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thepartyresponsible · 5 years ago

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this fill is for verdantmoth, who asked for winterhawk. so here’s an alternate timeline where clint goes awol after the battle of new york, and, eventually, he and bucky end up working for the same circus.

Bucky falls in with the circus when it tours through Bucharest. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. They need manual labor and dependable security, someone intimidating enough to scare off troublemakers but not likely to cause trouble himself. And Bucky needs to move and keep moving, needs to eat, needs to sleep.

It’s still cold, so nobody asks any questions about his long sleeves and gloves. Nobody asks any questions at all, really. Except the archer.

As far as Bucky can clock, the archer is the only American traveling with the circus. He’s tall and blonde and muscular and handsome, has spiderwebs of old scars across his knuckles and elbows, lightning-forks of long-healed knife wounds across the blades of his forearms. He speaks Spanish like he learned it in public school, French like he learned it in Louisiana, Russian like he learned it in prison, and English like he’s fresh from Midwestern farmland, like sometimes he likes vowels so much he can’t quite let them go.

His name’s Clint. He gives a different last name every time someone asks.

“And what did you say your name was?” Clint asks, early on, with a half-smile like he knows damn well Bucky never gave one.

“James,” he says, because that’s what he read off the plaque at the museum before he caught a freighter heading east out of Boston.

“Uh-huh,” Clint says. His smile grows roots and blooms, and there’s no aggression in his eyes, but there’s a watchfulness, a weighing-up. “Your parents give you a last name, James?”

“Rogers,” Bucky says, because he figures last names are about families, and Steve Rogers is the only thing that makes him feel homesick.

“Got it,” Clint says. But he doesn’t sound like he believes it.

Clint isn’t in his way very often. He just checks in, from time to time. He must be watching Bucky more than he’s letting Bucky see, because he tends to materialize on particularly bad nights. He brings beer or sometimes whiskey, cigarettes to share. One time, he brings a bottle of clear alcohol in an old jelly jar, and it’s so potent that it almost – almost – has an effect.

“You should be careful with that,” Bucky says, when the bottle’s half gone. Every time he sips, his lips go numb and then sting for a handful of heartbeats. He can’t imagine what it’s doing to Clint, who, despite his perfect aim and perfect arms, doesn’t seem to be enhanced.

“Oh, careful,” Clint says. He half-hums, half-sighs the second syllable of the word, flat on his back on top of his trailer and staring up at the stars.

It’s a strange thing, the night sky. Sometimes, when Bucky looks up, he gets flashes of being here before. Europe was different then. The geography, the buildings. The people. The stars were brighter, he thinks. When they weren’t cloaked over with smoke and ash.

“No fucking use being careful, James,” Clint says. He’s smiling when he says it, but it’s not one of the smiles Bucky likes.

“Plenty of use,” Bucky says. He picks the jelly jar up and relocates it to the other side of his hip. If Clint wants it back, he’ll have to crawl over Bucky to get it. And, as far as Bucky can tell, they haven’t progressed quite that far yet.

“You’re careful,” Clint says, more like a confession than an accusation, “and you’re good, and you work real fucking hard. You try to do things right. And you know what fucking happens?”

What happens is you fall off a train in the Swiss Alps, and HYDRA cuts your mangled arm off with no anesthetic, and they set your brain on fire over and over again until the ashes fall in an arrangement they can use.

“No,” Bucky says. “What happens?”

Clint breathes out, slow and even. Controlled. “You ever fuck up so bad you can’t let people look at you anymore?”

Bucky closes his eyes, and it’s like a lightshow on his eyelids. Faces of all the people he’s killed. We’re building a better world.

Sometimes, he has nightmares. And it should be the things he’s done. It should be all the blood, the kill shots into civilians, the families he’s put down. But it never is. The thing that scares him the most is Steve Rogers, reaching for him. Steve Rogers, with his own blood on his face. Cuz I’m with you til the end of the line.

Sometimes he dreams that Steve finds him, and it scares him so fucking bad he has to go on half-mile, one-mile, two-mile, and five-mile perimeter checks, circling broader and broader and then back in. Can’t sleep for shit after, has to work into the red-gray of exhaustion just to make himself stand down.

Someday, Steve Rogers is going to find him, and he’s going to call him Bucky Barnes, and Bucky doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do.

He can’t fit back into that skin. They cut him out of it. There’s not enough left to stitch shut.

He can live with being a monster, just so long as nobody knows he used to be a man.

“You don’t like when people look at you?” Bucky asks, because he’s been learning about tightrope walking since he joined up, and what he’s learned is that you don’t look down, don’t think about the rope until you have to.

“Well.” Clint props himself up on his elbows, looks over, and grins, crooked and inviting. If there are ghosts at the backs of his eyes, Bucky chooses not to see them. “I don’t mind when you look.”

Bucky likes watching Clint shoot. He doesn’t go to the shows, because he can’t tolerate the noise of them, the crowd, all the variables he’d need to track to feel safe in a place like that. But nobody cares what he does for long portions of the day, so he finds himself watching Clint practice, sometimes.

He never startles him, and he never tries too. But he doesn’t make a big production about showing up to sit in the grass of whatever field Clint’s found and watch as he nails bullseye after bullseye.

“You ever wanna try, James,” Clint says, once, “just let me know.”

But Bucky isn’t interested in a bow, doesn’t want anything like a weapon in his hands. And he doesn’t break that habit until a bar outside Bratislava, when he’s antsy, feeling exposed, and wishing he hadn’t let Clint’s blue eyes drag him out from the comfortable, anonymous trailer he shares with two hulking Russians who never speak to him beyond asking, politely, what groceries he would like them to pick up.

“They want you, too,” Clint says, half-drunk and animated, gesturing over his shoulder to a pair of locals he’s befriended.

Bucky must make some kind of face, because Clint immediately laughs. “To play,” he says. “Jesus, James. They wanna play doubles. Darts, not a foursome. I wouldn’t just barter you off like that. Not for two beers, come on.”

And he seems happy. Loose-limbed, even-keeled. There’s a misery that comes over him, sometimes, but it’s not here now. And Bucky doesn’t want to ruin that for him. Clint, whatever his secrets, whatever it is he thinks he’s done, is sweet and good-natured and patient with children and stray animals. Good, in all the ways Bucky thinks he used to be, too.

He’s nice. And Bucky isn’t, but Clint makes him want to remember how.

The darts feel like nothing in his hand. Lightweight, not dangerous. He could take out an eye with one, but the tips are so blunted that he’s not sure he could make a killshot. Maybe if he used his left.

Probably if he used his left.

He uses his right. Clint, who’s a showoff even when he isn’t drunk, alternates between hands. They outpace the Slovakians so bad that they laugh off the idea of a rematch, and Clint tightens his hand around Bucky’s wrist and tugs him out into the alley behind the bar.

It’s not that Clint’s mouth on his is a surprise, exactly. But there’s a difference in logically knowing something is likely to happen and actually facing the reality of its arrival. It’s surprising the way Christmas is surprising, like homecoming after long travel or recovery after weeks of illness.

Sometimes hoping for a thing makes it feel impossible.

But Clint’s mouth is insistent, soft and playful. Confident. He tastes like cheap beer, and his hands curl around Bucky’s hips like they’re staking some kind of claim.

“Goddamn, James,” Clint says, mouthing his way down to Bucky’s neck. “You’re a fucking sniper, huh? Been holding out. You never said.”

Something happens at the word sniper. Bucky’s here, and he’s on a ridge, with a rifle, watching Steve give away his position by saluting right the hell at him. Because of course he did. Because Steve plays soldier, but he hasn’t lost one. Not yet.

“Hey,” Clint says. His lips move against the skin of Bucky’s throat, and Bucky flinches, backpedals straight into the brick wall behind him, and he’s not trapped, not in any danger, but numbers rise up in his throat, a serial number that wants out, and he’s too busy swallowing the whole mess of it back down to tell Clint that it’s okay, that he’s fine, that it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just his useless fucking brain misfiring.

“Hey,” Clint says, again. “Are you--”

His hand curls comfortingly around Bucky’s shoulder, but he’s touching the metal arm. He probably can’t feel the cold of it through the thick fabric of Bucky’s jacket, not the way Bucky can feel it every morning, as the metal leeches warmth from his skin, but Clint’s smart, and observant, and it’s only so long before he figures out there’s something wrong about him.

“I gotta,” Bucky says, accent swerving way too far into Brooklyn. “I need to go,” he says, and that’s not even in English. That’s Russian. He’s so far gone that he’s speaking Russian. To Clint. Jesus.

“Okay,” Clint says, hands up, moving back. “That’s fine, James. I’ll just settle up inside, and then we’ll--”

But Bucky’s going to have to pay him back, because he can’t stay. He can’t. He shifts past him, jarring him with his shoulder because his depth perception’s fucked, and then he’s up the alley and gone.

He doesn’t watch Clint shoot anymore. And when Clint tries to find him, Bucky finds ways to make that difficult until, after a week or so, Clint stops trying.

HYDRA tracks him down outside of Vilnius, and Bucky isn’t ready for them. He has a knife at his side and a knife at his back, but his guns are in his trailer, in a locked trunk. The children of the circus are nosy, and friendly, and fond of him; he’d wanted to keep the guns as far from them as possible.

“Soldat,” one of them says. His accent is American. He’s only using Russian now to make it clear he knows the words that’ll rewrite Bucky’s brain. “It’s time to come in for recalibration.”

There are times, even now, when Bucky wants that. He isn’t getting better in a linear fashion. It’s a scattershot, a splatter pattern. Somedays he wakes up, and all he wants is a mission. It was easier then.

But he knows what manner of mission they would give him. And beyond that, he remembers the chair. Steve Rogers may have walked willingly into the machine that unmade him, but he only had to do it once. Bucky’s not sure even Steve’s bravery would’ve held out the tenth time, the fiftieth.

“No,” he says, because he might as well, while he has the chance. While his mouth still belongs to him, he might as well use it.

“Soldat,” the man says, again. And there’s an expression on his face like he’s disappointed, but his eyes are eager, and laughing.

“Gentlemen,” Clint says. He’s beyond the circle of HYDRA agents, fifteen feet back, with his bow in his hands. “Show’s not for another four hours, and he’s not part of it anyway. Time to move on.”

“He’s an old friend,” the leader says. “We’re taking him home.”

“You’re taking him nowhere,” Clint says. Casual, bored, and vaguely annoyed. Like he’s caught someone slipping into the tent without tickets.

“And you’re going to stop us?” the man asks. He’s half-laughing, and it’s well-earned. Clint’s in old sweatpants and a purple hoodie; his hair’s tufted up on one side like he was asleep ten minutes ago. “With your bow and your blunted arrows? I’m not afraid of bruises. Why don’t you--”

The arrow sprouts from his eye like a sapling. Burrows straight through into his skull. He jerks and topples over, dies on the fall down.

“That one was blunted,” Clint says, with that same irritated tone. “The rest aren’t. Got a few that blow up, too. You guys wanna see ‘em?”

There’s a single moment of stillness. The tense bit of pause between realization and reaction. Bucky takes out his knives, and the Winter Soldier goes to work.

They don’t really speak until after they get a motel room in Bialystok. Clint arranges it, chatting in Polish to the desk clerk. He sounds like a native speaker, and Bucky stands there with his bag on his back and reflects on the fact that Clint’s accent was always a choice.

“Look,” Clint says, once they’re in the room. There’s one bed, but Bucky doesn’t think the plan is to sleep. The plan, probably, is to split up. To create a record of them checking in here and then rabbit off in separate directions. Bucky thinks maybe he’ll backtrack into Lithuania or dash down south to Ukraine, maybe catch a flight and leapfrog anywhere.

“We are in,” Clint continues, “kind of a complicated situation.”

“Not that complicated,” Bucky says. “You should head west. I’ll go east.”

Clint’s eyebrows snap together. “I blew my cover all to hell for you,” he says. “We’re not splitting up now, Barnes.”

And Bucky never, ever gave Clint that name.

“Hey,” Clint says. “Hey, fuck you, don’t look at me like that. I’m not a threat to you. I’m just not a Goddamn idiot. James Rogers, are you kidding?”

Bucky saw Clint fight. They left seven men dead, and most of those were Clint’s kills. But in close quarters, Bucky’s better. And in every arena, he’s hardier.

“I don’t blame you,” Clint says, which doesn’t make sense. “For fucking off. I did it, too. But if HYDRA can find you, SHIELD can find you. And if either gets close, Tony Stark’s gonna know about it. If Stark knows, Steve knows, and--- just listen. Jesus.”

Bucky can’t help the way he flinches. Steve’s face, bloodied up. Steve, reaching out, because Bucky wears the face of a dead man, and Steve thinks there’s something left to grab onto.

“We have to go back,” Clint says. He sounds tired. He looks tired. “We were always gonna have to. Better to go than be dragged, Barnes.”

“You,” Bucky says, and then stops. Thinks it through. He knows all of Steve’s Avengers, but there was one who went missing after New York. Hawkeye. HYDRA had marked him down as dead; SHIELD had him as MIA, presumed KIA.

He was blonde, and muscular, and deadly with a bow.

“Hawkeye?” he asks. “You’re dead.”

Clint grimaces at the name and then smiles. “Well, look at that,” he says. “Guess it’s prophecy, right? ‘One fine morning in the middle of the night, two dead men got up to fight.’”

Bucky blinks at him. “Is that what we’re gonna do?” Bucky has a bag of weapons on his back, and he doesn’t want to use any of them. He can feel the blood of the dead HYDRA agents on his hands, hot and slippery, damning. “We’re gonna fight?”

Clint shrugs. When he smiles, his mouth is aw-shucks, but his eyes are aw, hell. “Well,” he says. “Not each other, I hope.”

Bucky thinks, of all things, about the feel of Clint’s mouth against his, the warmth of him, the way he used to look over at Bucky like he was something worth earning instead of something he deserved to keep.

It’s only after he realizes he doesn’t want to fight Clint that his brain starts working on how he’d do it, if he had to. It’s been years and years since he prioritized an emotional reaction over a practical one.

“No,” Bucky says. “I don’t want to.”

“Good,” Clint says. “Me either.”

It sounds so easy when Clint says it. Like that’s a choice he thinks they get to make. But Bucky will hurt anyone he’s aimed at.

“I can’t,” he says. “I’m not--- I’ll do whatever they tell me to do. I’m not safe. I don’t always have control. I kill good people.”

Clint’s smile hooks up wide, but it’s the ugliest one Bucky’s seen yet. Cutting like scalpel. Crooked and hateful and sad. “Well, hell, Barnes,” he says, “we’re a pair. It’s like we were made for each other.”

The way Clint says it makes it sound like a sentencing, but it bounces back and forth between Bucky’s ribs like a promise.

He doesn’t know what Clint did. He doesn’t even know everything he’s done himself. But he thinks, if they were made for each other, that’s better than being made for no one at all.

But, still. He has to say it. He can’t let good things happen just because they’re easy. “If I hurt you--”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Clint says, jaw tightening. “It’s never me that gets hurt.”

And Bucky figures that’s not true. But he understands. It’s the same for him. He does get hurt. HYDRA used to hurt him all the time. But he hurt other people worse, so, in the scale of things, what happened to him doesn’t matter. After all, he lived through it.

“HYDRA’s gonna come looking for me,” he says. It’s a warning, the last one he has.

Clint shrugs it aside like it’s nothing. “Good. That’ll make them easy to find.”

“I’m not worth all this,” he says. And that’s not a warning. It’s a confession.

“Me either,” Clint says, with a smile. “Like I said, Barnes. We’re a pair.”

Maybe they are, and maybe they aren’t. Maybe they’re just going to get each other killed. But Bucky has nightmares about Steve, because he’s not ready for Steve to see what he’s become. Clint’s had a good long look at what Bucky is now, and he doesn’t know enough to be disappointed or disgusted.

A pair of killers, a pair of failures. A pair of people who kill people better than themselves.

Bucky doesn’t know what he deserves, after everything he’s done. But Clint, at least, deserves not to be alone.

“Okay,” he says. He doesn’t know how the hell he’d even begin to say no, when Clint’s looking at him like he’s the last chance he’s got. “Okay, yeah,” he says. “We’ll stick together.”

Maybe, this time, they’ll get to stay that way.

#writing #fic #fill #winterhawk

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captainchrisfics · 5 years ago

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We Have Today

About: After he’s gunned down on a mission, a first-person pov narrator tries to take care of her super soldier boyfriend. Of course, being Captain America helps with the whole not dying thing, but Steve could never get away that easily without a good reprimanding. And I could never end a fic without a good kiss.

Word Count: 2,807

Requested By: Anonymous. Thanks for sending this my way! I had the absolute best time writing the dialogue in this one, it was a lot of fun writing my take on a trope I love too. I’m always accepting reqs if you have any more. Hope you enjoy!!

“I cannot believe you sometimes, Rogers,” I snapped at Steve, scoffing out of frustration. Exactly what I needed right now, while entirely exhausted from battling far more Hydra agents than we anticipated, was a boyfriend with bullet holes scattered throughout his bicep and shoulder. “Thinking your whole body can fit behind that dinner plate of a shield,” I continued to chastise him with a shake of my head as I tore at my suit, ripping some fabric to apply pressure with while we waited for our ride.

We got what we came for. In fact, the tech was safely buried in the bag slung over my shoulder. The job was done. Almost.

There was one rogue Hydra sniper left hidden away at the top of a tree. Steve spotted him first and responded so quickly, as if it were an instinctive reflex, that he barely considered what he was doing by jumping in front of the already-aimed gun. It’d been pointed at me. I returned fire successfully, but Steve was still hit. To say the least, today just wasn’t ours.

He looked far less heroic laying on the forest floor in a crumpled heap of more red than usually accompanied his white and blue. Steve wheezed as he inhaled, though he seemed fine enough to give me one of those frustrating crooked grins as he said, “It’s never failed me before. I mean, look at me,” he tried to spread his arms so I could get a proper view, but all I saw was the way his face contorted with pain. “Pretty damn good for pushing a hundred.” He coughed before allowing his star-spangled piece of vibranium to clatter to the ground.

“Dear, you look like Swiss cheese,” I countered sympathetically as I stuck a knife between his lips so Steve could bite down on something instead of busting my eardrums in 3... 2... 1...

I pulled the cloth taught around the worst of his wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Steve’s screams still managed to be blood-curdling despite his grinding grip and, with as many horrors as we see in this line of work, I knew it wasn’t a sound my subconscious would allow me to forget any time soon.

Steve’s rolled his eyes to the back of his head as hurt washed over him in waves, holding a hand to the bloody hole penetrating the left of his chest like a mirrored pledge of allegiance as he took deep breaths in and out. Prickly tears burned my eyes, but I did my best to fight them off. A torrential downpour wouldn’t help anyone right now.

“C’mon doll, don’t be so harsh,” he paused to wince and for a split second and I allowed myself to feel the heartbreak of watching him in pain. “You’re still ripping your clothes off for me after all.” I chuckled some of the heaviness out of my chest to alleviate the oppressive weight in between my ribs.

I didn’t have time for Steve’s jokes, though, I was too busy focusing on keeping him from running out of time, period. I tried to elevate the wounds in an attempt to keep his blood at the mercy of gravity so I hauled Steve up to a sitting position against a tree on the outskirts of the field our jet was set to land in. Now it was just a waiting game.

I wasn’t sure if the super soldier serum made him at least a little impervious to wounds like this or if Steve was putting on a bit of a show to lessen my worry and even maybe boost his own spirits, but I had a bad feeling it was the latter. “You’re a lot of things,” I told him, hoping it would help to play along as I searched the compartments of his toolbelt for something useful until I found a spool of gauze. “Bulletproof apparently isn’t one of them.”

Steve laughed from his belly at first, a welcome sound to my ears, until it turned into an affronted cacophony of grumbled curses and sullied coughs. I started wrapping up the rest of his injuries to the best of my ability, but I wasn’t a triage doctor, to say the least. On the bright side, however, I also heard the aircraft that descended before us, whipping about my hair so much I could barely see it until it slowed and Nick Fury stepped out.

I helped Steve stand, wrapping his arm that wasn’t littered with gunshot wounds over my shoulders for support as we walked to the ship. He hissed a breath through his teeth with each step, trying to breathe through the pain and chipping away at my resolve.

Fury opened his arms to welcome us on board with a snarky quip on the tip of his tongue. Shooting him a look maybe more deadly than the weapon I brandished, I shoved the bag into his chest with enough spiteful vigor for him to know it wasn’t worth it. Nothing could be worth this.I left Steve to be treated by an actual medical professional (and by that I mean some Stark tech that still managed to amaze me) while I cleaned up myself and it seemed he’d be fine.

I met Steve in the onboard bathroom an hour or so later. His major wounds were patched up, leaving me, a damp washcloth, and a mediocre first-aid kit given our circumstance to finish the job. Nevertheless, Steve still looked a hell of a lot worse than I did, having taken the brunt of every beating, jumping in front of the fist of every bad guy aimed at me so I walked away with little more than a scratch while he sat there looking like he’d been through the wringer.

Steve sat on the sink’s counter and slouched down as far as he could so we were almost eye-level. He’d taken off his suit for the procedure and kept it that way evidently, sitting before me in a red-splattered white tank top. I was patting at his bloody lip with an ice pack in the hopes to lessen the swelling as he said, “Don’t people bond through trauma?” Steve’s words were slurred, but I didn’t know if it was because of blood loss or some kind of treatment from the AI. “Good thing, huh, since the whole being from different centuries tends to complicate things.”

“Being a dumbass doesn’t help,” I chided, maybe applying a little bit too much pressure since I elicited a wince from him, though that could’ve just been from my harsh tone. The time for his wise-cracks was long gone. Sure, I could deal with it as a coping mechanism when we were both worried he was about to drop dead, but right now? When I was turning myself into a pretzel so I could properly clean all his cuts and ice all his bruises without so much as grazing the holes from bullets that went in one end of my boyfriend and out the other? Not the time to be talking about how we’d be better for him almost killing himself.

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together as he jutted out his puffy bottom lip. “What’s wrong wi-“ he started to ask, but the answer was already tumbling out of my mouth.

“It was stupidly impulsive of you to jump in front of me like that. To act so indestructible... it isn’t like you,” I lectured. “Correction, it actually totally is and it’s the most frustrating thing.” I pressed the ice pack to his mouth with maybe a little too much fevered force as I ranted, causing Steve to grunt out of discomfort or protest. I kept ranting anyway.

“I hate when you do that, you know?” I dropped my hands to my sides, staring at Steve with wide eyes to convey how exactly tired of his shit I was. “When you try to save the day by putting yourself in danger. Giving me a heart attack. Acting all heroic.” I couldn’t stand looking at him anymore as his face shifted from concerned to smug with a supposed understanding so I reached for a q-tip dipped in rubbing alcohol and began scrubbing at the small open cute sprinkling his cheeks like freckles.

Steve winced at the disinfectant’s sting. Usually, he complained about my doting, claiming his enhanced healing would take care of it just fine, but I liked the tenderness of getting to clean him up too much to let him have his way. And, secretly, he did too. “It’s part of the job description, actually...” Steve said under his breath with downcast eyes. He swung his legs a little so his heels bounced off of the sink’s cabinets, acting every bit the chided kid he felt like.

“And to treat me like some inexperienced lackey incapable of taking care of myself?” I jeered with a scrunched face. Steve had a bad habit of treating me like an endangered civilian on missions. Hell, even if I burn my hand on the stove, you’d think someone just told him World War III was knocking on our front door.

Don’t get me wrong, Steve always had everyone’s backs. He would lay down on the wire for any one of the Avengers any day of the week, he never wanted to see anyone hurt either. In fact, it’s one of the things I loved most about him. However, there was a line thinner than that wire between keeping each other out of the line of fire and literally jumping in front of it.

“It’s insulting, to treat me like I’m not half the soldier you are when I’m just as much a part of the team as everyone else. I had the shot until you jumped in front-“

“Well, dammit, so did he!” Steve snapped, slamming his hand against the countertop so hard I could almost swear I heard it crack under the pressure. “And you aren’t just everyone else on the team,” he said, quieter now. It was almost eerie after how loud he’d been only seconds before, going from strained veins in his neck to a soft, glassy look in his baby blues. Without him even saying it, I knew the difference. I love you, his eyes told me. I couldn’t stand to lose you.

“And you’re not some fucking self-sacrificial lamb,” I shot back with angry narrowed eyes. “You’re my whole world,” I insisted, shoving a pointed finger into Steve’s chest just over his heart. “You don’t get to just jump into unfriendly fire in front of me like that.” I could feel the tears I’d been pushing down this whole time rising with a new ferocity, like a current I’d been fighting to swim through for so long my body was about to give out. It became obvious I couldn’t take Steve on, too.

“You don’t get to decide that, love,” he said just above a whisper, though I could hear him clear as day given our proximity. He wrapped his fingers around mine jutting into his pec until I allowed him to hold my hand, probably against my better judgment. “You’re everything that makes mine go ‘round. It’d be over my dead body that I’d stand by and allow someone to hurt you,” Steve vowed with a profound seriousness I didn’t expect, striking me right in the heart so hard it felt like I could count the seconds between when it started to beat again.

“It almost was, Steve. You don’t know how it felt...” I spit out the words which tasted like vinegar, burning my throat like acid. I stopped prodding his scratched cheeks, dropping the q-tip along with my gaze. If I stared at his face, broken from the inside out, I was worried that current would turn into a tsunami. “My stomach dropped so fast it felt like it fell right out of me. How’d you feel if the roles were reversed and I was bleeding out at your feet, huh?” I squeezed his hand, reassuring myself that Steve was still here to hold onto. Thinking about how he almost wasn’t. We came close a lot, in our line of work, but it never got any less terrifying.

Steve let go of my hand to caress my cheek, rubbing his thumb under my eye. I hadn’t realized I was crying until he started wiping away my tears. “Doll, for a few split seconds, when I saw him about to pull the trigger with you in his crosshairs, they were.” He tucked his heel behind my leg and pressed against the back of my thigh, urging me to step closer to him so I did. “That feeling, that heart-wrenching desperation and brain-short circuiting,” he paused, taking a deep breath as he tucked his arms under mine, interlocking his fingers at the small of my back, “That’s why I did it. And I’m willing to bet my shield that if I was in his line of fire, you would’ve done the same.”

I wrapped my arms around Steve’s neck and leaned into him, far too tired of fighting and way too in love with him to stay upset with him when he was right. In a heartbeat, I would save him without even so much as a thought. I’m not a big enough hypocrite to hate Steve for doing the same.

I pressed my cheek to his chest, neither of us caring too much about how the wave of tears I couldn’t keep bottled up behind a dam any longer soaked through his shirt as they spilled out of me. “Still…” I exhaled, relishing in the sound of his beating heart. It was comforting, to have near-tangible proof that he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. “I don’t know what I’d do if…” I failed to finish the sentence, overcome with emotion. I could barely stand to think it, let alone say it out loud.

“I know, love,” Steve paused to press a long kiss on top of my head. “I don’t either.” His hands moved in gentle circles at the base of my back, soothing me as I felt like every other bit of me rattled. He spoke with vulnerability only total honesty could offer. “We don’t have to worry about that now, though. We may not at all. We only ever know we have today and I’ll be damned if we don’t make the most of it. Or if you spend another second of it being mad at me,” he half-joked, causing his chest to rumble with a barely-bitter chuckle.

I pulled far enough away from his embrace to look at him, trying to engrave it on the inside of my brain. The tenderhearted look in his eye, the soft curve of his rosy lips as one side was tugged up a little more than the other, the concerned creases in his forehead, and the blush pink of his cheeks burning through his faintly developing bruises. I watched his eyes flicker from mine to my lips, his long lashes just barely brushing against the swollen apples of his cheeks.

I leaned in to kiss him, closing the distance slowly until our chests pressed together with every breath before our lips met as if we were each other’s oxygen tanks, unable to survive without one another. Steve gathered my cheeks between his strong hands, fingers just barely grazing my hair. He tucked it behind my ears before tracing his fingers down the curve of my body, stopping once he reached my hips, where he rested. Exactly what we both needed.

Mine stayed at the nape of his neck, pulling Steve closer to me as if he possibly could be. We parted to breathe, chests heaving unevenly. I pressed my forehead to his, brushing our noses together, as I whispered, “You smell like rubbing alcohol. It’s nauseating.”

Steve’s chest vibrated with laughter as he rocked my lips again. He dropped his head to the crook of my neck as his chuckle died down. “Your attitude isn’t much better,” he said, looking at my with those baby blues and a spark that melted my heart on contact. “You should be nice to me. I almost died you know?” Steve’s familiar cocky smirk returned as his eyes drifted down again, watching as he tangled our fingers together and undid the knots.

I rolled my eyes before stealing another quick kiss. As quick as it was, kissing Steve still felt like every bit the Fourth of July fireworks display it had the first time. He was a firecracker through and through, one that wasn’t near ready to fizzle out yet. “Please don’t remind me,” I sighed, taking his hands in mine and holding them tight, not quite ready to let him go anytime soon.

Tags: @patzammit , @thegetawaywriter , @coffeebooksandfandom , @captainsteveevans , @intrepidandabitcrazy , @super100012 , @spilledinkindumpster

If you’d like to be tagged in my future fics please reply to this post :)

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers imagine #imagine steve rogers #seve rogers masterlist #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #mcu fanfic

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jokerfan99 · 6 years ago

Photo

Wrath Behind The Crosshairs (RWBY/RVB) by Necroceph

*RVB Opening Theme*

0600 hours in the Michael J. Caboose's room

Caboose raises up from bed before stretching his entire body to start for another fantastic day in Blood Gulch.

Caboose: YAAAWWNN!!! Good morning galaxy, it's another wonderful day!

Caboose move his hand to pick his rifle up placed at the side of the bed as always. But when his hand make contacts with the weapon, he felt something strange with its shape. It felt blocky and somewhat bigger than it was before. He turned his head to the strange object he touched before his eyes widen by surprise. Next to his weapon is a large red rectangular like object that is twice as bigger than the sniper rifles everyone uses. He doesn't know where it came from but the first words he spoke after seeing for the first time was:

Caboose: Neat!

On the Blue Base's roof

Church: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!?!

Church cried out loud in a mix of shock and anger upon witnessing the first thing in the morning he sees outside. The entire base's concrete walls are riddled with large holes created by what seems to be made by a high caliber bullet so strong that it was enough shatter a large piece of concrete from one of the walls made to protect them from snipers. Heck, the tank is in an even worse condition, with its entire armor pierced through and driver seat no longer considered seatable for the human ass anymore. The tank was already in a bad condtion, but this just made it worst!

Tucker: Whoa! It looks like a tornado just passed through here. What happened?

Tucker too is suprised to see the mess around him as he climbs up the stairs.

Church: What the fuck do you think?! It must be those Red ASSHOLES who did this while we were asleep!!! Tucker: Huh, no kidding. They sure did made one hell of a mess around here and holy shit, the tank! Church: Ugh! Command's not going to be happy if they see this. Tucker: Why so worried? As long as we don't report this, we'll be in the clear. Church: Really? May I remind you that we have one teammate in this base who always report to Command daily? Tucker: Oh, right. Schnee. Command's not the only one who'll be reeeaaaally pissed off. But hey, she won't be back in another two days thanks to Command needing her for something! Church: Yeah, I guess you're right. Sigh, but still we can't just leave the base like this. C'mon let's go wake up Caboose and get cement bags downstairs, a lot of it. Caboose: CHURCH, TUCKER! I GOT A CHRISTMAS PRESENT!!! Church: Or we'll just get cement and... wait, christmas present?"

Church and Tucker turned to the incoming Blue heavy ascending from the stairs. What they see next surprises them. Within the Blue dimwit's hands is a large flat red object twice the size of a rifle.

Church and Tucker: Whoa! Tucker: Caboose, what the hell are you holding?!?! Caboose: It's a christmas present from Santa! Tucker: Uhh, Church? Church: Don't... say... a word. Caboose, where the fuck did you get that thing? Caboose: Well, I woke up and the first thing I found was this awesome christmas present sitting next to my bed. Thank you, Santa! Tucker: Uh, Caboose. I hate to tell you this, but Christmas isn't coming in another seven months. Church: Okay, okay, enough talk about Christmas! What's more important is what the hell is that thing and where it came from! Tucker: Looks like a Swiss army knife, except five times the size. Caboose: How can you tell? Tucker: See those slits between the red plates, might be tools so it's gotta be a Swiss. Caboose: Wow! Now we can open ten canned food without opening them one by one anymore! Let me get the knife out. Church: No! Caboose, whatever it is that you're holding, could be dangerous for all we know! Tucker: Dangerous? Come on. Caboose looks fine holding it. See?

Caboose is trying to find a way to open a knife out of the object.

Caboose: Ugh! Why won't you open! Church: Well not for long! That thing could be a bomb planted by the Reds. Tucker: A bomb? Caboose: A bomb?!?! This?!

Caboose quickly places his ear on the object to hear anything inside. He hears nothing silence, no ticking around.

Caboose: It's alright everybody! There's no ticking. It's not a bomb. Church: Regardless, it's still dangerous. Caboose, drop it down. But slooowly. Caboose:... Church:... Caboose: Okay. Hmm?

Caboose see something on the side of the object. It looks like button for something.

Caboose: What does this button do?

He presses it.

Church: CABOOSE, NOOOO!!! Tucker: Get down!

Tucker quickly grabs Chruch and both of them fall flat onto the floor.

Tucker: Are we dead? It's too quiet. Caboose: WOW! Guys, check this out!

Both look up to see the object still in Caboose's hands, now in a much different form. From a flat block of metal, to a large rifle like weapon.

Church and Tucker: Wooooah. Tucker: Caboose, what the fuck did you do? Caboose: I just pressed the button and then the thing turned into a giant gun. It really is a Swiss army knife! Tucker: So... I was right? Church: 'Coincidentally right' would be the correct term. Damn, that's a big gun. Could be a sniper rifle. Tucker: How can you tell? Church: See the scope on the top of it, Einstein? Caboose: I like this new gun.

Caboose starts looking for a target to try out the rifle. There he spots of large rock on the field.

Caboose: I'm wanna try blowing up that rock over there! Church: Uh... sure, give it a try. Hey, Tucker let's go stand behind there just in case.

He draws the weapon, aims it steadily and slowly pulls the trigger. The rifle then emitted a large blast from its muzzle and the recoil was so powerful that it pushed Caboose down. Church and Tucker ran toward the lied down Caboose.

Tucker: You okay? Caboose: Ouchie. Tucker: Yep, he's fine. Church: Guys? You might wanna see this.

Church points at the rock Caboose shot at with the strange weapon. A large chunck of it got shot off, leaving the debris lying on the dirt.

Tucker: Holy shit, a sniper rifle did that with one shot?! Caboose: Neat. Church: Tucker, are you thinking what I'm thinking? Tucker: Ohoho, something to attract the babes with. Hopefully, I'll get Weiss this time. Church: I'm not talking about that! I'm thinking that this rifle could be the thing that caused this fucking mess.

On the Red Base's roof

Sarge: Gentlemen, I have a great dire news to share with you. Last night, we have lost something valuable, something that is part of our poor Markswoman's heart and soul. Crescent Rose. Ruby: WAAAHAAAAAA!!! Lopez: ¡Deja de llorar tan fuerte! ¡Vas a oxidar mi revestimiento! Donut: If you mean by 'stop crying', no! Let Rose express her lost. Don't you think guys?

Donut turned to Simmons and Grif who are standing next to him. Behind their helmets concealing their faces, are extremely worried expressions. Both looked at each other before responding back.

Grif: Oh yeah... uh... let her cry, Lopez! Simmons: That's right, it's natural reaction for humans to be balling so hard till their eyes shrivel. Robots... haha... right Grif? Hehehehe... heheh... *gulp* Sarge: Crescent Rose was kidnapped by the diabolical Blues hours ago. Their plan maybe is to use it against us and possibly, forgive me for saying this Rose, reverse engineer it! And if they do, they'll supply their army with not one, but a thousand Crescent Rose rip-offs!!! Simmons: That's what I've been think...! Grif: SHHH!!! Simmons: Sorry. Sarge: BUT! There is still time to save her. Our mission today, is to rescue Crescent Rose from our enemies' dirty hands and show them not to steal Red property! We will leave no weapon behind!!! Ruby: Let's get those Blue bullies! Grif and Simmons: Uh... yahoo... Donut: HUZZAAAAHH!!!

All eyes turned to Donut.

Donut: Give me a break, I always wanted to say that! Sarge: Gear up boys and girl. We got a war to do. Simmons, Grif, Donut, you'll take the Warthog. Lopez, prepare the rocket turret! Rose. Use this sniper rifle for the time being.

Sarge takes the rifle from his back to give it to Ruby.

Ruby: Huh, I thought I'd be using a plain old sniper rifle again. But for Crescent Rose, I got no other choice. I hope my baby forgives me.

Ruby makes a teary puppy face, worrying for whatever fate lies before her beloved weapon. Ruby grabs the rifle, but as she begins to take it out off Sarge's hand, she couldn't pull it out. She looks up to Sarge who's head is facing to a different direction.

Ruby: Uhm, Sarge. You can let go! Uuugh! Boy, your grasp is tight. Sarge: Hold on. Lopez, what are you doing!

Lopez is standing at the edge of the roof, facing towards the Blue menace's home turf.

Sarge: This is no time for sight seeing! Get down there and put that rocket turret on the Warthog! Lopez: Lo esta sosteniendo Sarge: What? Lopez: El idiota azul sostiene el rifle de Ruby. Sarge: Lopez, I order you to 'installe rocketo' not ' stande arounde and looki'! Ruby: Hold on, Sarge. I think Lopez is trying to tell us something. What is it, Lopez, do you see something? Lopez: Mis sistemas ópticos están diseñados para ver hasta diez kilómetros y desde aquí, y lo que estoy viendo en este momento es el idiota azul que sostiene tu rifle. Ruby:.... Okay I have no idea what he just said. Sarge: Hang on a sec. He said 'idiota'. The only person he called with that word is...

Sarge looks through the sniper's scope to see what Lopez is looking at. He lowers the rifle, with a surprise expression behind his visors.

Sarge: Rose, I think I found your weapon. Ruby: REALLY?! Gimme, gimme, gimme! Sarge: It'd be best if you see it once we get it back. Ruby: Oh please, let me see Crescent Rose!

Ruby snatches the rifle from Sarge. She raises the rifle and looks through the scope. From here, she could see the enemy standing around and talking, just talking. From the way the two Blues are moving, it looks like they're having an argument. She noticed the third of the Blue's holding something. The shape looks familiar and its colors was too opposite to be blue. It's Crescent Rose! A wide smile formed on her upon witnessing her weapon still in one piece. But that happiness did not last long when she notice two arms wrapped tightly around it. Zooming the scope in a bit revealed the Blue cuddling it like a toy, seeing such a thing made her heart collapse. First thing that screamed out of her head is:

THIEF

Ruby: Lopez... give me twenty magazines.

At the Warthog

As a singing Donut is preparing the armaments for the siege, Grif and Simmons discuss about their current 'problem'.

Grif: Phew, thank God that's over. Simmons: Not yet, we still need to get Ruby's rifle back. Grif: Which we put stole last night and put in the Blue base so that everyone think those pricks did it. Simmons: But what about the Blue's? What if they try to say that they didn't stole it? Grif: What about them? As long as we attack them, there's no way they'll have time to talk. Remember, Sarge isn't the negotiable type of guy. Simmons: But still we can't let everyone know. Grif: Pfft, how hard can it be? Donut: How hard can it what?

Grif jumped when he heard Donut behind with a box full of ammo.

Grif: Nothing. We're just... talking about how we'll attack the Blues. Donut: Ohh, I see. Well if you excuse me, I'll go get the flamethrowers. Simmons: Hard huh? Grif: Go fuck yourself.

Back on the Blue base

Caboose: I'm gonna call you. Sheila II!

As Caboose cuddles with his newfound friend, Church and Tucker began to discuss about the weapon.

Tucker: If what you're saying is true, then why did the Reds dump it here in the first place? Church: I don't know. Most of the Reds may not have more brain cells than us, but they aren't that stupid to give us this kind of firepower. Plus, I've never seen that kind of rifle before. Tucker: Me neither. Must be some kind of new weapon they made. Church: Or maybe a prototype they were ordered to test it, on our fucking base! Which may explain the fucking bullet holes everywhere! Tucker: That's sounds like a good theory. But why dump it here? Church: Hmm, I guessing testing the weapon isn't the only thing they were here for. And I doubt they're here for intel. Tucker: Maybe they stop by to get a snack.

BOOM

Church: Goddammit, Caboose stop shooting! Caboose: But I didn't do anything! YIKES!!!

And he really didn't. A small blast suddenly explode behind the Blue idiot, causing him to jump forward near his teammates. An incoming whistle caught the attention of the three.

Tucker: DUCK!

All manage to duck before the round hits any of them. The shot hits the concrete, making another hole which doesn't help Church at all.

Church: OH COME ON! We have enough holes over here! Caboose: Whatdowedo?Whatdowedo?Whatdowedo? Church: Quick, behind that wall!

The trio rushes towards a wall facing towards the Red base from afar. They hid behind it as more explosive shots came flying pass them.

Caboose: We're all going to die! Brace yourself Sheila II.

Back on the Red base

BANG BANG BANG!!!

Sarge and Lopez both witness Ruby shooting the rifle endlessly at the Blue base without even stopping aside from reloading a new mag.

Sarge: Rose, are you okay over there?

No response. Sarge is getting worried for his markswoman.

Sarge: Huh, I guess not. Lopez, see if she's okay. Lopez: Sí señor

Lopez walked slowly towards Ruby. As he reached beside her proned body, he moves closely towards her face before responding to her.

Lopez: Rose, ¿estás bien?

His response worked as she turned her face to him. But instead of seeing the innocent face that is Ruby's, is a demonic wrathful gritted teeth face with silver eyes burning bright with pure anger.

Lopez: Me parece que eres tu.

Lopez quickly moved back to Sarge.

Sarge: Well? Lopez: Ella es la hija de Mictlāntēcutli.. Sarge: Oh thank God, I was starting to get worried. Lopez: Realmente deberías estarlo.

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/necroceph

#ruby rose #Michael J. Caboose #rwby #Red vs Blue #rooster teeth #monty oum

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coolspacequips · 6 years ago

Note

From the anon that sent the "thanks i love it" this morning, considering Kinkade was already interested in understand how Lance's sniper can you imagine his reaction when Lance whips around and just fucking transforms the damn thing into another gUN OR AN ENTIRE SWORD??

hi again!! and omg thats so good, like, damn, he was already interested in how the thing worked, but that bayard is a swiss army knife of weaponry in lances skilled hands and boy does he know how to use it!

pls give me that content of kinkade asking lance to show him some tricks w the closer range rifle, and lance curving in close behind him to make adjustments to his stance while he chatters happily over his shoulder, never thinking twice about being so close to others. but for kinkade, most ppl dont get this close, and more specifically he doesnt LET them get this close, but this....

this is ok

lance jokingly asks him if he doesnt want to start training w a sword, too, and kinkade might tease him about bringing a knife to a gunfight, but he just might surprise lance with taking him up on the basics. its a whole different wheelhouse, and its bound to need a whole lot more hands-on adjusting and face to face closeness when they get around to sparring...

#*EYE EMOJIS*#linkade #lankade #kinkance #i made another hc post the other night about kinkade seeing lance do some cool sword shit and being gay #and lance trying to play it off suave and being rewarded w a Kinkade Laugh (TM)#lance #kinkade #hcs #my hcs #asks #anon #Anonymous

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thefemalethatwrites · 7 years ago

Text

Nightingale (Gabriel Reyes/Reaper x Reader)

Requested; Nope.

Prompt; You’re Bruce Wayne’s sister who joined Overwatch but now back.

Relationships; Bruce Wayne/Batman x Sister! Reader, Batkids x Auntie! Reader, Gabriel Reyes/Reaper x Reader, Jesse McCree x Mother figure! Reader, Genji Shimada x Mother figure! Reader.

Word Count; 4184

A/N; So I’ve been wanting to write stories/one-shots for a couple games I play (Assassin’s Creed and Overwatch). So I thought I’d trial it and combine it with DC at first then drift of on to doing them separately. I’ll still be writing DC things don’t worry. So enjoy!

~~~

(Y/N)'s POV

"(Y/N) stop! I told you in confidence that you wouldn't blow up!" Jack yelled after me as I stormed through the corridors of the Overwatch base,

"I don't care! How else would you expect me to react when you tell me something like that?!" I yelled,

"Hey Mom-Captain" Jesse corrected as he noticed the mood I was in,

"Where's Gabriel?" I asked,

"He said something about Doctor Ziegler" Genji replied, I growled as made my way towards the medical wing,

"God dammit. (Y/N)!" Jack yelled as the three of them followed me, I entered the medical wing and was met with the evidence of what Jack had told me,

"You mother-fucker" I growled announcing my presence making Gabriel push Angela away from him,

"(Y/N), it's not what it looks like" Gabriel attempted as Jack, Jesse and Genji appeared behind me,

"Not what it looks like?! Do you think I'm blind and dumb?! You were clearly making out with this whore!" I yelled, his face turned dark as he mumbled something, "What?" I asked,

"Apologise" He repeated in a demanding tone, I glared at him

"You can go to hell" I spat as I went to leave but he grabbed my wrist making quickly react by punching him across the face then knocking him onto his back where I climbed on top and punched him repeatedly,

"(Y/N) enough!" Jack demanded as he pulled me off and restrained me, Moira had appeared within the commotion and stood in front of me,

"(Y/N) relax. This could cause some undesirable side effects" she said,

"Get off me!" I demanded pulling myself from Jack's hold, I glared down at Gabriel as Angela crouched down to him, my chest rising up and down, "I quit Blackwatch" I spat at him as I ripped the totem from my neck and threw it to the floor then turned to Jack, "And I quit Overwatch" I asserted before leaving.

***

I arrived outside the Manor and sighed, it's been over 20 years since I was here, I opened the front door and walked in, I was greeted by silence making me raise an eyebrow as I approached the bottom of the stairs, I quickly turned around and caught a kitchen knife that was thrown at me, I looked in the direction it came from to see a young boy stood at the kitchen with his mouth slightly agape,

"She caught it" he commented,

"Who's she? The cats mother?" I retort before another three males along with three females came from the kitchen,

"Who are you?" the tallest male asked, I raised an eyebrow

"I should be asking you that" I comment,

"Oh god" the third tallest male mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose,

"What Drake?" The youngest asked,

"You just threw a knife at Auntie (Y/N)" 'Drake' stated, my eyes widened

"Aunt?!" The others exclaimed before Bruce and Alfred entered the Manor, both of them freezing as they noticed me,

"Miss Wayne?" Alfred muttered,

"Father! Why didn't you tell us we had an Aunt?" The youngest asked,

"I didn't think it would information you'd be interested in" Bruce answered, I rolled my eyes

"I wouldn't be surprise if he forgot me within the 'playboy' and Batman training" I comment making all their eyes widen,

"You know? How'd you know you haven't been here for 20 years!" Bruce snapped coming over to me, I narrowed my eyes at him,

"Did you think I'd leave my little brother without keeping tabs on him? Plus it was a little convenient that Nightingale left Gotham and Batman replaced her" I mused, he grunted and turned towards the children,

"Everyone meet (Y/N) Wayne, my older sister. (Y/N), this is Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain and Damian Wayne" Bruce introduced,

"Wait you're Nightingale?!" Steph exclaimed, I hummed

"Hello Bat. Bat-family" A female greeted as she entered the door and froze upon seeing me, "Who's she?" She asked looking me up and down, I raised an eyebrow at her,

"Selina-"

"(Y/N) Wayne. Bruce's big sister" I introduced extending my hand to her,

"Selina Kyle. Bruce's Fiancé" she introduced shaking my hand, I tightened my grip making her wince,

"Look at me like that again sweetheart and I'll have to remove your eyes and feed them to you. Understood?" I hissed in her ear, she nodded so I let go and stood back,

"Master Wayne, I believe it'd be wise to start getting ready for the charity Gala" Alfred piped up.

***

"Mister Wayne over here!"

"Miss Kyle!" The paparazzi yelled as they spammed Bruce and Selina as my car pulled up to the carpet, the door was opened and I climbed out,

"Miss Wayne!" The paparazzi yelled as they ignored the other 'celebrities' and hounded me, I gave a couple of poses before entering the event,

"Miss Wayne, I wasn't expecting you here tonight" The Mayor said,

"Well you know me, I love to be a surprise" I replied, he hummed before disappearing, I sighed as I removed a champagne glass from a waiters tray and entered the room more.

***

I shut the car engine off as I came to a stop in the garage and answered my phone,

"Hello?"

"Mom?" Jesse's voice asked from the other side,

"Jesse? What's wrong?" I asked as I got out of the car heading upstairs to my room,

"It's Gabe. He's dead. Him and Jack alongside other members were blown up in the Swiss base" he informed, I froze in my steps at my bedroom door becoming speechless, "Mom? Are you there still?" He asked, I hummed not relying on my voice to not break, "Their funerals are at the end of this week" he said,

"Right...I'll be there tomorrow..." I trailed off,

"See you later Mom" he said before hanging up, the grip on my phone tightened before I launched it at a wall letting out an agonising scream, I began throwing things around my room as tears flowed from my eyes then I collapsed on to my knees and sobbed, there was a light knock on my door,

"Leave me alone" I mumbled, whoever it was made their way over to me and crouch down next to me, I glanced to my side to see Selina, concern was etched into every feature in her face,

"I know we're not the best of friends but I couldn't ignore that scream and the state you're in" she commented, I turned my head in her direction,

"It'd be safer if you did" I replied, she sighed and sat cross-legged

"You and Bruce think you can handle everything by yourselves. You're human. You're allowed to have emotions. You're allowed to ask for help" she stated, I looked around my trashed room and sighed, "So can you tell me what happened?" She asked,

"A young man I've come to see as my own son just called informing me that my ex-partner, of ten plus years, and my close friend had been killed in an explosion" I said, her face saddened as she motioned me into her arms,

"I'm not much of a hugger" she commented as she pulled me into her arms,

"Neither am I" I replied making her chuckled,

"You still loved him, didn't you?" She asked,

"I'd hope not after he cheated on me but feelings like that can't disappear within a couple months" I commented.

***

It was after the funeral services and everyone was giving their regards to me, as Jesse and Genji stood at my sides, holding my hands as comfort,

"What you gonna do now, Mom?" Jesse asked as the main crowd had disappeared,

"Return to Gotham, return to my life before Overwatch" I say, Easier said than done since I'd been at Overwatch from 18 to 42

"Mother?" Genji asked pulling me from my thoughts,

"Sorry, what?" I asked,

"Would you mind if McCree and myself join you?" He asked, I raised an eyebrow

"Why?" I questioned,

"Just to make sure you're alright. We'll be on our ways after a month or two" Jesse answered, I gave them a small smile and nodded

"I'd appreciate that boys. Thank you" I say.

***

"You're doing it again" Jesse whispered gaining my attention, I raised an eyebrow

"Doing what?" I asked,

"Searching the room for enemies. Like you'd do when we were on an uncover mission" Genji replied, I sighed looking around the room again, my breathe caught in the back of my throat as I saw Gabriel,

"Mom? What's wrong?" Jesse asked, I shook my head

"Nothing. I thought I saw someone" I replied, they both eyed me with suspicion, "Anyway you don't need to stand with me. Go enjoy yourselves" I say, they both reluctantly left me, I raised an eyebrow as the security were having problems with their ear pieces,

"Ladies and Gentleman could I have your attention please" the Mayor called out, I approached the podium, "As you all know tonight's event was organised by the one and only Bruce Wayne. So I'll pass this over to him" He said and left the podium as Bruce made his way up to the middle,

"Well as a first I'd like to thank you all for coming. Second, tonight's event may have been organised by myself but it was actually Tim's idea. Tim why don't you come up and explain what and why we're all gathered here" Bruce said as he mentioned Tim to the podium.

Tim did and Bruce stood back as Tim cleared his throat, I looked over the crowd once more but caught a glimpse of a red light, I looked towards Tim who had a red dot on his chest, my eyes widened as I ran towards him and tackled him to the ground as a bullet flew past, I looked back up through the window to see a figure retreating on an opposite rooftop, I got up and began pushing my way through the panicking crowd,

"Mom!" I heard Jesse yell, I got outside and removed the skirt part of my dress, revealing my Nightingale suit and ran in the direction of the sniper, I clambered up to the rooftop and chased them, I jumped into cover behind a chimney as the sniper turned to shoot at me, I heard an aircraft engine making my eyes widen as a Talon aircraft hovered for the Sniper to climb in, I got out of the cover and my eyes widened

"Amelie" I muttered as she glared down at me as they flew away,

"Mother!" Genji yelled as he and Jesse ran up to me,

"Come on" I demanded as we may our way back to the event where Bruce and the others were waiting in front of the limousine, we all piled in the limousine and was driven home.

"What was that about (Y/N)?" Bruce asked,

"What have been searching?" I asked Tim,

"Bruce wanted to know what you were doing within the years you left" he answered,

"What exactly did you look into?" I interrogated,

"Blackwatch" he answered, all three of us tensed up, I glared at Bruce

"Do you understand the danger you've put him in?! There's a reason why I didn't tell you anything! But you couldn't keep your nose out!" I yelled shoving him,

"How was I supposed to know? You randomly disappear then reappear 20 years later!" He snapped,

"My skills were noticed by the Government! They wanted me in Overwatch! Then we made a behind closed doors organisation called Blackwatch!" I yell before backing away towards Genji and Jesse, running a hand through my hair,

"Your skills? You mean your killing?" He scoffed, I stopped and glared at him,

"What did you say?" I growled as I turned to him,

"You heard exactly what I said. You're no better than the man who murdered our parents" he retorted, I let out a yell as I tackled him to the floor punching him in the face, he kicked me off and stood up, I stood up, he charged at me picking me up and slamming my back against the floor, I grunted before getting him in a headlock and flipping over him,

"You better not move Bruce, unless you want to join our parents that is" I hissed,

"Mom let go" Jesse said as he and Genji pulled at me, I sighed and let go of Bruce and allowed them to lead me away.

***

I jumped down from a roof and landed on a police vans roof making the police jump,

"Nightingale. It's been awhile" Gordon said as I jumped down in front of him,

"Jim I'm going to need you to evacuate the city" I demanded as I heard the omnics getting closer,

"Why?! What exactly are we up against here?" He asked,

"War machines that have their own mind. They'll kill any human in sight" I say before my eyes widened "Get down!" I ordered as I pulled him down as some bastion's began firing at us, I growled as I slid over the car bonnet and ran towards the machines shooting my mini-guns at them before throwing a grenade at them before returning to Jim,

"Alright everyone listen up! I'm going to need everyone to be quick and evacuate the whole city. Be aware of them machines!" He ordered, they all began rushing, I gave him a nod,

"You best get out of here before more come" I informed he nodded

"Good luck...(Y/N)" he said making my eyes widened as I removed my eye mask, he climbed into his car and drove off.

***

Gabriel's POV

"Hey Gabe. I think you might want to see this" Sombra commented as she pulled up a screen in front of me,

"This is ex-Blackwatch Captain (Y/N) Wayne requesting for any remaining Overwatch members to come to Gotham-Shit!" (Y/N) exclaimed as she took cover behind a wall sending the camera away from her as bullets flew by, "Omnics are attacking! I've set the city on an evacuation and I'm going to hold them off the best I can! However I don't think I can do it forever!" She yelled before the video cut out making my eyes widen,

"So what's the plan?" She asked raising an eyebrow,

"I'm going to Gotham" I informed standing up and going to leave,

"Alone?" She asked,

"Yes. You heard her; Ex-Overwatch members. That includes us dead ones" I replied, she hummed

"Well I may not be an ex-Overwatch member but I do want to stop the omnics" she said, I sighed

"Gabriel. Have you seen?! (Y/N)'s in trouble. We need to go!" Moira yelled as she appeared next to me,

"Go where?" Amelie asked as she approached us with Akande,

"To Gotham. The Omnics are attacking" Sombra answered, Akande hummed as he eyed me suspiciously

"This could be the beginning of a second omnic war" Moira added gaining Akande's attention,

"I'll join" Amelie stated, Akande nodded

"Let's go" Akande demanded as we made our way to the air crafts.

***

(Y/N)'s POV "Shit!" I exclaimed as I momentarily shielded my face from the flames as the car exploded, the shockwave sending me on to my back, I groaned as the robots began to close in, "Maybe if I lie still enough they'll think I'm dead and leave me the fuck alone!" I mused,

"Mom!" I heard someone yell before a young woman appeared next to me,

"Hola" she greeted before grabbing a hold of me and throwing something before we teleported, she sat me against an armoured police truck as a group approached us, I scoffed rolling my eyes

"My video call was for ex-Overwatch members. Not Talon" I sneer glaring at them,

"So you don't want healing then?" Moira asked, I raised an eyebrow

"What do you think?" I asked as I forced myself to stand,

"Sombra, Widow let's keep these bots off Moira while she tends to her wounds" Doomfist ordered, they both nodded before they disappeared,

"Just like the old days" Moira commented as she healed me, I grunted in response as I eyed Reaper,

"Perhaps you'd like to say something instead of staring" he snapped, Moira finished with me so I squared up to him,

"Take it off" I demanded narrowing my eyes at him, he remained silent, "Are you deaf? Remove the mask. I want to confirm my suspicions" I growled, he still remained silent making me sigh, "Fine be a stubborn arsehole" I stated,

"(Y/N) take this" Moira said holding out my totem, I tilted my head as I took it from her hands and put it on, "I may have made a couple of adjustments to it" she said giving me a small smile, I hummed,

"Let's dispose of these bots" I ordered as I reloaded my mini-guns, I noticed some ex-Overwatch members had arrived, "Unless you're too afraid to fight alongside the people you once called friends" I commented before joining the fight.

***

The number of bots were decreasing but not as fast as I would like, I heard a yell of pain gaining my attention as Mercy fell to the ground as a group of bots surrounded her, I quickly touched my totem and flew over to her using the wind, I landed in front of her as they took aim before I threw my hands up creating a rock wall in front of us, I turned to her and held out my hand, she took it and helped her up,

"You saved me. Why?" She asked, I raised an eyebrow, "After everything I've done to you why did you save me?" She repeated, I rolled my eyes

"I don't hold grudges on the battlefield" I answered turning away from her, "Now prepare yourself to escape" I ordered as I raised my hands and the rock wall began shaking violently before exploding outwards taking out some of the bots.

Gabriel's POV

(Y/N) and Mercy flew up into the air unharmed,

"We're being overpowered easily!" McCree stated,

"We need (Y/N) to loose her shit!" Moira yelled making me raise an eyebrow

"Why?!" I asked,

"Just trust me. You need to piss her off big time" She demeaned, I sighed and nodded

"Everyone retreat!" Morrison ordered.

(Y/N)'s POV

"Everyone retreat!" Soldier 76 ordered making me raise an eyebrow and flew down to him,

"And why are you retreating?" I asked,

"We'll have an advantage further down the street" he answered, I hummed looking down the street they were all going,

"If you go a block and a half down you'll be best there" I informed, he nodded, "You best get on your way and prepare yourselves I'll hold them here" I ordered,

"I'm staying" Jesse and Genji asserted in unison,

"As am I" Reaper informed, Moira grumbled something,

"You will need someone to watch your backs" She commented, Soldier 76 nodded and joined the retreat,

"I don't want another Venice incident" Reaper growled making my eyes widened, "Does that confirm your suspicions Mi amor?" He mused, I growled before igniting myself in flames and flying up into the air, throwing fireballs at the machines,

Not another incident like Venice. Who the hell does he think he is?! He was the whole reason that-Wait! Venice...

"I've got a plan!" I announced landing next to them, extinguishing myself and putting up a rock wall to protect us,

"What's the plan then?" Genji asked,

"I'm going to pull a Venice incident" I answered,

"What?! No!" Jesse exclaimed,

"In order to do that you'd need a lot of rage" Moira commented,

"Believe me. I've got that covered" I retort side-eyeing Gabriel, to which he folded his arms, "Just stay behind this cover" I ordered before igniting myself again and flying over the wall.

***

I groaned as I opened my eyes, I slowly made my way to sitting up and hunch over holding my head

"What the hell happened?" I mumbled as I stood up, I observed my surroundings and raised an eyebrow, "Why the hell am I in the Cave's containment cell?" I grumbled as I approached the door and opened it making me hum and leave, I overheard mutters from the main area of the Cave so I made my way over, Bruce, Selina and the batkids were listening to Moira, Jesse, Genji and Gabriel,

"Mom!" Jesse yelled as he noticed me making my way over to them, he and Genji tackled me with a hug making me smile and return it, they pulled away when Gabriel cleared his throat, I narrowed my eyes at him,

"What happened to doing another Venice incident?" He questioned, I raised an eyebrow

"What do you mean? I did do, didn't I?" I replied, he shook his head

"Unbelievable she doesn't even know what happened?!" He exclaimed,

"Gabriel now is not the time to tell her. I need to run some tests-"

"You're not running any tests on me until you tell me what the hell happened!" I snapped cutting Moira off, she sighed

"Instead of repeating what you did in Venice you had a nuclear explosion, if it wasn't for the rock wall that you created the whole city and it's people would've been wiped out by it. And your totem absorbed itself into your skin" Moira explained my eyes widened as I went to reach for my totem only to find it not there,

"So you're telling me the totem is inside my body and I have all the abilities I had before?" I asked, she shrugged

"More than likely but if I coul-"

"You're not running any tests on her Moira" Gabriel stated cutting her off once more, "Head back to the others and tell them I'll make my own way back to the base" he ordered, she grumbled and left the Cave,

"And why are you staying behind?" I asked approaching him,

"Could we talk about this in private?" He grumbled,

"No what you can say to me can be heard by my family. Could've been our family" I retort, he sighed dropping his head,

"Wait this is the man you were with? The one that died?" Selina asked, I nodded

"(Y/N) listen-"

"No you listen here. She spent hours crying because of your death. You were together for years then you cheat on her! Then you have the nerve to fake your death!" Selina snapped cutting Gabriel off as Bruce held her back, "And now you think you can explain yourself?!" She continued,

"Thank you Selina" I say giving her a genuine smile, she stopped fighting against Bruce and stared at me, "As for you Gabriel. Follow me" I demanded as I lead him away from the others.

***

I sighed as I watched the joy on Bruce's face as he and Selina cut their wedding cake, everyone bursting into cheers, smiles and laughter as Selina smashed Bruce's face into the slice of cake, the wedding had gone off without a hitch to say that the criminal friends of Selina and the Justice league were in the same room obviously as their civilian identities,

"You okay, mi amor?" Gabriel asked as he appeared at my side, I rolled my eyes

"What have I said about calling me that? We're not together Gabriel" I retort, he sighed

"What do I have to do to be back with you?" He questioned, I turned to face him and raised an eyebrow before the doors burst open and the windows shattered as Talon soldiers came in and surrounded everyone,

"What the hell are they doing here?!" I growled to Gabriel as we were 'guided' to the other guests, he shrugged

"I don't know" he replied,

"(Y/N)" Bruce hissed as he grabbed my arm gaining my attention, I faced him and Selina,

"Who are these?" Bruce questioned,

"And why've they crashed my wedding?" Selina growled,

"Talon soldiers. Let Gabriel, Genji, Jesse and myself handle them. Just get everyone out" I ordered, Bruce grunted I'm agreement as Genji and Jesse approached us,

"Don't you dare ruin that dress" Selina warned, I held my hands up in defence,

"Genji, think you can slice a path for everyone to escape?" Gabriel asked,

"Of course I can" Genji scoffed as he withdrew his dagger from under his suit jacket as Jesse removed his pistol, and Gabriel removed another two pistols from his back holders, I crouched down and removed my heels,

"Now!" I ordered as I sent fire streams towards the soldiers on the right as Genji headed forwards, Jesse went left and Gabriel went behind,

"That's everyone out of the building" Genji informed as he returned before Jesse let out a yell of pain catching my attention,

"Jesse's injured!" I commented as I ran over to him,

"This place is going to blow!" Gabriel yelled making my eyes widened as I picked Jesse up and leant most of his body weight on to me,

"Keep us covered!" I ordered as I made my way outside where everyone was waiting, Alfred came over with a medical kit as I set Jesse on the floor, I turned towards the building as Genji was coming out, he came over to me, "Where's Gabriel?" I asked,

"He said he was right behind me" Genji said, my eyes widened as I ran towards the entrance before I thrown backwards due to the explosion of the building, I went to get up to my feet but Bruce and Selina held me back so I was on my knees, tears pooling out of my eyes as I stared at the destroyed building that was burning,

"Gabriel!" I screamed, it fell silent as everyone looked at me, Gabriel stumbled out of the entrance making me sigh in relief as I pulled from Bruce and Selina's grip and ran over to him, jumping into his arms, he grunted but caught me and squeezed me,

"What was that screaming for, mi amor?" He asked as we pulled away,

"I lost you once before I don't want that again" I confessed, he smiled before he pulled me closer crashing his lips on to mine which I immediately returned wrapping my arms around his neck, closing whatever space there was between us.

#dc #DC comics #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #Jason Todd #red hood #Tim Drake #Red Robin #Damian Wayne #robin #overwatch #gabriel reyes x reader #gabriel reyes #reaper x reader #reaper #jesse mccree #genji shimada

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happy-hollow-rpg · 4 years ago

Text

Teach Me How To Sing || Rada Orlov || Trial Results 1 || re: Erika K, Maui, Dusky, Shaela and Trick. ATTN: Everyone.

She knew it was coming. Trick read off the results and with each word she felt the metaphorical guillotine blade clicking back another notch.

‘That is correct, however. Ava Alkaev, or rather, Rada Orlov is indeed the culprit behind this killing!’

How long has it been since she’s last heard her name? Five-- no, six years… Or was it nearing seven now? Her memory of that time is dreadfully blurry and the painful crescendo of silent screaming in the back of her mind isn’t helping matters. At least it was information shared by Trick and no one else… her single saving grace preventing the noise from immediately hitting a fever pitch.

“N-No secret… i-is worth… a life…” Rada replied bitterly to Maui through her tears. “I n-never wanted… t-to hurt anyone…ever... I d-didn’t… have a choice… I’m not… g-given one… E-Even though I… d-don’t want to die… i-if I had… b-been allowed… to instead trade… m-my own life… f-for hers… I would have...”

Rada squeezes her eyes tightly shut. The question about the charm… The implications of it still made every nerve in her body feel like it was on fire.

“A-And then… the sniper rifle… charm… it’s mi--hrk!”

Her words cut off with a choked and strangled sound. Ah ah ah, you naughty girl, you know better. Another round then-- Rada begins to cough violently, one hand pressed over her mouth while the other grips the edge of the desk to keep from falling over. No matter how hard she coughs, the feeling of water in her lungs refuses to leave… until it suddenly vanishes and she can breathe again.

“O-Oh no… I…” Rada wheezes before taking in a sharp breath, tears of both fear and pain beading up. “I… s-still c-can’t… answer that… I’m sorry... I w-want to… a-and so… m-much more… b-but I… can’t…”

“M-Miss Kimoto… a-and Miss Allaway… sh-should both… understand… the feeling... f-from the… quiz show… M-Miss Aceso… t-too… I-I’m sorry… I j-just… c-can’t do it...”

----------------------------------------------------------

“Oh my, that would cause a few problems in times like this, wouldn’t it?” Trick pipes up from her seat.

“What was it again… Ah, that’s right! Songbird, speak freely and without past restrictions. That should do it.”

----------------------------------------------------------

As Trick spoke, Rada looked nervously in her direction. Just what was she--

"..."

The moment she hears it, she freezes, the only movement of her body the flickering of her eyes to lock onto Trick. But she’s not kept waiting, not like usual. The haze clears rapidly and Rada blinks a few times as the words settle into her bones.

“Wait... Y-You... M-My name is…” She pauses, weighing the syllables on her tongue before trying them. “R-Rada… Orlov… O-Oh..!”

She squeaks, holding both of her hands over her mouth as tears roll down her face. “Rada Orlov, that’s my name…! I c-can… say it…!” She says with wonder before she's slammed back into the reality of her situation. She has to act quickly.

“I-If I can talk... I n-need to--.... The sniper rifle charm… i-it’s mine…"

"I w-was taken... seven y-years ago... b-by the Russian mafia... I h-had to follow orders… n-no one was ever allowed to know… wh-what I did… and i-if they found out… I-I had to… k-kill them… I c-couldn’t let... the motive here go… a-another day… where someone else… m-might get the charm too… o-or figure out… it was me… and tell everyone…”

“O-Once the conditions for… the order take… I-I can’t hold it back forever… I-It’s like trying to… dam up a geyser… the pressure just keeps building… u-until it… explodes…”

“I w-wasn’t… trying to… f-frame anyone… I n-never… lied about that…” Most of what she’d said during the trial hadn’t been a lie, although she highly doubted that anyone would believe her.

“The handkerchief… m-must have… fallen out… of my pocket… wh-when I was leaving… th-the instrument closet… I d-didn’t even… know it… was missing… until M-Miss Aceso… sh-showed me…”

“I summoned… the sandwich… s-so that… the magic… might be… mistaken… a-as poison… b-because of its presence… i-instead of… summoning… W-With the number… o-of poison… caster cards around… and other… p-possible foodstuffs that… c-could have been… l-lethally poisoned… I thought… th-that there would be… t-too much… confusion to… tie it back… t-to a single person… and that… we wouldn’t reach… a conclusion… and just… run out… th-the clock… I n-never expected… a-anyone to… e-eat something that… c-could have… b-been the… m-murder weapon… A-And for people to get… poisoned...!”

“I didn’t know… th-that the… s-stardust… still glowed… w-with magic… once they crumbled… I thought… i-it was… inert… There was… s-some left in… th-the envelope… I p-put the powder into… It would have… very l-likely been… unnoticeable… otherwise… u-unless someone… u-used a… poison caster card… a-and risked… implicating themselves… or were… r-repeatedly casting… th-the spell M-Miss Julia… taught a few… o-of us… on everything… in sight...”

“And there was… o-only ever one… h-hemlock flower… I brought back… s-seeds from… M-Miss Julia’s… cottage… You can’t… powder… a live flower… a-and I didn’t… e-expect it to… be considered… e-evidence… since I… d-didn’t use it… t-to kill… M-Miss Davis… Otherwise… I would have… thrown it out…”

“I haven’t stolen anything… a-and I didn’t… set any of… the traps… O-Other than… k-kill Miss Davis… I haven’t… d-done anything to… hurt anyone...”

With the sheer amount of words that kept flowing from her nervous mouth, you’d think that she’d eventually run out of steam. Only now does she finally give pause, trembling as she realizes that she has no idea how much of her precious time she’s wasted already.

She’d prepared for this, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Rada’s gloved hands dove back into the pockets of her black coat, slowly pulling item after item from inside of it and setting them all onto the desk before bustling around the room with a few items in hand at a time.

On her own desk, she sets down a small vial of a milky-colored liquid that swirls of an off-white shade spiral when it’s shaken in front of Erika L. “I-It’s a potion of… fingernail growth…” She notes quietly, before moving on counterclockwise.

In front of Santiago, she sets down a swiss army knife. “I-I’ve only used… the tools… I p-promise...” She squeaks.

Then in front of Dusky, Rada places a time caster card and a rounded bottle with clear blue liquid. The air space in the bottle is filled with a gray fog. “I s-still… d-don’t know what… it does… s-sorry…”

Since Kimoto has been shadowing her, she skips over Erika K’s spot and goes straight to Sully, setting down the small vial filled with a watery looking greenish liquid, as well as a beautiful necklace in the shape of two interlocking rings. “M-Miss Allaway said… i-it might be… y-yours… a-and the potion… r-really is just… a potion of joy… Th-Thank you for… always… b-being nice...” Rada mumbles.

The next table is unoccupied, so Rada moves on to Amelia and Maui. She sets her own palm sized notebook and pen down in front of Amelia (“Th-There’s some… o-of my writing… in Russian… b-but the paper is… nice…”) but in front of Maui she sets down a literal bag of marijuana, stammers “M-Mister Treat summoned it… f-for me f-for a coin… D-Don’t make me… e-explain more please…!!” and zips away.

Next, she sets down her empty leather coin pouch in front of RJ. “I-I thought… i-it might work… f-for a p-portable nest… f-for your… chick…” She mumbles towards him.

Then turning to Niro, she sniffles and places an ornate papercraft rose blossom on the table. “...Th-Thank you… for the… d-duet…” Rada squeaks before her hands fidget at the bottom of her dress on her right thigh and-- she shoves an untied garter with tiny metal sticks in it onto the space in front of him, turning bright pink. “Th-There’s a bunch a-and… they might be… d-different than… th-the ones you… a-already have… I know its… n-nice to… have extras… S-S-Sorry about… the garter...!” Rada scurries away. She’s going to die of embarrassment before she dies her actual death at this rate.

The next table is empty, so she moves on past it to Elle and Shaela.

“...I r-really wasn’t… trying to frame you… M-Miss Ambrose… and I… d-do appreciate… e-everything that… y-you tried to do… f-for me… I-I’m sorry… I r-ruined it...” Rada bites her lip and sets down a poison caster card and a luck caster card in front of Elle. On the space in front of Shaela, she sets down her black coat. “It’s a good coat… i-it should fit… if you want it… a-and there’s peppermints… in the pockets… i-if you want to… give sugar gifts… or offerings…” That’s reaaaally about the max amount of time she wants to be near Shaela, so she zips off again.

Treat and Trick each get a paper flower set in front of them, and a black ball of yarn by Trouble, before Rada heads back to her own desk to give a pair of things to Erika Kimoto. The first is a round bottle with milky white liquid, but the second item she carefully unfolds is a shawl made out of crocheted stars in pretty purple and red yarn. She speaks quietly with her for a short time before turning back to the class.

“I d-don’t know… h-how much… time I-I have left… b-but i-if there’s… a-anything I can… a-answer… I-I’ll… d-do my best…”

#chapter2 #trial2 #ic #Ava #submission

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glitchinthesystemspiderbyte · 7 years ago

Text

[28] Glitch in the System - Practice Makes Breakfast

By K. Pretentious banter and omelets happen. _

"—all I’m saying is that his dying act of contempt for the Marquise is clearly implied as redemptive.”

“You can say that all you’d like— chef’s knife, please — but Laclos’s intent that the novel function as a critique of the perversions of the Ancien Régime and the fact he dies terribly imply the contrary.”

Akande handed Widowmaker the requested knife, holding the blade safely between calloused fingertips as he huffed his disagreement. “He only said that was his intent after the public outcry over its salaciousness. He wrote to titillate, nothing more.”

Accepting the knife, Widowmaker began cutting the spinach splayed across the cutting board before her, slicing it en Chiffonade by the handful with mechanical precision.

“Unverified,” she replied, the word flattened by her otherwise occupied attention. “The intent is apparent. We are talking in circles now, Akande.”

“How is it apparent?” Doomfist asked for the third time that morning, half-laughing his dismissal as he cracked egg after egg into a mixing bowl.

“First: in the entire premise of the story. Second: in the writing of his successors, particularly de Sade. Sordid, oui, but the criticism persists throughout a substantial portion of his oeuvre. Consider Le Président Mystifié.”

Akande wrinkled his nose in disgust, glancing to the sniper beside him.“Do not talk to me about de Sade.”

“Why?”

“It has got to be a human resources issue.”

They paused, his dark eyes meeting her amber as a long note of silence stretched between them. On the mornings they were afforded time enough for literary discourse, they inevitably reached this point: Akande, drawing a line in the sand of their uncomfortably comfortable rapport despite their already having crossed it; Widowmaker, coolly ignoring it or, depending on the topic, acquiescing with an unsubtle air of smugness. She could never predict when that strange sense of misplaced formality would rear its head, and that alone made their occasional breakfast collaboration and the conversations therein all the more interesting. With so few indicators of the machinations informing his unflappable stoicism, those little tells were as poignant as they were fascinating.

This morning, she met his sudden obstinance with a quiet chuckle.

“What?” Akande asked suspiciously, broad hands dwarfing the egg held between them.

“We do not have a human resources department,” she smirked.

Doomfist opened his mouth to retort, but the soft, slow patter of sleep-heavy footsteps drew both their attention to the doorway where Sombra stood bleary-eyed and pajama clad, clutching Oso to her chest.

“You nerds know I can hear you all the way down the hall, right?” she grumbled, shuffling past the both of them toward the cabinet opposite the entrance.

“Good morning to you, too,” Akande quipped.

Rolling onto her toes to grab a mug, Sombra closed the cabinet doors and shouldered her way between her colleagues, concluding her pilgrimage toward caffeination by leaning Oso against the backsplash with a delicacy others would more readily afford small children or fine china.

“Salut, Oso,” Widowmaker murmured, eyes flicking upward in acknowledgement of the stuffed animal now supervising her work. Though she offered no such greeting its owner, she acknowledged the sudden presence at her side by leaning into it, cool, bare shoulders meeting the unfathomably soft weave of the hacker’s sweatshirt.

“You gave her a knife?” Sombra asked in mock horror, pouring herself a mug of coffee. Leaving her opposite side for the stove, Akande merely shrugged as he began adding bacon to a heated skillet, a scalding hiss heralding the end of each slice’s short, successful journey.

“We gave her a rifle, too.”

With as cryptic a smile as she could muster, Widowmaker set the knife aside and relocated the spinach from the cutting board to a nearby bowl. Replacing it with a few handfuls of mushrooms, she started on them one by one, dicing them evenly before adding them to the greens as she went.

“What’re you making?” Sombra asked, watching the sniper’s motions with interest that seemed to grow in concurrence with each sip of coffee.

“Omelettes,” Widowmaker said. “Bacon, Swiss, spinach, mushrooms obviously. Sun-dried tomatoes, maybe. If I am feeling whimsical.”

“You’re so good to me.”

“Who says it’s for you?” Akande asked over his shoulder.

“I’ll fight you.”

“I’d like you to try.”

“If you are going to wrestle, you are going to do it somewhere else. I have a knife,” the sniper interrupted pointedly, breaking from her work to lift the implement in question to better underscore that fact. “You,” she continued, leveling it in Akande’s direction, “finish the bacon so I can use the stove. And you—,” another pause, this time to gesture to Sombra, “can finish preparing the vegetables so I can take a coffee break.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Sombra asked incredulously, hands raised palms-out as Widowmaker offered her the knife.

“Hardly,” the assassin replied, deadpan. Sombra took it with obvious reluctance, setting her mug beside Oso and before turning her attention to the remaining mushrooms with a mix of dread and resignation. Pressing a kiss against the shaved side of her head, Widowmaker followed in the hacker’s earlier footsteps, procuring a mug of her own and filling it. She watched the other woman from the corner of her eye, prolonging the action with pointed interest as Sombra sliced one mushroom, then another — her motions slow, unpracticed, and unsteady. Canting her head to one side, Widowmaker idly considered the series of questions and observations that crept to mind: did Sombra not cook? Clearly not with enough frequency to garner any proficiency with basic cuts. What did she eat on her own? Cereal? Hopefully not just cereal.

These were small things, little questions she’d neither thought nor had the occasion to ask. Sombra was a mystery, the life which predated her time with Talon obscured in significant parts and otherwise only glimpsed in the occasional, unpredictable anecdote. Widowmaker never pried, not even as their relationship shifted in scope: Sombra would tell her what she wanted, and that was quite sincerely good enough. Still, such small details were, if nothing else, interesting, and with what small degree of care she offered the hacker, so, too, did she extend curiosity as to the inner workings of her life.

As she watched, she noted a familiar frustration darkening Sombra’s expression: the knit of her brow and the frown that tugged at her mouth; the occasional colorful obscenity grunted between clenched teeth. Widomaker recognized it from almost a month ago, from their first attempt at taming the estate’s extensive gardens. This much she was familiar with: when the hacker wasn’t good at something, she spiraled - hard.

“Here,” the she offered, taking a long sip of coffee before setting her mug beside Sombra’s. “Let me help.”

Sidling up behind the hacker, she took each of her hands in her own, positioning them accordingly. It was more familiarity than she preferred to demonstrate in Akande’s presence, and that alone sent a transient rush of warmth creeping along her neck and cheeks; still, this was educational, and she brushed off that shyness with practiced, reflexive ease. Sombra glanced over her shoulder, meeting the sniper’s eyes with curiosity.

“Not sure help will do much,” she muttered.

“It will,” Widowmaker insisted. “Now,” she continued, firming her grip just enough to redirect the other woman’s attention to the task at hand. “For an omelette, you’ll want to perform a Brunoise dice - the smallest possible cut; this allows us to better mix the ingredients into the eggs. To start: cut the mushrooms into squares. It will make the subsequent cuts easier.”

She guided the other woman’s hands as she spoke so they performed the action in unison; together, they reduced a handful of mushrooms to petite cubes, setting the discarded, smaller bits in the bowl with the spinach to clear additional space on the cutting board. “Parfait. Now we julienne them. Thin cuts, a millimeter or two wide.”

She could feel tensile muscle tightening beneath her palms, the firmness borne of frustration resulting in a too-tight grip and uneven, slanted cuts. Sombra’s rigidity was practically its own aura, belying her displeasure at the imperfection of her work. Once, twice Widowmaker considered offering further instruction, but knew from experience that too much interjection would only worsen her mood. Instead, she simply maintained the contact between them, moving in tandem as she lowered her head enough to nestle one cheek against the other woman’s temple.

“Looks like shit,” Sombra sighed as she finished slicing the remaining mushrooms into thin strips. “Sorry.”

“Do not apologize. This will sound odd coming from me, but it does not have to be perfect. It is going to get put into some eggs and eaten.”

Clucking her tongue, Sombra chuckled bitterly. “Where is Widowmaker and what have you done with her?”

“You should ask her about the first time she tried making omelettes,” Akande smirked as he plated the bacon, patting it dry with a paper towel.

“Oh?” Sombra asked, eyebrows raised.

Widowmaker only shook her head, giving the hacker an encouraging nudge. “Finish these and I will tell you,” she insisted. “All you have to do is slice them in the opposite direction.”

Rolling her eyes, Sombra returned to the last of her work with the sniper’s assistance. “Loosen your grip, cherie,” she whispered gently, “and do not hold your breath.” The spy complied with some effort, leaning into the motion as she relaxed ever so slightly.

“You going to tell me about that first time?” she asked distractedly.

“Mm. Gabriel was cleaning it off the ceiling for a week,” Widowmaker answered, gradually relinquishing her grip as Sombra settled into the last of her task. While she still worked slowly, the repetitious, cyclical movements which comprised this particular assignment soon evened into something almost like fluidity as she eased into her work. Silence settled over the kitchen, Sombra cutting, Akande tearing the bacon into bite-sized pieces, and Widowmaker simply watching as the other woman allowed herself the same imperfections she only found acceptable in the kitchen.

It was strange, that she minded less here. In the field, precision and perfection comprised the razor-thin line between life and death. She was always two steps ahead of herself and three ahead of her mark - always thinking, always running, always calculating trajectories and wind drift and velocity and distance. A good sniper could juggle two of these; she juggled them all.

Cooking was different — if not out of necessity then out of the idle curiosity she harbored in the face of such a remarkably mundane challenge. Though she harbored little intent to pursue it seriously, Gabriel’s tendency toward a prepackaged diet of convenience - a habit she suspected had worsened in Akande’s absence - led her to commit to a culinary self-education. Progress was slow at first, her first serious attempts at preparing anything more complex than grilled cheese marked by insufficient portions and almost-fires and the occasional, mortifying brush with food poisoning. On those nights - at least the ones where illness wasn’t a looming threat - she would apologetically procure some less officious fast fare - a tacit apology for time and patience wasted on Gabriel’s behalf.

She stuck with it, practicing with the same unflinching dedication she exercised in every other aspect of life and finding it paired well with other habits: a prelude to an evening in, a coda to early morning calisthenics. Eventually, she stumbled into proficiency despite only having so much time to dedicate to what she grudgingly recognized as a hobby. Luckily, aspirations were the last thing on her mind; she simply found the practice, variability, and room for experimentation strangely comfortable. Nothing was ever the same twice and nothing was ever perfect, but the outcomes, at this point, were almost always enjoyable.

“Es todo!” Sombra chirped, triumphantly slamming the knife down and exchanging it for her mug. Widowmaker peered over the hacker’s shoulder to appraise the fruits of her labor.

“That is a lot of very small cubes,” she observed dryly, trying and failing to stifle the grin threatening the corner of her mouth.

“And?” Sombra asked, one hand drifting back toward the knife.

“You did well, cherie. They are beautiful small cubes.”

The hacker shrugged. “I didn’t hate that.”

“You will only get better with practice,” Widowmaker said, setting an affirming hand on one shoulder. “I can always use a hand in the kitchen.”

“That’s asking a lot, araña,” Sombra grinned, turning to face her. “Tall order.”

“I am certain I will find a way to make it worth your while.”

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

#spiderbyte #sombramaker #widowsombra #sombra x widowmaker #widowmaker x sombra #sombra #widowmaker #amélie lacroix #amelie lacroix #olivia colomar #akande ogundimu #akande #overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fandom #overwatch fic #glitch in the system #glitchfic

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