#Vernon March | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hannieehaee · 6 months

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18+ / mdi

a member finding your nudes - maknae line

95 line, 96 line, 97 line, maknae line

wc: 1726

materlist

seungkwan -

seungkwan always had a soft spot for vernon. his very stoic friend, more often than not, was unfazed by things that would usually get a reaction out of most people. this was something seungkwan couldn't relate to, being the stark opposite and constantly pulling out the dramatics whenever he could. despite their very distinct personalities, they were very close. vernon would always trust seungkwan with everything, and seungkwan was happy to say that the feeling was mutual.

it was not an uncommon occurrence for seungkwan to find vernon playing around with his phone while he was distracted. the younger member had a habit of misplacing his, or just plainly forgetting to bring it along, meaning that he'd often either ask kwan for his or simply pick it up whenever he wasn't using it. vernon wouldn't snoop. seungkwan knew this, and trusted his brother with his phone, just like he did with anything else.

vernon liked to listen to music whenever things quieted down in his usually hectic schedule. having forgotten his phone, he picked up seungkwan's without thinking, plugging in his wired earbuds and putting on an album he had been into those days. he went on like this for a bit, sitting back on one of the waiting rooms while he waited for the day to move forward. it was calm for once. until seungkwan's phone began to chime every few moments, continuously interrupting vernon's music. okay, its not like he could complain. this wasn't his phone. which is why all he meant to do was mute whoever was messaging his friend. except that's not what he did.

it must've been two? three? eight? minutes that vernon sat there, phone in hand as he stared in shock at the erotic view on the screen. it was you. you were messaging his friend incessantly. the content of the messages had caught his attention, making him stop on his tracks and just. stare. you were wearing a cute set. adorable, really. he knew seungkwan liked adorable things, but the contrast here was laughable. you did not look adorable. you looked a way that had vernon biting his lip, feeling guilt at the way he was looking at his friend's pretty girlfriend. but he just couldn't stop looking.

with vernon's lack of awareness of his surroundings (the music playing in his ears did not help), it was only a matter of time until his friend returned and wondered where his phone had gone. seungkwan walked towards his friend, spotting his phone in his hands, planning to ask for it back since he needed to call you to let you know he'd be heading home in a bit. something stopped him though. as he walked in vernon's direction he noticed a strange look on his friend's face. his usually unfazed friend seemed to be .. fazed by what he was looking at. this peaked seungkwan's interest, seeing as that was his phone he was looking at. he never would've predicted what he'd find as soon as he reached his unsuspecting friend and peeked a look at the screen.

"W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY PHONE?!", okay, yelling maybe wasnt the best idea, but seungkwan was seungkwan, which meant the dramatics were necessary.

vernon spluttered, remembering where he was, who he was, who he was with, the newfound weight inside his pants, and looked up at his friend with widened eyes.

"i-shit. kwan, i-"

"y-you're sick! don't look at her like that! you degenerate!", with this, he snatched the phone and marched away, muttering something about 'never pick up my phone again!'

vernon sat there, heavy breathing at the scene he bad just been a part of, now with a new view of you in his mind. seungkwan would get over this in a few hours, but vernon would remember what he saw under your clothes for a long time.

vernon -

vernon had no concept of paying attention to his surroundings. anyone could attest to this. the amount of times people tried to call his attention while he was listening to music or was simply just in his own world were endless. breaking him out of whichever trance he was under during these instances proved to be difficult at times.

today was one of those times. vernon was in his own world once again, listening to music on his phone while he stared off into the scenery while he and his members recorded yet another season of in the soop. many members walked by him, bidding their greetings to him but none succeeding at receiving a response.

joshua eventually came across him as he walked by the river, spotting his friend as he sat on a bench, staring at the view in front of him. he knew he wouldn't pay him any mind, so he decided to sit next to him and join him in enjoying the serenity of the scene. they acknowledged each other with a hum, with joshua not wanting to interrupt vernon's peace. they sat in silence for a few minutes until joshua grew bored and picked up vernon's phone, which was sitting between the both. vernon either did not notice or did not mind joshua's meddling with his phone. this was usual among the members anyways; grabbing each other's things without much of a bother.

he fiddled with vernon's phone for a while as his friend kept staring blankly into the river, listening to his music. he checked instagram, weverse, and even twitter before he lost interest. he was about to text dokyeom from vernon's phone, asking him to come hang out, when he noticed that vernon had left one of his conversations open. the one with you.

now, joshua was not a nosy person. quite the opposite actually. but as he stared at the opened text messages, he couldnt help but read what was on screen.

from: vernon

baby ... miss u so fucking much :(

from: baby 🤕

should've taken me with u to the woods then 😡

from: vernon

wouldve stolen u away if i could

miss holding u

from: baby 🤕

anything else u miss nonnie ?

from: vernon

baby ... dont do this rn .. im in the middle of the woods surrounded by staff all week ..

from: baby 🤕

oh so u dont wanna see this ? :c

*image attachment*

from: vernon

fuck

baby ..

ur so fucking pretty

please

ill call u tonight i promise

wear that tonight please

thats when the message thread had ended; on an agreement between you and vernon to have phone sex that night, joshua assumed. he was glad to have skipped out on sharing rooms with vernon this time around. he completely dismissed the images he saw, not wanting to open that can of worms. the thought still didnt prevent him from blatantly staring at them, however. he might've stared too loudly, since his lack of movement suddenly alerted vernon of what exactly joshua was looking at on his phone.

"d-dude what the hell?!", he snatched the phone away, turning off his music in the process, "is that what you've been doing this whole time?!"

"i- it was open, man. sorry."

"get your own girlfriend!", exasperated, vernon got up and began to walk away, only to hear joshua call out one last time to him.

"have fun tonight, hansol!", god knew joshua wished he could say the same for himself.

chan -

seungcheol pretty much had free reign around his younger members. they'd sometimes tease and bully him, but he knew that with one quick look from him they'd all back off, intimidated by his hard demeanor. if he gave an order, it pretty much went followed without much complaint. fortunately for the rest of the members, seungcheol was a reasonable man, not using this power unless absolutely necessary.

today chan had decided to go live. it had been a while and he wanted to interact with carats one-on-one. he hadnt predicted however, that his eldest brother would arrive, using an iron fist to demand to be featured on the live, claiming he was bored in his hotel room and had planned on going live too until chan rushed to do it first. now he found himself sitting next to seungcheol in his hotel room, facing the camera as they read comments. in the meantime, chan's own phone, located on the table, would not stop vibrating, occasionally disrupting seungcheol mid speech. had be been alone, he wouldve simply ignored it and waited for the live to be over, but sadly that was not the case.

"guys, please don't call us while we're on live. it's scary!", the elder whined lightheartedly, assuming the vibrations were due to yet another fan figuring out their numbers and calling mid live.

"oh, it's not- uh, it must be staff," replied chan, having taken a peek at the notifications, knowing they were from you.

"oh. let me see," he snatched the phone before chan could say anything, knowing any sudden moves from him were being watched on live for millions of fans.

he watched his friend swipe up, meddling in his phone. he tried to stop him in the subtlest way he could, making a joke of seungcheol being nosy, but was only met by his dismissal as he laughed at chan's protests.

it all remained lighthearted until seungcheol opened the notifications. his smile dropped at seeing your messages, swallowing as his breath caught in his throat. he quickly recovered, putting a smile back on his face, remembering he was on live. but his eyes wouldnt leave the screen. it wasnt until a few seconds later that he began to try and salvage the situation.

"oh guys, it's uh, it's staff. theyre saying we should end it now. we have something to do," before chan could really say a proper goodbye, seungcheol bid his farewell and tapped the 'end' button on screen.

chan hadn't known what to say at knowing his leader had seen what he could only assume to be a very naked you while on stream. seungcheol didn't seem to either.

for the first time in his life, seungcheol felt fear at receiving a scolding from his youngest member, sensing the frustration radiating from beside him.

a/n: thank u to anyone who read and liked this tiny lil series of reactions <3

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twogyuu · 2 months

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an unfinished tale [teaser]

Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader

Synopsis: In an age absent of DMs and dating apps, a year you're not supposed to exist in, you defy all odds and manage to fall in love with the neighbor down the hall from your uncle's dorm. Part of you wishes he feels the same, part of you hopes he doesn't - for the sake of your heart and his.

Genre: Fluff, crack, smidgen of angst, first/last loves, time travel!au, 90s!au, college!au, uncle/roommate!chan, chan has a twin brother who is reader's dad LMAO, fairy godmother!seokmin; featuring friends!seungkwan, vernon, and jihoon too 💙

Warnings: PG-13 - profanity in this, they make out (?)

teaser wc: ~1.4k

A/N: One last run before I close this chapter of my writing blog . . .? Pouring all my feels into this one and learning how to be patient with writing and myself 💙 Who would've thunk it would be a Wonwoo series lol - I had the hardest time writing for him early on . . . Pls send an ask if you want to stick around for this one - probably a very long ride lol! Thanks for reading always, even if you never comment 🫶🏻

Adapted from this idea (sorry vernon 😅🙃) and revamp of wish you were here. Inspired by Wendy's Better Judgement.

start date: mid to end of march/early april

"You have to tell me!" Chan begs as you turn and make your way to the other side of the room - not that it was very far. The course from his desk to the bunk beds were less then twelve steps. "You're doing a huge disservice to my bloodline!"

"If I tell you, it's going to disrupt the time and space continuum, and you're whole future is going to be out of wack - I'm doing you a favor," you protest. It's followed by a small snort as you grab onto the ladder and position yourself to hoist up your body. What you thought was a quiet mutter to yourself than him, you add, "As if you'd have a bloodline."

Uncle Chan? Married? Bold of him to assume he could whisk away Sunnie.

His footsteps behind you suddenly come to a halt and the room grows quiet - only the sound of Vernon and his drums next door rattling away revibrate through the thin walls.

"I-I don't?" Chan asks pitifully.

"Fuck," you say under your breath. You make note to to filter that mouth of yours in the near future, especially around Chan and when it comes to his future. You loved your uncle and he was cool - ish, in the present. You didn't realize what a pain in the ass he actually was in his youth. Maybe that's why your father was so put off by him because you too are annoyed.

Making your way down again, you turn to find him pouting, gaze glued to the mysterious purple stain in once cream colored carpet - he claimed it was from when Vernon spilled the EZ Squirt purple ketchup, but something about the shade of it didn't have you convinced. You note how Chan blinks rapidly to will away his tears, an occasional sniffle cutting in.

"Look," you clamp your hands down on his shoulder, but he only hangs his head lower. "I'm sorry."

"I'm a loner hermit in the year 2000," he mumbles.

"Y-you're not!" you argue.

"I'm not?" Chan looks back up at you hopefully.

It's quite unfortunate you inherited the Lee trait of not being able to hold a poker face. The lie is evident in the distress in your eyes and slightest clench of your jaw.

"Seungkwan was right," he wails, slipping past you and flopping onto the bottom bunk, "I'm going to be living in Seungeung's basement and taking care of his kid!"

"You're not a loser, okay?" you exclaim, you rack your mind for some fibs, "Y-you're a music producer? a rapper? and you dance! Kind of."

"I'm dying alone!"

"I mean," you turn to look at his collapsed body, sprawled on the worn plaid comforter, "Y-you're not lonely? That kid Seungkwan is teasing you about is me."

Chan whines even louder, "That doesn't make it any better!"

You roll your eyes, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. Just as you were about to chastise him for self-pitying, there's a knock at the door - three firm, rhythmic beats. In sync, you and Chan lift your heads towards the door. It stops and a half-sheet of blue-lined notebook paper slips through the bottom crack of the door. You'd half expect to hear the footsteps of the perpetrator clambering down the halls, but their steps move at an easy pace and padded.

Chan gets up and follows you as you walk over to the note, carefully unfolding it. Black ink bleeds through - you're able to make out some letters from behind. The corners of the 'r' are darkened, the middle of the 't' sits like a target waiting to be shot at.

rooftop? after curfew :) - ww

As Chan gasps scandalously, your cheeks immediately heat up and you crumple the note into a ball in your fist in hopes that you're uncle didn't read it in full. Wonwoo's handwriting is messy and connected -something between chicken scratch and cursive. It's hardly legible most days. Nonetheless, the hope is weak, knowing the message was short and Chan was breathing down your neck as well.

"After curfew!?" Chan repeats, exaggerated, his existential crisis moments earlier forgotten. "What are you all going to do after curfew?"

You can hardly care for his judgement right now though - all you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears and the jumbled thoughts. Shoving the crumpled note into your pocket, you take off, swinging open the door and eyes darting up and down the hallway, looking for him.

It's almost as if Wonwoo didn't want to go unseen - as if he was waiting for you to come out. He's by the door of his dorm room, one hand rest on the stainless steel handle as his gaze are trained on you. When your eyes lock, the corners of his lips curl up the slightest bit - if you didn't already know him so well, you wouldn't have known he was smiling either. His lips were stretched thin, but pressing together firmly as he tries to hide his nerve and excitement. You curse yourself for letting it affect you so much too, your heart fluttering at the sight.

His composure breaks, the toothless smile, turning into a grin as he breaks eye contact with you and turns his attention to his door, shoving the key into the lock. With a flick of his wrist it opens with a click that echoes down the hall. Wonwoo's eyes flicker once more in your direction before he enters and shuts you out of his world again, and it makes you scoff.

He amuses you, frankly - puzzles you, even.

You wonder how someone like him, seemingly so subtle and so calm, could root himself into your life in the short time you've been here, and paint it with loud colors and cause more turbulence than the waves of the oceans during a full moon.

Bonus because I'm excited 😭:

It was quick, lips wavering and barely brushing against your own before he retreats.

"Oh," is all you're able to say, albeit, it's barely above a whisper. Unconsciously, your fingers fly to your lips, pressing gently at the ghost of his touch.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"Um," you clear your throat, shaking your head, "Y-you don't have to be - you shouldn't."

"I-I . . . I just . . . that was my first time," he confesses.

"I could do better," he declares, a little more confidently. It quickly dissipates however. Wonwoo nervously adds, "Only i-if you want to, of course-"

"Y-your first kiss?" you clarify, asking a little louder - you're taken aback. Wonwoo wasn't ugly and he was a senior - you expected him to collect several first kisses by this point, not be giving away his own.

You crane your neck more to get a better look at him, though it's hard without the lights on in Seungkwan's room. The crescent moon offers a little help, slipping through the opaque curtains and casting a sliver of white across his darkened features, though it reflects off the lens of his glasses, blinding you each time you try to look in his direction.

"You should then," you interject hastily without much thought before he gets any other ideas. Unconsciously, you find yourself leaning in, shifting your seat on the bed closer to him.

He looks up at you this time, lips fallen agape though no words escape.

Only now are you realizing your words sounded weird - desperate almost, and you didn't like it. This is not a proper way to court your crush! Let alone in the 90s! You didn't want to give him the wrong idea.

Letting out a soft sigh, you shift back, pulling your lips in between your teeth in embarrassment. You repeat his last words to you - or at least you try.

"Only if you want -"

Within seconds, His hand reach up to caress your cheek, the other coming to hold your waist as he leans in. His lips are pressed against yours again, but firmer this time. There's certainty in his kiss, a sense of reassurance that this was right.

The first thing to fade are your nerves - gone with the hesitancy, gone with the pounding of your heart, gone with the intricate dance you had perfect when it came to him. You're quick to fall into rhythm with him, his touch brings you relief - comfort even.

The second thing to fade are your surroundings. Seungkwan's room melts away, the muffled beat that Vernon played for the crowd below grows quiet. Only the quiet gasps and twee chortles between kisses fill the room.

"Chan is going to murder me," Wonwoo mutters breathlessly as he rests his forehead against yours. As if to tell him otherwise, you tilt your head up and peck his lips once more, eliciting another chuckle from him.

He feels right in this moment and nothing else mattered.

It's 1993, but for once, time doesn't matter.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios

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sapphic-coded · 10 months

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I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Some gore. Language that Cap wouldn't approve of. Reader is a messed up assassin. Minors DNI

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: Welp. Here's my first fanfic on tumblr. I only have one chapter written, but I'm hoping my muse will stick with me so I can turn this into a series. This is lightly edited. I apologize in advance for any mistakes you come across (and you most likely will). Minors, please do not interact. Please do not copy/steal my work. Enjoy!

Chapter One: I Thought You Died Alone A Long, Long Time Ago

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The silence that filled the car wielded a tension you were all too familiar with. Your father’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel he gripped. A deep frown pulled at his lips while his cold, steel gray eyes stared straight ahead behind a pair of thick, dark framed glasses. His usual tamed black hair was a mess with strands of hair shooting out in random directions.

Sitting next to your father, up in the front passenger’s seat, was your older brother. He was a tall, skinny boy who had just embarked into his teens. His blonde hair was parted down the middle of his head and reached the tips of his ears. His navy blue eyes stared out the passenger’s window. His lips were pressed tight. There was so much he wanted to say. If you guys were anywhere else, perhaps he wouldn’t hold back.

Sitting next to you in the backseat of your father’s station wagon was your older sister. She was a year younger than your brother with her long brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her head was bowed, and her brown eyes were glued to the pages of her book. She was skinny like your brother, but her body was already beginning to shift into adulthood. She had started growing breasts last summer.

You were the youngest. You had recently celebrated your tenth birthday. You were skinny like your siblings, but still very much a child. Your green camo jacket felt heavy. You were all dressed alike: green camo jackets, dark green shirts, green hunting fatigues, and heavy brown boots. It was the outfit you always wore during your hunting trips with your father.

Your brother reached toward the car’s radio. Your father’s hand released its vice-like grip on the steering wheel and slapped down on your brother’s hand. You heard the loud smack, and your brother quickly snatched his hand back.

“I’ve had enough of your nonsense.” Your father’s voice rode a current of anger that popped the tense bubble of silence.

“I just wanted to listen to music,” your brother shot back. “Sitting here in silence is boring.”

Just like that another argument between your father and brother started up. You looked over at your sister. She was very much focused on her book. Your attention drifted over to your window. You did your best to tune out the argument happening up front while you watched the scenery of trees roll by. Eventually your gaze dropped to your lap. You stared at the dried blood caked around your fingernails.

“...pointless and–”

“You are cowardly and weak!”

You can’t believe the weekend is almost over. You had spent the whole weekend out hunting with your family. Your father had parked his station wagon in a lot and marched you all out into the woods. You all had spent the whole weekend laying in the cold mud. It was your brother’s hunt. You were all following his lead. Which meant mostly laying in the mud and following tracks every so often. This weekend was supposed to end with your brother’s first kill. Instead, it ended differently.

The engine of your father’s car stopped as you reached your house. The argument between your brother and father had ended, but you cannot recall when. You undid your seatbelt and opened the car door. The moment you stepped out onto your driveway, your attention landed on a moving truck parked across the street. A man and a woman were busy unloading boxes out of the truck and carrying them into the house.

You noticed something else. A girl around your age with blue hair came out of the house and walked down the driveway towards the moving truck. Her pace slowed as she noticed you. You lifted your hand in a small, friendly wave. A smile had started to curl at your lips when your father’s voice called out to you. You turned away from your new neighbors and found your father standing in the garage with his hunting rifle hanging from his shoulder. You made your way up into the garage where you felt your father’s hand fall gently onto your shoulder.

Amsterdam – 2010

You hate these jobs. Long relentless days spent circling your target. Never able to strike just yet. You had to put on a show first. Pretend to be their friend, or a business partner, or their lover. You had to act as if your target was important in some flimsy life you threw together. Your kills were always messy at the end of these jobs. You can’t help it. You just want the stupid job to be over.

And it almost is. You have spent the past four days pretending to be your target’s bodyguard. Four days spent following your target around. You dealt with their problems and waited for the day all your targets would be together in the same room. Because the job wasn't just to kill the target you were pretending to protect. Your target and their friends had messed up. They had pissed off the wrong people. You were there to clean up the mess.

Your target had set the long awaited meeting to take place in a fancy hotel in the middle of the day. The guest list for this meeting would be short. It included your target and you, his business partners, and their private security. The meeting wasn’t scheduled to take long. It was supposed to be a simple transaction. An easy exchange of goods and money. The details of that particular transaction did not interest you. Your interest lingers on your plan to take out all your targets.

The dark brown shoulder holster that you wore over your white, button-up, collared shirt held one of your favorite guns. There was nothing overly special about it. It was a standard, black 9mm Beretta handgun. It was reliable in nearly all your jobs. It was your favorite because it had been your first gun. A present from your father. It marked the end of your training and the beginning of the rest of your life. If your job was to take out just the one target you had been following around, then the choice would have been easy. But the job required the elimination of all your targets. Since the other targets were bringing their own private security, once you made your move you would need to finish the job quickly.

But the job didn’t specify that the kills had to be quiet.

You pull on your gray suit coat. Your shoulder holster disappears from view as you stand before the mirror and button the coat. Matching gray trousers cover your legs and the black flats you wear bring a smile to your face. This job was almost over and soon you would be busy getting yourself as far away from here as possible. Hence why you chose the flats over heels. You run your hands down the length of your suit coat to smooth out any wrinkles. Your hair is pulled back into a professional, tight bun. Your right hand dips into one of the suit pockets. The pad of your finger brushes against the small, round marble nestled within.

When your target is ready, you follow him out of the hotel room he rented and down into the hotel lobby. You follow him across the spacious lobby and into a large boardroom. As the door clicks shut behind you, your eyes survey the room. A long mahogany table commands most of the space within the room. Situated around the table were identical black office chairs. Far more than necessary for this meeting. Sitting in four of the chairs were your four other targets. Standing behind each of your targets were their own bodyguards. Sunlight poured into the room from the floor to ceiling glass windows that ran along one side of the room.

You follow your target over to one of the chairs. He takes a seat and you stand behind him. Your gaze briefly returns to the other bodyguards. All tall, imposing looking men. They stand as still as statues, and you wonder how they do it. Do they enjoy following around power addicted fools? You spent four days with your target, and you can’t wait to kill him.

“Where’s Tyler?” your target asks as he settles into his seat.

“Running late,” your other target answers.

You tune out the insults your targets direct towards the currently absent Tyler. Instead, you wonder what this peaceful boardroom will look like in the next ten minutes. Or however long it takes for Tyler to show up. There will definitely be blood. Broken glass was also a given. You doubt the chairs will make it. The hotel will definitely need to buy a new table. But you wonder if you’ll get a chance to see their faces. Just one. It’s the part that fascinates you the most. Your target’s last moment etched across their face. It reveals so much.

The door to the boardroom opens and the conversation shared between your targets dies into an awkward silence. You turn in time with everyone else as Tyler steps into the room alone. The first thing you notice is that he is sweating. A lot. In his shaking hand he holds the handle of a briefcase. His free hand raises up and he runs his fingers through a disheveled mop of dark hair.

“Sorry about the wait,” Tyler says.

“Jesus, Tyler,” your original target replies. “You look like shit. Let’s just get this over with so we can all go home.”

Tyler nods and hurries over to the table. He sets the briefcase down and opens it. One of your other targets reaches into their coat pocket and pulls out a brown wrapped parcel. The size and shape of the parcel is clearly money. With everyone’s attention on Tyler and his suitcase, you causally unbutton your gray suit jacket.

“Just so everything is clear,” your original target addresses the others. “You give us that.” He gestures to the suitcase. “You take the money, and we don’t hear from you ever again. You don’t mention us and we don’t know you. You don’t come looking for this because it doesn’t exist.”

Tyler nods.

“We still haven’t discussed how we are dividing our profits,” another target says.

“We’ll discuss it later,” your original target replies.

As the conversation shifts into another argument, you decide that this is as good a time as any to wrap things up. All your targets are in place with a few bonus players. It is time to put these boring four days behind you. As your hand moves towards your pocket, you spot one of the other bodyguards quickly lowering his head. His hand lifts up to press against his ear. You still your movements as you watch the other bodyguard.

“We just lost our comms,” the bodyguard’s voice cuts through the argument.

Your hand abandons its journey towards your pocket as your original target turns around in their seat to look at you. The question written plain across their face is one you can’t answer. Maybe if you had any comms to worry about then you could make a solid guess as to why they are suddenly down. But you don’t. And while you have no interest in who the new mysterious player is, you do get the sense that maybe you really should wrap this up. Quickly.

You mimic the other bodyguards as you reach for your gun. Your fingers manage to brush against the holster’s leather before a faint beeping sound pulls your attention over towards the door. Something small and metallic rolls out from underneath the door. It rolls across the floor towards you and your gathered targets. You can barely make out what it is from where you are standing, but the quickening frequency of the faint beeping causes you to turn away from it.

The white light that explodes from the weird object swallows up the entire boardroom. You close your eyes as the explosion drowns out the shouts from the other bodyguards. Your ears are ringing when you open your eyes. The shouts from your targets are muffled as they all scramble from their seats. The wall of glass windows shatters as men in black tactical gear attached to wires swing into the boardroom. The bodyguards who had managed to pull out their guns immediately exchange gunfire with the uninvited tactical team while your targets scramble to avoid getting hit.

Well, you hadn’t planned to end this job on a neat and tidy note. Things were about to get really messy.

You pull your gun from its holster and aim it at the first tactical newcomer that pointed their gun at you. Your finger squeezes the trigger, and you watch with satisfaction as their head snaps back from the bullet barreling through their forehead. Their body goes limp and drops. You spy one bodyguard already dead with their chest riddled with bullet holes.

A second tactically geared newcomer turns their attention to you and is quick to fire. You quickly duck underneath the fancy boardroom table. Bullets from your enemy’s gun rips through the wood above you. You take aim at the guy’s leg and fire. The guy’s cry comes through crystal clear as he drops to his knee. You can’t fight back the smile that curls your lips as you maneuver your way out from underneath the table and fire off another round where you’re almost certain his mouth is.

Another bodyguard has joined the other dead one on the floor while the others corral your targets behind them as they continue to exchange gunfire with the uninvited guests. Except, Tyler darts out from behind the weakening wall of bodyguards and rushes towards the bullet ridden table. He snatches up the briefcase and hurries towards the door. The other targets hurl curses his way as you lift your gun and aim at the back of his head. You are about to pull the trigger when the door Tyler reaches flies open into him. Tyler stumbles backwards, trips over his clumsy feet, and falls backwards. The briefcase slips from his grasp and slides across the floor and stops at your feet.

Your attention, however, is not on the briefcase. It’s not even on Tyler who is groaning and still alive. Your eyes are glued to the person who steps through the doorway and into the room. You recognise her face immediately despite her red hair. It’s long and tied back away from her face in an intricate braid. The black catsuit she wears bears the symbol of SHIELD on her shoulders. The identity of the tactical newcomers pales in comparison to the way her olive green eyes widen slightly in recognition. Old memories, so long buried that you are shocked you can even remember them, creep in. The gun in your hand never wavers as you find your old friend at the business end of it.

“Y/N.”

If there were any doubts, her voice banished them. It’s her.

“Put down the gun.”

It’s as if a floodgate has opened. The memories are countless despite the fact that it had only been three years. So old and forgotten that they feel new. They smother the job that has taken up residence within your mind. You’re here to kill your targets, but all you can think about is the last time you saw her. How abrupt her departure had been. You remember your father’s rants about her family.

Slowly, you lower your gun. She takes a step forward. Tyler’s groans stop, and he lifts his head up. He reaches for the briefcase at your feet. You point your lowered gun down towards Tyler’s head and pull the trigger. Your friend’s advance stops as blood and pieces of Tyler’s brain paint the floor and the briefcase red. One target down.

The smoke pours from your gun as you gauge her reaction. The recognition you saw earlier is gone. Her face is a mask, and the frustration you feel is so familiar.

The last of the bodyguards drop and your remaining targets are completely exposed. The remaining tactical guests close in on your targets except for one who breaks off and starts towards you. You ignore the orders the man shouts at you. Instead, you kick the blood and brain matter stained briefcase underneath the ruined table. You start to raise your gun, but the tactical guest already has his finger on the trigger. He fires and you are quick to dodge out of the way. The bullets dig holes into the wall behind you. You kick one of the office chairs at the man. It collides into him and he stumbles back. You raise your gun again but the moment you squeeze the trigger, your legs are swept out from underneath you. The bullet you fired finds a home in the ceiling as your back collides with the ground.

Before you can move, a weight settles on you. Hands pin down yours. Strong legs straddle you as your friend’s face fills your vision.

“Stop, Y/N.” There’s more force behind her words this time. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

You almost laugh. Almost. Maybe if your job was done then you could have spared a moment or two to revel in your friend’s joke. But you were dangerously close to losing control of this job. You pull your legs up and manage to throw your friend off of you. You roll onto your knees and go to stand when the man you had kicked the chair at slams the butt of his gun into your jaw. Your head snaps to the side and blood fills your mouth.

The childhood memories that have been distracting you vanish as you spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. The man turns his gun back around to point the barrel at you. Your hold on your own gun remains firm as you look over your shoulder towards your friend. She’s on her knees as well, but that is all you are able to make out as you quickly drop back down towards the floor. A small, short bluish bolt flies barely an inch over your head and lands on the guy who hit you. Blue strings of electricity wrap around his chest as he drops with a shout.

You scramble to your feet and head for the door. Your hand digs into your suit pocket and your fingers close around the small marble. You can hear your friend catching up to you as you pull the marble from your pocket. Your thumb presses down on the miniscule button barely noticeable to the eye. As you quickly near the door, you drop the marble. It rolls towards your remaining targets. The moment you make it out of the boardroom and into the lobby, you feel her hand close around yours. You yank your hand hard from her grip and turn quickly while raising your gun.

You find yourself staring down the barrel of her gun. A smile creeps onto your face as you hold your gun steady. Unfortunately, your friend doesn’t find this amusing.

“Put down the gun.”

“You first, Nat,” you reply.

Her gun stays pointed at you when it finally happens. The boardroom explodes into a hot, blazing ball of destruction. The force of the explosion sends both of you flying further into the spacious lobby. You both hit a fancy looking pillar before dropping with a hard thud to the ground. Despite your body’s screams of protest, you are the first to climb back onto your feet. You look down as your friend starts to move. Still alive. Your gun feels heavy in your hand as that single thought runs laps through your mind. For the first time in a long time, you feel excited.

“Sorry, Nat,” you say as you slide your gun back into its holster. “Gotta run.”

You leave her there and make your escape. Slipping away from the scene that has now drawn a crowd is as easy as breathing. You hardly think about it. And with nobody chasing you, it’s almost painfully easy. But the further away you get, you know that’s not entirely true. She isn’t chasing after you now, but she will. You hope so. You miss your only friend.

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