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snappedsky · 4 years

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Fanatics 73.5

We finally learn what's happening to the rest of the Battalion. Previous! Next!

Government of Doom Part 5

Zim’s house is quiet, completely covered in impenetrable metal plating. On the roofs of the surrounding buildings in the cul-de-sac, four pairings of SDA agents are watching it closely, waiting for the slightest change. They are professionals, working in shifts to keep from getting tired eyes. And while they think they’re ready for anything, they could never be ready for what happens next.

A young man walks down the street straight for Zim’s house. All four groups immediately perk up, recognizing him to be Johnny C. But before they can act, they’re all swiftly killed- necks snapped, skulls crushed, throats slit, and heads smashed by four individuals they were not expecting.

The Night Terrors leap off the buildings and join Johnny as he enters Zim’s yard.

“You sure you’re up for this, Nny?” Reverend Meat asks, noting Johnny’s pale, sweaty complexion and matted hair.

“Yeah, you look dreadful,” Eff adds, “like even worse than usual.”

“I’m fine,” Nny insists gravelly, “this is nothing.”

When they approach Zim’s house, Johnny knocks heavily against the metal plating. “Hey! Open up! It’s Johnny!”

There’s no response for a second. Then the plating around the door disappears and Skoodge opens it.

“Come in, quickly,” he orders. Everyone hurries inside and Skoodge closes it after them, the metal plating returning.

“What’s going on out there?” he asks frantically.

“Squee and the others have all been captured by those agent assholes,” Johnny replies as they march through the house. “We gotta find them.”

“Oh no!” Skoodge exclaims.

They take the elevator down to the lab and Johnny starts to make a beeline for where the captured agents are in their glass cage, but stops at the sight before him.

The agents are all curled up, rocking back and forth, and covering their ears, as Gir bangs tunelessly on a toy keyboard and squeals, “doom doom doomdoomdoom dooooooooom!”

“It’s his Doom song,” Skoodge clarifies, “he’s been singing it since you guys left.”

“Wow,” Johnny comments, “he’s almost better at torturing than me.” He ignores Gir and stomps up to the cage, slamming his hand against the wall. “Where’s your headquarters?”

“Doom doom doom,” one of the agents mutters feverishly while the others whimper and moan.

Johnny glares at them incredulously while Skoodge passes by. “You’re not gonna get anything out of them,” he says as he approaches the main computer. “Fortunately, I got a better alternative.”

“‘Puter,” Skoodge demands, “track Zim’s PAK.”

“Tracking,” the Computer replies apathetically. A view of Earth appears on screen briefly before zooming in on the United States, into Nevada, and stopping over a flashing pink dot.

“There he is,” Skoodge says.

“Nevada,” Nny groans, “how are we supposed to get there?”

“We can use the Epic,” he suggests.

“It’s back at Devi’s I think.”

“No problem,” Skoodge grins, “‘Puter, recall the Epic.”

Everything’s quiet for a moment and then a sound similar to a jet engine echoes through the walls.

“There we go,” he says and walks for the elevator. “I can drive.”

“Ooh, we get to fly in the flying car,” Reverend Meat cheers excitedly.

“I am coming too,” Mimi declares, “my master is in danger.” “Fine,” Skoodge nods, “Gir, Minimoose, you stay and watch over the prisoners.” Minimoose squeaks while Gir continues singing.

“Alright, let’s go already,” Johnny orders impatiently. Everyone rides the elevator and quickly exit the house, the metal plating closing back up behind them. They all get into the Epic and Skoodge punches in coordinates to Zim’s location.

“Here we go!” he booms as the ship takes off into the air at such velocity, it pushes everyone up against the seats. “We’ll be there in no time!”

Meanwhile, deep within the SDA facility, Zim is suspended inside a metal laboratory. His arms are hanging from the ceiling by metal cords and his legs are bound to the floor. His PAK is connected by only a few cords, giving his body just enough power to stay alive. Robotic arms coming out of the ceiling are removing all the items, which seem very miscellaneous: a couple large knives, a bat, a few books on the supernatural, two laser guns, and many alien devices.

Zim pants heavily, too exhausted to try fighting back. But his antennae twitch slightly when a beeping emits from his PAK and he grins.

“Hear that!” he shouts weakly, “that means my PAK is being tracked! My loyal minions are on their way to rescue me!”

Through a one-way mirror, a head scientist named Mackey is controlling the robotic arms. He stops for a minute at Zim’s words and turns to his assistant.

“Warn the Director,” he orders. The young man nods before hurrying off and Mackey faces the controls again. But his work is a little more hesitant as he is slightly unsettled by the grin plastered on Zim’s face.

In a similar lab, Tak is in much the same situation. The only difference is a wire attached to the metal plating on her face. Whenever it looks like she might try to retaliate, the head scientist in charge of her capture- a woman called Nel- sends a large shock through the wire. This keeps Tak compliant.

Nel would never admit it, being a professional, but she does love the way the alien’s body convulses with each shock. So she’ll take any excuse to punish her, even the slightest twitch of a finger.

Tak pants heavily through gritted fangs. Even with her PAK detached, she would be able to escape if it wasn’t for those blasted shocks. When she gets out of this- and she will- she’s gonna make that scientist pay. She’ll make them all pay.

Pepito is thinking the same thing as, a few labs over, his throat gets hoarse from screaming. He is shirtless, bound to a metal table by silver chains that sear his flesh. Twin scientists named Lark and Stark stand over him, both wearing large crosses as they test the sensitivity of his horns, by squeezing them with clamps.

“Intriguing,” Lark comments as Pepito writhes. “They must be full of nerve endings, like teeth.”

“Yes. Imagine what the Christian church will say when they find out the Antichrist has such a large weakness,” Stark remarks.

“Indeed,” his brother agrees, “but his energy levels remain stagnant. I thought for sure stress would activate his powers.”

“Could be the silver. But if we remove it, we risk allowing him the freedom to destroy the facility.”

“Too true. For now, let’s continue testing the limits of his body. The Director wants us to document every single thing.”

“He is so thorough.”

The two brothers nod agreeably. Beneath them, Pepito pants rapidly, trying to think about something other than the pain. Where are his friends? What’s happening to them? He wants to question these scientists, but the words get gargled in his throat.

He needs to get out of here. But they were right. The silver chains are preventing him from using his powers. If he could just muster up a little, he would blow them both to bits. If only.

Finally, in a lab that looks more like a hospital room, a heart monitor beeps rapidly in accordance to Squee’s anxious vitals. He is strapped to a metal table, an IV in his arm and probes attached to his temples. The room is dark but he can make out the silhouette of someone standing on the far end, writing on something.

Lights suddenly turn on, nearly blinding Squee as a door opens and someone else enter the room.

“Director!” the first person exclaims, lowering her clipboard.

“Hello, Doctor Theresa,” the Director smiles warmly as he approaches. He looks over at Squee, who glares at him through squinted eyes as he adjusts to the brightness. “How is he?”

“His vitals have yet to settle down,” Theresa replies, “it’s a wonder he hasn’t had a heart attack yet.”

“Well, you can’t blame him,” the Director laughs, “waking up in this situation.”

He approaches the foot of the table and Squee does his best to squirm away.

“Hello, Squee C,” he says, “I am the Director, the head of the Supernatural Destruction Agency.”

“Destruction?” Squee grumbles, “seems dramatic.”

“You, my boy, are a…marvelous specimen,” the Director says, “your supernatural energy levels are the highest I’ve ever seen in a full human. They’re even higher than some paranormal creatures. You must be able to perceive things that most humans could never even dream of. I modified my mind and body to achieve sight like yours, and I’m sure you’re still stronger.”

“That’s…flattering…” Squee comments uncomfortably.

The Director smiles. “I was hoping to use this machine on the Antichrist, but I’m afraid it’s too risky. On you, though, it should work swimmingly.”

He grabs one of the probes attached to Squee’s head, running his hand along the cord until it reaches a large rectangular device beside the table. It almost looks like a giant car battery with a screen on the side showing what appears to be energy readings.

“This is a charger that siphons supernatural energy and converts it into electrical energy, to power devices,” the Director explains, “when we come across creatures with especially high natural energy levels- like yours- we attach them to the device and use them to charge our technology. It makes for a cheaper power bill, let me tell you.”

He chuckles delightfully while Squee glares in disgust.

“Now then,” he sighs contently, “you may feel some intense pain.”

He pushes a button on the charger and a burning, white hot pain runs through Squee’s skull and radiates throughout his entire body. Screams rip through his throat as he writhes in his restraints. It feels like his brain is being sucked out through those tiny tubes.

The Director and the doctor seem unbothered by the screams. She keeps an eye on his skyrocketing vitals while he watches the power levels on the charger rise with wide, sparkling eyes.

“Look at this, Doctor,” he says excitedly, “we’ve never achieved power levels this high before! With this, we’ll be able to upgrade all our devices. Perhaps even power the entire facility!”

“He is just one boy, Director,” Theresa points out.

“One boy with tremendous power,” he argues, “think of it. We’ll be able to perfect our tracking process. Instead of scanning the energy levels of one area, we’ll be able to do individual beings. No more trial and error with capturing. We’ll know for sure what creature is giving off supernatural energy and neutralize them right then and there.”

“Won’t…let you…”

“What’s that?” the Director turns to Squee. He squirms slightly as he grits his teeth and glares at them.

“I won’t…let you,” he snarls, “I won’t…be your…battery. I won’t…let you hurt…innocent creatures. You won’t…get away with this.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can, my boy,” the Director says, smiling pityingly as he pats Squee’s leg.

The door suddenly opens and a lab assistant rushes in. “Director, sir. You need to hear this. It’s important.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” the Director nods, “keep an eye on the boy, Doctor. Make sure he doesn’t die.”

“Yes, sir,” Theresa nods as he leaves with the assistant. She continues to watch Squee’s vitals as the charger rips through his brain.

I have to do something, Squee thinks. I can’t move, so I can’t write. But maybe if I focus really hard, I can still create something. Maybe if I focus…

I need to make something, anything to destroy these machines and help me escape.

Focus! I need to focus! And create! The charger suddenly starts beeping, startling Theresa. She looks at the energy levels on screen in bewilderment as they light up red.

“Wh-what?” she exclaims, “the power’s going up! It-it’s completely off the charts!”

She looks at Squee and jumps back. “Wh-what is that…?”

A black cloud is manifesting over Squee’s head, his eyes closed and face twisted with exertion. The cloud continues to grow and grow until the middle starts glowing red and orange, like fire.

Theresa dives to the floor as the cloud explodes. It’s small, but the noise echoes through the whole facility.

Theresa looks up at the destruction of the machines and Squee rising from the destroyed table. “What-what did you do?”

He looks at her, swaying a little on his feet. “Well, I-I’m a little unsure, but I think I um created an explosion. So…that’s kinda cool.”

Dusting himself off, he stumbles out of the rubble and heads for the door. “Anyway, bye.”

He’s just about to leave but stops short. “Oh, wait a sec.”

He looks back at her and she flinches from his dark glare. “Where’s my stuff?”

#invader zim #johnny the homicidal maniac #invader zim fanfiction #johnny the homicidal maniac fanfiction #iz jthm crossover #myart #myocs

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supergirlfics · 5 years

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Can you do a Lucy x B!D?Where the reader is a badass DEO agent married to her. Reader goes alone on a mission to find out some intel and it all turns to shit.They torture the Reader ALMOST to death for info about Kara and Alex, but the Reader won’t break.Maybe Lucy is losing her shit because the Reader has not been back for hours When she finds they Reader, her sisters and Lucy takes care of the Reader afterwards.❤️💙❤️

You’d lost all strength. You couldn’t even find it in you to hold up your head, so it slumped hopelessly toward the ground. Your arms hung above you, holding up the rest of your body that swung several feet off the ground.

This was it. This was the end. You were sure of it.

It had started out as a covert mission into Cadmus. You went in undercover and alone. Lucy Lane, your wife - the love of your life - had tried to come with you, but you didn’t let her. This was your mission. You weren’t going to allow Lucy to put herself in harm’s way for you.

The mission quickly went sideways. You still weren’t sure how, but they discovered your identity. As soon as they had, the fight was over. You tried to flee, but even as you ran, you knew the attempt was futile. Guards sat at every corner. Alarms blared in your ears.

As you ducked around a corner, you could feel a bullet tear through your leg. The intense pain slowed you down immensely. You became confused, disoriented. Your gun had been lost somewhere in the fray.

“Leaving so soon?” A woman appeared from around a corner. You knew that woman - it was who you had been sent gather intel on, though you hadn’t laid eyes on her until that moment. Evangeline Turner.

She straightened her black pantsuit, heels clicking against the stone floor as she stalked toward you. Her blond hair was pulled into a tight bun, a sneer formed against her bright red lipstick, and her green eyes pierced you with their icy glow.

“Ah, Miss Turner,” You said, trying to sound nonchalant as you leaned against the wall for support. “I was wondering when you would turn up. I’ve been hoping to speak to you.”

You could hear several guards behind you preparing to fire. Evangeline held up a hand. “Hold your fire. This one’s mine.” She stood far too close. One crooked finger hooked under your chin, forcing you to look up at her. With a deep breath, you tried to turn away, but she held your head firmly. “You will be very useful indeed.”

You moved to punch Evangeline, but she was quicker than you’d expected. She grabbed your hand, spinning you around so your arm was pinned behind your back. You could feel your shoulder dislocate and cried out in pain. “I see you don’t learn. Guards, leave us. I need to get to know this Agent Y/L/N better.”

“What are you going to do?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing too terribly painful. Yet.”

Evangeline shoved you forward and you stumbled before settling on an agonizingly slow pace on your injured leg.

You arrived in a small room. It was dark, lit by a single bulb that seemed to be burning out. If it weren’t for the single, metal armchair, the room would have been empty. Evangeline shoved you into the chair and metal cuffs shot from the arms and legs to hold you firmly in place.

“I hear you know Supergirl,” Evangeline said. “And Director Danvers? Is that true?”

You laughed. You weren’t going to tell her anything.

“Listen here, Agent Y/L/N.” Evangeline gripped your arms, putting her face way too close to yours again. What was with villains and personal space? “If you know what’s good for you, you will speak.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” You spat. “I’m no traitor.”

A fist connected with your cheekbone. It stung, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

“That all you got?” You asked.

Evangeline strode to a spot on the wall near the door, exposing a panel. You heard the loud click of a button and then pain spread through your entire body. It was both electric and intensely cold. But you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing you in pain, so you gritted your teeth and waited for the pain to subside.

Eventually, you lost time. Evangeline threw everything at you, but still you wouldn’t break. You were beaten, waterboarded, electrocuted, given nothing to eat or drink. Bags formed under your eyes. Your throat became so sore, you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to. Your stomach held a constant ache that turned into a vivid, searing pain.

“Tell me what I need to know,” Evangeline said. “And your suffering will end.”

“You mean you’ll kill me,” You croaked. “Might as well get it over with because if you haven’t broken me yet, you’re never going to.” You spat blood from your mouth.

“Your precious Supergirl is never coming for you.” Metallic knuckles sslammed against your face. Once, twice. Eventually, the lies started to make sense. They seemed to become true. You were nothing but a toy to ripped apart. You were only a shell of your former self.

Eventually, Evangeline seemed to give up on drawing information. It was only then that you were removed from the chair. You were forced to walk, though your legs didn’t seem to work, down a series of long hallways before coming to a room rigged with ropes on a pulley system.

The ropes were tied around your wrists and you were hoisted into the air. You didn’t try to struggle. There was no strength remaining. You would die hanging in the air like a human punching bag. If you could even call this hollow form human anymore.

“Y/N!”

You must have been hallucinating. The voice sounds like your wife. But that wasn’t possible. You were alone.

The door burst open and you flinched instinctively. Three figures appeared in front of you. But they weren’t Evangeline. They weren’t Cadmus soldiers at all. Supergirl, Alex, and Lucy stood before you.

“Oh my -” Lucy’s hands covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

“Y/N,” Alex said. “Supergirl.”

Alex hadn’t finished the word before Supergirl was in front of you. You could feel your sister’s arms wrapped around you. You were scared - scared of any kind of touch. Your mind screamed in protest, but your body hung numbly.

“It’s okay,” Supergirl said. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” She tore through the rope with her head vision and lowered you onto the floor. You arms fell over Supergirl’s neck as if you were hugging her, but you still didn’t move. You just wanted the nightmare to end.

You could feel hands fiddling with the rope that burned through your skin. You grunted at the pain, glancing up to see Alex through your glazed eyes as she worked to untie the thick knots.

Lucy still stood by the door, frozen in horror. But when your wrists were untied and Supergirl lay you on the floor, she shook herself out of her stupor, rushing to join your sisters around you.

“Y/N,” Alex said. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

“Sweetheart,” Lucy said. “Talk to us. It’s okay. You’re safe now. We’re all here.” Lucy grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“She’s not responding,” Kara said. “Alex, is she going to be okay?”

You could hear there voices, but it was as if you were underwater. When they spoke, it was muffled and difficult to understand.

“We need to get her back to the DEO,” Lucy said.

“I’ll take her,” Supergirl volunteered. “Can you two get out of here on your own?”

“We’ll be fine,” Alex said. “Just go. Hurry.”

Supergirl lifted you into her arms. You were never big, but you felt as small and fragile as a young child or an emaciated dog.

When your eyes opened, the first thing you noticed was how bright the room was You hadn’t seem bright lights in so long it hurt your eyes. The next thing you noticed was the comfortable bed beneath you. For a moment, you were fine. For a moment everything was okay.

But then the memories flooded back. Your heart and mind began to race as you struggled to get up. You felt something pressing into your skin, reached over, and ripped it out. The IV needle fell to the floor as your hand began to drip blood. But you didn’t care. You had to get out of there.

Just before you could your feet touched the ground, strong arms wrapped around you, holding you firmly in place.

You screeched. Screams echoed from your lungs as you thrashed.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s Kara. You’re safe now. You’re in the DEO.”

You barely heard her over the sound of your screams. But she continued to speak soothingly, holding you against her.

“You’re okay.” Kara repeated the words over and over until your screams started to fade and your struggling slowed to an occasional spasm. You weren’t fighting because you didn’t want to - you’d run out of energy. You couldn’t keep fighting.

Alex and Lucy appeared in the doorway, staring at you with deep concern and Kara ran a hand through your hair and over your cheek, still repeating those same words.

Tears spilled from your eyes as Kara held you. There was only a small part of you that still recognized the people you loved so much.

“Hey Kiddo,” Alex said. “It’s going to be okay. You’re in the DEO now. Nobody can hurt you anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” Lucy said, brushing a hand carefully over your swollen face. “I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”

As you stared into their faces, it seemed to click who these people were. They were your family. You allowed your head to roll back onto Kara’s shoulder.

“That’s right,” Kara said. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“I promise,” Lucy said. “I will never, ever let you get hurt again.”

You stared into Lucy’s eyes, trying to communicate without words. You couldn’t seem to form them, so you hoped she understood. Hoped she knew it wasn’t her fault. A shaking hand reached toward her and she took it, turning it over to see blood dripping from where the IV had been.

“I got it,” Alex said, placing a hand on Lucy’s shoulder.

You allowed Alex to bandage your hand and when she was done, she perched herself on the edge of your bed, stretching an arm around both you and Kara.

“Are you in pain?” Lucy asked. She hadn’t moved from the chair at the bedside, but kept one hand on yours and the other on your knee. “Can you talk to me, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your head turned away from Lucy in shame. You couldn’t do what she was asking for.

“Hey,” Lucy said, adjusting so both hands rested on yours. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here and I love you.”

#Supergirl #Supergirlfics #Supergirl Fics #Supergirl Imagines #Supergirlimagine #Supergirl Imagine #Alex Danvers #Agent Danvers #Director Danvers #Kara Danvers #Baby! Danvers #Baby Danvers #Lucy Lane #Cadmus

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carry-on-my-pretty-weeper · 5 years

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Catching Lightning Chapter 18

Author: carry-on-my-pretty-weeper

Character(s): Peter, Reader, and Avengers

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: PG-13: fighting and violence

Author’s Note: not going to lie i’m kinda running out of steam for this fic. I have the ending and everything but idk if I want to write it all out. I feel like it rarely gets any notes and notes are how I figure out if I’m doing good. but idk we’ll see I guess.

Series Masterlist

<<17 / 19>>

When you came to you were in the apartment of your second dream. Loki was there and for split second a look of terror crossed his face until he noticed it was you. “What are you doing here?” he demanded angrily.

“I didn’t have a choice, okay? It’s not like I asked to be strangled,” you huffed trying to figure out how to get back to reality.

“What on Midgard are you talking about?” he inquired as he rolled his eyes.

“Well apparently I’m connected to you and Thor’s mind due to the fact that I’m like Mjölnir! I can only connect with you guys when I’m asleep but right now I’m being strangled by one of my friends because of a fucking terrorist organization hacked into her mind or something. I can’t get back to my real body so I’m probably going to die alone with you!” you yelled at him. You started hyperventilating and you realized you were going to have a panic attack. Trying to remember the thing’s Tony told you, you took deep breaths and were trying to calm down. Loki looked a bit empathetic as he absentmindedly touched his throat and he noticed hand marks appear on yours.

“Where are you?” he asked suddenly as he picked up a book.

“What do you mean?” you questioned him as if what he asked was absurd. Which to you it was.

“I asked where are you? As in where is your physical body?”

“It’s in the abandoned warehouse district in Queens,” you answered confused as to where this was going. He then disappeared leaving you by yourself.

Coming to Wanda was still above you but it was like something came over you. Power surged as you gained your bearings and kicked up getting her off of you. She hit the side of a shopping cart and yelped in pain. Getting back up swiftly she was about to charge at you again before the side of the building exploded. Both of your attentions were diverted as Loki walked in the building. All the Avengers actions stuttered as they realized who was there. You knew that they were going to attack him before you yelled out.

“Wait he’s here for me!” you shouted as Wanda’s attention was back on you. Shit. Scrambling to your feet you were about to fight when she was flung to the side and knocked out.

“I heard that you needed a bit of help?” he questioned smugly as he practically wiped out the entire sea of agents with a snap of his fingers.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw movement. Turning to the side you found the main Hydra agent that pissed you off earlier trying to crawl away. Loki seemed to follow your gaze. Sauntering over he picked him up by the collar of his shirt.

“Wait!” you exclaimed walking over to him, “He knows where Thor is.” Loki’s gaze turned menacing as he go closer to him.

“So you have my brother,” he strained through his teeth. “Where. Is. He.” The man remained quiet so Loki continued. “You mortals should know that I have ways to make you talk. I can use a variety of methods all that would be unpleasant for you. So unless you would like to explore them I’d suggest you’d tell me where my brother is.” But he still remained silent until Loki placed his hand to his head causing him to scream out. Loki waited until he uttered something you couldn’t hear. When he finished Loki let go of him and he slumped to the floor. You could see his chest slowly move up and down indicating that Loki did not in fact kill him.

“Where did he say?” you urged as Loki started to perform his magic.

“Germany.”

Suddenly you and the Avengers were not longer in New York but in Germany. Before you said anything Tony walked over to Loki and grabbed him by the collar. Loki let it happened and looked at him with a bemused face.

“Who gave you permission to just Wizard of Oz us here to Germany?” Tony demanded as his voice shook with anger.

“Seeing as though it is my brother that we are saving I think it’s fair that I’m the one making the executive decisions,” Loki challenged sneering down at Tony. Just as he did an arrow zoomed by grazing his ear and landed right next to his face.

“We still remember what you did in New York. Don’t think we forgot,” Clint declared as an emotion you’ve never seen, crossed his face. Bruce avoided eye contact at all costs but you could tell he felt the same.

“Guys, I know I’ll never be able to understand what Loki did in the past but we need him right now. Without him we’ll lose,” you tried to explain but you could see Tony immediately begin to try to rebut it so you added, “plus he did end up saving me.” The air changed for a split second as all the Avengers realized how close you were to dying. “We need him. If you don’t do it for him do it for me.” You looked at your friends your family with pleading eyes. Tony let go of Loki but threw him a glare. He angrily whispered something to Loki, you couldn’t hear but it made Loki’s frame become slightly ridged.

“We need to make a game plan, we can’t just run in there guns blazing. If they’re keeping Thor they are not just fooling around. They probably have some heavy duty stuff so be careful and be alert. We can beat them and here’s how…” Natasha laid out a solid plan and gave us all jobs. You and Peter were going to be a distraction, Clint and Steve would cover you, while the rest of the team would spread out and search for Thor. At first things went according to plan. What you didn’t account for was the tracking for electrical currents. So when you used your powers a loud alarm sounded which alerted the rest of the entire fucking facility that you were all there. Using your electrical whip you wrapped it around one of the agents and swung her around hitting other agents. An agent to your left shot at you and you felt it graze your shoulder leaving a small stinging sensation. As soon as he shot a bullet Peter webbed him and ran over to your side.

“Are you okay?” he shouted as he webbed another agents.

“I’m fine he just nicked my shoulder,” you answered back electrifying nearby stun guns making them blow up. His focal lenses shrunk and you could tell he had his concerned face on. “I’m fine.” Swinging off you could tell he was going to stay close by. For a second you swore you felt the electrical currents shift but it happened so quickly you couldn’t be sure. Then it happened again and it felt like a magnet was pulling you inwards towards the building. For whatever reason you felt like you had to start running. So you did. You ran in, despite the protests by the team.

When Peter saw out of the corner of his eye that you had started to run off he wasted no time following you close behind. He webbed a few men here and jumped over to your left. “What are you doing? What happened to the plan?!” he yelled out to you momentarily scaring you.

“I have to go this way. I don’t know why but I do,” you shouted as you ran fast fearing that Peter would try to stop you. But to your surprise he just followed you. But your mind wasn’t on Peter, it was on the pull that was getting stronger and stronger. Finally you reached a metal door, you tried the handle but it was locked. Kicking the door it did nothing. You could feel your powers surge but nothing enough to break down the thick metal door.

“Let me try,” Peter offered as you moved out of the way. Taking a couple steps back he ran at the door and threw his body towards it. The door breaks off and falls to the floor taking Peter with it. Inside the room was a shit ton of scientists and one unconscious Asgardian god. They had a ton of experimental tools with them and Thor was hooked up to a bunch of tubes and IV’s.

“Step away from ma fren’,” you threatened as you took a step forward. But one of the scientist lunged for a button while another reached for some gadget. You zapped the scientist headed for the button and Peter webbed the scientist going for the weapon. After a couple more seconds all the scientists were either stuck to the ceiling or passed out on the floor. Rushing over to Thor’s side you shake his arm to try to wake him up but it doesn’t work, shaking him a bit harder he still doesn’t wake. Looking at your hand you got an idea, gathering electricity in it you press it to his shoulder and he awoke with a start, yelling. “Woah! Thor it’s us! It’s me Y/n!” you exclaimed as he visibly calmed down.

“Lady Y/n? Spiderling? Where are we?” he asked as he tried standing but he faltered.

You started searching around for anything you found a roll of tape and some gauze, “I’m not sure of specifics but I know somewhere in Germany.” As you turned around he was already taking out his IV’s and such. “Hey! Wait,” you insisted as you started ripping off pieces of tape covering up the holes with gauze and taping it down. “You don’t want it to get infected,” you replied sheepishly realizing that as a god he probably couldn’t get infection or get sick in general. You heard a groan and turned to see one of the scientists waking up. Peter immediately webbed him but before he could web his mouth he yelled something out to you.

“Wait! Please! Don’t take him we need him!” he pleaded. Peter raised his hand to stop him from talking but you stopped him.

“Whaddaya mean ya need him?” you interrogated as you walked up to him.

“In order to complete the trials we need him! If you leave him we’ll let all of your friends go!” he babbled on as if you would leave him for Hydra.

“Sorry buddy but we aren’t leavin’ without ma pal.”

“We should probably get going,” Peter interjected peeking out of the now broke down door. Just as he finished his sentence another alarm went off. Spinning around you saw a different scientist’s arm on the button from before. Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw you thought as you could hear the pounding of agents footsteps. That little shit was stalling us! Thor was still woozy so Peter and you both took an arm and started running. As you were running Peter was tackled by an agent. You started to go back before he stopped you.

“I got this! Get Thor to the other Avengers,” he shouted as he webbed the agent who tackled him and the ones behind her.

“But I-”

“Just go!” So you ran as Peter held them off. You were running slower due to having a heavy god weighing you down. Your escape plan wasn’t working exactly because this time you didn’t know where you were going. You felt like you were getting lost until you ran into Steve.

“Where the hell did you g-” he stopped as he saw Thor leaning on you.

“Take him to the quinjet,” you ordered as you handed him off to Steve. You turned to run back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded grabbing your arm with his open hand.

“I have to go back, Peter, he’s- he said-” you explained frantically. A knowing look crossed his face as he let you go.

“You both better come back in one piece,” he stated as you sprint back the way you came with only one thought on your mind. Peter.

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whatsurimagine · 6 years

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So I just found your blog & I love it! Could you please do something for reaper x nurse!reader? Like maybe she's one of the only nurses who works on him, & he falls for her

This ran a little gosh darn long ( ´△｀)

“Can you do me a favor and administer this to patient twenty-four, please?” you ask of your co-worker, handing her a syringe chock-full of powerful meds. It’s a color unlike any kind of medicine you’ve ever seen before, a deep silver. The container marked with explicit red letters warning that it’s for twenty-four, and twenty-four only. You’re only asking her because you have ten other patients on your plate, three of which are very, very demanding, but the medicine is time sensitive and needs to be given within the hour. It is his last dose.

She turns her nose up at the syringe. “Patient twenty-four? Hell no…” she says.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not helping that patient anymore, there’s something wrong with him.” She crosses her arms and shakes her head emphasizing her refusal.

“Yeah. That’s why he’s here,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“He growled at me. Like an animal.” She shrugs, dismissing the bewildered look on your face, stubborn and unmoving. “Someone else can help him.”

“I’ll be sure to report this conversation to the medical board if he ever passes from neglect.” Slamming the syringe down on the metal tray you pick it up and head on out to do the simple task yourself.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she begs, holding up both her hands in a surrender, “I’ll take all three of your button pushers, plus one… if you’ll deal with twenty-four.”

“Fine,” you say, turning around on your heel and holding your chin high. You’ll spare her the lecture sitting on the tip of your tongue. One on choosing to work in a hospital that specializes in unique, often strange patients with “no names” and highly classified files, for more than the standard legal reasons. Maybe she should find a run of the mill hospital if she’s going to wimp out when one of the patients exhibits slightly frightening behavior…

… Besides, her offer is actually an immense relief off of your back. The ‘button-pushers’ have caused you far more stress than twenty-four ever has. The fewer patients you have the sooner you can sleep, you’re running on empty right now. “…And. You’re going to take patient thirteen– he needs to be shaved.”

She looks down at her wrist, a holographic chart pops up. She taps on four different files and then says, “You got a deal. Enjoy your lighter workload.”

You nearly thanked her, already felt the weight lifted off of your shoulders; it shows in the way you leisurely walk to the patient’s room, but then remember that she’s only taking them so she can safely avoid said patient, and are glad that you didn’t give thanks.

The door to his room can only be opened via a hand and eye scan, as well as a password, given to the AI. After forking over all three components, the AI announces your presence as the door slides open.

“Good afternoon, twenty-four.”

“You again,” the man says as his custom as his form of hello.

“Yes; it is me, again.”

He watches you carefully as you approach his bedside. “No one else works here?” he asks.

You sigh as you administer the medication into one of his IVs (he has three total, all in the same arm). “…The rest of the nurses are scared of you.”

“They should be. You should be too.”

“Oh, please! Spare me the dramatic statements, alright? I’m too exhausted for that nonsense right now.”

“As you wish,” he grumbles. He growls as he lays back further into the bed as the medicine enters his system.

You’ll admit that there is something about the man that makes you uneasy… that rumble must have been something akin to the growl that had thrown off your co-worker. You could speculate, and speculate, and speculate some more about who this man is, and what he does outside of sitting in a hospital bed being treated for…. whatever it is he’s being treated for, and you’d probably never come up with the right guess.

It’d be best for you not to. Having too much knowledge is dangerous in your line of work. Just do your job, and go home with a nice paycheck.

Staring at the middle of his chest where his voice rumbles the most you find yourself wondering… perhaps a morbid thought, what the man’s insides look like, what they’re made up of. What makes his voice sound like that? What causes the flits of smoke wisping from his mouth, the corners of his eyes? You’re only given the bare necessities in terms of his medical history, what’s required to ensure his recovery.

No scans, X-rays, no blood results. You’re not even privileged with the nature of what injury he’s recovering from. From the looks of him, you’d say it has to be something internal. Everything to the naked eye seems to be fine. He’s clearly a battle-worn soldier. Skin is… a little greyer than normal, but the richness of his brown color still shines through. None of his scars look fresh…

“What hour are you on?” he asks.

“Um…” You stumble to remember the answer, close your eyes to concentrate. Both because twenty-four must have noticed the faraway stare, so you’re flustered, and because you’re dead tired. “…Hour thirty-six, soon.”

He chuckles, low, and villainous. “Tired already?”

You tilt your head to the side studying his face. His supernatural tone of voice is hard to pick apart. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or if the air of judgment in his words is real.

“Yes. I am. They made super soldiers, but they didn’t make super nurses. I am only human,” you sigh and pinch the bridge fo your nose, “…unfortunately.”

“That’s far from unfortunate. Stay that way, would you? Don’t become a freak like the rest of us.”

You hmph as your smartwatch chimes multiple times, alerting you to several texts. “I’ll try,” you say as you check it. Finding messages from your cowardly co-worker.

I took the rest of your workload :)

plz dont report me

Hope we’re good

“Oh… my God,” you whisper to yourself. You quickly text her back:

we’re fine

thanks for doing that

please contact me if it becomes too much

ill be getting some sleep

When you flick the screen away and look back up the man is sporting a similar type of faraway look you must have had but a few moments earlier. Except his is far more concerning than yours was. Now you’re on high alert, heart picking up its pace, hummingbird thumping against your ribcage. It’s situations like this when you desperately wish you knew the patient’s name.

“Twenty-four? Twenty-four?! Are you alright?”

You should call his doctor but you don’t. You reach for his hand and lean in to cup his face (uncharacteristically unprofessional for you). As soon as your hand touches his he snatches it up so quickly and so tightly that you yelp. His skin vibrates against both of your hands, goes momentarily translucent, and for a second you thought he was going to disappear right before your eyes.

He meets your intense gaze with one that is even more so, near sapping. His eyes flit back and forth… searching for something. A shiver runs sharp down your spine, your breath shudders out from your chest. The man’s grip on your hand is boarding on painful, but the room has become so electrically charged that you hardly pay any attention to the discomfort.

“What’s happening?” you whisper.

“Don’t freak out,” he says gruffly. He leans forward until his forehead is just shy of pressing against yours. “You always panic. Do not call that–” the man groans, closes his eyes, and grits his teeth as his skin starts to vibrate again– “Do not sick that shrew of a woman on me…”

“A- always? Wh- what?” The circumference around your head tightens like a rubber band, throbbing settles on each of your temples. A frustrating fog settles around your brain as you try to figure out what he could be talking about. This has never happened before, you’ve never “freaked out” on the job.

His free hand flies up with such ferocity it seemed he was going to smack you in the face. But it comes to a gentle stop, and he cups your jaw. His thumb strokes intimately across your cheekbone. “Don’t scream,” he demands.

His grip on your hand is becoming unbearable. “Twenty–”

“Gabriel, my name is Gab–”

His words cut off as all of the sudden he bursts into a dark black plume of mist. It surrounds you, pressures your ears, and suppresses your sight. You lose your equilibrium, falling over onto the hospital bed, hyperventilating. Maybe you’re freaking out, but you manage not to scream.

The mist moves away from you to the head of the bed. You watch it waft and evanescence with awe, you’ve never seen anything quite like this in your time working here.

“Gabriel?”

The smoke forms back into a man, but not as you just knew him. Dressed not in a hospital gown, but in a long black coat, hood up, with his back to you.

“Gabe?!”

He sighs, exaggerated, and long; rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck from side to side. “That’s much better.” Gabe carefully turns to face you, slowly revealing himself to now be masked. Not just masked. Infamously masked. The world-renowned, cold-blooded terrorist known to the public as the “Reaper.”

Reaper seems so much bigger, far more of a menace now that he’s revealed himself to be, well, the Reaper. Clad in black, and not humbled by hospital blankets, and a soft blue gown.

“I’ve always liked the way you say my name,” he croons.

There’s that word again… always. “I’ve never said your name before… why do you keep saying things like that?” Your heart won’t stop racing, suddenly all of your fatigue is weighing you down like an anvil dropping into the deep ocean.

“It’s time for you to take a nap.”

You shake your head. “Can you explain?”

“You sleep; when you wake up… I’ll explain. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

You’re right on the precipice of having no choice but to rest. If you stood right now you’re almost sure that you’d black out. So instead of fighting it any more, you lay back on the bed, now watching Reaper’s every move as he grabs a chair, pulls it up, and sits down.

You stare at him with glassy eyes, until they tear over, and roll down your cheeks. He leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees.

“Close. Your. Eyes.”

Once your heavy lids fall closed there’s no opening them again. Sleep settles in your muscles, weighs down your consciousness. But you still have just one more question.

“Why do you act like you know me?” Your voice cracks, protesting your question.

“Because I do, you’re always my nurse.”

“Always.” You laugh maniacally. The chair screeches as he scoots closer. A jolt of electricity shoots through your chest as a metal talon glides from the point of your chin to your ear. “…This was my first time treating you, I think… I would remember meeting the infamous Reaper.”

He laughs, you can feel the smugness radiating off his body. “You always say that,” he says, traced with longing.

“Oh… fuck you… cryptic bastard…”

Reaper watches you drift off, painful adoration tugging at his heart. Your pursed lips slack with sleep, you snore softly. As soon as he tries to leave this room Moira will wipe your memory of him. Just as she does every nurse who helps take care of the Talon agents. Keeping them aware, but not too aware. To ensure no one runs their mouth, and identities stay hidden. Especially with agents like him, falling for nurses like you, and spilling secrets due to pesky romantic feelings.

He who is of the resentful opinion that it is what’s best for you, the option that will keep you the safest. He’ll threaten the mad scientist with death if she dares take too much, dares to mess with your genetics the way she did him. He can hear her grating laughter now, her swearing she’d never dream of incurring his wrath. Even if he knows how it will go, he still threatens. His protective nature doesn’t allow him to do anything else.

Reaper stands and looms over your sleeping form. In his line of work, there will always be more injuries, more nanobot transplants. The next mission may leave him under your care for weeks, he can’t say that doesn’t sound half bad. He looks forward to meeting you again, and again, and again.

#reaper x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #reaper #gabriel reyes #mp938368 #angst/romance

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