.

However, realistically, most shootouts in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy will be done using semi-automatic pistols, which are only capable of firing a maximum of 2 shots per turn. We don’t want to make our combat be just and endless boring montra of “shoot, miss, shoot, miss, shoot, miss”.

So, how do we make missed shots fun?

The answer is the Woo Roll.

The Woo Roll is one of the few rolls in Eureka that doesn’t use 2D6, it only uses 1 D6.

(Quick note for those unaware: While Eureka is NOT a PbtA game, it does use a similar system of “Failure, Partial Success, and Full Success”, three possible outcomes of a dice roll instead of just Success and Failure.)

When firing a gun, all bullets fired that turn are rolled separately (we have a special speed-rolling system for when you’re firing more than 3 bullets in one turn but that’s a different post). A Full Success(10+ on a 2D6 roll) is required to hit the intended target with any given bullet, a Partial Success(7-9) and a Failure(2-6) both miss. But this is where the Woo Roll comes in.

I’ll let the actual Eureka rulebook take it from here.

As you can see here, missed shots in Eureka still have some effect on the environment and situation, even if they do not kill their intended target. This ensures that a roll in firearm combat will always do something even if it is a miss, and reminds the players of one of the fundamental rules of gun safety: Don't just be sure of your target, be sure of what's behind your target! High-velocity lead doesn't stop being destructive just because it flew a little too far to the left!

The fact that a Woo Roll is much more likely to have a negative result if the shoot was a Failure vs a Partial Success means that handing someone a gun who has no idea how to use it can be more of a hazard than a benefit, but it's not impossible for them to get that one lucky shot that makes the difference. Likewise, a Woo Roll made from a Partial Success still has a small chance to cause disaster, so even very skilled shooters have to consider whether it's worth the risk to start firing bullets all over the place at all.

We also have tables the Narrator(Game Master) can roll on just in case the shootout runs out of Woo Roll Elements or it happens in place where no Woo Roll Elements would realistically be. Here's a sneak peak at the table for Negative Woo Rolls.

Note also that this is a 2D6 table, meaning that the results closest to 7 are much more likely than the results farthest from 7.

#eureka: investigative urban fantasy #eureka #ttrpg #ttrpgs #rpg #indie rpg #coc #tabletop #roleplaying #dnd

527 notes · View notes

maezysworld · 6 months ago

Text

Test subject x The ghoul pt. 2

pt. 1

Pairing: cooper howard x fem! cat mutant & sniper reader

hi friends once again I am dyslexic so this is probably not the best but I hope you all enjoy it anyways (I’m always open to feed back as long as your nice about it)

Warnings: slow burn, writer is dyslexic, might be slightly out of character, a whole lot of guns, use of y/n, blood mention, sad dog (not a dead dog a sad dog)

context: you are part cat due to being experimented on you have the cat ears and eyes along with all there senses (i do plan on making a full backstory)

You guys have been walking for awhile few words exchanged. your walking a head of him with the dog by your side, you’ve been following the sent of the vault dweller as the dog follows the doctors. “what her name” you ask the ghoul. “she ain’t mine.” he says in response dry and uninterested in your attempt to start a conversation. “why the hell do you have a random dog?” you ask confused but not really surprised. “The doctors, and just how do you know where we’re going.” he says not knowing if you’re following the dog or leading her. “I have my ways” you say before you stop walking and lift your mask just to show your nose, as you take a deep breath you notice that the doctors sent smells different smells bloodier. the dog runs ahead to a fallen huge piece of metal, it looked like it was apart of a building but your not to sure. you start to jog ahead following the dog, the ghoul not far behind. Once you catch up you see a headless body that belongs to the doctor, the dog lays her head on his lap and makes a short whimper noise.

you crouch down next to her petting her head “I guess we found our man.” you say looking up at the ghoul. “part of him.” he says looking around foot prints catching his eyes. “so what’s this information you have for me.” he sounds frustrated that you haven’t told him yet (and your surprised he hasn’t shot you for not telling him yet) “the value dweller has his head and is going to a woman named moldavor.” you say now standing looking at the ghoul, he doesn’t respond. You lift your mask just above your nose again taking another whiff of the air. “what in hell are you doin?” he says turning to look at you “do you ever take off that mask?” he says a moment later. “not around strangers I don’t” you say putting your mask back on now knowing what direction she’s heading.

“you must be fuckin hideous hiding your face in this world” he says lightly laughing. “something like that, here” you throw him a chem, you have met quite a few ghouls (well the non feral ones) are normally fairly nice, so you started carrying chems on you when ever you have space just in case. “I’m not to sure how many you have but I know you’ll need one soon.” you say as he catches it, he looks at you confused maybe a little Great-full too.

“well we know where she’s heading we can stop here for now” the ghoul says. about 20 minutes later you guys have a fire going and sitting down, no words spoken. “I’m y/n” you try to start a conversation to no response. “do you wanna tell me yours?”. “do you wanna take off that damn mask?” the ghoul snaps back. you sigh, “okay mr ghoul, no need to be so rude” you whisper as you wipe down your gun. the ghoul heard you but choses to ignore it “do you ever take off the mask” he says sounding a lot less defensive. “depends” you reply “on what?” he asks curiously. “if im alone yeah sure, with others it really depends on who im with” you say never looking up at him “so your hiding something.” his words sound like a question but his tone tells you it’s not, “I can keep watch if you want to rest” you say, the ghoul doesn’t move. you put your pistol in your holster while the ghoul watches your every move, you stand up and stretch a bit and walk around where your little camp is “are you not tired?” you ask the ghoul, once again he doesn’t respond he just puts his hat over his face ‘thanks for the response’ you think to yourself.

after a few minutes you sit back down with your back turned to the ghoul and you take off your mask. it’s hard to hear and see in that thing and if your going to be in the dark you’d prefer to have any advantage you can in a fight, and well having built in night vision it’s pretty handy. you pull your jacket hood up to cover your ears to the best of your ability. you put out the fire, after about 26 minutes you see figures running in your direction it’s a pack of ghouls you nudge the ghoul to wake him up “you should get up there’s a handful of ghouls coming our way” you say before putting back on your mask and standing up with your pistol out, the ghoul stands up trying to see what your looking at but it’s practically pitch black but he hears the footsteps and that’s all he really needs. the dog runs up and attacks one of the ghouls and with our fully thinking you follow, but the ghoul stays his distance. you shoot a few only killing 3 as your reloading you hear one coming from behind you, you turn and pistol whip them as they fall to the ground you feel another one grab your ankle. You take out your switch blade and stab it in the side of his neck before kicking him with your other foot grabbing the back out after your ankle was released and stabbing him in the head again, blood gets everywhere your eyes on your mask are practically covered in blood. you focused alittle to hard on whipping it off when you get tackled to the ground by another, you can’t even see what’s attacking you as you struggle to take off your gas mask while kicking this thing off if you. After you get it off is when you feel the ghouls dead weight on your body with a bullet threw his head you shove him off and you start to stand up “you were really about to let the last one take you?” the ghoul laughs, you wipe the blood off of your face and brush yourself off “yeah well I expected to get a-bit more help from you.” you say irritated “I wanted to see if you could hold your own. clearly you can’t” he says stepping closer “I didn’t think I had to dickhead, I assumed you had my back.” you say sounding more and more pissed off. “they got your mask off?” he asks knowing the answer considering he saw your face. you turn away making sure your ears are still covered from the man, “you ain’t ugly, so why wear it?” “I’ll answer that question the day you tell me your name.” you scoff. “fair enough little miss” he sounds more chear full, that makes your blood boil. ‘took almost losing my life to have him pleased, fuck off’ you think to yourself grabbing your mask and getting as much blood off of it as you can.

VERY SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG I’m sorry it’s not the best my wifi has been supper weird and I had to do this all on my phone and I’ve been sick the past few days☹️ but hopefully it’s good enough!!

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #fallout #fallout series #fallout show #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard x you #fallout x reader #fallout fanfic

57 notes · View notes

hydemercats · 2 months ago

Text

awkward looking animatic i kind of speedran

ill put the cws in the tags but ill also put them here just in case ^_^

//blood, corpse, also possible mild flash warning, i left one flame blank at is way more jarring than i intended anyway i made this in like 5 hours it is not the best quality b nice to me/lh

my script under cut, as well as AWESOME FACTS FIRE EMOJI

(the script is like, annoyingly tall)

Run from their pity - matthias finds the house of usher after WITNISSING the house of usher and he's like. um! what the fuck! (im not entirely sure how he finds the gw books, but he does) from responsibility - something something. he figures out portals and loses his humanity or whatever Run from the country - he goes and looks 4 adam and run from the city - adam finds him can run from the law - matthias climbs into jekylls laboratory through the window I can run from myself - oops! hydes already drinking arsenic I can run from my life - carmilla is fucking bleeding out! I can run into debt - hi dracula. he's just talking. matthias is exploring the library I can run from it all - jim shoots a man! I can run 'til I'm gone - jim tells matthias about how he shot a man! I can run for the office and run for my cause - matthias finds winston and is like 'hey man lets get the fuck out' I can run using every last ounce of energy - matthias crisis cuz he still feels some crushing guilt I cannot, I cannot -matthias is like. oh yeah that guilt is probably how im the sole survivor of the usher thing! tee hee! /j I cannot run from my family - transition 2 the end of house of usher when matthias finishes reading the tale and oh shit madeline is here They're hiding inside of me - madeline starts fucking killing roderick but also not really? its. its complicated corpses on ice - they die Come in if you like but just don't tell my family - even FURTHER flashback, roderick and matthias r talking a few nights before, roderick tells matthias about how he's probably going to die and why They'd never forgive me - matthias doesnt fucking believe him but he's trying to be nice about it because he's also pretty sure roderick is gonna kick it soon they'd say that I'm crazy - self explanatory

the book matthias reads at the start is the first book fall of the house of usher was published in, in 1840 i believe?

hyde has a green shadow behind him because of the line 'run from myself' and.. yknow,

matthias has a glass of blood 4 carmilla, he hadn't expected her to be literally dying when he got there

jim, when he's killing a man, has a dagger in his shoulder and is holding that pistol wrong. realistically he would probably be losing his arm here - or at least, being more seriously injured than he already is. or dead. i reread ti recently, he SHOULD be dead by now.

matthias is wearing a top hat when he meets winston, since they are slightly thematic in 1984

fun fact: im very proud of that hair animation

after that transition is where it gets really late at night when im drawing this and i start to go. LET ME GO TO BED PLEASE. so the quality rapidly decreases

if for some reason u read all of this, heres some roderick and matthias art i did for goretober a few nights ago ^_^

the roderick design is not at all accurate to my hc i just used it for simplicities sake. this mostly on one layer, including the lineart, btw :3

#gwotnlh #blood #dead body #wound #chonny jash #<that one wasnt a cw i just forgot to put that tag there #cj gw #hyde art #suicide #<< this one is 4 hyde drinking the arsenic

30 notes · View notes

kimyoonmiauthor · 6 months ago

Text

Better Novel Scrivener Template

BTW, If you liked the Settings Template, this has that plus more...

The Current Novel Template is out of date, the templates aren't really doing much for you. And the variety of icons is rather thin. I set out to fix this.

The template as a whole is PG-13 as the Character Template mentions "dangerous" things like "Kinks" and "Safe Words" OMG. I know. So terrible. So if you don't want to explain those things to anyone underage, don't download it.

As I am NB, and generally queer otherwise, I have included things like Sexual Orientation, Romantic Orientation and a whole load of things to think about when building CHARACTER, SETTING, WORLDBUILDING. I included things that people often forget by using my Uni and College knowledge.

Please, please read the "Read Me First" file if you want to avoid having to load missing icons. I give instructions.

In case you still opened it despite my warnings or it doesn't work, you'll have to load in the icons manually. In which case this is a reference:

The New Icons are: Domestic Products, Imported Goods, Exported Goods, Laws, and Social Stratification. I added extra icons for Weapons and Warfare in case you're not writing Fantasy. Laser Guns and a Historical Pistol.

I did my best to make it CULTURALLY NEUTRAL. If you want them specific, you're on your own.

I also added if you'd like to load them

All these Icons to the folder so You can finally color code your manuscripts to your heart's content. (My unending frustration with Scrivener).

I added an SVG file so if there is an exact shade I missed on the Spiral Notebook Colors or the Hardcover Books, you can add it.

The Composition Notebook file isn't included as it contains a pattern. However, I made pains to make sure it matches real life colors that exist in Composition Notebooks. You wanted the Settings Template? There are 2. One for City/Towns. One general one.

Zero Organization or Clue on Querying or Self pubbing?

I put up Organization Folders for you.

Here are the Templates you get. Everything is beefed up for you. I spent forever on these Templates and testing them. I also cued Styles to them so it's easy to change the colors. If you want to change something, as the About document says, turn on invisibles.

The Default Styles aren't useless anymore.

If you need a more Definitive Guide, I also made one in the file:

Download the Scrivener Template. It is a ZIP FILE Win Zip or other Zip app should be able to handle it.

Warning: Direct Download https://www.kimyoonmi.com/BetterNovelScrivenerTemplate.zip If you want to Skip the Template completely, but are wishing to add the Icons to your Scrivener:

https://www.kimyoonmi.com/ScrivenerIcons.zip

This template itself is not for sale or profit nor are the icons. Also don’t be the person that lies that says you made it. It’s a Creative Commons License Attribution, Noncommercial, No Derivatives by Yoonmi Kim 2024. You may change it for personal use only. Any problems can be addressed directly to me at https://www.kimyoonmiauthor.com. If you would like to translate this into other languages, let me know.

Don't be the ass that tries to sell my hard work, 'cause really, it's free. And I spent a lot of pains and time to make sure it's free and easy to use with a lot of subtle UX. Edit: I added even more stuff to the newest version.

Yes, a Pets Sketch, a Fauna Species Sketch a Flora Species Sketch, there is Literature added to the list of Art (I forgot it. lol I thought the mistake was silly, but yeah.)

And I added a Medicine Section with an icon to the technology section. There are two native icons already for Medicine--syringe and pill, but I kind of felt it didn't always give the feel of fantasy, so I made a Mortar and Pestle from scratch to add, but if you're doing sci-fi or contemporary, etc you can change to the syringe or pill.

I added explainers as well for the items to the guide.

Why?

'Cause. I would love to be able to see people put more thought into their worlds/worldbuilding, even if it doesn't show up. Maybe it won't be only horses for animals as pets. Or an occasional dog. Haha. Having a gay dog like Robin Williams would be great.

#Scrivener #Scrivener Templates #Scrivener Icons #Creative Commons #writing advice

53 notes · View notes

lets-try-some-writing · 11 months ago

Text

Action! Chapter 2

Now settled into his role, Orion, or rather Optimus, is finally ready to get the ball rolling with his opening scene just around the corner.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The director must have really been aiming for realism with this production. Orion, no, Optimus Prime sat at his desk as he had for the past two deca-cycles. Not once had he been given the chance to break character comfortably. He couldn’t be sure his personal quarters weren’t being filmed since that was where his opening shot had taken place, so he opted to keep to his persona just in case. While he felt slightly more comfortable without the extras around him, it still wasn’t exactly a peaceful environment.

Despite that, Alpha Trion had obviously seen to every tiny detail with the set. Orion had done his fair share of snooping while doing his best to look deliberate. With so little information about current events, he wanted to get a little extra data. Thankfully, Optimus Prime’s, or perhaps Orion’s quarters, were filled with small indicators of personality. Letters from Optimus’s sons and absent Consort that had been received and read, but never answered. Small trinkets from when his character had not been a Prime. Photos hidden in the back of the closet behind a box that showed a time when his character had seemingly been a better mech. Optimus Prime in those photos looked younger, happier even. He bore a smile on his unmasked face as he held a newly forged Bumblebee in his arms, Smokescreen grinning gleefully as he looked down at his younger brother.

Those photos made Orion smile, especially the ones that showed Optimus’s sheer joy as he drank with Megatron and what looked to be his other close friends before his rise to his station. Optimus’s origins in the novel were not exactly explained, largely because the mech had done everything in his power to cut himself off from his past and cover his tracks. A smart political move to ensure his friends and family could not be used against him, but a poor way to connect to the people. But from what hints were dropped in the story and based upon the fact that there was a police issued pistol in a small box hidden underneath the berth, Orion had his theories. Optimus Prime had evidently once been involved with law enforcement, and it seemed that his sense of justice had likely been perverted, possibly through seeing all the corruption of the higher castes.

Everything he found gave Orion more ammunition to use to improve his performance. Knowing the Prime had once been part of the police force ensured that he could adequately use his knowledge of the novel’s laws in order to back up his claims if need be. Not to mention, he could also likely hint at a darker past, one where his character possibly saw indescribable horrors while on the job, a potential contributor to his eventual fall to darkness. Additionally, it seemed the Prime still carried a fondness for his former station and likely held a secret love for the mecha he had long pushed away, considering his keepsakes.

A regretful and damaged villain. Being Optimus Prime was going to be a sheer delight.

Well, that is whenever he could begin truly playing his role. Thus far all he’d been able to do was work through the mountain of datapads that had built up, and then after completing those, he had spent a ridiculous amount of time reviewing already active programs and laws. Again he found himself praising the director’s optic for detail as he looked over fully fledged and well documented articles. But he couldn’t help but internally cringe at a great many of the active laws and regulations. They were largely and rather obviously meant to screw over the lower castes.

Since he was just trying to look like he was busy, Orion had quickly begun the long and arduous process of adjusting things. He was very thankful for his training prior to arriving at the set and what little he picked up while thinking about joining the Archives as he tore through countless protocols and restructured them to his liking. Being a Prime had its perks. Even if it was all for show, considering Alpha Trion’s dedication to making things realistic, Orion wouldn’t have put it past him to make things an absolute slag pit if his character were anyone else.

Despite the enjoyment he found in picking apart the hyper realistic documentation, at the end of the two deca-cycles, he was weary.

He always had a penchant for working himself half to death, and whatever mods he had been given were certainly not helping his poor habit. His newly adjusted frame just… didn’t get tired like his old one did. He hardly noticed the passage of time as he delved into paperwork, finding himself pondering a possible future where he had chosen to join the Archives. Considering his office, once overflowing with work, was now fully cleared and organized, he reckoned he would have been good at it.

He hardly saw anyone as he worked. The servants refused to, or perhaps were too afraid, to talk to him. They played their parts perfectly, and Orion internally praised them even as he started to feel the effects of loneliness. He just had to be patient. His time to shine would come soon.

“My Lord, your Council is on their way. Would you like to await their arrival in the Throne room?” Orion, no, that wasn’t right. Optimus Prime sat up at his desk as a servant carefully entered. They had learned that so long as they remained quiet, Optimus would not snap at them. His character certainly could have, but Optimus felt it was unneeded, especially considering the character he was hoping to portray was both cunning and complex. Random bursts of anger at employees not doing anything didn’t give off that impression.

“That would be acceptable.” Optimus stood up slowly, allowing his battle mask to slide into place. His character was well known for only ever revealing his face when within his inner palace, never in the Throne room or in front of any cameras. It was likely a holdover from his time in law enforcement.

“Your attendants are ready to assist you in your preparations, my Lord.” The servant bowed, their expression carefully controlled. Optimus nodded subtly to them, hoping it conveyed his appreciation and awe for their acting. How Alpha Trion got so many talented extras was beyond him. It had taken a good chunk of a cycle for him to track down and memorize the names of his most relevant servants so that he could quietly prepare them gift baskets. He really hadn't expected Alpha Trion to give him proper funds, but he opted to not question the situation and used a small portion of his wealth to get them something nice. He hadn’t gotten any messages in return, but considering nothing had been sent back, he assumed his gifts had been taken with a degree of appreciation.

That had been a deca-cycle and a half ago. Since then, his servants had been surprisingly docile, or perhaps less skittish. He didn’t know how to coin their behavior.

“As is expected of them.” He quipped as he came around toward the door. The servant bowed and said nothing more as Optimus exited, only to then be met by six curious faces. The mecha before him were of the Primacy, their religious shrouds said as much. However, instead of shaking or doing something else of the sort, they instead looked at him oddly before gesturing for him to follow.

Strange, but then again, the priests in the novel were known to be rather odd. Very little was actually documented about them, and they only appeared to assist his character in dressing for activities of importance or to guide him through religious rites. Maybe this was part of their script.

“Prime, please stand here.” The priests directed him into a room covered in detailed murals, gesturing for him to stand on a raised round platform a foot or so off the ground in the center of the chamber. Optimus paused, taking in the sheer grandeur of the room before he obeyed. The walls were almost pure ivory in coloration, all covered in glyphs he could only read if he looked closely. Gold trim graced every detail of the space, and he was fairly certain there were portraits of prior Primes painted on the walls in some places.

He’d said it a million times, but by Primus, Alpha Trion was not playing games when it came to detail.

“Begin your work, priest.” Was all he ordered in response, his tone cold but slightly off kilter as he struggled to keep focus in light of the detail in the space. If he had the chance, he would love to spend a whole cycle, or perhaps several, simply viewing the walls of the chamber. There was so much history and so many hidden clues to be found in every piece. The set designers must have been absolute masters of their craft to pull all this off.

He couldn’t help himself as he hastily examined the chamber, looking for the telltale mark of Knockout’s work. The designer was known to leave a little sigil somewhere on all of the sets he was involved in. Optimus could only assume he had to have been involved in the production of his current set, considering the sheer amount of intricacy.

“By your will.” The priests chanted before more streamed into the room from small tunnels previously hidden along certain points in the walls. Light shone from a window directly above him, and by the Allspark, Optimus really felt like a Prime as the priests laid expensive organic cloth around his shoulders, turning it into an elegant cape covered in symbols that fell from his back. The overhead light must have been Breakdown’s work, it really sold the entire scene in Optimus’s opinion. The light shone on the cloth and caused the glyphs that were being painted onto him to glow slightly. He hadn’t noticed since he had practically lived in his office the whole time, but the gold accents he woke with had largely faded.

The priests restoring them made him a bit giddy if he was truthful. Now he truly looked the part of the mighty and tyrannical Prime. It was incredibly difficult to keep a straight face, despite it mostly being covered by his mask, as the nearest priest placed something rather heavy on his back. Optimus struggled to see it, but from what he gathered, it was some sort of… flair piece made of gold? It added an aura of religious fanaticism to his persona with its structure, and quite frankly, Optimus enjoyed it.

A dramatic villain was by far the most enjoyable to watch on screen.

“May Primus guide your steps.” The priests bowed respectfully, and Optimus took the opportunity to step off the dias and turn toward the exit. He memorized the maps of the palace his first cycle there. He would be foolish not to.

“At ease.” He called back, pulling on his character’s supposed past in law enforcement to make a statement. He did his best to have his voice dip into something more tired, a weary mech, so very done with life. He wanted to giggle as he noticed the priests standing up, confusion etched onto their features as they watched him leave.

He was absolutely owning his part so far.

If he weren’t on set he would absolutely be making an expression worthy of how he felt in his spark, but he took a deep vent, hoping it added to the drama as he opened the door and stepped into the hall. The weight of the cape was neither uncomfortable nor foreign, despite its origin. The weight on his back from the accenting piece was also rather nice as he strode down the halls, not waiting a moment but keeping his pace steady as he made his way toward where the map he memorized dictated the Throne room to be.

Guardsmecha quickly joined him, abandoning whatever posts they held previously in order to escort him. They, too, gave him strange looks, ones he refused to acknowledge. Perhaps their scripts indicated that they were to act as though he were suspicious. It would make sense. According to the lore, he had been in stasis for a whole vorn, and now he had been working nonstop for a full two deca-cycles.

Thinking about it, that may have been a mistake. A mech fresh out of stasis should have still been in a medical wing somewhere, going through therapy and examinations. Optimus hopping right up without so much as a word to anyone but his servants and getting right to work was likely… concerning. The novel never went into much detail about his character’s work ethic, just that his laws were unjust and his actions cruel in the extreme. Optimus could probably play it off if he just didn’t acknowledge the situation. Maybe the director would cut anything that hinted at anything too incriminating.

He still didn’t know how much filming his predecessor managed to be a part of before his accident. He would hate to screw something up due to ignorance.

“You are dismissed.” He called out to his guards as he at last reached the doors to the Throne room. All the halls in the palace were largely the same, albeit with different murals and stained-glass windows depending on the wing of the building. It would be easy to mistake this room for another. Optimus really hoped he wasn’t about to walk into the energon purifying room or something.

“My Lord, it is our sworn duty to protect you.” One guardsmech put forward hesitantly. Optimus raised an optical ridge in response, quickly causing the mech to shift uncomfortably. He contemplated the right response before settling on portraying a Prime with enough ego to drown out the nearest star. It seemed on par for a mech such as Optimus.

“I am fully capable of defending myself, guardsmech. I require no guardians.” The mech shrank in on himself, likely expecting a hit. Optimus abstained from acting on the unspoken cue. He didn’t have a written script, but hurting a guard so early into his time on set seemed a bit much. His character was highly intelligent and cunning, and while not necessarily showcased in the novels, he wanted to spin it so that Optimus Prime was at least given a degree of respect for his efforts amongst the audience.

A villain needed to know when outright violence was the answer and when cunning was key.

“If you are so concerned, give me your weapon, and I shall sully the blade with the energon of any who dare step too close.” He glared, his field flaring briefly to sell his point. Of course, his field would not be visible on camera, but the gentle urging he sent out would hopefully get his wishes across to the extra before him. Nonverbal communication was essential for any good actor. One couldn’t always rely on the script.

He held out a servo expectantly, his gaze frigid but his field as warm as he could manage without it affecting his body language. The guardsmech froze, as did the others. They shared a series of startled looks before the mech in question at last unstrapped his sword from where it hung at his hip and dropped to a knee, presenting it formally.

“Be on your way, guardsmech, and know this.” Optimus accepted the blade, strapping it to his own hip with practiced ease, as if he were still back in Crystal City training with his teacher. He looked down at the fearful guardsmech before bending down to grip the mech’s face. The mech froze in horror, his frame going completely still and his venting slowing to the point of it being concerning as Optimus forced the mech to meet his gaze.

“Never again dare assume that I am so weak as to require your protection. I am your Prime, I am Primus’s chosen vessel. No mere mortal could ever dream of withstanding anything powerful enough to damage me.” His words came out in a hiss that still managed to maintain a vague remnant of a sing songy undertone. He internally cheered at his performance as his words rang in his audials. Ad libbing was one of his specialties in school and by the Thirteen, his new voice mod really sold the bit.

The guardsmech looked a klik away from crying when Optimus let go and returned to his proper height. However, despite his words, his field still extended kindly to the extras around him. It was his version of telling them good job, since words were not exactly an option at the present moment. They seemed to take it well enough, at least he certainly hoped so, since their fields flared in brief bursts of mixed confusion and awe with a hint of fear.

The fear was weird, but then again, Ratchet had once said in an interview that field usage on set was considered rather rude. Maybe he had crossed a line.

“Of course, forgive me, my Lord.” The guardsmech bowed and shakily stepped away. Silently, Optimus sent a message through his HUD to give the guardsmecha some gift cards. He didn’t know their designations yet, so for the time being, they could use his little gift to maybe get a drink off set somewhere. Being up in someone’s face was a rather frightening thing for any extra after all. He certainly had a few instances where he nearly broke down while training at the academy. The mech looked rather young too…

He shook his helm, clearing his mind as he readied himself. He had no clue who would already be there and who wouldn’t. Without access to the special effects team, he would need to start setting up his own effects once this was over. But for now, entering normally would be fine. It wouldn’t do to overwhelm the audience.

“Announcing Optimus Prime, Primus’s Chosen.” The announcer listed his designation and title as he strode into the room, internally sighing in relief at having entered the correct area and not embarrassing himself by waltzing into some other space, Primus forbid a closet or something of the like. He had no clue how he would explain that in such a scenario.

“Hail.” The small collection of already present bots stood from their chairs, bowing slightly with a servo over where their spark chambers were hidden behind layers of protective armor as he entered. Striding toward the seat he assumed was for his character in light of the very obvious Matrix of Leadership engraving on it, Optimus observed those present.

Once he was seated, those gathered did the same once more. The first mech he laid optics on very nearly had Optimus wheezing if not for his training prior to arriving on set. Ratchet was right there. Not just the character, the actual mech. He looked absolutely stunning playing the part of the Prime’s personal physician. He thought that his idol had long given up on acting, but it seemed Alpha Trion’s production was too good to turn away from. The elder actor was performing brilliantly, his disposition exactly like the character depicted in the novel. A scowl was settled on his face, accented by the gold flairs that had been painted onto him. He looked less than pleased with the situation as a whole, and he did not even bother to hide his disdain as Optimus met his gaze.

Pros really were made of sterner stuff. Not only was Ratchet’s acting top tier, but his field was also held so close to himself as to be akin to a second layer of armor. The work of a real master, refusing any and all contact with fellow actors in order to really fall into character. Optimus would be fragged if he didn’t get an autograph once they had a chance to speak somewhere without cameras. Maybe he could just invite him to speak over some tea while in character. It wasn’t part of the script, but then again, it seemed Alpha Trion’s optic for realism dictated that events would play out in proper order and over the course of time indicated in the novels. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to speak to his co-star.

“Ratchet, I had not expected you to heed my summons.” Optimus commented frigidly. Ratchet, still maintaining his immaculate characterization, almost snarled in response.

“I was half tempted to do just as you anticipated Prime. I have more important things to do than sit around and be a pretty doll.” The physician glowered with the rage of a thousand suns, and Optimus had to fight to keep still as he internally cheered. Ratchet was an absolute master of his craft, and it was evident in every small motion he made.

“But considering I was forbidden to tend to your high and mighty majesty during your time in stasis, I elected to turn up and see if the rumors were true.” Ratchet reached out for a sizable pile of documents, shutting down any further conversation just as quickly as Optimus initiated it.

Absolutely brilliant. Ratchet’s character had been largely forbidden to do anything of worth, and was kept around as a formality more often than not. In the novel, this drove the doctor half mad due to how many bots needed him down in the clinics. He despised doing nothing aside from appearing for the sake of formality. A large portion of his anger toward Optimus’s character stemmed from the simple fact that the Prime held all of Ratchet’s students and staff in the palm of his servo, their lives hanging by a thread. For Ratchet to manage to showcase all of his character’s anger in such a short scene was nothing short of phenomenal.

“It is good to see you functional again, my Lord.” Ultra Magnus sat at the far end of the table, as far as physically possible from Optimus. He had reading glasses on and his tone was anything but welcoming, unsurprising considering his character was a former war hero forced into the role of glorified maid in order to keep him from speaking out. Being a secretary was by no means the worst job out there, but it was a far cry from his former position, and Magnus’s character could not risk the potential harm that would befall his soldiers should he fail to obey.

Optimus had to reset his optics a few times in order to confirm that the actor playing Magnus’s character was indeed the Ultra Magnus he knew. Why a director had chosen to act was beyond him, but he was doing a fantastic job, so who was Optimus to judge? He nodded to himself softly, hoping somehow that the other actor felt his approval.

“Soundwave, you come on the behalf of the senate, I assume.” It wasn’t even a question. Optimus knew full and well that Soundwave, the mech sitting closest to him on his left, was an inside mech. He didn’t want to be there, and was forced to serve as the senate’s mouthpiece in order to ensure that Megatron didn’t find himself killed in some horrible and one hundred percent unfortunate accident.

It was odd that the actor playing the character wasn’t in his usual monster role, but Optimus internally shrugged and moved on. Soundwave was always a quiet mech on camera, and it seemed this role suited him fine.

“Affirmative. The Senate wishes to confirm Optimus Prime still functions.” Soundwave remained still as a statue, an act of dedication to his role that had Optimus wishing he could give a thumbs up in awe. However, he fought with his spark until the urge died and looked to the only other mech in the room.

“Jazz. I imagine you are rather disappointed I didn’t offline while in stasis.” Optimus taunted with a hint of a dark laugh in his tone. Sweet as candied energon, his vocalizer produced what might as well have been a song as he leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on the table and his servos clasped together in a grim mimicry of a prayer.

“Right on point, Prime. Would have been nice, but you’ve always been a real glitch about dying.” Jazz flipped a knife as he propped his pedes on the table. Unlike everyone else in the room, he had no decorative pieces on his frame. He looked like an average civilian. He was, to Optimus’s knowledge, the only mech his character had no real sway over. Jazz was there because he had to be for the safety of those who were against Optimus’s character.

If he recalled correctly, it said somewhere in the novel that Jazz remained for so long on the faint hope that his old friend would return and cease his cruelty. A tragic story, really, but one Optimus could use to improve his performance.

“Your commentary is irrelevant. Where are my heirs and my High Protector?” Those at the table remained silent as a servant hurried forward with a bow. Optimus raised an optical ridge and leaned back in his chair, giving off the aura of an unimpressed and agitable leader as the mech hurried to speak.

“The Primecended are going to be arriving late, my Lord. Primajor Smokescreen has been slowed by delays in transportation from Protihex. Priminor Bumblebee was…” The servant trailed off, shifting from pede to pede as they continued.

“You have never called for the Priminor before, so his position was not monitored… and it is possible he assumed you did not require his presence.” The room fell deathly silent as Optimus weighed his options. The way the film was running seemed to suggest that so long as all the main plot points were reached, the actors could act as naturally as they wished while remaining in character. Optimus had free reign to act as he saw fit.

In this case, he had just the right idea.

“That sparkling has been left to run wild for too long. Living a life of luxury due to my efforts. How very ungrateful of him.” Standing slowly, Optimus loomed over the servant and grasped their wrist, making sure to make it seem as though his grip was crushing while remaining soft so as to not damage them.

“He is my heir. He will learn to heed my summons. Bring him here in the next joor, or I will get him myself. I am sure we all don’t want that to happen, do we?” He increased his grip ever so slightly, cracking his knuckle on the servo not visible to the onlookers, in order to make it seem as though he’d damaged the servant. Then, to sell the scene further, he threw the mech to the ground as carefully as he could manage while still seeming harsh.

“Find him and tell him that I will tolerate no further acts of defiance.” The servant wiped away tears as they scrambled to their pedes and fled. Those gathered at the table stared at Optimus in hatred, as was to be expected. Optimus in turn nodded to himself before sitting back down. He didn’t want his co-stars thinking he’d actually hurt the extra playing the servant role, so he hastily began to crack his knuckles while extending his field comfortingly, hoping they connected the dots.

Their expressions grew more terrified than comforted, but he chalked that up to them remaining in character.

“Once my Council has finished gathering, I wish to know all that has happened in my absence. I would not have my empire tainted by impurities-” Optimus began, fully intending to monologue in true evil villain fashion. However, before he could, the door to the throne room burst open with a deafening crash. Ratchet startled a degree, Jazz didn’t flinch, Magnus sighed, and Soundwave remained still as always.

Optimus sat up straighter, his finials perking up as he pulled back his field and stared at the mech trudging in. He was tall and probably once had a fantastic silver finish. Now he was covered in soot and ash, burn marks, cuts, scars, and every other conceivable form of damage marred his plating. Black smoke escaped his vents, an indicator of a desperate need for system repairs and cleaning as he strode forward, the canon on his arm humming to life from what had to be incredible amounts of stress or anger.

Incredible makeup and prop work. Optimus would need to thank the makeup department when this was all over. The blaster was amazingly realistic. The LEDs inside the prop casing must have been spectacular quality.

“PRIME!”

There it was. Music to his audials. Finally, Optimus’s time to shine. He knew this scene by spark.

“Why Megatron, I would have expected more decorum from my High Protector. And yet here you are, dirtying my carpets with grime from the lower levels. How very distasteful.” Megatron seethed, his optics flicking between red and blue in a frenzy. Optimus smiled beneath his mask as he stood again, his optics purposefully locked onto the seething mech across from him.

This was his moment, the grand confrontation and the scene where Optimus Prime was introduced to the readers. Optimus would need to make this good. He hadn’t had decent prep time due to his failure to plan ahead, but he could still make a spectacular introduction.

“Well then, come take a seat. Let us begin.” He smirked and gestured toward a chair. Megatron practically shook with rage. The actor was spectacular in his heroic role, just as he always was.

Optimus would need his autograph as well.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #ratchet #megatron #alternate universe #ultra magnus #jazz #soundwave #actor au #fanfiction #transformers fanfiction #optimus is an oblivious idiot #hes too wrapped up in his role to see the obvious indicators that this is very real #in the words of my friend #“he has plot armor because he believes he has plot armor.”#but look! second chapter yall!#I actually did more for an au :D

70 notes · View notes

lana-llama-in-pajamas · 8 months ago

Text

Milkman (Francis mosses) x fem! Reader

Thick as blood

Sweet as milk

Ah yes, you. The new doorman. The DDD hired you for your attention to detail and ability to examine more than just physical detail but the way people talked, their actions even the movement in their eyes.

Dopples are horrible at those details, some are just straight stupid and don’t try

But today was your first day in the building fresh from training, the building didn’t have a doorman before so you were ready for confrontation and confusion

Your uniforms was meant to look friendly, with a DDD button the the left breast. the DDD issued you with a pistol in case a Dopple did get in.

The block has been notified and given everything they needed to get in. Now it was your job to make sure they were safe

The day went slow no one coming in till lunch, you were not given one but you were allowed to eat whenever suited you

Soon tho a very happy woman came by…she had heterochromia at first you assumed dopple before looking at her papers

Right Nacha Mikaelys . Everything checked out as you studied her taking notes in your head, she smiled seemingly unaware of what was happening “how’s your day so far?” She asked looking through her purse, possibly for her keys “going well, I’m y/n your new doorman” you replied passing back her papers “have a good day ma’am” she nodded taking them back “pleased to meet you y/n see you tomorrow “ Nacha waved and walked out of sight

You got up from your chair to walk around your small office, you fix up your uniform as you hear someone come up to your glass panel. It was a milkman..? you raised your eyebrows at him. He didn’t look quite surprised to see you. He slid his papers into the slot and waited. You grabbed the papers and looked up and down at them. You then looked up at him and studied his features while trying to talk to him. “Hi I’m y/n the new doorman pleased to meet you, Mr. Moses.”

“Mm…pleased to meet you y/n”

Oh god. You blushed! What a schoolgirl

You slid the papers to him quickly looking down “all is in order, good day sir” you almost stuttered before looking back up at his dark tired eyes “good.” He walked off not noticing your sudden change in tone.

Oh god he sounded like a night time soap, deep and soft. you could listen to him read a chapter book and hang on every word, a phone book would sound sexy! And his eyes! Ugh you would kiss them if possible! You let your blush stay as you fell head over heels for a man that spoke 6 words to you (I counted) another person stood before you, before you could even greet them you stopped in your tracks

It wasn’t human. Its face was a drawing taped to it. No mouth but it spoke “allow me in please”

You softly pressed the urgency button as you slid out your gun. You could hear the dopple screech and writhe behind the glass and metal shutter while you called your superiors “I have one” you spoke sternly not wanting to show any fear “on the way” the triple D officer spoke. You stood back pistol in hand breathing slowly to calm down soon though the screeching stopped and the metal shutter lifted revealing a man in a yellow suit “dopple eliminated. Good work” he walked away with 2 others carrying a body bag.

You shivered placing the weapon back in its place you were glad most of those things were dumb but it made it no less horrifying

Your mind raced as you thought about the two things that just happened to you almost simultaneously first having a girl crush on a milkman and now almost getting killed by a stupid Dopple

Your immediate thought, as you sat down and tried to organize to calm your mind was, how does a milkman live in a building with such high earners ? How much does a milkman make ?you pondered looking over the files of residents

After introducing yourself to a couple of other residents, the day ends, and it’s time for your shift to end as well.

One Dopple the rest human honestly the best you could hope for on a first day, the other thing you could look forward to is that because you do work in this building, you can live in the building for way less rent than everybody else, you picked up your items from the desk and made sure everything was clean before you left and lock the door behind you no one was allowed to leave or enter the building after 10 PM unless of course it was an emergency, but they would be escorted by DDD officer at the front of the building

You took the elevator to your apartment “F05” the old landlord room, it used to be boarded up but the DDD had it refurbished for you, still looked a little dingy but ultra cheap rent for a 2 room apartment was worth it

You opened the door but jumped a little hearing another door “oh” you heard the deep voice looking to your left, Francis in a white wife beater and a cardigan. He has a cigarette in his fingers unlit “oh sorry you startled me goodnight Mr.mosses” you tried to excuse yourself quickly but to your surprise he spoke up “I didn’t know you lived here, actually I didn’t know there was a 5th apartment” he finally lit his cigarette taking a long drag (it’s the 50s) you nodded hoping to clear his confusion “ it was boarded up in the early 40s, it’s called a lord suite. a place for the landlord to stay in case of quick repairs or whatever else may happen” he listened rather intently taking the cig out of his mouth, god did you want him to ask you to take a puff just to indicate something “oh…I remember those really fell out of fashion huh?” He asked passing the half done cancer stick. You screamed in your head agreeing with him and taking in the smoke “well enjoy, I need to sleep” he walked back to his apartment almost slamming the door, was he mad? He didn’t indicate anger or distrust, you finished the cigarette and smudged it out on your stove placing the butt on the counter almost contemplating about saving it… you were weirding yourself out a bit but came back to.

You did as all necessary and got ready for bed

You dreamt of Francis sitting on the roof with you holding you close both of you in your uniforms as you kissed him deep and hungry begging for more in your movements you felt him move down to bite softly at your ne- TRRRIING TRRING

your alarm clock yelled at you a few more times before you could slam your hand down on it groaning and streaching “god I am down bad”

End pt 1

I know but the game is set in like 1955 America but it gives me such Soviet vibes

#milkman #milkman x reader #tnmn #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #Spotify #SoundCloud

730 notes · View notes

arlana-likes-to-write · 2 years ago

Text

Reborn

Part 2 of Monet Issue by Chase Petra

Summary: A phone from your best friend alerts the Avengers of your disappearance. It’s a race against the clock to save you before it’s to late.

Warning: Torture, forced experiment, truth serum,

Word count: 3.6k

Natasha was surprised it took him this long to confront her in the weapons locker of all places. It was mid-morning on the day after you left. She was cleaning her pistols and fine toning her Widow Bites. They still had no idea when they were leaving as the information was still coming in. But it was still good to be prepared. “Romanoff,” Tony said. He leaned against the wall.

“Stark.” She didn’t look at him. She was still furious with the man but out of respect for you, she would be civil. At the end of the day, they were a team and they had to watch each other’s backs.

“I’m guessing you are upset with me too.” She loaded the bullets into her magazine. “This is probably the worst place to talk to the person sleeping with my daughter,” Natasha smirked.

“I’m not going to kill you.” She said. He laughed.

“Well, that’s a relief.” There was a silence between the two. “So how long have you been sleeping with my kid?” He finally asked. Natasha sighed, placing her guns. She faced the man. She knew a shovel talk was in her future but she didn’t expect it to be like this.

“8 months,” she answered honestly. There was no reason to lie.

“I’m guessing if I ask you to call it off you won’t.” She smiled.

“You could be correct.” Natasha took a step closer to him. Her arms crossed. She noticed he was becoming nervous. “Let me ask you something, Tony. Do you love Y/n?” She asked.

“Yes,” The man answered without hesitation. Natasha wasn’t surprised by that. She’s caught him reading every article he could find about you.

“Have you told her that?” He didn’t say anything but Natasha saw his head shake, no. “Let me make an educated guess here. Howard didn’t show any emotions, right? He didn’t spend time with you, didn’t praise you when you wanted him to, and didn’t tell you he loved you when in fact he did. Which makes sense because it was probably how he was raised.” She went back to her guns to put them away. “I’m not your therapist but to your surprise, I care a lot about Y/n. So stop the generational trauma and be the father she deserves.

“How-how do I do that?” He asked. Natasha has never heard the man so unsure of himself. She put her guns away.

“I don’t know, Tony, but I see the way you act with Peter. That fatherly instinct is there somewhere.” She had a training session with Wanda to get to but her phone ringing stopped her. She half expected to see your name on the caller ID but it was Taylor. The Black Widow had met your best friend a handful of times. “Hey Tay,” she answered.

“Is the Egghead still with you?” Taylor asked. Natasha smiled at the nickname but the smile was short-lived. She heard the sound of a car so Taylor must be driving.

“No, she left yesterday. What’s going on?” Taylor sighed.

“She didn’t show up for work this morning. I tried calling her but she’s not answering her phone so I thought she stayed another night at the compound and you and she were engaging in adult-related activities. Natasha rolled her eyes at that. She turned to face Tony, who was watching the Russian.

“Maybe she overslept.” That was unlikely but she needed to give another option besides the worst-case scenario. She heard Taylor turn off her car and slam the door shut.

“I’m at her place now and will dump cold water on her.” Natasha waited for Taylor to take the elevator to your floor and unlock your apartment. “Shit,” Taylor said. Natasha put the phone on speaker.

“Tay, what do you see?” She asked. Taylor was calling out your name, oblivious that Natasha asked her a question. She could tell Taylor was running throughout your apartment.

“Taylor,” Tony said. “What is going on?” The sudden voice of your father cut through her fog.

“She’s not here,” she said. “Her window is broken and her coffee mug is shattered. There is graffiti on her kitchen cabinets.” Natasha’s phone dinged and she opened the text message Taylor sent. Her heart stopped. She looked up at Tony. The color was drained from his face but his jaw clenched. HYDRA had you.

Your eyes slowly opened but you admittedly closed them as a bright light was shining down on you. A pain throbbed behind your eyes. You were so thirsty. You reopened your eyes and looked around the room you were in. It was a 4 wall room with a door. You were chained to a metal chair. An IV was attached to your right arm. You looked down at your chest and noticed CAM patches attached to a monitor of your heartbeat. The only sound in the quiet room was the quiet beeping of the heart monitor on your left. It was comforting to some extent. You tried to test the resistance of the metal chains but your arms wouldn’t move. No matter how hard you tried your arms wouldn’t move. There was a discount between your brain and your limbs. “Impressive,” you looked up at the door. You didn’t notice it open. “We thought you would be out much longer.” The man was German. You noticed the slight accent. He wore a black uniform with the HYDRA symbol on his shirt.

“HYDRA,” you said. The man smiled. A female walked from behind him. She was wearing a white lab coat and a mask covering her mouth. She checked your vitals.

“So you know who we are,” Of course you did. The Avengers were working day and night to remove the organization.

“Her vitals are good,” the doctor said. “We can begin.”

“Begin?” You questioned. Your throat was killing you. “Begin what?” The man nodded. The doctor pulled a syringe out of her pocket and inserted it into your IV. You tried to fight her but it was no use. She pushed the clear liquid.

“You should be honored, Miss. Stark,” he said. “You are going to be a part of history.” The heart machine began to beep rapidly indicating your growing panic.

“What did you inject me with?” You asked. Breath, you told yourself, breathe. You were no use to anyone if you sent yourself into a panic attack. The beeping settled down.

“A truth serum,” he answered. “In 30 minutes, no matter what question we ask you, you will be forced to tell the truth.” Impossible. He smiled at the disbelief clear on your face. He took a step forward, taking your chin in his hand. “In 30 minutes, you will tell us all of your secrets.”

Tony was abnormally quiet as Peter and Kate gave their report on your apartment. Since they were stationed in the city it made sense to have them check it out. The security camera caught you being dragged out of the back door and into the van. FRIDAY was tracking the van but Tony wasn’t hopeful. They’ve spent months trying to track down HYDRA bases and have only found a handful. “Thanks, guys,” Steve said. “Report back to the compound.” They nodded and the feed ended. It was all hands on deck even Bucky and Yelena were being pulled from their missions to help out.

“Do you think it could be connected to the upcoming mission?” Wanda asked. Their next target was a Russian factory. It was rumored that they were developing a new drug.

“They took her alive,” Natasha said. “That means they want something.” You were alive. Tony had to keep reminding himself of that. You were alive but in the hands of a monster. There is so much Tony wanted to say to you and the way things were left between you and him left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Tony,” Steve said. The conversation directed at him pulled him out of his thoughts. He hummed, looking at the super soldier. “We are going to find her.” Of course, they were. They were the Avengers but Tony was afraid of the state they were going to find you in.

You were extremely warm. A layer of sweat was covering your body. The doctor would place a wet towel on your forehead. It offered you some relief. “Her temperature is stable at 99.2,” she looked at the man. “We can begin.” The man smiled.

“Let’s start with a baseline,” he said. “Who is your father?” Lie. Lie. Lie. You licked your lips.

“Go to hell,” you said. His smile grew.

“It’s useless to fight it. You know the saying the truth will set you free,” There was a pressure building in your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut. Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Tony Stark,” you said. The pressure lifted on your chest.

“Who is your mother?” Lie. LIE.

“Meghan L/n,” you mumbled.

“And what happened to your dear mother?” He asked. You squeezed your hands into a fist.

“She died from cancer.” You missed her so much. He touched your cheek.

“You poor, little girl,” you flinched from his touch. “Now let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.” He let go of you. “The Avengers are hitting our facilities. Where are they hitting next?”

“I don’t know,” the pressure was slightly building on your chest. He frowned.

“Move to plan B,” he said to the doctor. “I forgot she’s a Stark. They are stubborn.” The doctor pulled out another syringe. This time she pinched your skin with a needle. It didn’t even hurt. “She just injected you with adrenaline. A mix of that with the truth serum is a deadly combination.”

“I don’t know,” you said again. “They were looking at a factory blueprint somewhere in Russia.” You never felt this weak. Your heart was thudding against your ribs. “Please,” you whispered. “I need water.” The man nodded and the doctor left the room.

“This factory,” he continued. “Tell me about it.” You squeezed your eyes shut. The image of the blueprint was engraved in your mind. You couldn’t tell him. If the Avengers were interested in this factory it must be important. HYDRA must be planning something.

“You know,” you said. “They are going to find me and when they do you are fucked.” The door opened and the doctor came back in with a cup of water. But the man grabbed it from her.

“I’m impressed,” he said. “You are still fighting it. Our other test subjects submitted much faster.” He poured the water on the ground and crushed the paper cup in his hand. “But even the strongest metals can bend. We just have to wait and we have all the time in the world together.” He opened the door and the doctor wordlessly followed him. “We will see you soon, Miss. Stark.” They left, closing the door behind him. You rested your head back looking up at the ceiling. You just needed to hold out till you were found.

Natasha needed to busy her hands. They were going through all known HYDRA associates and trying to connect it to the factory. It was slow work but it was the best option they had instead of blindly engaging. One slip-up could alert whoever took you. So Natasha was in the kitchen making a sandwich. “Hey,” she turned to look at her sister. “How are you?” Yelena was one of the few people at the compound that knew of the relationship between you and Natasha.

“I’m fine,” the blonde rolled her eyes and opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Bullshit,” she said. “It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister.” Natasha cut the sandwich in half and handed one half to Yelena. They sat down at the table. Natasha took a few bites of her sandwich. It tasted bitter in her mouth.

“I feel useless,” she told her sister. “We have no leads and the longer she’s with them the worse it will be.” Yelena finished her half and Natasha pushed her half so she could eat it.

“We’ll find her and then you can tell her that you love her,” Natasha kicked her sister underneath the table. “Ouch, that hurt,” she whined. “It’s the truth!” Natasha sighed.

“I know, I know,” she rubbed her hands against her face. “She’s just had a lot going on and no time seemed right.” You were so focused on your work and then the issue with Tony came up. Yelena smiled.

“That’s the thing. This life is so uncertain no time will seem right. You just have to tell them before it's too late,” Natasha was surprised at how much Yelena has healed from the hands of the Red Room.

“Widow 1 and Widow 2,” Clint said. Natasha looked at her oldest friend. “We have a lead. Come on.”

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” you opened your eyes. The man was in front of you holding your head up. “How are we doing?”

“Bad,” you said. “Bad.” Everything hurt and you were so hungry. He removed his hand and your head fell to the side. A new set of hands touched your face. It was the doctor. She whipped your face with a wet towel and an alcohol pad to clean up the dried blood on your face. You weren’t sure when your nose started bleeding.

“Are you ready to be good and tell me what I want to know?” You nodded. “Tell me about the factory.” You licked your lips.

“I saw the blueprints for a split second and the words were in Russian,” You let out a shaky breath. “But it mentioned that the factory was on a lake and that is where it got its power from,” you had to admit you were surprised that HYDRA was so into clean energy. “That’s all I know.” The man nodded and the doctor put a cup to your lips. You almost sobbed as the cold water touched your lips. “Thank you,” you said when the cup was dry. The man smiled.

“Of course, you’ve been very good to us.” He pulled out a phone and sent a text message with the information provided. “Do you know when they plan to attack?” You shook your head.

“No, but their priorities shifted when you kidnapped me.” The man put his phone away.

“Are we good to move on to phase 2?” He asked the doctor. She nodded.

“Her vitals are stable and she’s the strongest test subject we’ve had.” She moved a rolling table over to her with a briefcase on it.

“Miss. Stark, I do appreciate your willingness to be part of our experiment,” she opened the briefcase. “Our lovely doctor has been fascinated with mutants and how to turn normal people into one.” She took out a big needle with red liquid swirled in the syringe. “Unfortunately, all of her other test subjects died. But we have strong hopes for you.” She cleaned a spot on your arm.

“Wait,” you said. “Please.” But your pleas went on deaf ears as the needle pinched your skin. You watched helplessly as the red liquid was pushed into your system. An alarm began to go off.

“Impossible,” he opened the metal door and the sound of shooting and yelling echoed against the wall. Your body felt like it was on fire. You groaned in pain. Patches of darkness began to cloud your vision. You swore you heard your name.

“Get away from her,” Was that Tony?

“It’s too late,” the doctor said. It was the first time you’d heard real emotion in her voice. “She’ll either die or be reborn into something beautiful.” You heard her yell and a crash as she fell against the table.

“Hey, squirt, can you hear me?” Tony asked. He removed the gloves from his suit and wasn’t sure where to touch you. He decided on your arms.

“D-dad?” You questioned. You weren’t sure the last time you called him that. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “We’re all here. We are going to get you home.”

“Home?” You put your head back and yelled in pain. “It hurts.” You forced out. Tears were forming at the corner of your eyes. “Dad, it hurts. Make it stop.” You sobbed.

Tony removed the IV from your arm. He felt helpless as he watched you cry in pain from whatever they did to you. The skin of your arms started to bubble and your normal eye color began to flicker from red, to green, gray, and blue. “Romanoff, Belova, I found her. Where are you?” He asked over the coms. The Black Widow sisters were given medication from Helen before they left and they were tasked with going through the office to find what they did to you.

“On our way, Stark,” Natasha said. Gun fire could be heard through the coms.

“Dad,” you mumbled. Your eyes were fluttering close.

“Hey, squirt, I need you to stay awake,” you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry.” Your eye color stopped rapidly switching. It stopped on red.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “And when we get out of here, we are going to be a family.” You smiled.

“I’d like that,” your eyes closed. The only indication that you were alive was your shallow breathing and the heart monitoring beating.

“Stark,” Tony looked at the doorway and saw Natasha and Yelena. Natasha had a vial in her hand but she was frozen as she stared at your still form. Yelena took the vital out of her sister’s hand and ran to your side.

“This should halt whatever they gave her and give us enough time to get her back to the compound.” Yelena opened the vial and tilted your head back.

“Should?” Tony questioned.

“We didn’t have a lot of time to check our work.” She poured the vial down your throat. They waited in silence for something to happen. Soon you began to cough and your eyes opened slowly. The billionaire let out a sigh.

“Lena,” you mumbled. The blonde smiled.

“Gave us quite a scare,” you laughed. Yelena moved out of the way and Natasha took her sister’s spot.

“Let’s get you home,”

You sat on a bed at the compound in their med bay. Helen said the truth serum would make its way out of your system in 24 hours. As for the mystery red injection, they were running tests on your blood and DNA to find out more. But you sneezed when Helen brought you food and almost set the doctor on fire, you had a pretty good idea of what your new ability was. You slowly ate your soup when the door to your room opened. It was Tony with a bouquet. “I thought you’d prefer this to a teddy bear,” he said, placing them on your side table.

“It’s a good choice,” he sat down in the empty chair. “Hele did tell you that the serum isn’t totally out of my system, right?” He nodded.

“She did but this conversation can’t wait,” he sighed. “I meant what I said when I told you we would be a family when we got you home. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness and I don’t want it. I’m sorry for not being the father you deserve. You’ve done so well on your own and I’m so proud of you,” you looked down at your soup unable to look at the man. “I’d like to earn your forgiveness if you’ll give me the chance.”

“Dammit dad,” you whispered, whipping away a few tears that fell from your eyes. “I’ve waited so long for you to say that to me. I just didn’t think me getting kidnapped would be the thing that changed your mind.”

“It shouldn’t have come to that,” you looked at him again. “I love you, squirt. You being born was the best thing that happened to me.” You held out your hand and he took it.

“Please don’t break my heart,” you said. “I don’t think I’d be able to take it.” He squeezed your hand.

“I won’t be perfect but I promise to change.” You smiled. “Now about you and Romanoff.” Your smile fell and you groaned. “I’m just messing with you.” You weren’t sure if you believed him. “Finish eating and get some rest once you heal, we'll discuss your choice in women.” You pulled your hand away from him but you didn’t miss his smile.

“You are the worst,” you said. He stood up and kissed the top of your head.

“I’m so happy you're safe.” He whispered.

You must have fallen asleep because when you woke up Natasha was sitting next to you. She was reading a poetry book. You smiled at the sight. “Hi,” you whispered. She closed the book at the sound of your voice.

“Malyshka (baby girl),” she said, standing up. You moved over to make space on the bed and she sat down next to you.

“Kiss me,” you said. “Please.” She smiled and connected your lips. You loved kissing Natasha. It was your favorite thing because each kiss was so different. Right now it was slow as if she was savoring it. When the need for air was too great, you pulled away and rested your forehead against hers.

“I was so worried,” she whispered. “I was scared I’d never see you again.” You’ve never heard so much vulnerability in her voice.

“You would have found me,” you said, pulling her onto the bed so she was laying down next to you. You rested your head on her shoulder and kissed her neck. You smiled as you watched goosebumps on her skin. “I can’t lie, remember.” She chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“There is so much I want to tell you,” she said. You nodded.

“I know and we’ll talk but right now I just want you to hold me.” You felt safe in her arms. The safest you’ve felt since you woke up in that chair.

Part 3

Taglist:

@natsxwife @mymommawanda @doudouneverte

@thatgayinsomniac @catswag22 @marvelogic

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #Natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x y/n stark #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x stark!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x daughter!reader #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #tony stark #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #Steve Rogers

352 notes · View notes

eaturheartout2021 · 2 years ago

Text

Phoenix (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader)

Summary: Reader neglects to check their six and suffers consequences. In turn they try to hide it from Ghost.

Warnings: mentions of blood and adult language

You were camped in a building alone, overlooking a small town square. Your sniper nestled into your shoulder while you watched Ghost and Soap enter a building opposite you.

“All clear from the outside, good to enter.” You spoke into the comms quietly.

“Copy” Ghost grunted in reply as they entered the main floor of the building and swept through swiftly and quietly. You continued to watch the surrounding roof tops, lower streets, and alleyways for any signs of hostiles but you stupidly forgot to check your six.

It was too late to react before you felt the sharp cool steel of a blade connect into your left side. You rolled over quickly and pulled out your pistol and fired two shots. One into his forehead and one into his throat. His body fell with a heavy, limp thud next to your feet and a pool of dark blood formed within seconds.

“Target practice eh Phoenix?” Soap’s voice quipped through the comm as your breath came in sharp uneven pants. You touched your side where the blade had pierced you. Blood, bright red and angry.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck!” You rolled over and remounted back onto your sniper and found the pair on the top floor of the building. You calmed yourself and steadied your breaths. “You know me, I get itchy if I don’t have someone to shoot. Hostile chose the wrong day to climb up my stairs.”

You could hear Soap’s smile in his words.

“My kinda woman.”

“Will you two focus. Phoenix, keep eyes down below, we’re coming through.”

“Copy.” You follow them as they emerged out of the back entrance of the building signaling you to follow. You cleared the area around you and packed your gear and started down the stairs of the building you had camped in for cover. Stopping in the stair well, you checked the damage again. The blood stain was getting larger and the throb of pain growing. You hissed and pulled your vest to hide the stain. Praying your Lieutenant didn’t see.

Your side now screaming out in pain. Each step sent white hot jolts into nerves and it took every ounce of willpower you had not to cry out. Your vest hid the most definitely a large blood stain on your side and your stoned face of annoyance hide any pain you felt.

You finally caught up with them, making sure to clean your bloodied hand as best as you could to not raise any questions.

“Get the intel we needed from the hard drives?” You asked as you walked beside them keeping a watchful eye in between buildings and abandoned cars.

“As much as we could. Got wind of a potential hostile squad that’s headed this way and we didn’t want to risk being in their crossfire if things got hairy.” Soap said as you rounded a corner.

As if on cue, a humvee that wasn’t yours sat in the empty streets. Ghost grabbed your arm and shoved you into the nearest alleyway. You met the ground with an excruciating thud and groaned at the impact. Ghost and Soap were both crouched behind remnants of burnt cars, shooting towards the humvee. You pulled the sniper from your back.

You found a crumpled filing cabinet and quickly crouched behind it and laid flat. There were 9 men, 2 of which were already taken out thanks to Ghost and Soap. You centered yourself and took a deep breath. Nestling the butt of the rifle into your shoulder you stared down the sight. You immediately found the face of one and pulled the trigger. He dropped like a bag of lead. You pulled back the bolt and flung out the empty casing and shoved the bolt forward, pushing another round into the chamber.

Setting your eyes on another, your breath halted and pulled the trigger. Dropping him the same as the other. Only three remained after you, Ghost and Soap took the others out. The firing stopped. The three of you exchanged glances of confusion just as two grenades came from the back of the vehicle. Your eyes grew wide with shock and hastily started to crawl away. Soap dove behind another car and Ghost grabbed it as soon as it landed and tossed it back. He was lucky it didn’t detonate as soon as it made contact.

The grenade landed under the front end of the humvee and exploded sending it up in thick black smoke and fire. The three others didn’t come out. The other exploded near the car where Ghost and Soap were originally and destroyed the entire right side. Your ears were ringing so loud that you didn’t even hear Ghost calling out for you until you felt his hands grip your arms.

“It’s not safe here anymore. We’ve got to move.” His voice was muffled and distorted but you nodded anyway. Grabbing your sniper you slug it over your shoulder, you made the mistake of wincing, audibly.

Ghost turned to you and looked you over once, twice. You stilled. You looked him in the eyes, praying he didn’t look to your left flank to see the wet stain that was now aching so severely that you could cry.

“You winced.” He said, still scanning you from head to toe.

“You threw me into an alley, which hurt by the way so, I’m gonna be sore.” You finally moved tucking away the pain and building up a wall to hide it. He wasn’t convinced.

“Yeah L.t little excessive on tossing her like a rag doll. Next time just body slam her into a wall to get her out of the way.” Soap joshed. He came over and hugged your waist giving you a friendly pat. Your side lit ablaze but Soap laughed as Ghost groaned and began to turn around but Soap’s words stopped him.

“Phoenix, you’re genuinely hurt lass.” His voice was soft and full of worry. You pulled away face blanching.

“It’s not mine. The guy I shot got messy.” You retorted. Backing away ready to be done with the conversation. Soap looked down at his hand, the bright red stark again his palm. Ghost was on you like a fly to honey.

“Take off your vest.” His voice was purely commanding. You look between him and Soap, they both share the same look. Fear, concern, and anger.

“What? I’m not taking my vest off. I told you it’s not mine.” You were screwed. Royally screwed.

“If it’s not yours then why is the blood under your vest. If it was that hostile’s then it would be on top of your vest. Not underneath. Take. Off. Your. Vest. That’s an order.” Ghost’s voice boomed in your ears and your hands trembled. You looked at Soap and his hardened face and crossed arms told you that you wouldn’t be finding any rescue with your friend.

You ripped the Velcro straps away and braced for the raging storm that was your Sargent and Lieutenant. The navy tee shirt you wore hid the maroon stain well from prying eyes, especially with the tactical vest, but with it off it stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Steamin’ Jesus lass.” Soap swore. Ghost stood silently above you just staring at your stab wound. His hazel eyes churning with an unknown emotion behind the mask that made you unnerved.

“It’s not that bad. I can walk it off. Let’s get to evac, get back to base and get this briefing with Price over with.” You tried to deter his mind but he didn’t waver.

“Johnny, go and call for an evac and ask for a medic asap.” His tone was direct, no questions asked. Soap turned away and was talking quietly into his comm when Ghost softly cupped your face forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Why would you hide this?” His voice sounded hurt.

“I can handle this. It’s not that bad.” His grip was more firm. More serious.

“If he had more than a knife on him, had a gun and shot you without you knowing. I’d never forgive myself knowing that it would’ve been on my watch. That you died on my watch.” You looked up at him and saw that his eye held truth in his words, that he truly meant what he said.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke softy, hardly a whisper. Ghost sighed gently and let his gloved thumb slide over you cheekbone causing you to quickly look up at him.

“Besides,” Ghost lifts your shirt to fully look at the wound and clicked his tongue. “Not deep, so it didn’t hit any major arteries or organs. It’ll just need a few stitches. It’ll leave one hellofva scar.”

You smiled to yourself just as Soap returned announcing evac would be fifteen minutes out.

“You can’t kill a phoenix anyway.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty mwii #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod #mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #mw2

500 notes · View notes

1way2mars · 7 months ago

Text

Pazuribe Event Translation - “Decisive battle! Aquatic fight! ~Hanemiya Kazutora edition~” — Part 1

There's an aquatic festival going on! Kazutora asks the rest of them to join a fight inside a maze. Battle between Kazutora and Takemichi vs. Chifuyu and Baji. Click on Read More to find the translation!

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

☆ Please give credit in case of use.

☆ I'll do my best to update the second part of the event once it's released on May 2nd!

☆ I'm not a professional translator and I'm still learning Japanese. That's why some things might not match exactly/could have been better translated/there might be mistakes. This is a great way for me to learn. I put a lot of effort into making the translation as good as they can be!

☆ Find more pazuribe translations here!

☆ If you have any comment, question, correction or suggestion, please let me know! (I'm still very new to translations, so anything is welcome! Please bare with me).

–Opening–

松野千冬：おぉ～！ここがアクアティックフェスか！

Chifuyu: Wooow～! So this is the aquatic festival!

花垣武道：水上スポーツ体験　海の生き物のふれあいコーナー・・・色々あるけどどこに行く？

Takemichi: Aquatic sports experience, sea creature petting corner… There’s so many things, but where do we go?

松野千冬：悩むなぁ・・・

Chifuyu: I can’t decide…

場地圭介：イルカショーまで結構時間あるし。

Baji: There’s plenty of time until the dolphin show.

場地圭介：好きなことから回ればいいんじゃねぇの？

Baji: Why don’t we go around from what we like?

松野千冬：場地さんは行きたいとこないんすか？

Chifuyu: Is there anywhere you want to go, Baji-san?

場地圭介：あぁ～そうだな・・・

Baji: Aahhh～ Let’s see…

羽宮一虎：よぉ！行きたいとこねぇならココ一緒に行こうぜ！！

Kazutora: Yoo! If there’s nowhere you want to go, let’s go here together!!

場地圭介：うぉ！よんだ、一虎か

Baji: Woah! If it isn’t Kazutora.

羽宮一虎：マイキー達はフード食いに行くっていうしさ・・・

Kazutora: Mikey and the others went for food…

羽宮一虎：ココ！行こうぜ！巨大迷路！！

Kazutora: Here! Let’s go! To the huge maze!!

花垣武道：巨大迷路ですか？

Takemichi: A huge maze?

羽宮一虎：そうそう！迷路だけど対戦型ゲームになってるんだってよ。面白そうじゃね？

Kazutora: Mhh mhh! It’s a maze but it’s supposed to be a fighting game! Doesn’t it sound fun?

花垣武道：えーとなになに・・・「迷路を駆使しながら頭、肩、腰に紙風船をつけて水鉄砲で狙い合う2人1組の総当たりマッチです。」？

Takemichi: Eeeeh, let’s see, let’s see… “It’s a round-robin match where pairs of two have to aim with water gun pistols at each other to the paper balloons attached to their head, shoulders and hips while making full use of the maze”?

松野千冬：へぇ〜そういう感じなのか！面白そうすね

Chifuyu: Eeeeh～ So that’s how it feels! Looks fun.

羽宮一虎：だろだろ？な！一緒に行こうぜ！

Kazutora: Right, right? Then! Let’s go together!

松野千冬：どうしますか？場地さん

Chifuyu: What do we do? Baji-san.

場地圭介：いいんじゃね？行くとこ悩んでたし面白そうだしな

Baji: Isn’t it good? I’m troubled about where to go, but it looks interesting

羽宮一虎：よっしゃ！じゃあしゅっぱーつ！！

Kazutora: Woohoo! Then, let’s go!!

・・・

羽宮一虎：チームはこれで決まりか～場地と組みたかったな～

Kazutora: So these are the teams～ I wanted to go with Baji～

花垣武道：（一虎君とチーム・・・不安しかねぇ！！）

Takemichi: (Kazutora-kun and the team… I’m worried about them!!)

松野千冬：頑張りましょね！場地さん！！！

Chifuyu: Let’s do our best! Baji-san!!!

場地圭介：おー　やるからにはぜってぇ勝つぞ！

Baji: Oh, if we’re gonna do it, we should win!

花垣武道：あ、そうそう　始まるみたいっすよ

Takemichi: Ah, I see, I see. Seems like it’s about to start.

羽宮一虎：！いいこと思いついた♪ 負けたチームは罰ゲームな！じゃ！負けねぇから～

Kazutora: ! I came up with something good ♪ There will be a punishment game for the losing team! Then! I’m not gonna lose～

花垣武道：え！待ってください！一虎君！！

Takemichi: Eh! Please wait! Kazutora-kun!!

場地圭介：お、おい！言い逃げしてんじゃねぇ！！

Baji: O, oi! Don’t run away without hearing what I have to say!!

松野千冬：オレたちも行きましょう！場地さん！

Chifuyu: Let’s get going too! Baji-san!

場地圭介：はぁ〜そうだな、行くぞ千冬！

Baji: Aahh～ That’s right, let’s go Chifuyu!

松野千冬：はい！！！

Chifuyu: Yes!!!

・・・

松野千冬：クソッ！場地さんと逸れちまった・・・！

Chifuyu: Shit! I lost sight of Baji-san…!

松野千冬：思ってたより迷路が複雑だな　早く場地さんと合流しねぇと！！

Chifuyu: The maze is more complex than I thought. I’ve got to join Baji-san quickly!!

？？？：ばーん！！

???: Paang!!

松野千冬：おわっ！！あぶね！！！

Chifuyu: Woaaah!! That was close!!!

羽宮一虎：相恋わらず反射神経やべーな千冬♪

Kazutora: Your reflexes are crazy as always Chifuyu ♪

松野千冬：一虎君こそ相恋わらず奇襲っすか

Chifuyu: Is it Kazutora-kun’s usual surprise attack?

羽宮一虎：サバゲーの時と同じだと思うなよ！？

Kazutora: Don’t you think it’s the same as when we play airsoft!?

松野千冬：それはこっちのセリフっすよ！！

Chifuyu: That’s my line!!

–After defeating Kazutora in Easy Level–

羽宮一虎：オラオラ！どうした千冬！そんなもんか！？

Kazutora: C’mon! What’s up, Chifuyu! Is that so!?

パァン！

Pang!

松野千冬：クソッ！

Chifuyu: Shit!

羽宮一虎：結構息上がってんなぁ？もう限界か？

Kazutora: You’re quite out of breath, aren’t ya? Already at your limit?

松野千冬：なめてもらっちゃ困るぜ　今から大逆転決めてやりますよ！

Chifuyu: Don’t underestimate me. I’m gonna make a big comeback from now on!

羽宮一虎：そうでなくっちゃなぁ！！

Kazutora: That’s the spirit!!

松野千冬：オラァ！！

Chifuyu: Damn you!!

パァン！

Pang!

羽宮一虎：おっと！

Kazutora: Whoops!

松野千冬：（一虎君の風船は1個潰せた・・・けど足場のせいか消耗がすごい）

Chifuyu: (I was able to smash one of Kazutora-kun’s balloons… but due to the scaffolding the waste was a lot)

羽宮一虎：1個潰されちゃったか・・・でもまだまだな！！

Kazutora: One of them was managed to be smashed… but it’s not over yet!

松野千冬：あぶね！！クソ・・・まけねぇぞ！！一虎君！！！

Chifuyu: That was close!! Damn… I ain’t losing!! Kazutora-kun!!!

羽宮一虎：やってみろや！！！

Kazutora: Go ahead and give it a shot!!!

–After defeating Kazutora in Middle Level–

羽宮一虎：イェーイ！オレの勝ち！

Kazutora: Yaaay! It’s my win!

松野千冬：クソッ！すみません・・・場地さん！！

Chifuyu: Shit! I’m sorry… Baji-san!!

羽宮一虎：でもギリギリで風船残り1個にされちまったな・・・

Kazutora: But I just barely got one balloon left…

羽宮一虎：場地さんが3個風船残ってたら流石に相手するのきちぃかも

Kazutora: If Baji-san has three balloons left, naturally he might be a dangerous opponent.

花垣武道：あ！！一虎君こんなところに！探しましたよ！！

Takemichi: Ah!! Kazutora-kun you are here! I’ve been looking for you!

羽宮一虎：おせぇよタケミチ～　ってオマエ2個も風船潰されてんじゃん

Kazutora: You’re running late, Takemichi～ Wait two of your balloons were smashed.

羽宮一虎：何してんだよ～

Kazutora: What are we gonna do～

花垣武道：え！一虎君も一緒じゃないすか！

Takemichi: Eh! Isn’t Kazutora-kun in the same situation!

羽宮一虎：オレは千冬相手にしてたんだから仕方ねぇだろ

Kazutora: I was dealing with Chifuyu so it couldn't be helped…

花垣武道：千冬相手にって・・・え！千冬風船全部潰れてじゃん

Takemichi: Dealing with Chifuyu… Eh! All of Chifuyu’s balloons were smashed.

松野千冬：うっせ！！

Chifuyu: Shut up!!

羽宮一虎：うし、場地探すか

Kazutora: Well, let’s find Baji.

花垣武道：今度は置いてかないでくださいよ！

Takemichi: Please don’t leave me behind this time!

羽宮一虎：着いてこれねぇのが悪りぃんじゃん？

Kazutora: Isn't it a bummer that you can't keep up with me?

花垣武道：うっ・・・

Takemichi: Ooof…

ピュン！パァン！

Pum! Pang!

花垣武道：え・・・？あ！！！風船潰された！

Takemichi: Eh… AH!!! The balloon got smashed!

羽宮一虎：そこか！！

Kazutora: From there!!

場地圭介：おっと！

Baji: Oops!

松野千冬：場地さん！！

Chifuyu: Baji-san!!

場地圭介：あと風船1個じゃねぇか一虎　すぐ終わらせてやるよ

Baji: You only have one balloon left, Kazutora. I’ll get it done real quick!

羽宮一虎：まけねぇぞ場地！！

Kazutora: I ain’t losing Baji!!

–After defeating Kazutora in Highest Level–

You can read Part 2 here!

#pazuribe #pazuribe translation #tokyo revengers pazuribe #puzz reve #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers puzz reve #hanagaki takemichi #chifuyu matsuno #baji keisuke #hanemiya kazutora #kazutora is the babiest boy ever must protect

33 notes · View notes

anotherhumaninthisworld · 4 months ago

Note

Is It true that Lebon gathered musicians to play music during the executions in Arras?

The the best source mentioning any such thing I’ve got so far is a letter from Armand Joseph Guffroy to Robespierre dated 18 floréal (May 7 1794), published in the former’s Les secrets de Joseph Lebon et de ses complices, released a few months after the fall of latter:

To relax, and to be consistent, you must this evening, or tomorrow at the latest, have Demeulier and his three companions freed from the Madelonnettes, to know for yourself the truth of what is happening in Arras. Listen and remember; these are Patriots oppressed by a Priest, who has been locked up like a madman, and who, when he could no longer be fanatic and superstitious, became a fanatical patriot through avarice, and caused patriotism and virtue to be hated by his extravagant conduct; or should I say, by his atrocious conduct. Know that, placed on the balcony of the comedy, on the fish market, (today Place de la Revolution), with his nose on the guillotine, he spoke with passion about the execution, and he ordered the tune ça ira to be played (il a fait jouer par la musique l’air ça ira). […]

Guffroy was Lebon’s archenemy, so this information should of course be treated with some caution. We know Guffroy was not an eye witness to this (but also that he did have contacts with people that could have been, such as Antoine Buissart and one Solon), that his goal with the letter is to get Robespierre to recall Lebon, increasing the chances he would lay it on thick in describing what he’s been up to (or could it instead be argued he would try to be as truthful as possible in order to get Robespierre to see how bad it really is?) and that stories about representatives on mission taking pleasure in watching the executions take place hardly is something unique for Lebon, and in some cases can be disproven (such as in the case of Collot d’Herbois, who almost certainly did not personally witness the shootings of condemned in Lyon).

Besides that, I found the following two testimonies from possible eye witnesses, both cited within this great blog post. The two are however written both 1, way after the fact, and 2, by people hostile to Lebon, making it hard to rule out the possibility their stories are embellished or even build on what Guffroy wrote in his report (although in the latter case, the part about the music is a very tiny detail among almost 500 pages, so it still seems a bit strange they would all pick exactly that detail to copy):

When any of his colleagues passed through Arras, [Lebon] always proposed their joining with him in a "partie de Guillotine", and the executions were perpetrated on a small square at Arras, rather than the great one, that he, his wife, and relations, might more commodiously enjoy the spectacle from the balcony of the theatre, where they took their coffee, attended by a band of music, which played while his human butchery lasted. A Residence in France during the years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795 (1798) by Charlotte Biggs.

Penetrating the crowd, which was thronging in the dark and winding streets, I soon reached the fish-market. Then the first object which struck my sight was the guillotine, raising its blood-red boards above the silent multitude. An old man, whom they had just tied to the fatal plank, was the victim; suddenly I heard the sound of trumpets. On a high place which overlooked the orchestra, was seated a man, still young, clad in a Carmagnole of black and blue stripes. This person, whose appearance announced monastic rather than military habits, was leaning carelessly on a cavalry sabre, the large hilt of which represented the Cap of Liberty; a row of pistols ornamented his girdle, and his hat, turned up in the Spanish fashion, was surmounted by a large tri-coloured cockade: I recognised Joseph Lebon. At this moment his mean countenance was animated with a horrid smile; he paused from beating time with his left foot; the trumpets stopped; he made a signal, and the old man was placed under the blade. A sort of clerk, half drunk, then appeared at the side of the " avenger of the people," and read with a hoarse voice a bulletin of the army of the Rhine and Moselle. At each paragraph the orchestra sounded a chord; and when the reading was concluded, the head of the wretched old man was stricken off amidst shouts of "Vive la republique!" repeated by the satellites of the ferocious Lebon. I shall never forget, nor can I adequately depict the impression of this horrible sight. I reached my father's house almost as lifeless as the miserable being whose agony had been so cruelly prolonged; and then I learnt that he was M. de Mongon, the old commandant of the citadel, condemned as an aristocrat. Memoirs of Eugène Vidocq (1829)

#joseph lebon #armand joseph guffroy #ask #frev #french revolution

25 notes · View notes

blubushie · 2 years ago

Note

hihihi can we get a part 2 for gun mistakes??? -leafanon

G'day leafanon!

FOR ANIMATORS/AUTHORS/ARTISTS PT. 2

SNIPERS WILL NOT STICK THE BARREL OF THEIR RIFLE OUT OF OPEN WINDOWS. Best case scenario is you’re sat in a mildly-uncomfortable chair while your spotter stands or sits next to you in an even more uncomfortable chair with a rangefinder. Before rangefinders were introduced (1990s and earlier) you were merely going off estimates (“That building is 50 yards, the next is 25, etc etc”). You never put the barrel out a window because it’d give away your position and put you AND YOUR SPOTTER in danger.

MOST MODERN SCOPES HAVE AN ANTI-GLARE COATING AND/OR A SUNSHADE TO PREVENT GIVING AWAY YOUR POSITION. This is especially useful when hunting as many animals (deer, turkeys, pigs) are incredibly vigilant and will bolt if they see the glint off a scope. This also helps with the sunlight hitting your scope and nearly blinding you from taking your shot. There are some cases of this still happening in “modern” times (notoriously the sniper duel between Carlos Hathcock and Cobra, a North Vietnamese sniper during the Vietnam War) but it’s very rare and scopes that are currently used by police, military, and most hunters don’t glint. This is what a sunshade looks like.

BULLETS DO NOT PENETRATE WATER WELL. Water density is much higher than air and the shape of bullets means they don’t travel well in water. Most bullets will fragment or fold upon hitting the surface of the water and their speed is greatly reduced. Supersonic rounds (such as rifle-calibre, up to .50) fragment within a metre (~3ft) of the water’s surface. Slower sub-sonic rounds (such a pistol-calibre) can travel up to 3m (~10ft). Once you’re a metre under the surface, however, it’s unlikely for any round under .50 to even penetrate you on contact as it loses most of its kinetic power. Arrows however are very aerodynamic and may maintain their kinetic energy up to 2m (~6) and perhaps twice that if you're shooting straight down.

RESEARCH. RESEARCH. RESEARCH. Know the weapons you draw/animate/write. It might not matter to you, but it will make or break it to your viewer. Is the weapon single-shot or does it use a magazine? What is the magazine capacity? What is the recoil? How do you reload? What do you do in case of a jam? Does your character know the weapon well? YouTube is your best friend in this regard.

CLIPS AND MAGAZINES ARE NOT THE SAME THING. These are clips vs magazines. Clips are open and hold the cartridge by the bottom. Magazines fully enclose the cartridges. Clips only hold rounds together to make them easier to feed into a magazine.

BLOODY TRIGGER DISCIPLINE. If your character is waving a firearm around with their finger on the trigger I am personally coming to kick your arse. You keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. YOU DO NOT POINT YOUR MUZZLE TOWARD ANYTHING YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO SHOOT.

PROPANE TANKS WILL NOT EXPLODE IF YOU SHOOT THEM. Also, handguns are rarely powerful enough to pierce propane tanks. CARS WILL NOT BLOW UP IF YOU SHOOT THE PETROL TANK.

IF YOU FIRE A FIREARM IN AN ENCLOSED SPACE IT IS GOING TO TEMPORARILY DEAFEN YOU. GUNS ARE BLOODY LOUD. That’s why we wear ear protection. This applies less in intense combat situations as (in my experience) tinnitus doesn't happen if you start shooting after your adrenaline starts pumping.

MAG-DUMPING. Not only is it very dangerous because of the recoil, it’s a stupid waste of ammo as the recoil buggers up your aim so you’re rarely hitting your target. Unless your character is in a panic and/or holding down the trigger out of rage, they’re not going to mag-dump because you’ll empty your entire magazine in only a few seconds (stupid in a combat situation) and rarely hit your target. Fully automatic weapons are fired in short bursts of 2-5 rounds at a time.

IT’S INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT TO HIT A MOVING TARGET. IT’S EVEN HARDER TO DO IT WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE MOVING. Rounds fired while moving are typically just suppression fire—basically shots fired to make your enemy take cover so that they have no time to shoot at you. You are not aiming at a specific target. It’s spray-and-pray.

HIPFIRING IS SPRAY-AND-PRAY. It’s EXTREMELY difficult to hit a target while hipfiring and hitting any intentional target while doing so requires EXTENSIVE practice. For this reason most hipfiring is spray-and-pray—spray, and pray you hit something.

SHOTGUNS ARE EFFECTIVE AT MUCH FURTHER THAN ONLY A YARD OR TWO. Most stay clustering within 50yds. That’s this distance. If you're firing a slug it can be accurate to up to TWICE THIS DISTANCE.

SHOTGUNS WILL NOT THROW THE VICTIM ACROSS A ROOM. They don’t have that much kinetic power, and even if they did, they’d throw the shooter across the room first because they’re taking the brunt of the kinetic energy in the form of recoil.

BULLETS WILL PEIRCE CARS. Car doors will not protect you from bullets, not even the door of a police cruiser. THE ONLY PART OF A CAR THAT WILL PROTECT YOU FROM BULLETS IS THE ENGINE BLOCK. The rest is just concealment cover and will not protect you.

MOST CRIMINALS IN THE USA WILL NOT HAVE FULLY AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. This is less applicable to scenes that occur before the 1980s when there were more full-auto weapons on the streets, but even then were INCREDIBLY expensive and even your most notorious gangster would be unlikely to have them. Unless your character is a top-of-the-line 1920s-1940s Chicago/NY mobster, they probably won’t have that Tommy gun unless they’re filthy rich or the weapon was given to them by someone else who's filthy rich.

YES, YOU CAN MAKE RUNAWAY GUNS (FULL-AUTO) OUT OF SEMI-AUTO FIREARMS. NO, I WILL NOT TELL YOU HOW TO MAKE THEM. The issue with runaway guns is that once you pull the trigger THEY WILL NOT STOP FIRING EVEN IF YOU TAKE YOUR FINGER OFF THE TRIGGER. THEY WILL KEEP FIRING UNTIL THE MAGAZINE IS EMPTY OR UNTIL THEY JAM. For this reason no one in their right mind is making a runaway gun.

STOP HOLDING YOUR HANDGUN SIDEWAYS. YOU DON'T LOOK COOL, YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT AND THAT'S HOW YOU GET JAMS. Having a character do this is a great way to show they're all bluff and an idiot, though.

YOU CANNOT PUT A SUPPRESSOR ON A REVOLVER. Well, technically you can, but it won't work. There's a gap between the cylinder and the bore and in this space is something called the forcing cone. There's a gap between the forcing cone and the bore which allows gas (and sound) to escape from the cylinder, which renders the suppressor absolutely useless since the sound and gas just escapes anyway.

FOR VISUAL CREATORS SPECIFICALLY: REMEMBER EYE RELIEF. YOU NEED TO BE A CERTAIN DISTANCE FROM THE SCOPE TO GET A FULL PICTURE. IF YOUR CHARACTER HAS THEIR EYE TO THE SCOPE THEY ARE GOING TO GIVE THEMSELF A BLACK EYE WITH THE RECOIL. My personal eye relief when shooting my .30-06 is 10cm (~4in). Higher calibre means more kick, which means more eye relief.

As before, if I think of any more I'll add them later!

As always, if you have any questions feel free to send me an ask!

#blu whos #blu pew #bushman #firearms #art tips #writing tips #not tf2 again but w/e

224 notes · View notes

sleepiexx · 2 years ago

Text

The Love of my Life and my Worst Enemy Pt.2

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Link to Pt.1

Note: if I get so much as one person interested in another part of this I will write it, do not tempt me or so help me god

Summary: Valeria and (Y/N) escape prison and live happily ever after mwah

Warnings: guns, wound cleaning, kinda angsty at some parts, prison escape, Valeria kills a few people whoopsie

Word count: 1806

The plan was carried out without a hitch, not that (Y/N) knew that, she wasn’t sure exactly what the plan was. All she knew was her own role in it; a countermeasure Valeria had in place just in case she was double crossed.

She didn’t even know when it would happen, just that she needed to be ready. Valeria woke her in the middle of the night, whispering quickly, “Come on, (Y/N), it’s time.”

She shuffled off the top bunk and to her feet quickly. She dug into the underside of Valeria’s mattress, pulling out a small device. It wasn’t the best hiding place but Valeria had somehow found out that there wouldn’t be a room check for another few days, enough time for them to set things in motion.

The device was a makeshift service jammer, something of (Y/N)‘s own design. It would cut comms between the prison officers just long enough that Valeria could lead the both of them to the control room and cut the power. That wasn’t the endgame, however. That was just to buy (Y/N) time; in the dark, Valeria would make her way back to their room where she would “distract” the guards with a shank she’d acquired. In the mean time, (Y/N) would work diligently to get the prison gates open. It took some time but she managed, waiting patiently in the control room for Valeria to come get her.

A rhythmic knock sounded at the door, one she and Valeria had agreed on. She opened the door to be greeted by the blood-soaked cartel leader on the other side.

“Did you do it?”

(Y/N) scoffed, “Of course I did it.”

Valeria grinned and patted her shoulder, leaving behind a bloody handprint, “I knew you had it in you. Now come on, my men are waiting for us.”

(Y/N) nodded and followed Valeria.

“You know how to use a gun?” Valeria asked.

“Aim and pull the trigger?”

Valeria exhaled through her nostrils, holding up the gun and messing with the safety.

“Safety on.” She switched the lever, “Safety off. Use it wisely, it’s a pistol so there isn’t a lot of ammo to waste.”

(Y/N) nodded and reached her hand out for Valeria to pass it to her, but Valeria didn’t move, she had more to show.

“This is how you reload your weapon, time it out so you always have a bullet in the chamber when you need it. Don’t shoot me, don’t shoot any of my men. Understand?”

(Y/N) nodded her head, something that displeased Valeria.

“I need words. Do you understand?”

“Yes- yeah, yeah I do.” (Y/N) stuttered out in response, taken aback by her cell mate’s menacing demeanor despite having experienced it many times in the short span they’d known each other.

Valeria nodded and passed her the pistol.

(Y/N) watched Valeria’s back as she mowed down seasoned prison guards like they were nothing but a bunch of rookies. (Y/N) had never been so scared yet so turned on by a woman in her entire life.

She never had to shoot anyone, by the time Valeria took down all the guards in their immediate vicinity, her men in the cartel had appeared to back them up.

They were escorted to two separate aircrafts waiting outside the prison for them. The men loaded up on the large cargo plane, (Y/N) went to follow but was tugged away by Valeria.

“They aren’t wanted people, they’re going back to Las Almas. You and me, however, need to wait this out elsewhere.” Valeria explained, pulling (Y/N) toward a helicopter.

They sat in seats lining the wall. It was just them along with the pilot and co-pilot. (Y/N) fiddled with the seat belt, unsure of how exactly to fasten it.

“Never flown before?” Valeria questioned.

“Well, uhm, not in a chopper.” (Y/N) admitted.

Valeria unclipped her seat belt, walking towards (Y/N) to fasten it for her. (Y/N)’s air caught in her lungs at the proximity, feeling Valeria’s knuckles graze her torso as she fastened the belt.

“There,” Valeria muttered, raising her voice shortly after to speak to the pilot, “We’re ready for takeoff!”

The flight felt like hours, it likely was. The wind whipped through (Y/N)’s hair as the loud noise of the chopper whirring rang in her ears. As they finally touched down, (Y/N) took in her surroundings. Large trees, mountains, signs with English on them. It looked like they were in the U.S., probably somewhere in the Rockies.

She followed Valeria’s lead as they walked towards a car. Valeria sat in the drivers seat, (Y/N) in the passenger side, neither said a word as they drove away from the private aircraft hangar.

Finally, they reached their destination. Tucked away in one of Valeria’s lavish safe houses, the two were alone.

Valeria tossed her some clothes, they were fairly plain and a size or two larger than what (Y/N) was used to wearing.

“Put those on, can’t stay in the jumpsuit forever.”

(Y/N) wondered if she should ask where a bathroom is to change but shook that idea away when Valeria herself started stripping in the middle of the living room. She hesitantly took off her clothes, wincing slightly as her sore body finally felt the full extent of the torture she’d endured.

In prison, she was almost in a state of shock, still hardly feeling the effects of what Katya had done to her. Now, though, the adrenaline of the break out slowly wore off and everything hurt.

She slipped on the pants quickly, tying the drawstring so they fit. As she reached for her shirt, she was stopped by a gentle caress. She turned, meeting eyes with Valeria.

“She did this to you?” Valeria seethed, gently tracing the dark purple bruises, inflamed cuts, and burn marks along (Y/N)’s torso.

(Y/N) was at a loss for words, mortified that Valeria had seen her like that, had seen her weakness. In prison, she’d made sure to never change in front of Valeria. No one needed to know exactly what had happened, how she couldn’t fight back, how weak she’d been.

(Y/N) saw no point in lying, dejectedly nodding.

Valeria’s eyes softened before hardening once more into a glare, filled with rage.

“I’ll kill her.” She muttered, not a threat but a promise.

She tugged on (Y/N)’s wrist, pulling her to another room. She led (Y/N) into what looked like the master bedroom of the large house, continuing into the bathroom.

(Y/N) watched as she rummaged through the cabinets for a first aid kit. As she wet a cotton pad and dabbed it on one of the wounds, (Y/N) flinched away.

“What- what are you doing?”

“You do not want those getting infected, trust me.” Valeria said, pressing her to the counter so she couldn’t squirm away and returning to cleaning off (Y/N)’s wounds.

As (Y/N) winced and whimpered at the stinging pain from the alcohol entering her cuts, Valeria showed compassion for the first time since they’d met. She grabbed one of (Y/N)’s hands, rubbing circles into her knuckles.

“Squeeze my hand, it’ll make it hurt less.”

So she did. She sat patiently as Valeria cleaned and dressed her wounds, frequently squeezing Valeria’s calloused hands. It wasn’t like she had any other option than to sit still, with Valeria’s hips pressed firmly against her own, keeping her in place. It was tough love, something Valeria had mastered.

(Y/N) felt vulnerable, weak, exposed. Shame soaked her to her very core. As if it had been her own fault that everything had happened. If she hadn’t been so stupid, so trusting, so naive, maybe, just maybe she could have foreseen Katya’s betrayal. Her eyes watered in utter embarrassment.

Valeria patted her hip, pulling her out of her stupor, “I’m done, you can go put on your shirt now. I’m going to clean all of this up.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Thank you,” she muttered, afraid to speak any higher at the chance of her voice breaking.

She walked all the way back to the living room, where her shirt had been left on the couch. Finally alone, she couldn’t stop the flow of tears from coming down. She tossed the shirt on quickly and tried hard to calm herself. Rubbing her eyes in hopes they’d stop crying before wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her sides. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her lip so she wouldn’t let out a sob. A hand touched her back but at this point, she was too far gone to care about Valeria seeing her cry.

She expected rejection, expected Valeria to see her tears and scoff at how weak she was. And yet, Valeria’s touch was nothing but gentle and soft, pulling (Y/N) into her arms, allowing her to sob into her shoulder. After a long silence with no noise but the sounds of crying, Valeria finally spoke.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

(Y/N) sobbed harder, half out of raw pain and half out of relief.

God, it felt so nice to feel the loving caress of another human being for the first time in nearly a month. (Y/N) unwrapped her arms from around herself and wrapped them around Valeria’s waist, pulling her in tight.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, ‘m sorry.” She whined.

Valeria moved her hand up and down her back, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

(Y/N) stood there for a long while, tear stained face buried in Valeria’s shoulder as her body was wracked with sobs. Valeria muttered hushed reassuring words, which eventually soothed the other girl to a calm state, still hiccuping, but no longer sobbing.

“So strong.” Valeria whispered, “Everything that vile woman put you through and you’re still standing. I’m proud of you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t speak. She lifted her head from Valeria’s shoulder and gazed into her eyes. She felt a hurricane of emotions brewing, in the eye, longing. She went with her gut, leaning in slowly, giving Valeria time to pull away if she wanted, before meeting her lips in a tender kiss. It was slow, and soft, but it lasted. Lips moving in sync, speaking a million words that they hadn’t dared to utter. Even as they broke apart, the touch of it lingered on either girls’ lips.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight, but fuck I’ve wanted to do that since I met you.” (Y/N) murmured. Valeria silenced her with another kiss.

The rest of that night was passed exchanging kisses on the couch, forever altering the course of both of their lives.

#valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria x reader #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria garza cod #call of duty fanfic #call of duty valeria #hurt/comfort #angst

254 notes · View notes