#idk like everything's been dialed up to an uncomfortable point?

[theghostofashton]

.

[frenchrebelfries]

Fury’s Daughter

AN: Idk wth I just wrote... I just got this idea so yeah... Happy Reading!

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You are the adoptive daughter of Nick Fury, when you were 5 he adopt you when your parents died on a plane crash that was cause by Hydra, your parents and Nick were good friends that’s why he took you in.

You were a smart kid, always analyzing things, Fury told everything to you and never lie. To protect your identity Nick made you a new one as you volunteer to be an agent of Hydra to gain information and was branded by the organization. You did dangerous mission and always getting out alive.

You were then sent back to and joined the Avengers initiative but the avengers were suspicious of you as you came out of nowhere, no files, no nothing but a name and Fury’s trust.

No one knew who you are to protect your identity in recon so the avengers treated you coldly but you didn’t care, you didn’t tell it to your father about the situation you are in because you were train to adapt and you did. You were kind to them and all as you and Natasha got closer… like really close. Out of all Natasha Romanoff is the one you have trusted the most.

.

.

You got out from the elevator after a short report you did to Nick about the information you got for the Winter Soldier when you heard the laughing of the team as they sat in the living room with pizza on the table as they talked and laugh at each other.

The laughter halted when they all noticed you and silence came… you knew you were never welcome her but your father trust them so you really had no choice but to put up with it, sensing their discomfort you just gave them a nod greeting them.

“Good evening Avengers” no one answered as you expected and left and went to your room, you heard a light foot steps following you and a hand holding your wrist and seeing a familiar red head you have fallen with for the past few weeks.

“Hey Y/N, I’m sorry about the boys you know how hard headed they are” she sincerely apologized to you as you gave her a soft smile

“it’s ok Natasha, I know they still don’t fully trust me and I understand why, so it’s cool” you replied to her as she looked at you suspiciously searching your face for any lies but you being good at hiding your emotion she immediately gave up when she didn’t find one.

“So… Movie night?” she asked cheekily at you as your brows furrows

“what about the others?” you asked her as she started pulling you towards her room as she shrugged

“they can take care of themselves, come on!”

.

.

One day when you were alone practicing in the gym at 6 am of the morning you accidentally took off your clothes leaving you in your sports bra forgetting that Steve Rogers is always awake at that time and saw your Hydra mark on your chest and thought of you as an enemy and told the team as they planned to eliminate you on the next mission.

To eliminate the Hydra scum.

.

.

“can I get a hand over here?” you heard Clint said in the coms as you took down the last guy from your floor inside a hydra base that you’ve been recon last week

“I’m coming on your way” you answered running to Clint’s direction knowing the base like the palm of your hands as you shot a Hydra soldier who was sneaking behind him

“Thanks” you nodded at him you continue your pursuit taking down agents as you skillfully glide yourself on the battle field.

The battle had stop when Clint finished the last guy as Steve and Natasha immerge from the control room with a case on hand.

They must have gotten the information

“Mission complete, how’s the perimeter Tony?” Captain said on the coms as you get close to Natasha scanning her for any injuries and sighted in relieve when you found none.

“Perimeter is clear as the sky Steve were ready to go home” you smiled at the thought of home… Fury promised you a dinner with Maria and Coulson when you get back since things have been busy these couple of week and you were really excited about it since it’s going to be your first dinner with them again since you got back from recon.

“time for phase 2 then, Romanoff” you frowned at Steve’s word

Phase 2? You never heard about it when at the briefing

You were still in confusion when Steve called Natasha and you felt a searing pain by your side

You wiped your head to your side seeing a knife… a knife you gifted to Natasha lunge by your side.

You looked at her eyes full of betrayal and so as Clint and Steve who was in there with you.

“Phase 2 complete, were leaving, now die you Hydra scum” Steve said voice full of spite hearing a ‘good job’ from Tony and a ‘let’s go’ from Clint as you fall down on your knees looking at their retreating figure leaving you.

The last one you saw was the red headed assassin taking one last look at you as they close the door as your whole body fall down on the cold ground.

You shakily grabbed your phone dialing your father’s number as he answered rather cheerful

“Y/N why are you calling me? Is your mission done?” you heard your dad’s voice making you tear up a bit

“D-dad…”

“get your ass here kid Maria and Coulson just arrived here and im about to finish cooking these turkey”

“c-can I have a rain check on the dinner dad… I kinda messed up…” your voice was now shaking and you are feeling colder than usual the blade may have a poison as you felt a burn and getting light headed faster than normal.

Fury must have sense that there is something wrong by the way your voice sounded

“Y/N what happened? Are you ok?” you can hear his voice full of worry as you heard Maria and Coulson from the background asking what’s wrong.

“I-I think I was the p-phase 2 of S-Steve’s plan dad… it’s really g-getting cold here ya know” blood tricked on the ground from your wound

Your vision darken as flashes of memories filled your eyes.

You can hear the shuffles from the other line saying they are tracking my call and will be sending medical help

“I’m s-scared d-dad… I still d-don’t wanna go” you cried,

“Help is on the way Y/N keep holding on I’m here for you kid” you can hear the shakiness of your father’s voice, you kept trying to keep your eyes open and now seeing dark spots forming.

“T-thanks for everything dad… tell Maria and Coulson I love them…” your voice was barely audible hearing their cried for you to wake up.

“Keep your eyes open for me kid… please”

“I-I think a need a nap… l-love you dad” and you were gone.

They kept calling for you but you never answered back.

.

.

Fury along with Maria and Coulson with a medical team arrived at the base eyes redden because of crying as they found you on the cold ground with your phone by your side and a stab.

Fury cradle you like a baby as the medic announced your death with Maria and Coulson crying by the side.

.

.

“Did you check the monitors?” Fury’s cold voice echoed in a quinjet as your cold body layed beside him with your head on his lap stroking the hair that is covering your face.

“you’re not gonna like it boss…” Maria said with blood shot eyes as she played the video of Steve ordering the Phase 2 and Natasha Romanoff stabbing you as they left you.

“call them up at SHIELD… they would pay for what they did to her” Nick ordered as Coulson took his phone out to call them.

Nick glanced at you as he swiped some blood by your mouth hugging your corpse closer to him.

.

.

.

They avenger’s arrived at SHIELD seeing Fury holding Y/N’s hand as she lay dead on the table with Maria and Coulson by the back holding back their anger.

“what is this Fury?” Steve stepped out in confusion to why they got the body of Y/N

“What is the phase 2 Captain” Nick’s voice was colder than usual

“… to eliminate the Hydra-“ Steve answered as the other’s stayed silent

“and who is the Hydra?”

 “Y/n…”

 Then there’s silence, the team were uncomfortable with the silence but Steve was getting impatient with all of it.

“Look I don’t know what is your point here but you should thank us for killing the mole here Fury”

Fury looked at them as Coulson held Maria who was about to attack Steve as Fury spoke…

   “I see no dead mole here Rogers… all I see is my dead daughter”

  The team’s eyes widen as they froze from there spot

“W-what?” Bruce asked

“Y/N Fury... is my daughter who you called a Hydra scum”

“B-but she had the brand-“

“She had the brand because she was undercover inside Hydra that gave her the mark to extract information for your missions that is saving billions!” Fury angrily shouted making them all flinch.

All of it dawned to them as Natasha fall into her knees realizing she killed a hero… she killed her friend who trusted her… she killed the person who loved her…

“I pulled her out of the recon to keep her safe knowing her all her covers were blown, I put her into your team so she can be protected thinking after all those years of being away we can have a normal dinner like she wanted for years, I trusted my daughter in your hand yet you are the one who killed her…”

Fury stood up tears streaming down on his face

“Avenger Initiative’s termination is effective immediately, all of you would be put in maximum security prison for killing Y/N Fury” Agents entered taking their weapons and cuffing them

 “Nick… I’m sorry” Steve’s voice filled with regret rang out as Fury looked at him coldly throwing a file on the ground in front of him as the content spilled revealing pictures of the Winter Soldier.

 “Y/N wanted to give you this information from the last recon she was put in to, James “Bucky” Barnes is alive and now known as the Winter Soldier who is working for Hydra and has killed thousands”

Steve’s face was full of shock knowing his best friend Bucky is alive…

“Nick-“

“I’m sorry to cap…” Fury cut him off and coldly apologies to Steve who is now confuse to why as everyone in the room looked at them in silence.

 “you took someone dear away from me… and now I’m taking yours, Good Bye Avengers and thank you for your service” before Steve and others could react they were all tranquilized knocking them out cold and only waking up in a glass cell with Ross smirking at them as they sat there in silence thinking the things that they have done for you.

“welcome to your new life Avengers…in prison!” and a loud laugh erupted from Ross as he walked out as ex-heroes gazes followed his exit.

[reginaofdoctorwho]

Ghost AU? 👀 -S

ok so it's not a full planned out one, it's mainly just an "i read a fanfic for a different fandom that had a similar plot and now i'm going to steal the au idea". so bullet points!

the events of the musical go on as they did. curt kills owen by shooting him on the staircase.

not long after, an Owen Ghost shows up, and is kind of an asshole. so basically act 2 Owen but a ghost.

curt gets stuck in weird time,,, shenanigans i guess? basically he goes to sleep, wakes up back in the russian weapons facility in 1957.

Ghost Owen is also there, and he's just taunting Curt. he's sort of ~out of time~??? like he's from the original timeline, but he knows what's up in the new one. it's kind of like Scheherazade from Twisted, but he doesn't see the future. he's very quick to tell Curt that the other Owen is not him, but they are both Owen.

he actually manages to get both of them out alive because a) he doesn't leave the banana peel and 2) he's been going over that night for 4 years and everything he could've done differently and c) Ghost Owen's pointing out every mistake he makes. once they're out ghost Owen kinda fades out?

also maybe Owen's still injured, so it's just Curt in full on panic mode trying to keep them both safe by the destroyed building while waiting for pick up and he's sure Chimera's going to show up trying to take Owen

over the four new years, he's in a panic, because anytime Owen is close to death Ghost Owen starts showing up and taunting him

except then, Ghost Owen starts showing up at random times too. maybe it's just stress, maybe Owen would die, but either way Curt is v stressed and just trying to keep his boyfriend safe

this is not me making shit up to keep the gay flashbacks at all hahaha why would you think that

being that they're spies and their flirting language is dangerous stunts it's tough

at this point we've probably reached normal storyline time (1961).

both Curt and Owen are sent on the mission and meet Tatiana

Curt knows it's Chimera, except what if it isn't?? there's no record of Chimera, no one's heard of it, maybe Owen from before was just making shit up??

there's still a DMA because i like the idea of Owen having not been the only one (Dread Pirate Roberts DMA bitches)

he doesn't have the same personal vendetta but he still tortures Curt/maybe Owen

Tati/maybe Owen rescues him/them

idk how the gala would be handled. maybe both of them trying to get help, or Curt trying to get help, Owen trying to protect the Prince but when the Prince dies Owen is blamed for the murder because "hmm that guy's v close to our DEAD MONARCH"👀

Tati gets them to Curt's mom's safehouse

we once again have the "never brings any girls home to meet me! just a constant parade of drinking buddies for poker or wrestling or whatever it is you boys do in the rumpus room" line because i love it

i am seriously debating the benefits of keeping Doing This. except like, dial up the awkwardness and "everyone's uncomfortable" vibes by 10000000x.

they are friends babes!!! i like having Owen and Tati being friends, and i fucking love the canon platonic relationship between Curt and Tati

that is as far as i thought

OH and somehow Ghost Owen gets his Peace or whatever and fades for real. idk

[whynoteswhispered]

Tales of a Loved Ninja (pt 1)

Idk; I’ve been in such a Jiraiya mood recently that this was bound to happen. 

(Very fluffy, uhhh idk)

word count: 4,930 (oops)

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The warm sun beamed on to your skin as you walked down the path to Icharuku. You couldn’t help but emptily smile at each person you came by; waving and speaking to most as they passed by.

Minato didn’t allow you much time for lunch, so grabbing ramen to go was the most reasonable way to go – plus you had a phone call to make before lunch was over.

“(y/n) Sensei.” You felt a hand tap the back of your shoulder. Swiftly turning around, you looked down to see Kakashi. Every time you saw him you couldn’t help but feel proud; you had watched him grow into an incredible shinobi – and though against your wishes, he made a great ANBU member as well.

“Hey, Kashi!” You patted the top of his head - watching the small amount of cheek above his mask turn red.

“Can I eat ramen with you today?” He reached up to the counter grabbing his to-go bowl of ramen, and then swiftly turned back to you.

You heard your name called as well so you quickly grabbed your container, looking over at the clock to see how much longer you had on lunch.

Fifteen minutes. It took at least five minutes to walk back to the academy which then only gave you ten minutes on the phone; if he answers.

“Sensei?” Kakashi was waving his hands in front of your face, you finally snapped back to reality and smiled at him, “So?” he questioned.

“You know I have to make a phone call; you can hang out in my classroom while I make that call if you would like.” You turned around and started the trek back to the academy, you could hear Kakashi’s feet trek quietly behind you.

“He isn’t worth your worry.” You kept your eyes forward – this wasn’t the first time he’s tried to start an argument over him.

“Kashi, don’t you think it’s wildly inappropriate for you to meddle into my personal life?” Sadly, you knew the answer to this – he cared about you as if the two of you were family.

“Don’t you think it’s wildly inappropriate to be throwing yourself at someone who is nearly double your age.” His voice was annoyed; making fun of you with each word that came out of his mouth.

Was it wildly inappropriate? You didn’t think so. Sure there was a large age difference, but meeting Jiraiya was one of the best things that had happened to you.

“How has ANBU been?” You switched the subject, knowing that there was no winning the conversation about Jiriaya “Are you still having nightmares?”

“Shh,” He hushed you; you could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “ANBU has been fine; yes, the nightmares still happen.” His voice was defeated. He sounded as though he was an old man who had lost everything, instead he was just fifteen and had lost everything.

“Kashi,” you turned around meeting his glance, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “I can talk to Minato about letting you out. You have to take care of yourself too.”

He shook his head, “I’m fine (y/n) Sensei.”

“You haven’t been acting fine.” You turned back towards the academy, “Guy came and spoke to me the other day – Kashi, he’s worried about you. He says you’re reading books about honorable death, that you won’t speak to any of them, and that you just aren’t acting like yourself.”

You had been worried about him for a few years now, but he never let you talk to him about his problems. He always acted like everything was fine; but you could see the subtle differences: the bags under his eyes, the way he would throw himself in front of danger regardless of circumstances, you’ve caught him crying to himself several times. He didn’t tell you about the nightmares until you went to check on him one day and walked in on him washing his hands and sobbing over the sink; saying Rin’s name repeatedly, staring at his hands as if he was witnessing that moment happening on repeat. After that, Kakashi opened up to you a bit – and you checked on him more often, buying him groceries and occasionally bringing him dinner to ensure he was eating.

When Minato told you he was going to suggest ANBU to Kakashi you begged Minato to listen to your concerns, but as his Sensei he thought what he was doing was the best way for Kakashi to deal with the death of his teammates. The following months after he joined you watched him break down further and further; he is a mere shell of the person he was just a few years prior.

“I could be doing better.” Kakashi’s words shocked you, but you kept your eyes forward knowing that looking back at him would likely embarrass him. “I just, I can’t shake it (y/n) Sensei. Every time I close my eyes I see Rin’s face looking back at me in shock? Anger? I could never understand the emotion she gave me and it haunts me in every passing moment. I deserve it though, I killed her. I couldn’t keep my promise to Obito – I couldn’t keep her safe.”

Everything in you wanted you to turn around and hug him; to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. “Kashi, it wasn’t your fault. No one blames you for that incident. Not even Obito would see it as your fault.”

You could hear him start to sniffle, but you were certain he was holding back tears – regardless of how broken he was, he was still one of the strongest shinobi you had been around

“I, I know.” He stumbled over his words, letting out a large exhale once he finished speaking.

You opened the door into the academy, letting Kakashi walk in front of you.

As soon as he got in front of you, you placed your hand atop his head, rustling his hair.

“You can always talk to me; my door is always open – you know that.” You patted his head as the two of you began to ascend the stairs. “And if you don’t want to talk to that’s fine as well – but just know you aren’t alone, okay?”

Kakashi stopped outside of your door, turning around to meet your eyes; through his mask, you could see a small smile coming across his face. “Thank you (y/n) Sensei.”

“Mhm.” You nodded, unlocking the door so he could immediately run in to sit on the beanbag beside your desk.

Looking over at the clock you realized that you only had about five minutes left of lunch to call Jiriaya and eat. You couldn’t help but look over at Kakashi and wonder if he would be okay for those five minutes. Even though he gave you a hard time, you knew he enjoyed seeing you happy. He was like a younger brother to you, and he looked to you as an older sister.

“Do you mind?” You pointed towards your closet; which is where the phone was kept, “He hasn’t answered in the last few days – so I at least want to attempt to check on him.” You gave him a slight smile – waiting for him to inevitably roll his eyes at you.

“Go ahead.” And as you started walking towards the closet you watched him roll his eyes at you just slightly; you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

The closet was small but you had found comfort in its existence when you started to call Jiraiya during lunch. He would forever be considered a Legendary Sannin of the Leaf, but he was rarely ever in the village itself. Most people speculated what he was up to; but you knew the truth – that he was constantly watching and keeping track of Orichumaru’s movements and writing. He also tended to drink a bit too much when he was out, but you couldn’t blame him considering all he puts on himself.

You grabbed the phone and began dialing the only number you had memorized. Placing the phone up to your ear, you took a deep breath in – fully expecting him to not answer once again. And though you knew he was safe, it was hard not to worry about him when you never got to see him.

You listened to the phone ring. Once, twice, three times; you were almost certain that he was probably once again too busy to answer. Then you heard the click of the phone.

“Jiraiya?” You questioned.

“Hey (y/n).” You immediately felt a smile come across your face; you hadn’t heard his voice in several weeks – you only told Kakashi a few days so that he wouldn’t worry for you.

“Where are you? Are you okay??” You couldn’t help but immediately overload him with questions. The feeling of tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes made you immediately wipe them away, knowing if Kakashi heard you crying he would only think the worse.

“I’m fine, but hmmm where am I? That’s a good question, isn’t it? Want to take a guess?” His tone was playful; oh how you had missed his voice.

“Are you in the Sand village?” You knew you had no option but to play the game with him or he wouldn’t tell you.

“Think closer.” His voice was giddier this time.

Closer? “Are you in the Land of Fire?” You didn’t want to be hopeful, but you couldn’t help but hope that he would be swinging through for a visit.

“I’m in the office.”

“The office?” Your mind began to run at max speed. Did he mean the Hokage office?

“Mhm, the office.” You could hear him let out a light chuckle.

Without thinking you immediately hung up the phone, nearly dropping it from excitement. As you opened the door, Kakashi’s eyes immediately turned to you; curiosity filling his eyes.

“He’s back?” He questioned as you placed your ramen on the desk.

Turning to answer him, you couldn’t help but let a huge smile spread across your face. “Yes, he’s with Minato.”

“And you’re going? Isn’t lunch almost over?” he went back to eating his ramen; he knew your answer before he even asked it.

“I don’t have a class after lunch and I’ll be back before the next class; you can hang out in here if you want.” You started to turn towards the door but stopped yourself, “Will you be okay? I can stay if I need to?” You loved Jiraiya and had no idea how long he would be in the village, but Kakashi needed someone to be there for him and you couldn’t take that away from him.

You immediately felt your heart warm as you watched a smile spread across his face, his eyes never leaving his bowl of ramen. “I wouldn’t stop you from seeing him; even if I don’t like him. But if you aren’t back by the time your class gets here I’m going to make them go to the training grounds.”

“Okay Kashi, you can torture my students if I’m not back in time.” You let out a laugh as you started to make your way out the door. “You’re sure you’re okay?” you couldn’t help but question him again.

“You better get going before I change my mind.” He threw his hand in the air, gesturing for you to leave.

As soon as you stepped out of the classroom, your pace quickened tremendously. You couldn’t help but nearly run out of the academy.

It had been nearly a year since Jiraiya had been in the village; and you had only been talking to him for a few weeks at that point. You had met him at a bar after the Chunin exams; he hit on you instantly. But you weren’t interested – at least not interested in what he was interested in. Both of you drank quite a few drinks, and he attempted to invite you back to his place but you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. You’ll never forget his face when you did that; he looked shocked as if he had never been turned down in his life. Before leaving the bar you gave him your phone number and told him to call you the next morning if he was still interested. To your surprise, he called you shortly after you woke up the next morning. The most shocking part was that the phone call wasn’t awkward – it felt as though you were talking to a friend you had had your entire life. You both laughed and told jokes, he talked about Orichumaru and you talked about the death of your parents; it was like talking to someone who understood everything even if they hadn’t been through it. He listened when you talked, and you hadn’t had someone listen to you in what had felt like years. The two of you stayed talking on the phone for hours, it was dark outside before the two of you decided it was time to hang up but before that Jiraiya initiated setting up a date to Icharuku.

You couldn’t help but feel your smile growing bigger with each passing step towards the Hokage building.

You had never been to Icharuku before Jiraiya took you; ramen just wasn’t something you ever thought about when looking for restaurants to eat at – plus your parents weren’t the biggest ramen fans so it wasn’t something you were used to eating.

As soon as you got to Icharuku, Jiraiya was waiting outside the curtain for you. As soon as his eyes met yours, his face filled with a smile. The two of you went in and ordered ramen; you let him pick out what you were going to eat since you had no clue what to order – and it did not disappoint. The two of you drank and ate ramen as you talked just as you did the day prior on the phone; this time with more emotion. The booth filled with the noise of the two of you laughing for hours. He walked you home that night; he never tried to do anything funny – he stopped outside your apartment door and kissed the top of your head. As soon as you unlocked your door he began to descend back down the stairwell.

You opened the door and began to sprint up the stairs to get to the Hokage office. Several visitors gave you awkward glances as you passed by them with a huge smile spread across your face.

There were two ANBU members stationed outside of the office, but they didn’t even give you a second glance as you walked up to the door. Without much thought, you pushed the doors open without even knocking. As soon as the doors creaked open, your eyes met Jiraiya’s and you couldn’t help but move quickly. You could feel Minato watching you, but not an ounce of you cared. You opened your arms and threw yourself around him as soon as he got in touching distance.

In a blur, the two of you fell backward onto the ground – Jiraiya immediately holding you tightly to ensure you wouldn’t get hurt.

You both busted out laughing; you could even hear Minato let out a chuckle.

“I’m sorry.” You said softly as you pushed your head deep into his shoulders; his arms pulling you tightly against him.

“You know, Minato and I could’ve been talking about information that you didn’t need to hear.” You could hear the teasing tone in his voice.

You pushed yourself up so that you could look at him, his hand immediately moving up to your face to push the hair away from your eyes. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.” You hadn’t thought much when coming in, your only thought was seeing Jiraiya.

“You know you’re kind of cute when you miss me.” His arms wrapped around you again, pulling you tight against him once again.

Before he left, the two of you held each other for hours in bed; talking about how you were going to stay in contact, you listened to his worries for the missions he was out to complete, he listened to your worries about him going out on missions by himself. Though the two of you mostly just stayed silent – enjoying each other’s presence while you could. When you dozed off in his arms, you woke up to him having already left. A note rested upon the pillow where his head was laid up hours prior.

You could feel the tears well up against your eyes; you hadn’t realized how much you had needed this hug.

“Jiraiya.” Minato’s soft voice echoed through the room.

Jiraiya laughed as he picked you up off of him; placing you back on to the ground as he stood up to address Minato.

“Sorry Minato.” Jiraiya smiled at him. “Am I good to leave?”

You began to stand up and Minato laughed, “Get out of here you two; what has it been a little over a year?” you shook your head. “Go.” He gestured towards the door and Jiraiya immediately grabbed your hand in his, nearly tugging you behind him.

“You’re still coming over later though, right? I’ve already told Kushina the two of you would be there for dinner.” You looked back at Minato who was smiling ear-to-ear at the two of you.

“We will be there.” Jiraiya never turned around, instead he kept tugging you forward out the door; Minato waved at you as made your way through the door.

You managed to find your pace in his, and instead of being tugged behind him, you were happily walking in stride with him. His large hand completely wrapped around yours; his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand as the two of you walked down the stairs.

“I missed hearing your voice.” As you made your way to the bottom of the stairs he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in towards him. The people around you watched the two of you; it wasn’t as if people didn’t know who Jiraiya was – he was a hero of the village, and people knew who you were because you were a teacher at the academy; most though weren’t aware of your relationship.

You could feel the judgment through most people’s eyes; it was to be expected. Jiraiya had himself sold around the village as a pervert and you were sure most people were likely imagining that you were just his next prey. But honestly, he had never made those types of advances towards you – you set up boundaries and he respected them. He would occasionally make a dirty joke, but it was nothing more than a way to make you laugh.

“You were the one who wasn’t answering the phone.” You gripped his hand tighter. Those few weeks without hearing from him were rough; you could only imagine the terrible things that could’ve possibly happened to him – but you kept your hopes up, thinking if something had happened to him that the village would eventually find out.

He pulled your hand into the air, spinning you in a circle and pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry.” His hands moved from yours and he placed them gently against your face, pulling you towards him.

You could feel your heart rate accelerate as he guided your face to his; his lips opened slightly and you couldn’t help but smile as your lips crashed onto his.

Before he left you hadn’t even kissed him yet; your relationship wasn’t much of a physical one. He was used to one-night stands and he didn’t want your relationship to be the same as the others.

His cologne lingered on you; the smell of oak and musk; as he slowly released his hands from your face, letting his lips fall off of yours. As you met his eyes you could see a smile spread across his face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time now.” He pulled you back under his arm, your face turning red with embarrassment as you notice the several onlookers the two of you had.

“How long are you here for?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him; the rush of euphoria that you experienced from your lips meeting his vanished and was replaced with panic – this could be his only day in the village.

“I’m back for a while.” He looks over at you, wiping the singular tear that you weren’t able to keep held in, “Minato needs me here for some things, so don’t worry about me leaving quite yet.”

The two of you continued walking hand-in-hand until you got to the riverfront. Jiraiya took his time stretching and then sat beside you on the grass; watching the currents in the water.

“I can’t stay out here for long, I have to get back to my class- “

He cut you off before you were even able to finish your thought, “Don’t worry about your class – Minato got it covered for you.” He laid back onto the grass, stretching his arms behind you and staring up at the clouds moving through the sky.

“Sorry again for interrupting in the office earlier; I just, I wasn’t thinking.” You shook your head in frustration at yourself when you heard Jiraiya chuckle behind you. His large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you down to lie beside him.

“(y/n), Minato knew as soon as I answered your phone call that our conversation was over; really, he knew as soon as your lunch break started that our conversation was as good as over.” You couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Wait,” it finally hit you that Minato knew of your relationship – “did you tell Minato?”

Jiraiya cocked his head slightly to look at you, his face calm. “Well, I knew you would be calling me; and considering I was there on official orders I felt it was best to let him know. I wouldn’t worry about him though, he’s just happy to see me happy.” His hand found yours, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Should it be a secret that we are together?” he seemed to be slightly upset at the idea of this.

“I, I just haven’t told anyone.” You pondered this thought for a moment, “Well, expect for Kakashi.”

“White Fang’s kid?” Jiraiya perched himself up a bit; curiosity was written across his face.

“Mhm,” You smiled as you let your gaze leave him and you returned to looking at the clouds. “I’ve watched over him since he died; he’s like a brother to me. He eats in my classroom nearly every day so he’s known since the beginning.” Laughing, you couldn’t help but continue, “He doesn’t like you much though, especially with your reputation.” Jiraiya knew you were only joking; though he did have quite a reputation in the village.

“Ahh, I see.” You could hear him lie back on the grass, “How is he after the incident with Rin?”

You were taken aback by this question. He was rarely in the village, and though that incident was quite horrific you didn’t imagine that he had heard about it. “He, uh –” You tried to think of a way to answer this question without completely disrespecting Kakashi, “He’s as good as you could be after losing one teammate and accidentally killing the other.”

“So, not too good?”

“No, not so great at all.” You pondered if you should drop the conversation, but you had at least one more thing you wanted to bring up, “Minato put him in ANBU after Rin.”

“Yeah, I recall him telling me about that.” You could tell by the tone of his voice that he must have also disagreed with that decision.

“It’s made him worse; they call him ‘Cold-Blooded Kakashi,’ he won’t talk to anyone, well except me – but I have to force it out of him most of the time. But, he won’t leave ANBU.” You could only hope that Kakashi was okay; you had left him in your classroom – but hopefully, he had left and gone on home. Maybe Kushina would have leftovers you could take him.

“I can’t do anything about what Minato does, even if I was his Sensei, he won’t listen to me – especially when it comes to his team. He’s gone through the same losses as Kakashi; he didn’t take any of those events easily. I’m sure he imagines himself in Kakashi’s position, and for him maybe ANBU sounded like the best healing mechanism.” He paused for a moment, “I’m sorry I can’t help him (y/n).”

You shook your head, “It’s fine; I didn’t expect you to able to, but I had to at least try.” His hand tightened around yours.

“I could talk to him though; I won’t tell him I know anything – “

You cut him off before he could even go any further with that thought, “No, you can’t do that. He would immediately know I told you something. He’s incredibly smart; I would go as far as to say that he’s the best shinobi the Leaf has ever had.”

That piqued his interest, he sat up beside you, watching your face. “The best shinobi of the Leaf, huh?”

“Maybe I’m biased, but I’m almost certain Minato would agree.”

Jiraiya laughed, shaking his head in agreement. “I would say I know for certain he agrees.”

The two of you stay by the riverfront for hours; talking about the past year as if you hadn’t talked on the phone for a good majority of it. He told you that he finished his book; Tales of a Gutsy Ninja. He didn’t have a copy on him, but he promised he would give one to you. You told him about your class this year. You had told him about Shisui Uchiha; the most promising student you had. He was years above his class; he would likely be allowed to graduate early if he kept at the pace he was going. You both couldn’t help but get lost in conversation with each other. He continued, telling you about what it was like training Minato, he brought up the three kids he taught from Amegakure; Konan, Nagato, and Yahiko. He talked about them frequently, even during your phone calls. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing and if they were still alive; surviving the war-stricken land. Jiraiya talked about them as if they were his children; it made you upset that he wouldn’t go visit them.

“When need to get going,” he stood up beside you, offering his hand to aid in helping you up. He lifted you from the ground with ease. “Kushina will get upset if we are late.” He patted down his legs to remove the dirt that was spread across them; you did the same to yourself.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I go?” you reached out for his hand; you didn’t want to be a burden on Minato and Kushina.

“Trust me (y/n), if you didn’t show up Kushina would not be pleasant to deal with – plus, she’s excited to have another woman to share the evening with since it’s normally just myself.” He grabbed onto your hand.

You shook your head, still nervous at the idea.

The two of you walked as the sky began to turn orange and the sun began to make its descent for the evening. The air was brisk, but Jiraiya kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders; laughing and making jokes through the entire walk.

As you arrived at the walk path to their door, you could feel your heart rate quicken; but as if he could tell, he wrapped his hand tightly around yours, squeezing it with comfort.

This was the first time the two of you were going out as a couple – at least a known couple; your first outing had to of course be at the Hokage’s residence.

“It’ll be fun.” Jiraiya pulled you along with him, stopping at the door, he turned to you and kissed the top of your head.  

His knuckles hit the door with several loud strikes and you could hear Kushina yell at Minato to go answer the door; within seconds you could hear the door being unlocked. Minato immediately glanced over at you, as if to ensure that you had indeed come with Jiraiya; a smile spread across his face.

“Hi!” he opened the door up for the door of you, “Come on in!” he exclaimed.

You took a deep breath; hand still wrapped tightly in Jiraiya’s. The two of you followed in-behind Minato, who seemed happier than normal – which was saying something considering how bubbly his personality was.

As soon as you made it into their living area, you could hear Kushina moving around in the kitchen.

“I’ll be there in a moment!” She exclaimed as you heard the sounds of dishes being tossed about.

Jiraiya had let go of your hand to walk over to Minato; the two of them deep in conversation. Both of them with smiles spread across their faces; Minato occasionally blushing. You could only begin to imagine the things that Jiraiya could be saying to him.

“Oh!” you looked up to see Jiraiya staring at the doorway; your eyes naturally following his.

“Oh!” You couldn’t help but let out a sound a surprise.

Kushina was standing in the doorway; her belly round with child and her face bright with joy.

[clairecrive]

“Mr Darcy” pt.2

Here it is guys! This has been highly requested and I loved the first one just as much as you did so I couldn’t really say no. However, I do think I’m better at writing angst than fluff so I’m not too sure about this one. I hope you like it nonetheless! I’ve decided to post this now as a treat for the week that it’s about to start ‘cause I’ll be hella busy and idk if I’ll be able to publish anything.

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye​, @mollybegger-blog​, @br0ck-eddie​, @of-love-and-of-the-sea​, @fandom--0verdose​, @evelynshelby​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @sopxhiea​, @fuseburner​ (let me know if you wanna be added)

Part 1

It had been a week. However, if you were to ask either of them, they would have said that it had been longer. When y/n got home that evening, for a moment she thought of how stupid the whole fight was. She could see that maybe she had overreacted a bit. She knew how Alfie could choose the worse words possible to express his feelings. Maybe that was the case and not his subconscious confirming her worst fear. For a moment she had actually thought of calling him and ask him to come back and talk it through. But then, after a look at the clock, she decided that it was best to sleep on it, clear their heads and face the problem when both of them had sorted their minds. 

There were some things though, that were better done sooner rather than later. And resolve an argument was one of them. A part of her secretly hoped for Alfie to call her or give her any sign that he wasn’t going to accept her decision. Because it had been, in fact, her decision to break up. At that moment in time, in his car with his words fresh in her mind, that had seemed the only logical thing to do. Now, days after the argument, she realized that no, of course it wasn’t. But she had been so hurt by his insinuation, it had hit too close home for her to just ignore it or think straight.

Next day came around and y/n was wondering if she had thrown everything away or if there still was a chance for her to fix things. Alfie had said that he loved her, so that meant that he wouldn’t be mad if she called him. Right? She had made such a fool of herself though. And how could she have ended things so easily between them? Like it meant nothing to her. Like it was the easiest thing to do for her. But god that couldn’t be more wrong. Saying those words had killed her. She could swear that she had lost a piece of herself that night. The piece of her heart that was forever gonna be Alfie’s.

So days went by and y/n was stuck trying to find the right words to express what she wanted to say and also to gather the courage to make the call. Alfie hadn’t called nor texted, despite her untold wish. But that shouldn’t have surprised her after all. Alfie was proudful and she was the one who ended things so he would have never made the first move. Y/n had always insisted that girls shouldn’t be afraid of making the first move when it came to guys. However, now that she was put in that position, she found that it was easier said than done.

Finally, on the fourth night after the day at the beach, she was settled. She was going to call him and ask him to come over and if he didn’t want to she was simply going to explain herself over the phone; if he didn’t even want to hear her out then at least she had tried. That wasn’t much more she could do other than try and fix things.

So she pulled out her phone and unlocked it to dial his number. She forgot though that the last time she had used it, she was wasting time on Instagram. So her IG feed was the first thing she saw when she unlocked her phone. She went to close it when a picture or rather a story caught her attention. There was a preview of the stories of some of the accounts that she followed but only one made her stop and freeze on the spot. 

Karen’s story was on display. But that’s not what bothered her. She was with a guy or well, she had posted a guy in her story. Nothing unusual for her up until this point if it wasn’t that the guy’s hand was one y/n was very familiar with. Shaking her head as if to send the thought away, she took a deep breath before opening the story.

Her heart stopped. Her breath got stuck in her lungs. 

The crown tattoo was unmistakably Alfie’s. What were the odds of Karen coming across some guy who had the same tattoo of her ex and wore the same kind of rings? 

The next story, however, tragically dissipated every doubt. 

It was Alfie indeed. He was standing behind her pulling his selfie face. Which was basically his face, just void of any expression. 

They weren’t alone. The other guys of her group of friends were there but that wasn’t comforting at all. He had gone out with the lads, so what? Y/n and Alfie had been together for a while so it was only natural that her friends became his friends too. There was nothing wrong with that. 

But why was he standing so close to her? Why had he agreed to take a selfie? She usually had to beg him to take pictures together. And why had he gone out to party when they had just broken up? He had looked genuinely broken that day, she was basing her hope to fix things solely on that. She thought that he cared about her and their relationship. But did he really, when so soon after their split up he had gone out to party? The thing was, that Alfie had always told her that he hated going to the disco. It wasn’t really dancing what they did in there and that people only got there just to find someone to screw. That’s what he used to say to her. 

Locking the phone again, she discarded it on the table while she let herself fall on the sofa. Timing was everything and she was suddenly grateful that she hadn’t called him. Otherwise, she would have looked like a fool, and he had already hurt her enough. She didn’t need to add things on her regret list.

So here she was then. Almost a week after their break up, heartbroken and desperate,  pitied by her friends that forced her to go out. If Alfie was enjoying himself, they didn’t see why she couldn’t do the same. Even if going out was the last thing y/n wanted to do, she knew that her friends meant well and that it wouldn’t hurt her to be in their company. So she agreed to the meeting and that’s why she was here in an unknown bar with them.

Half an hour in and she felt thankful that she had listened to them and gotten out and grateful for their presence in her life at the same time. However, the feeling was soon forgotten when she saw two people approaching their table. Karen had entered the bar, wearing her usual skimpy outfit with Alfie following right behind. After the night she had seen her igs she shouldn’t have been so surprised to see them together. However, she couldn’t help the pang in her heart that seeing them, him, inflicted. 

As soon as her friends spotted the couple, they made space for them closing up on her at the same time as to protect her. They moved so that Alfie and Karen would be sat at the other end of the table and if y/n didn’t turn her head to the side, she would be able to ignore their presence completely. And for the first ten minutes or so she was able to.

Then she could feel Alfie’s eyes on her from time to time and suddenly ignoring Karen’s high pitched voice was proving to be a more difficult task than she had initially thought. So when the opportunity presented herself to leave the table for a while, she greedily took it. It didn’t matter that y/n would always avoid talking with the barmen or the waitress because she’d get all uncomfortable making the exchange painfully awkward. She’d do it all the same if it meant getting away from that snake. 

After taking everybody’s order she got up and approached the counter waiting for the girl to notice her before repeating the order to her. Taking a deep breath she rested her head on her hand trying to compose herself. She and Alfie were over and since her friends were also his, she’d to learn how to deal with it without getting too bothered. 

“Hey,” Alfie interrupted her autogenic training, startling her a bit. She didn’t expect him to follow her nor to try and initiate a conversation. But she would be civil. It had been her decision after all.

“Hey,” she greeted him back, her eyes never leaving the girl that was making their drinks. She hoped she was almost done, any minute longer and this exchange was bound to get very awkward very fast.

Alfie wanted to talk to her but he didn’t know what to say. It was the first time they met after the break-up and now talking to her seemed the hardest thing to do. He knew that she wasn’t going to say anything if he didn’t. So he tried to come up with something to say.

“How are you?” Emphasis on try.

Y/n did her best to fight to urge to roll her eyes and reply with a sassy comeback, but really how could she? And since when Alfie bothered with small talk? Seemed that since they split up a lot of things changed. Or maybe they had always been like that and she hadn’t noticed before. Y/n couldn’t know that in that moment Alfie was mentally kicking himself for choosing the lamest thing to say. He absolutely abhorred small talk and so did she. But he had to make her talk someway. Deciding to not play along with him, she just turned to give him a pointed look. She had always been good at conveying her emotion with just her eyes. And Alfie knew her well enough that reading her wasn’t hard. Instead, she decided to turn the question. 

“How are you?” She tried to leave any trace of accusation from her voice but by the way Alfie shuffled on his feet, she must have failed. 

“Could be better.” Was his answer. Turns out that he had also decided to stir away from small talk. A simple “fine” wouldn’t have done. They both knew each other too well though that they could easily spot the other’s lies. And that would have been a lie. 

Despite appreciating his effort to be genuine, y/n really couldn’t help the scoff that left her mouth. She tried to cover it with a cough but when Alfie looked at her she quickly tried to divert his attention.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” To be fair, maybe it was better if she had scoffed and turned around and nothing else. Because now the conversation was going to be uncomfortable indeed.

It was Alfie’s turn to be startled. He knew to what night she was referring to and guilt was taking over his body after he detected her tone. When he accepted the invitation he hadn’t really thought about how it could have affected her. He just took it as an opportunity to get out of the house and do something that wasn’t thinking about y/n. When he realized that Karen was going to be there, he knew that she was going to document the night. There was nothing he could do then, other than hope that you didn’t go on Instagram that night. Seemed that you had seen it though and now he was once again at loss for words.

“Speaking of-” Alfie started but y/n didn’t let him finish.

“What you do is none of my concern anymore, Alfie. I just didn’t realize you and Karen were so close. Must have gone over my head. But oh well, I’m happy to see you happy.” And with that, she completely dismissed the conversation and turned around to go back to their table. Alfie hadn’t noticed that their drinks were ready. He was standing there speechless at her insinuation and the ease with which she had just left him there. Happy? Him?

Making his way back to their table too, he was surprised to notice y/n’s absence. Turning to Mark, the closest guy to him, he inquired about her and learned that she had gone out for a breath of air. This was his occasion and he’ll be damned if he wasn’t going to make the best of it. He got out of the bar and saw y/n standing close to the bar’s wall, her head lifted back on the wall, eyes closed. Alfie walked up to her and mirrored her position but didn’t speak.

“Luke, I’m fine I swear. You don’t have to stay here with me.” Y/n had felt someone approach her and settle beside her and had naturally deducted that it was Luke who had come out to check on her.

“‘snot Luke,” Alfie mumbled loud enough so that she could hear. He feared her reaction but was also put off by the fact that her mind had instinctively gone to Luke.

“What are you doing out here?” Almost alarmed, y/n promptly opened her eyes and looked at him. He was the last person she thought would come out.

“I came to check up on ya.” Alfie said almost timidly.

“Thank you but there’s no need. You can go back inside.” 

And here she was dismissing him again. Alfie couldn’t believe what they’d come to. There was a time when y/n would always be asking for more time together, would always be by his side, would always be present in some way. Now here she was, sending him away like she could hardly bear to be near him. The realisation hurt but Alfie had no one to blame other than himself. 

He didn’t listen to her. He stayed right where he was. There was nothing inside that was calling him anyway. There was nothing more important than being here with her. No other place where he’d like to be.

“Happy,” he voiced out his thoughts to no one in particular but he knew that she was listening, “you said that I’m happy,” he scoffed. “How could you ever say that?” he accusingly asked her hurt by her insinuation. 

“Well, you look fine to me. Looked like you were enjoying yourself at the club. So yeah, I assumed you were happy.” Scrolling her shoulders she explained herself not meeting his eyes. “Aren’t you?” The question came out barely audible. Y/n wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“How could I be?” To Alfie, it was unfathomable that she could think that he was happy. They had split up for god’s sake, how could he ever be happy after that?

“It seemed that you had moved on, I don’t know.” 

“Do I look like I’ve moved on?” 

She then looked at him, really looked at him for the first time that night and well, he had a point. He looked like he hadn’t had a good night sleep in at least a week but to be fair Alfie always looked a bit dishevelled. 

Y/n could sense that if she stayed out there with him they were going to argue and she was too tired for that. She hated arguing, she absolutely despised it and it seemed like it was all they were doing. Letting out a sigh she moved off the wall and was about to get back inside when Alfie’s voice stopped her.

“We need to talk about what happened the other night.” He said but she just looked at him. Was there any point in talking about it anymore?

“Talk to me, y/n. Please.” 

“I don’t think there’s any point in discussing it anymore, Alfie.”

“Well, I fucking don’t think so, right?” Alfie was growing agitated, she could tell by the way he would grip his beard, “ we broke up and you’re telling me that there’s nothing to discuss anymore? So that’s it then? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Nothing. If you had something to say you would have. Besides, why are you even mad, Alfie? I’m not the one who’s already involved with someone else.”

“The fuck yer on about, eh?”

“You went out with her. You came here with her, sat next to her. You took pictures with her, Alfie. I used to have to beg you for one. Funny how things change, eh?”

“There’s a whole fucking big misunderstanding here pet, right? I’m not with Karen.” He scoffed at the thought. As if. “How could I, right, when I’m still in love with you?” But y/n chose to ignore his last sentence.

“Well it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re single now, it’s bound to happen.” Saying that s-word really took it out of her but that was true. It was as if she was actually realizing it for the first time. He was single. And guys never stay single for long. She better get used to the idea of seeing Alfie with someone else, even if it wasn’t Karen.

“Stop y/n, just stop. Stop talkin like we’re fucking through and done, ‘lright? I can’t fuckin stand it.” Shaking his head, Alfie looked like he was fighting his inner demons. He looked haunted. The truth was that what he said was true. He really couldn’t bear hearing her talk about them like they were a thing of the past. 

“It’s the truth, Alfie.” She muttered because pointing that out hurt her too.

“No, ‘snot, ‘lright?” Taking a step towards her, Alfie was failing at keeping his distance from her and was ready to give in to that instinct that told him to scoop her up in his arms and never let her go. “ Please, y/n. You have to let me make this right.” He literally pleaded. Y/n had never seen Alfie so desperate. She would love nothing more than to give in and tell him that it was okay, that they were okay. But they weren’t. What happened changed the way she thought of him and she didn’t know if it was a reversible thing.

“I trusted you, Alfie. I opened up to you, I confided in you against my better judgment that told me not to trust guys anymore and look what happened.”

“I’m so, so sorry pet. I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me, at least on that.”

“I thought you were someone that was never going to hurt me. But I was just being naive, I guess.”

“I screwed up y/n, okay? Don’t ya think I fuckin know that? That I’ve been kickin meself for it since it happened? I knew I had fucked it all up as soon as I opened my mouth.” Grunting as if trying to express himself was actually hurting him, Alfie took his frustration out on his soft hair. “I just- I was tryin to tell ya that I didn’t care about those things. But you know me pet, I always say the wrong thing.” 

“That’s one way of saying it.” She agreed scoffing.

“Luke probably has chosen better words, I’m fuckin sure of it, but I don’t see why his were okay and mine were not.”

“What does Luke have to do with this?”

“Well, Karen told me that you was worryin yerself about yer imperfections. Well, what you think are imperfections ‘cause I ain’t never thought of ‘em like that, right? So I was trying to be a loving boyfriend, helpin ya and whatnot. Totally screwed up though, ‘aven’t I?”

“Wait. Karen told you that?” He nodded.

“Since when you and her have been talking? I thought you just said hi to each other.”

“We did, yeah. Was as surprised as yer when she spoke to me that day.” Nodding, y/n processed the information Alfie just provided her with. Karen. Of course it was her fault. Saying all that nonsense only to sink her claws in him when they broke up. Of course. How could she hadn’t thought about it? It was obvious.

“I should have known.” Y/n snickered with mirth shaking her head. Everything was falling into place and it all made sense now. Karen had used Alfie’s jealousy to drive them apart. And she had so foolishly let her. God, what a bitch. But Alfie’s was only more confused by her snicker.

“Why did you listen to her, Alfie?” She then addressed him.

“Well, she meant good didn’t she?” Oh, Alfie…

“Karen? Please, Alfie, she’s a bitch. And she has set her eyes on you since the first time I introduced you to everyone.” She explained and was surprised to see his confused expression, guys could be so clueless… “I can’t believe that she had almost got away with this.”

“Wait- so she’s not your friend?”

“Of course not Alfie! Have you never noticed how none of the girls actually spend time with her? ‘Cause she’s a back-stabbing, two-faced witch. It’s not the first time she does something like this.” The more she thought about it, the angrier y/n became. She had half a mind to go back inside and gave Karen a piece of her mind. 

“Fuck.” But she and Alfie weren’t done.

“So, you’re telling me that this all happened because of a bitch that manoeuvred you like a puppet with your jealousy?” Y/n was trying to figure this situation out. This new change of events left her at a crossroad. Could she really be that mad at Alfie for being completely clueless that she would stay broken up?

“Well, if ya put it like that…” he started but she interrupted him with a gesture of her hand.

“Don’t you trust me, Alfie?” 

“I do pet, I do. It’s just- you gotta understand that sometimes, yeah, I say things I don’t really mean or act on instinct because I’m a fuckin beast, ain’t I?” His complete honesty and just the way he gesticulated when he spoke made y/n snort. She tried to cover the sound given that the situation wasn’t exactly comical however her attempt totally failed when she saw Alfie insecure smile. She had missed him so much. 

A noise coming from the pub doors caught her attention and she noticed that it was Karen that was coming out. No doubt to check on Alfie. A primal urge came over her to assert her name on him. As if to send a huge middle finger to her who wanted to take what was hers. For once in her life, y/n made a split-second decision. In front of her there was Alfie, the guy she was in love with and here she was coming, someone who wanted to take him away. She couldn’t let that happen. She won’t go down without a fight. She had already made things too easy for her. Enough.

Without further thinking about it, she closed the space that kept them apart and kissed him after taking his face in her hands. Feeling his lips on hers after so long felt amazing, she wasn’t sure how she could describe it. Maybe like when you taste chocolate again after months of being on a strict diet. 

The kiss made them both remember what they had been missing on, this past week. Not that they weren’t already aware of that but sometimes the routine could make you take things for granted. Before that day at the beach, y/n didn’t realize how much she mindlessly counted on their kisses. As a greeting, as a way to say thank you, as a way to initiate something more. It was natural, almost obvious. Until it wasn’t there anymore and it felt like she had lost an arm.

As the initial shock left Alfie’s body, the kiss grew more desperate for both of them. His hands immediately went to her body, holding her close, afraid that if he let her go she would fade away. Their hands caressed and gripped even when the kiss came to a natural end. Even then, they didn’t pull apart. Their lips brushed again each other as they breathed heavily, their foreheads and noses touching. They had been apart for too long that now they couldn’t physically allow the other to be even one foot away from them.

And just like that, Karen was pushed out of their minds. There was only their other half in this moment. It was a matter of priorities. Their breath settled down and they found that neither of them could stop smiling. 

“So,” Alfie started quietly clearing his voice, “this means we’re good?”

“So you were really saying the truth all those times you said you didn’t mind them?” Maybe it was stupid but she asked just to be sure. He knew what she was referring to.

“I never cared for ‘em, love.” He promised, gently rubbing their noses together making her smile. Having received the answer she needed, she nodded to reply to his previous question. 

“Say it. I need to hear you say it.” He insisted.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, mate.” And she complied. Grinning like a fool, Alfie couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He attacked her lips like a famished man. He just wanted to get lost in her. They had to make up for the lost time after all.

[ceo-caroline]

58 or 61, 62 for caveline...? idk if ur still doing these sorry lol

61. “It’s past midnight! Where the hell were you?”

“Yes, his name is Joseph. Joseph Price.”

Caroline has grown tired of this woman’s voice. The way she sounds so near to tears is scraping across her skin like nails, and she rubs her arms uncomfortably, the telephone resting between her cheek and shoulder. She clears her throat.

“I’m looking through our records currently, ma’am. Thank you for your patience,” she’s flipping through the C section of their current test subject registry. There are three other Prices, and her eyes skim down the list, landing on Joseph, and then on the subtle red x to the left of his name. 

Shit. 

She winces. It’s been two years since she’s had to inform a family of a death. They don’t get too many young test subjects anymore, so rarely anyone calls to ask for someone’s whereabouts. 

Is there a script for this? Something to make it easier? Caroline wonders in the silence as she pretends that she is still searching for a name. At no point in her interview did they tell her what to say to a woman whose son is just a body, now. His features unrecognizable from the acid that he fell into on a testing track because the guardrails weren’t tightened when they needed to be. Caroline glances quickly to her boss’s door, which has been closed all afternoon. She imagines what he would say. Always so charismatic. Maybe a little brash, but she’s sure Mrs. Price would prefer his voice to hers. She takes a second in her mind to wish he were here, coaching her through the phone call as he did once when she was first starting. The door stays shut.

She closes the registry, smooths her palm over the glossy cover. Tries her best to conjure some sympathy into her tone.

“Mrs. Price, I am very sorry to have to give you this news, but your son passed away yesterday afternoon during a routine testing procedure. Our scientists did everything they could, but I’m afraid his condition was too severe for medical attention.”

There is next to no logic behind it, like most things at Aperture, but the official test subject contract designates a 48-hour “processing” period for any casualties. Time to examine the bodies, or something like that. Caroline knows it’s just the corporate way of scrambling for time to release an appropriate statement that doesn’t sound like a lie. It satisfies the lawyers, at least.

The mother’s wail is spine-tingling. She is clearly no longer listening, but Caroline presses on.

“I’m going to transfer you to our Human Resources department for further information. We at Aperture thank you for your son’s admirable contribution to science and give our sincerest condolences. Have a—”

“Can I see him?” The woman’s interruption borders on inaudible, but her voice still cuts through Caroline’s forcibly professional words. 

No one usually gets to ask questions. She’s always managed to transfer them before they can get another word out. 

“... No, ma’am. You can’t see him. Again, I— I’m very sorry.” And she sounds like she is going to say something else, but another sob rises up and swallows her words. Caroline hits the recall button and frantically dials in the number for Human Resources. She ignores how much her hands are shaking.

And then it’s done. And she stares at the wall ahead of her after gingerly placing the telephone back onto her desk. She reaches for a pen to keep her hands busy but remembers the stack of papers to her left that needs signing, and, relieved, pulls them in front of her.

The phone rings again. Scientists from Alpha need extra fire extinguishers. And so the day goes.

She is used to long hours, by now. There’s no obligation attached to working late, but Caroline feels dependent on the exhaustion. Any problem Aperture has to offer her is a better alternative to her apartment, especially in the nighttime. She tries to stay away from it as much as she can. 

The rest of the day is spent filing away her finished paperwork and taking the elevator down to the labs to get some notes on their latest repulsion gel trial. The first batch of it kept melting the test subject’s shoes into the floor and they carted off a whole group of people to the ICU with chemical burns. All part of the process, though. They just went back to the start and reworked the formula. As she writes on her clipboard, hair tied back messily, Caroline notices that her hands are still trembling. When she glances down, her writing is slightly messier than usual. She sets the notes aside, frustrated. She’ll just type her findings up later. 

Hours pass by, and Caroline doesn’t notice. The test finishes; they’re out of subjects for the day. One by one, the lab boys clear out, not giving her a second look. She waits in the observation room until the lights in the test chamber switch off below her, and then gathers herself and goes back to her desk. Her throat hurts like she’s trying to hold in a scream.

She remembers Cave telling her that she could break off a typewriter key with how hard she types. Her eyes flicker back to his door. The lights are off inside. He’s probably gone home. She bows her head, rubs the back of her neck. She needs a cigarette. Three more pages, she tells herself. Then go outside and take a break. 

Three turns into five which turns into ten, and soon she practically has half a novel of notes on the new gel formula, and her fingers fucking hurt and she just can’t get that woman’s voice out of her head and— dammit. She pinches the bridge of her nose and grabs her purse.

It’s a clear night. A breeze pulls her hair loose from her updo and tosses it around her face. She makes no effort to brush it away and stares numbly ahead at the parking lot as she smokes her cigarette down to ash.

It’s not sadness. It’s not grief. It’s not even compassion. Just this foreign tugging feeling in her stomach when she thinks about the way she had wept. Caroline has never let herself cry like that. She wonders if there’s anything that would bring her to that point.

As she lights another cigarette, the door to her left is suddenly thrown open. Caroline jumps, her whole body unconsciously stiffening at the sound of clanging metal.

Cave steps outside.

He looks tired, his hair messy and shirt untucked, but at the sight of her, a look of relief spreads across his face.

“You do not know how happy I am to see you.” He walks over to where she’s leaning against the building and settles himself by her side. Caroline fights the urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Why’s that?” She asks, keeping her voice just casual enough to hide behind.

“It’s past midnight! I’ve been lookin’ for you all over the facility! Where the hell have you been all day?” Well. Time really had escaped her in the lab. It explains why she’s so exhausted. 

The fact that he’d been trying to find her makes her feel like her head is full of static, and she flushes deeply. “Caroline?” He asks gently when she doesn’t respond. 

“You didn’t think I had just gone home for the night?”

“You always tell me before you leave.” He glances away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. If she didn’t know better, she would say he was being bashful. 

“I never really thought you noticed that.” 

“I do. I kinda look forward to it. I like seein’ your face before I go home, kid.” 

“Oh.” She takes a drag of her cigarette to avoid speaking again. The silence between them grows, and he leans a little closer.

Caroline looks up into his eyes. They survey each other, and the tension from the day melts away as a new kind of feeling starts to swallow her whole. She passes him her cigarette without thinking, watching him bring it to his mouth.

“Tell me about your day,” she says softly. 

When they are alone, she can listen to him speak endlessly. 

And slowly, slowly, Mrs. Price’s broken sobs leave her mind for the night. Slowly, slowly, she lets Cave’s voice fill up the open space. He walks her back to her desk, after. Bids her a gentle goodnight and tells her to stop working so hard. If only. Caroline doesn’t promise him anything, but that night she drives home with steady hands.

[spookyboywhump]

Daniel 2

Previous

(this is technically a whole side piece thing so idk if people want to be tagged in all the pre-Wren stuff)

 You ever just black out and go full feral writing something? Yeah here y’all go, a mess featuring Cain before he was a complete bastard man

***

Cain stared at the man with wide eyes, unsure of how to even react. His father was talking to him, he should be listening, but all his focus was on the man sitting on his knees in front of him, bound and gagged and blindfolded. He wasn’t sure he was even older than he was, it was hard to tell anything and he knew better than to ask his father while he was speaking. 

 “Are you listening?” The man snapped, and he finally focused on him again, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. 

 “Yes, father…” he said slowly, glancing between the two of them. His father had brought home countless dogs before, but this was the first time he’d handed him a leash and said it was his. He was used to them being around but they’d never been his problem, and he’d never wanted the responsibility of owning one, much less one he didn’t get to decide on. 

 “His training didn’t go as planned but I think it will be good for you to learn how to train your dog.”

 “Yes sir…” 

 “You need to be strict with him, Cain, especially since he was so difficult to train.”

 “Yes sir…”

 “Get used to him being around, he’s your responsibility now.” He said, and Cain numbly accepted the folder handed to him, containing the man’s papers. He looked down at him again, though he obediently sat on his knees he was tense, hands clenched into fists behind his back. He didn’t look like any of the dogs his father had bought before, he didn’t have that sense of resignation and defeat to him. This one would fight, and Cain didn’t even know what he was supposed to do with him. 

 He gave a hesitant tug on the leash, hoping the man would get to his feet. There was something about a person- a dog on all fours that made his skin crawl, he could never stand it. Instead, the man pulled back, resisting him.

 “You don’t have to be gentle, Cain. Honestly, you’ve seen how I handle my dogs, you should know this.” He snatched the leash back from him, yanking harshly on it so that the man nearly fell forward, before finally struggling to his feet. Fuck, he thought, he’s fucking taller than me. He took the leash back, taking a step away and pulling, the man realized he should follow him. 

 “I’m… going to take him then… um…” He wearily looked to his father who was watching him expectantly. “Thank you, for the gift, father.” He said, which seemed to satisfy him. 

 He led the man out of the room, still unsure of what to do with him. He felt like he should say something but he didn’t know what, his father rarely talked with his dogs, usually just commanding or chastising them. He brought him upstairs, going slow to make sure he wouldn’t trip, and back to his room, shutting the door behind them before looking to him. He wasn’t sure if this would work since his father said his training hadn’t gone right, but he tried anyway.

 “Sit.” He ordered. Much to his relief, he did so, even if it was reluctantly. “Okay… just, stay here, while I figure everything out.” He unclipped the leash from his collar, tossing it on to his desk along with the folder before getting his phone from his pocket, dialing his friend’s number. When she picked up he started rambling before she could say a word. 

 “Hey! Hi, fuck, um, my dad gave me a gift?”

 “What? That’s not like him.”

 “I know, I know, fuck, Vanessa, he gave me a fucking dog.”

 “Oooh! What are you going to do with it?”

 “That’s why I was calling you, I don’t know what to do with it.” He looked back to the man kneeling on his floor, almost subtly pulling against his restraints. “I never fucking wanted one of these, and he went and gave me a difficult one too. Could you just, get over here?” He asked.

 “Of course! I'd love to meet your new pup!” She giggled. “I’ll be there soon!” She promised. Once they hung up he went to his desk, pulling the chair away so he was closer to the man and sitting down. His dark hair was messy and he had a suspicion he hadn’t showered in a week. He thought about how his father usually bathed his dogs and felt sick, this was a grown man, he didn’t need Cain to bathe him. He was his dog though, so he figured he could decide how all that would work. It was odd to him, having complete control over something. 

 He reached over and snatched the folder off his desk, opening it up and looking it over. It didn’t give him a whole lot of information, but he at least had a better idea of who this person was. There was a photo of him in it, a school picture. He looked almost painfully normal, a big smile on his face, bright brown eyes full of life. He was kind of pretty, the kind of person that Cain would have to stop and stare at if he saw him on the street. Instead, he was in his home, on his knees, blindfolded and gagged. 

 “So, your name is Daniel…?” He asked, looking over the papers. Daniel Alexander King, he swore he remembered that last name from somewhere but it didn’t matter much. “Fuck, you’re eighteen?” He asked, and the man nodded. “Damn, he told me they won’t take anyone under twenty… you’re one unlucky son of a bitch huh?” He laughed, and the man made an irritated noise behind the gag. He didn’t need to keep him blindfolded and gagged, he could’ve removed them, but at the same time he almost liked the control, liked deciding whether another man could see or speak. His father would be proud.

 He looked over the rest of the information, he was born in December, he’d just graduated from one of the best high schools in the city, his father was dead and apparently his mother wasn’t important enough to list. He wasn’t a volunteer case, he was a “special request” and the details of his training didn’t look too promising. 

 “Dog Type: Basic*

 Simple commands: successful*

 Advanced commands: unsuccessful

 Name removal: unsuccessful

 Memory removal: unsuccessful”

 It looked like almost everything was either unsuccessful or listed as “N/A”. He was genuinely disgusted by some of the things they offered training for, but thankfully his father hadn’t gone for anything like that, gifting him an unruly dog rather than a sex slave. He looked to the extra notes section, curious as to what they had to say on this one.

 “*Client may want to consider guard dog training for SR-290

 *SR-290 responds best to commands when threatened with punishment. We recommend a strict owner

 Training for SR-290 was cut short, leaving him in a much more stubborn and difficult phase. He is defiant and occasionally resorts to violence when threatened. We recommend he be muzzled to begin with, one of our handlers suffered several bite wounds and a broken finger from his attacks. 

 SR-290 is still a work in progress, not recommended for an inexperienced owner. SR-290 should be returned for further training at his handler’s discretion.”

 “You really put up a fight, huh?” He murmured, flipping through the pages that detailed each day he was there. In only a week he’d broken someone’s nose, broken someone’s finger, bit and scratched and at one point hit a handler hard enough to knock them unconscious. It was honestly a little bit impressive, they recommended him as a guard dog but Cain didn’t need a guard dog, his father and his status was all the security he needed. If he was always this violent though, he’d need somewhere to get all that anger out. 

 It didn’t take long for Vanessa to get there, calling him again. It was some relief to know she was there, she usually knew what to do when he didn’t.

 “Hey, come let me in,” She said when he picked up. “I don’t wanna run into your dad, if he looks at me like that again I might fucking stab him.”

 “You’d be doing us all a favor.” He snickered, thankful the camera installed in his room would only pick up his half of the conversation. He told the boy to stay while he went and opened the front door for her. She seemed more excited about this dog than he was, practically bouncing on her heels.

 “So, where is he? What’s he like?” She asked, and he motioned for her to follow him, leading her upstairs.

 “Right now he’s… quiet. He’s not causing much problems but apparently he’s “difficult”. I don’t know, I don’t even know where to start with him.” He sighed, anxiously running a hand through his hair. He let her into his room, relieved to see he was still where he left him. He shut the door behind them, dropping down in his chair again while she knelt down in front of the boy. 

 “Fuck, how old is he?” She asked, gently taking his face in her hands, looking him over.

 “Eighteen. Younger than normal, right?”

 “Yeah…” She carefully pushed the blindfold up to get a look at his eyes, gasping and nearly startling Cain.

 “What?!”

 “He’s gorgeous!” She said, looking back at Cain while still holding his face. “Look at him! Get him a shower and let him get some rest and he’d just be so pretty!” She was probably right about that, now that he saw his eyes he could tell he probably hadn’t slept in some time, dark circles beneath his eyes. They weren’t bright and happy like in his picture, it was pretty clear that he was fucking pissed. “What’s his name?” She asked, looking back at the boy who had gone red in the face. 

 “Well… the papers my dad gave me said his name is Daniel, but I don’t know, he doesn’t really look like a Daniel does he?”

 “No, not really…” she let go of him, getting to her feet and grabbing the papers from his desk. “Maybe his middle name? Alexander is a nice name.”

 “But a little long for a dog, you know?”

 “Hm… then, what about Zander?” She suggested. He looked back at the man, who seemed frustrated while he watched them. 

 “What do you think, boy, Zander sound good?” He asked him, but all he got was muffled angry shouts. “Yeah, I think Zander fits him.” He laughed.

 “He really didn’t want to be trained, huh?” She said, looking over the notes left on him.

 “To be fair they only had him a week. I’m sure I can make some progress now that I have him. If I can’t then my dad definitely can.” He said, getting to his feet. He crouched down in front of the man, finally removing the gag.

 “I have a fucking name and I’m not letting you fucking change it!” He snapped immediately, startling both of them. 

 “Easy boy, calm down. It’s just a name.” Cain laughed, positioning his hands on his face as he looked him over. He ran one thumb over his lips, forcefully shoving it into his mouth to pry open his jaw, looking over his teeth that had apparently caused so much trouble to his trainers. This proved to be a mistake though as Zander but down, hard. “Fuck! This fucker bit me!” He cried as he finally wrenched his hand away from him, getting to his feet. 

 “Shouldn’t have put your fingers in my damn mouth then!” He snapped. He scowled, raising his hand as if to slap him but Vanessa quickly grabbed his wrist.

 “Cain, calm down!” She said. 

 “He fucking bit me!” 

 “Well you did put your fingers in his mouth. His papers even say he’s a biter, what the fuck did you think would happen?!” 

 “Fuck it, I’m taking him out of here. He doesn’t need to be here to figure out what to do with him.” He said, grabbing the leash and clipping it to his collar again, despite his attempts to get away. He yanked hard on the leash, dragging him out of the room. 

 “Let go of me!” He yelled, pulling against the leash. Cain just yanked harder though, following his father’s example. He wasn’t the most physically strong person but he’d have to give in sooner or later, or accept being dragged behind him.

 “Stop struggling and just come with me!” He snapped. “I’m not gonna fucking hurt you, just gonna put you away for a while!”

 “Not gonna hurt me?! You almost fucking slapped me!”

 “Because you fucking bit me you fucking animal!” 

 “You put your fingers in my fucking mouth of course I’m gonna bite you dumb ass!” He yelled. Cain growled and pulled harder, only getting him to move a few steps further. 

 “Would you shut the fuck up and just come on?!”

 “Cain!” The sudden shout from his father was enough to startle him, dropping the leash and whipping around the face him. His father was clearly irritated with him, enough to leave his office to deal with him, but he must’ve known Vanessa was there because he was also restraining himself, Cain was sure of it. “Are you already having this much trouble with your fucking dog?”

 “Stop calling me a dog!” Zander yelled at him, Cain almost winced. His father would kill him if he ever raised his voice like that. His father marched past him and Cain stood aside, watching him grab Zander by the hair. He’d probably feel bad for him if he hadn’t bitten him. 

 “Well,” his father looked at him, “What do you plan to do with him?” For a moment Cain just stared at him, he wasn’t used to his father letting him make any decisions. 

 “I just… I was just going to lock him up for now. Me and Vanessa are trying to figure out what to do with him, figured I’d lock him in his room…” His father yanked hard on Zander’s hair, dragging him downstairs to that room he’d kept all his dogs in. Cain knew he should’ve followed, but his father was pissed and with Zander locked into that room he wouldn’t have to worry about him. He decided to retreat back to Vanessa before his father got back, staying with her would be safest.

 This whole situation was almost too weird to him. The fact his father got him a gift was weird, the fact that the gift was another person was weird. The fact his father was giving him control of this “gift” was especially weird. He wasn’t sure how long this would last, how long the dog would even survive in this house. His father’s dogs usually only lasted a year or two, and with how stubborn Zander was he felt like it would be even less. However long he lasted though, he’d have to figure out something to do with him.

 He had the strong feeling that things would just continue to get weirder from here.

 ***

 “Let me out!” Daniel screamed, slamming his shoulder against the door again. He’d been banging on the door and yelling and screaming but no one was listening. Once he’d been thrown into the room the door was locked and he couldn’t hear a thing on the other side, he wasn’t sure anyone could even hear him in there. 

 Even if it was useless, he kept going for over an hour. He kicked at the door and banged his fists against it, he screamed until his throat was raw and his voice gave out, and finally, he collapsed against the door, pulling his knees up to his chest and hiding his face in his arms. He hated it but tears filled his eyes, he didn’t even bother trying to hold back. 

 All he wanted was to go home. The past week had been one unending nightmare, he just wanted to rest, to be safe again. As childish as it sounded, more than anything he wanted his mom, he didn’t know what they would tell her since he'd just suddenly disappeared. The thought of her believing he was missing or worse was heart wrenching, he wished he could just tell her he was okay. Was he okay? He wasn’t quite sure, but he was alive. As long as he was alive then he should be okay, as long as he was alive he could try to escape.

 All he needed was to stay alive. 

[writehardwhumpharder]

Carson Poisoned by Magic - (Part 1)

I’ve had some writer’s block lately so it was hard to finish this part, it’s not perfect, but I like the idea so far. When Carson is poisoned with magic and the only way to reverse it is with magic, who can save him? It’s up to Daniel to find a solution and somehow wield magic himself to make it work.

He had no idea what time it was when he finally got home. It felt like he had been walking for hours. But the strange thing was, Carson couldn't remember where he'd been coming from. The rain had long since soaked through his coat and jacket, making it stick to his body when he went to peel it off. Next he kicked off his shoes, not caring when one landed by the door and the other flew somewhere by the couch.

Now that he was inside, Carson was aware of just how tired he felt. Something about the rain made him feel ice cold and burning hot at the same time. He needed water.

Carson was still in the kitchen pouring himself a glass when Daniel stumbled out of his room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Why're you awake?" Carson asked, surprised to hear a slight slurring in his voice.

"Because someone made a huge racket getting home. Where the hell have you been?" Daniel asked.

"Uhh..." he wanted to answer, he really did, but a strange fuzziness coated his memory. And the more he thought about it, the more that fuzziness seemed to spread. Carson leaned heavily against the island looking at Daniel through half-lidded eyes.

"If you're going to get drunk you might as well do it here where you can't get lost," he suggested.

Carson ran a hand over his face. Drunk? What was he talking about? "Mm'not drunk. No drink..." he tried to say.

Daniel rolled his eyes, "Sure you're not," although it did strike him as odd. Carson usually had no problem knowing and admitting when he'd had a few too many drinks. Looking him over, worry stirred in his chest. Something seemed off.

Carson was coming to the same conclusion. He felt... dizzy, like his heart was beating too fast or something. He went to grab his water thinking he might be dehydrated but his hand shook too much to lift it with one hand. Taking a long sip, Carson tried to clear some of the fog in his head. The cup settled back on the counter with a loud clink.

"Carson," Daniel said firmly, "why is your water turning red?"

Carson looked down at the cup and laughed, "what do you mean? It's too dark in here to see," Carson asked, looking back up at Daniel whose face was twisted with worry.

"It's not dark, I turned the light on when I came in." He said each word slowly. A cold fear washed over Daniel's body, threatening to freeze him in place. "What's wrong?"

Carson swallowed thickly, "d'know." His tongue was becoming even more uncooperative as the gross taste of copper filled his mouth. It made him want to throw up a little. Maybe he'd feel better if he sat down, Carson reasoned. There were plenty of stools nearby but Carson settled for sinking to the floor where he stood.

It wasn't until Carson clumsily sat, or rather, fell down on the hardwood floor that he managed to move again. "Are you sick?"

Carson didn't answer. Surprisingly he didn't even flinch when Daniel put a tentative hand on his back. An itch started at the back of his throat that had him hunching over when deep coughs racked his body, making it hard for Carson to get a full breath. Daniel hovered next to him, rubbing his back lightly since he hadn't been told to stop.

After about a minute of hacking, something red dripped onto the floor next to their feet. Daniel recognized it right away but refused to admit it to himself. He spun Carson towards him and grabbed the hand covering his mouth. Sure enough, bright red blood pooled in the palm, slowly dripping between his fingers. Carson could see it too now and a small whimper escaped his throat as his sluggish brain tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

"Oh shit," he mumbled. Daniel couldn't stop staring at it. Even for Carson this wasn't normal. And now that he was touching his skin he noticed he was too warm not to have a fever.

"Let's get you to your bed, okay?" Danny said, grabbing Carson's waist to steer him toward his room. Each step was clumsier than the last and he could tell Carson wouldn't be able to walk much farther.

"Danny, I don't feel good," Carson complained. His coughing had been replaced with an even more concerning wheeze.

"I know, I know," Daniel said absentmindedly. When they got to his room Carson fell onto his side on top of the covers and curled into a ball. At a loss for what to do, Daniel's hand hovered over his phone. He was coughing blood, he belonged in a hospital, right? It was all happening so fast and he was barely even awake yet. He was almost glad how loudly Carson had thrown his shoes around the apartment, otherwise he might not have woken up and then what would have happened?

Though Carson was soaked from the heavy rain outside Daniel could see that he was sweating too. Heat practically radiated from his skin as he shifted around on the bed, clearly uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, Car, I'll get you to a hospital soon," he said as more of an attempt to comfort himself. Flicking on the lamp, he sat down on the edge of the bed, deciding to call Carson's mom first. She was a nurse and gave good advice in situations like this.

Just as he was about to dial her number Daniel grabbed Carson's hand instinctively, just now noticing that he had something dark on his wrists.

Black pen maybe? It better not be the smudged remains of a club stamp. He turned his wrist over to look at the inside, smoothing his thumb over the skin there. It didn't smudge, it didn't feel like ink at all. The closer he looked at it under the light the more he realized the black lines twisted around his hand the way his veins would. Unless, these actually were his veins. No medical problem could have caused this. The whole thing reeked of black magic, it swirled around in his veins like a poison, maybe brought on by some kind of spell or curse.

"Hello, Daniel?" Carson's mom answered, sounding tired. Just now noticing the time he realized she'd probably been sleeping. It was nearly 5am in the morning.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" He asked.

"Nope, I'm just about to leave work at the hospital. It's an odd time to be calling, what's going on?" She asked, keeping the worry out of her voice well.

At this point he had gotten up to start pacing around the bed, "something is wrong with Carson. Idk what it is but he was acting weird when he got home and, and I don't..." he got caught up in his words.

"Shh, just slow down. What else is there?" She asked calmly.

"I think he has a fever, and he was coughing, and there was blood, and black lines..." it made even less sense as he tried to explain it. He heard shuffling in the background on her end as she started throwing her things into her bag at a frantic speed.

"Alright it sounds bad, why don't you take him to the hospital and I'll come down to meet you?" She suggested.

"I don't think a doctor can help him, this isn't normal," Daniel whispered. While the hospital they usually went to was willing to help to Carson in the past, they probably wouldn't try to treat him even if they knew how. Getting hurt while being a hero to the police department was a very different situation than an unknown, possibly fatal condition caused by magic.

"Okay, wait for me, I'll bring everything we might need. If he gets worse, call 911 anyway." Daniel nodded to himself, not thinking about the fact that she couldn't see him over the phone. He felt better knowing she was on her way.

He had barely hung up the phone before dashing out into the living room to grab stacks of books on magic which he then dumped all over the floor of Carson's room. He also grabbed the thermometer from the bathroom, a bowl of water and a washcloth, and his personal, black notebook.

At first he could hardly move or think but now he couldn't sit still. Starting a fresh page he took Carson's temperature, 102⁰, and wrote that down then made a mark on his arm where the black in his veins stopped. Daniel wrote down the time for the first mark so he could keep track of it. Once he was confident Carson wasn't actively dying he went to work skimming through any book that might be helpful. There were many different areas of magic so it wasn't hard to sort through and find the books that might have something in them about black veins. It made his skin crawl but he paid extra attention to the books on dark magic as well as offensive magic, potions, and poisons. After that, Daniel lost track of time. Every few minutes Carson would groan and shift around but he wasn't coughing as much anymore. A couple times he tried calling out to him to wake him up but he didn't get much of a response.

--

When Carson's mom got to the apartment, she let herself in, not wanting to force Daniel to come to the door if he was busy tending to Carson. It was actually her first time in their new place so she didn't know her way around but it wasn't hard to follow the sound of frantic page flipping.

She opened the door to find Daniel sitting on the carpet in his pajamas, surrounded by stacks upon stacks of books. It would take hours to look through all of them and he still might not find what he was looking for.

He didn't look up until she closed the door loudly behind her. Daniel checked his phone, it was 6:15am. Even with the benefit of beating morning track she must have been driving well over the speed limit to turn a two hour drive into one.

"That was fast," Daniel commented. She gave him a sweet smile before setting down a giant black duffle bag almost as big as she was. She sat down on the bed and gently swept some of Carson's hair off his forehead. The gesture was meant to comforting but as a nurse it was also her instinct to check for a fever.

"Carson? Can you hear me?" She asked, refraining from using any of her multitude of nicknames like sweetie, baby, pumpkin, etc. All names he'd outgrown a long time ago but she kept using anyway.

He stirred a little at the sound of his name, or maybe it was the sound of her voice. Soon his eyes cracked open and he looked up at her blearily.

"Why are you here?" He croaked. His coughing fit earlier had done a number on his voice.

"It's nice to see you too," she joked. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Carson squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, trying to think only aggravated his growing headache.

"Someone did something to me," Carson said. He couldn't remember where he went or who he'd seen but he was certain someone did this on purpose. And whoever it was must have been pretty skilled with magic.

"I'm going to look you over now, you can go back to sleep," she said. Carson was used to his mom taking care of him so he didn't waste another second before dozing off again. Being asleep was the only way to stop feeling absolutely terrible.

With Carson resting Daniel could almost relax. He'd gotten so worried when Carson came home in the state he did. But this was just the calm before the storm. Things would get worse before they got better.

"What's this mark for?" She asked while examining his arm.

"To show how far the poison has spread in his veins. I marked it about an hour ago," Daniel supplied. He didn't look up from his work a single time while they talked.

"Well, it has spread a bit more since then," she said.

Daniel froze, "how far?"

"Umm."

Throwing the book he was currently reading aside Daniel scrambled to his feet to get a good look himself. She was right, it had spread, about two inches by the looks of it. If it continued at that rate Carson only had a couple days at best to beat this.

She frowned at him. Daniel could tell she felt as worried as he did but she hid it remarkably well. Diana knew a thing or two about magic but she'd never seen or heard of anything like this from Carson. But then again he was the only magic-user in their small town, no one had ever tried to attack him this way before. Scribbling down a few last notes she started to put her things away and pulled the blanket back up over Carson's shoulders.

"I really hope you know what you're doing," she said solemnly. Danny was a little shocked at the sudden bluntness. With Carson out of commission, there was really no one else to figure this out. He slumped into a chair and closed his eyes. But the break only lasted a few seconds before his eyes were shooting open again.

Carson went from a deep sleep to wide awake in an instant. He sat up in bed and looked wildly around the dimly lit room. His glazed over eyes darted between the door and window. "It's not safe," he whispered.

"What's not safe?" His mom asked, edging closer to him. He looked like a frightened animal ready to bolt, and apparently he was because next thing they knew he was throwing his blankets off and lurching off the bed.

"I have to lock the windows," he said in a serious tone.

Danny didn't try to stop him, if he wanted to lock them why not let him? The point could be made that they were on the 12th floor of the building and nothing but a confused bird would try to come into the room that way but obviously Carson wasn't thinking straight. He peeked through the blinds at the street below, half expecting to see some kind of monster out there. Once they were locked tight he backed away from it.

His mom watched carefully, ready to move in case anything happened. She flinched when he suddenly slid down the side of his bed and covered his ears.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" She asked, coming to crouch in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot and crazed. He held his hands over his ears almost like he was afraid of what he was hearing.

"It's too loud," he croaked, "I can't help them."

"What's too loud?" His mom asked. She put a hand on his knee but kept a small distance between them, not wanting to make him feel claustrophobic. The way he was curled in on himself, trying to be as small as possible, he probably already felt like the world was closing in on him. At first Carson didn't answer, his eyes glazed over again and his awareness was somewhere else. A minute or two later she asked again and he blinked suddenly, as if he just realized she was there. "What's too loud?"

"The voices," he muttered. His hands moved to claw at his scalp desperately. Diana turned to Daniel.

"I'm going to sedate him."

He got up from where he was watching helplessly to move Carson back onto the bed.

"Where are the voices coming from?" He asked first.

Carson pointed vaguely towards the ground, "beyond the black hole."

It sounded like nonsense, the fevered hallucinations of a sick man. But considering what Carson was and his connection to death, it was hard to tell whether these were hallucinations or his powers acting up. As weird as it sounded they both knew what he meant. His mom and Danny had heard him refer to the dark place after death in a number of different ways, including a black hole. Real or not he seemed to be in a lot of pain. Danny scooped him up and set him down on his bed. His mom already had a needle ready. If Carson was aware of surroundings enough to see it he'd be squirming away right now.

Once the sedative took effect and Carson's eyes drooped closed, Danny let out a sigh of relief. It was hard to watch him like that.

"I'll see if I can find a way to slow down the poison," Diana said, "It's on you to find a cure."

[bisexualstokes-archive]

Atrophy (4/?)

Chapter (4/?): Call for Help Rating: Teen+ (For: Language, Graphics Depictions of Violence) Summary: A phone call gone wrong, and doubts sprinkled in the air. Chapter Notes: @letswaitforme, @deltajackdalton, @impossiblepluto, @mutatedsilverunicorn,@12percentplan,@telltaleclerk…idk, who else wants to be tagged in updates of this fic?? lemme know ;)

Previous Chapter | Read on ao3

It was a weird feeling, almost like deja vu, forced to stay motionless while the tool of his survival was easily obtainable. His cell phone was just within his reach. It was so close, that if he could just extend his fingers, he’d be able to grab it. She probably put it there on purpose, to taunt him, knowing that a call for help was just beyond his reach. She left the knife there, too. A choice, perhaps? Call for help or fight back.

But she told him not to move. Maybe it was a test--a test of obedience. She told him not to move, and if he did, she would come up behind him and punish him into submission.

He wasn’t even entirely sure if she left the room. He didn’t even know exactly how much time had passed since she took his keys and left. It must have been hours, daylight was waning, an orange glow was starting to fill the room. Sunset, illuminating warm rays onto his body, which was oddly drenched in sweat. How could he be so sweaty, when he’d been glued to the couch?

His vision was hyper focused, centered on the phone. Twitching fingers just barely scraping the hard plastic. He tried to keep his mind focused on movement, instead of wandering off thinking about the nine circles of hell, and which one he might have been trapped in.

The twitches turned to jumps, his body was thrown into another fit. His mind seemed to short circuit, if he didn’t know better, he could almost feel the synapses firing too fast. He kept trying to concentrate on the phone, tried to use the seizure to his advantage.

And with great luck, as the seizure slowed to a stop, his hand fell right on top of the phone, and his fingers started to press buttons, under his intention.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.

The paralysis was finally wearing off. And everything hurt .

The fall from the stairs, the cramp in his smashed hand--which was now trying to gently press the buttons of the phone--the wounds from the shovel and knife, locked his body into a pseudo-paralysis of pain. He bit his lip down, fought the urge to just move all at once. Screaming wouldn’t help. He needed to concentrate .

He didn’t bother reading what Veronica sent to his friends, he dialed the first number in his history. He tried to pick the phone up but his broken hand wouldn’t close around it. He heard a couple of rings, and then could just hear Greg’s voice on the other end.

“Nick?”

Something rose up in his throat, a word, perhaps, but it got caught before passing his lips. If any noise came out of his body, it was strangled, quiet. No way Greg could have heard it, from the position his body was in.

He tried to shake his torso, maybe he could lean his body, purposefully fall next to the phone. A spike of pain in his chest prevented him from completing his roll.

“Nick, is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“Gr….reg,” he croaked, but he was certain that his voice didn’t quite reach the microphone.

“Nick! Hello?”

He probably thought it was some sort of misdial.

“Okay, I’m gonna hang up…”

Flat tone. Nick hit redial as if his life depended on it.

“Nick? ”

He tried again, to roll his body over. Pain be damned, at this point, he needed to just burst through the wall holding him back. His body was just about to fall forward, a scream dancing on his tongue, just before his lips, when something grabbed his hair and pulled him backwards. Five sharp nails, digging into his skull.

“I told you not to move.” A cold whisper called the water to his eyes. A shiver spread though his body, freezing his heart.

His head was still held back, the grip tightened as Veronica stepped over the couch, straddled Nick’s lap. Her eyebrows sharp, narrowed, she looked furious . She effortlessly snatched the phone from his hands, looked at the screen, before she brought it to her lips.

A smile crept across her face as her anger seemed to evaporate, and she began to sway her body to and fro...and moan.

“Oh...oh...ohhhhh.”

If Nick’s eyes were any wider, they would pop out of their sockets. Terror, as he realized what she was doing. Shame, as he realized what Greg must be thinking at this very moment. He tried to avoid eye contact, tried to focus on the knife that he was trying to grab.

“Harder, Nick… ” she moaned. She tugged the hairs of his head harder with each word, leaned in close with the phone separating their mouths. She breathed, heavily as her eyes stared into Nick’s, relishing the look on his face. Nick could feel his fingers brush the blade of the knife, Then, she stopped. No sound for nearly a minute, and then...

“Come play with us, Greg.”

She shut the phone closed, and threw it against the wall. It shattered completely, Nick could imagine that it was sprawled out on the ground, wires exposed, motionless. Another dead bird.

He held back a scream, shoving it down his throat as his fingers gripped the handle of the knife. His anger overpowered his pain, the knife began to rise, shaking, towards Veronica.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” she warned him, but he didn’t listen. He continued to raise the knife, and she used her free hand to slap his face in the opposite direction. The burn on his cheek tingled, a piece of wood from the shovel must have been stuck in his cheek, because he felt a particularly painful prick on his skin as the palm of her hand contacted with it. A pained cry followed her fingers back towards his hand, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it.

Puppeteering his arm, she bent the knife towards his exposed neck, the blade just barely scraping his skin. His other arm rose up, tried to grab at her hair, but it fell onto her arm, which was still extended, holding his head in place. He tried to apply as much pressure as he could, digging his nails into her skin--he could see her face tightened in response to the pressure, but she didn’t react to it.

“Now, you’re going to apologize, for not listening to me.”

“Fuck...you…” he panted, tears rolling down his cheeks from all the pain.

Of course, now he could talk.

“Wrong answer!” she screamed at him. He barely had time to register that the knife was removed from his neck when she moved it down to his chest, his scars, and drove the knife into the one closest to his heart.

A blood curdling scream finally escaped his body, his chest rose up, his legs extended out. All of the pain, moved to his chest, to the tip of the knife. His eyes shut tight, he didn’t see the wide smile on Veronica’s face as his scream faded to a sob.

She removed the knife, throwing it aside. She grabbed his face, shaking him out of his cage of pain.

“Say it!” she barked at him.

He didn’t respond to her, his lips trembling. He prayed that Greg didn’t fall for it, that he had traced his phone call, that he was on his way to get him. They had to realize he was gone by now, right?

Another slap to his face, this time her nails scratched his cheek. The pain was nothing in comparison to his previous injuries, at this point. She grabbed his neck, squeezing it.

“Say it, or you’ll get another dose, and you won’t be able to say anything, ever again .”

“I’m not...fraid…” he chuckled darkly, weakly squirming his body, trying to escape her hold. His eyes shone with determination, he wasn’t going to give into her. A fire in his eyes, as he continued to struggle against her.

“What was that?

“Not...ahhhhh-fraid...to die!” he shouted at her, though the extra effort cost him another scream, which he could tell she enjoyed.

“Oh, I know that,” she replied as if it were the most obvious statement in the world. “But I bet Greg is.”

Everything shattered. The fire in his eyes was extinguished by her words. His body fell limp, his arms fell back to his sides. His lower lip trembled, hiccuping sobs rose upwards through his body. Veronica smiled as she felt the feeble movement under the hand, wrapped around his neck. Control was all hers, she had finally broken him.

“I-I’m...sorry,” he cried. She removed her hand from the back of his head, but kept her grip on his neck. She cooed at him, brushing a hand through his hair, patting the side of his face. She wiped away the tears on his cheeks, but more just replaced them.

“I know you’re not...but you will be.”

A prick, in the side of his neck, a sharp groan in pain. She was using a syringe this time, just like she used with Marsh.

As the toxin was injected once again into his body, a dawn of realization hit him like a ton of bricks. She didn’t send Greg away, she was baiting him.

“No...no, no, no, please!” he whined, as he started to squirm again. She began to shush him. “Don’t...please, don’t…”

He tried to stifle his cries as the pain started to fade away, as he struggled to breath as she tightened her grip around his neck. A familiar, uncomfortable tingling spreading from his extremities to the rest of his body.

Soon, his body was stone again, and he was struggling for speech and air.

“Now, it’s time for your punishment.”

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

Something that wasn’t quite nausea swirled in Greg’s stomach as he pulled up to the house. Concern, maybe? Disgust? Disappointment?

The two calls he received were...disturbing, to say the least, and so not Nick Stokes.

Maybe his phone was stolen? Or he lost it and some crazy citizen of Las Vegas decided to play a prank?

Either way, his nerves weren’t eased by another phone call, shortly after, in which Catherine told him it was all hands on deck, at the last scene Nick was processing. He had arrived at the same time as Catherine and Ray, Brass was standing in front of an open garage, notebook in hand, his face shrouded in a shadow. There was a patrol car stored in the garage.

“Sara’s on her way,” Catherine addressed the team. “What do we know so far, Jim?”

“Marsh didn’t show up to shift change, last call in was this house. Some blood on the stairs, which definitely wasn’t there when…”

The detective cleared his throat, perturbed.

“Other than that, no signs of a struggle, no body. No sign of Stokes, his car’s gone. Neighbor said they spotted an individual leaving the house, wearing a vest, they didn’t get a good visual description, though.”

“Nick didn’t report back to the lab, he normally,” Catherine started, taking a deep breath before she continued “...normally checks in before the end of shift, if he’s not pulling a double. He hasn’t been answering my calls.”

“He was supposed to meet me for breakfast,” Greg chimed in. “I got a few calls, from him, actually.”

“What did he say?” Ray asked.

“Nothing, I thought he misdialed. There was a...a woman's voice, though. She, uh...They sounded like they were having a good time.” He cleared his throat, and thankfully, they all got the hint without further details.

“That’s not like him,” Catherine sighed.

“So Nick left the scene—“ Ray started.

“Presumably.” Catherine clarified

“—but what happened to the cop?”

“House was just given the all clear when you guys rolled up.”

“Hey, boss, you might want to come see this!” Officer Mitchell called from the open door in the garage leading to the backyard.

The first thing Greg noticed was the pile of freshly dug up earth, which was being dug up by an officer.

“Not again,” Brass muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Again?” Ray asked.

“Long story,” Catherine told him.

Sara arrived as Marsh’s body was uncovered and she was filled in to the situation.

“Nick got a tracker installed in his car, after it was stolen a few years back. Have we tried tracking the location?”

“Consider it done,” Brass replied, talking on a phone. His eyes were red, heavy, he walked back to the front of the house.

The CSIs stood in silence for a minute, wheels turning in each of their heads.

Nick wouldn’t have just left the scene, not without the officer. He certainly wouldn’t have left collected evidence in his car, especially not after what happened five years ago.

They spread out, combing through the yard and house for evidence. Without knowing what the scene was like beforehand, it was hard to know what was part of the initial homicide, and what was part of Marsh’s murder. David Phillips tried to help them as much as he could, pointing out what he recalled when he released the scene, but outside of the blood on the stairs, everything was seemingly the way it was before.

Everything, except for a small black fiber, found on the floor in the bedroom. Greg held it up to his own vest, it was made of similar material.

“Find something?” Sara asked him, having completed processing the stairs.

“Yeah, a fiber, maybe from Nick’s vest? It was caught here--”

Greg gestured to the floor, to the ghost of Nick Stokes, who was looking underneath the bed...or crawling? Or maybe…

“Maybe he was dragged?” Greg proposed. “He wouldn’t have just...left like that, let alone bail on me like that without a reason, call me while he was…”

“Or go to a strip club?”

Greg shook his head at Sara, appalled at the suggestion.

“Brass said Nick’s car was found outside of the Strip Club on Tropicana. They’re bringing it back to the garage now.”

It was all playing out like some sort of weird fever dream. Greg had to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. The evidence was implying many things, one of which was that Nick intentionally left a crime scene to go to a strip club, and possibly...more than that. There was a puzzle here, that needed to be solved, and Nick Stokes was the missing piece.

[wolfhednn]

How about... 6, 10, and 14?

roleplay themed munday!

6. is there a muse you find particularly difficult to write? easiest?

all new muses are the most difficult to write lmao

only half joking; that’s kind of the truth haha. there’s an adjustment period with every new muse i take on, sometimes longer than others, sometimes more arduous than others… tbh, i think felix is the most difficult muse i’ve taken on in a long time. in a lot of ways, he’s very different from my usual, and it’s been really challenging to adapt to writing for a character like this. i think i haven’t had such a challenging muse since i wrote for naesala, haha.

as for easiest… in terms of fe, right now probably leif. i wrote for him for around 1.5 years collectively and he’s like an old, comfortable sweater haha. he’s also my strongest and most thought-out fe muse as a result. i’ve been considering bringing him to toa as my second muse because playing him would be so easy compared to the current struggle with felix. best acorn son……

10. what part of your muse’s canon is your favorite? which part made you fall in love with them and decide you were going to write them?

hmmm. this is hard because i have so many favorite felix moments haha. every other scene with him is so good…. hhh….

as for the nail in the felix-is-my-son coffin, there were definitively two separate moments i can think of:

1.) actually not a felix moment, but a dimitri one. the CG cutscene you get after the map in the holy tomb. yeah, the dimitri cutscene. safe to say that cutscene completely reassembled the way i saw dimitri. before, i’d kind of wondered if felix’s attitude towards dimitri was maybe a touch unwarranted. suddenly in that moment, i very, very jarringly understood and agreed with him. it was crystal clear; i completely got his position, and that was the gateway moment that opened up felix’s inner workings to me and got me thinking seriously about him as a character. it was actually pretty transformative; i remember just having to step away from the game for a long while to just… re-evaluate. 

2.) his A support with dimitri. by this time, more than halfway through part 2 of BL route, i was already leaning pretty hard toward picking felix over dimitri. but if i hadn’t been, his A support probably was the straw that broke the camel’s back. everything about it is incredible. it’s the titular example of felix trying so hard to get a point across to someone else, trying to help someone he cares about, in his abrasive felix way. i love everything about it: him trying to show dimitri that he needs to move his focus away from the dead, revealing more about how strongly he feels about this principle of his… the fact that dimitri says “you’re wrong” and felix immediately cuts him off with “no, i’m not.” just !!!! that alone was such a good moment; you almost never see characters actually do that.

but by far the best moment was: 

“I’m not immune to emotion, you know. Far from it. I haven’t gone a day without questioning why my father and brother had to die, while I survived. I’ll bear this pain until the day I die, but I refuse to wallow in it.”

it comes right after the climax of the conversation where felix is at his harshest. he realizes this; he dials back… and, as though to show that he’s not just here to admonish and rip into dimitri, his tone softens, and he relates. in fact, his voice shakes a little at one point. he lets his pride go for just a moment and shows vulnerability and understanding, because he’s grown to see that doing that goes farther than being tough and critical does. pre-skip felix would never have done that. that’s character development.

14. what’s one thing you dislike about your muse? one thing you find admirable?

i’ll keep this one short i promise omg. OKAY. QUICK VERSION. one thing i dislike: of course the fact that felix feels the need to keep up this act like it’s Uncool to care about anyone haha. i get being tsundere and feeling uncomfortable about being open about affection ( it’s a Mood ), but when someone calls him out on being a good person he’s like IDK WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT B-BAKA. felix please. it’s okay to be nice.

one thing i find admirable: honestly, the fact that he continues to struggle with how his principles line up with his feelings. admittedly some of this is headcanon ( which i may expand more on at a later opportunity seeing as this is so long already ) but there’s definitely some tension we see between felix’s ridicule of chivalry and loyalty as cultural virtues and his clear concern for his friends’ and allies’ well-being. he embodies those same virtues in meaningful ways that i’m sure, deep down, he’s also aware of. and it’s hard to do that but also continue to fight against how they manifest in his culture’s obsession with ‘the best way to die’ instead of ‘the best way to live’. just the fact he keeps wrestling with that contrast in himself is wonderful.

[renjuns-dork]

spy! au with assassin! yukhei

part 2/??? part 1

summery: you’ve been a spy for about 5 years now, and it was probably one of the most exciting jobs of your life. but this one guy keeps getting in your way. his name, wong yukhei. his profession, assassin.

warnings: gore-ish, cussing, a nod towards nsfw

——

after you ran as far as you could away from yukhei, you decided to go home. you looked down at your feet, they were bloody and gross from running on the ground for far too many miles. you were in the city now, the one where your “house” was. you saw a small store across the street. you thought it would be a good idea to buy shoes from there. so you did, and now you had pink flip flops on while wearing a black latex body suit. a look, you thought. you still needed to call taeyong and the rest of your team to tell them know what happened. you didn’t actually own a phone, so you had to find a phone booth.

when you did, you dialed up jaehyun, taeyong’s assistant of sorts, you reported everything to him. after a few rings, jaehyun eventually picked up, “hello, this jaehyun, who is this?”

“it’s y/n, you big dummy!” you replied.

you heard jaehyun’s voice lighten up a bit when he said, “oh, i should’ve recognized you voice. what’s going on?”

“well i might’ve accidentally got gabriel g. harrison III killed...” you said guiltily.

“you what??!!” jaehyun sounded not only angry, but a little shocked.

“look, someone hired yukhei to kill me, and because he sucks at his job, gabriel got killed, not me,” you explained.

“so, someone wants the y/f/n dead, huh? do you know who?”

“no, but that besides the point. the point is i fucked up and i need you to tell taeyong,” you fidgeted with the cord on the phone out of nervousness.

“yeah yeah, okay. well, good luck with yukhei. i’ll inform you when taeyong tells me what the plan is.”

“okay, thanks!” you said, happy to have someone like jaehyun on your side.

“yeah, no problem. hey, be careful, okay?”

“of course jaehyun, i always am.”

you then went home and now you were sleeping in your bed, which was more like a cot, that was in your “house”. your “house” was underground, making it hard to get to so enemies couldn’t get into it, but it also meant bad lighting, concrete floors and walls, and almost no electricity. the only thing electric in your house was a mini fridge that had a constant buzz. you used lanterns to light up your house, but you didn’t need many because of how small your house was. it had 2 rooms, the kitchen/dining room/bedroom, and the bathroom.

you were never fully asleep, for you were in constant fear that someone was out to get you. tonight, you were right. as you lied in your bed, you heard soft footsteps on your concrete floor. half asleep, you didn’t have time to think, so you just got up and whipped around with your hand out, ready to stop whoever was there. it was dark, so you couldn’t see much. you felt you hand grasp around something fleshy. a neck, you thought. since you whipped around with such force, you knocked whoever it was to floor, your hand still around their neck, and you following them to the ground. you heard a thud as you and whoever was in front of you fell onto the hard, concrete floors. that’s gonna leave a bruise, you thought. but what does it matter? you already had bruises all over your body. you were now straddling whoever was beneath you, keeping them in place, your hand still wrapped around their neck.

“you know i never thought,” said the person beneath you, his voice was familiar and you had a slight suspicion of who it was, “that y/f/n would be straddling me while choking me. but i’m having quite a good time.”

you huffed, god he was such an asshole. you tightened your grip around his neck, “well i’m having the worst god damn time of life. now tell me why i shouldn’t fucking strangle you to death right now,” you ordered.

“awww princess, you couldn’t kill me even if you wanted to, you don’t have it in you,” he mocked, which just pissed you off even more

you tightened your grip even more around his neck, “oh yukhei,” you cooed, “don’t threaten me.”

yukhei couldn’t respond, for your grip around his neck had gotten too tight. all he did was cough and tap your arm twice, as if saying he taps out. you felt a pit in your stomach. you didn’t want to admit it, but it was true, killing yukhei was not something that you wanted to do, or even thought about doing. in your field, you didn’t have many friends, besides taeyong’s boys, and even though yukhei would make you so mad you wanted to punch him, he was a familiar face, and that was something you cherished.

you took your hand off yukhei’s neck and moved yourself off him. you crouched next to your cot and reached under it, grabbing your trusty pistol, just in case yukhei tried anything.

you heard yukhei cough a few times before he said, “i never thought you’d have a choking kink,” even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was smirking. this comment made you slightly regret not strangling him to death a few moments ago.

“god yukhei, shut up!” you were honestly so annoyed.

“i understand why didn’t murder me, you didn’t want the overall attractiveness of the world to go down, i get it,” mocked yukhei. instead of replying, you just cocked your gun, which made yukhei respond with, “geez, y/n, take a joke.”

“how can i take a joke when you’re literally here to kill me?” you questioned, becoming more and more annoyed.

“who ever said i was here to kill you?” questioned yukhei, a joking tone tinted his words. how could he joke around in such a serious situation? yukhei was always joking, he didn’t seem to have a serious side, which slightly frustrated you because it made having serious conversations with him nearly impossible.

“yukhei, you’re literally an assassin.”

“ok, yeah, but, i didn’t necessarily come here to kill you, well i mean i did... but i had a feeling you were gonna catch me, so i came here with other news too.”

“and what’s that?”

“so, you know today, when i tried to kill you but instead i shot gabriel g. harrison III and you killed him by shooting him again? well all the people working for him came to the crime scene and i told him i killed him myself, and that you ran away to save yourself.”

“and why would you say that?”

“because if i didn’t they would be after you, and i need to be the one to kill you in order to make money.”

you scoffed, “why am i not surprised?”

“oh come on, i’m full of surprises,” said yukhei, “such as this one,” you heard shuffling and felt a hand on your shoulder. it was big and wrapped around your entire shoulder.

“what are you doing?” you question, slightly afraid yukhei was going to do something stupid... or kill you.

“don’t worry about it, princess,” he said, his hand tracing down your arm until it reached your hand, which was still holding a pistol, “a gun? really? how are we supposed to have a normal conversation when you have a gun in your hand?” he asked, taking them gun from your hand and throwing it under the cot.

“this isn’t a normal conversation, we’re taking about how you’re getting paid to kill me,” you said.

“it’s normal for the careers we have,” he said, “now, let me hold your hands while we talk, so i can know exactly where you are. you know, it’s hard to see when the only light is coming from the fridge,” he said scooping your hands into his bigger ones. although you couldn’t see, you could tell you were looking into his eyes.

“okay, i suppose. but i’m not holding your hands,” you responded, pulling your hands out of yukhei’s loose grip. you hated it when yukhei got his way, so you used this little bit of power you had to rebel against what he wanted.

“but then you won’t know if i’m about to stab you, or something. and i won’t know if you’re reaching for you gun,” complained yukhei. whiny, you thought.

“yukhei, you’re more likely to kill me than i am to kill. have you forgotten who’s the assassin here?” you said, while you talking, yukhei found your legs and place one of his hands on each of your knees. since you were sitting with your legs crossed, it wasn’t an uncomfortable situation.

“well, let’s just sit like this, so you know i won’t try and kill you. i know you won’t kill me, because you’ve had multiple chances in the past, but i’m just too beautiful for you to kill. and i know you secretly like me,” you could hear the cockiness in yukhei’s voice.

you rolled your eyes, “you can’t see me, but i’m rolling my eyes. but, who even hired you to kill me anyway?” you asked.

to be continued...

——

a/n: ok so this part was super long and i just needed a place to end it, so i ended on a cliffhanger, kind of? idk how this whole writing thing works tbh😂 also thank you all for the love on the first part, it makes me cri💕 (also, sorry if there are any typos)

[heartkook]

bad day || min yoongi

Anonymous said: Hiya!! I was just wondering if you could write some yoongi angst/fluff? I don’t really have many ideas but maybe you guys have been really distant and then something bad happens to u then you start crying and the first person you think to call is yoongi? Idk I just rlly need some good yoongi fluff and ur such a good writer, so who better to ask than you? Tysm if you decide to do it ❤️

Min Yoongi x reader

Summary: Your day just keeps getting worse and worse, and it all gets too much. Luckily, Yoongi knows exactly what to do to make everything better. 

Genre: angst/comfort

Words: 1721

sorry I changed it a bit and just wrote general yoongi comfort because you guys seem to like that (and so do I)~~ thanks for requesting!! <3

he’s beautiful LOOK AT HIM

To say I had been having a hard day would be an understatement. 

It started off badly when I found out I had saved an alarm for 7pm instead of 7am the night before. The alarm was for an exam I had that day - I had stayed up all night revising for it. Yoongi and I had decided to go on a date afterwards to celebrate, and I had planned to wake up early to get some extra work in. 

But instead, I woke to my phone ringing and a friend in my class asking if I was okay, and where I was, because the test was about to start. I threw on some clothes and barely even locked the door before I was running to my college, knowing the bus would take too long. I arrived, sweaty and barely awake, just in time for it.

But my rush of a morning and anxiety levels that were already off the charts meant I had a complete mental blank in the middle of the test, and forgot everything I had stayed up so late cramming into my head. I almost cried when I handed the paper in, knowing without even getting it back that I had failed, and thinking about how important it was to my final grade. I pushed back tears, knowing I just had to get through the rest of the day before I could see Yoongi.

However, my optimism was quickly crushed when I realised that I had forgotten to bring my money in, so I couldn't buy any lunch, and with the speed that I had got dressed and left this morning, I hadn't even had time to eat. On top of that, I had a huge argument with my friend after the exam. It was about something stupid, but still hurt and upset me all the same.

By my last class, I just wanted to go home. The only thing keeping me going was the thought of seeing Yoongi, and just forgetting about everything else. As the day dragged on, my head and body began to ache, and the urge to cry became more and more prominent. All I wanted to do was get home.

Then I missed my bus. It might not seem like the biggest deal, but with the rain that had begun pouring down, and the difficulty I was already having at even getting enough energy to walk, it pushed me over the edge. Everything seemed to pile up as I watched the bus drive off and stood in the rain, knowing all my books were getting soaked, and I would have to walk the whole way home. There wouldn't be another bus for an hour. I ran my hands through my hair, groaning, and felt my eyes sting. A lump formed in my throat and I gritted my teeth in an attempt to stop myself from crying.

I stood there for a moment, my mind blank. It was almost an involuntary movement as my fingers shakily reached for my phone, sheltering the screen from the rain with my other hand as I squinted to dial Yoongi's number.

"Hey," He answered casually, and I could tell from his voice that he was smiling. I let a tear slip from my eye as I blinked, and it clung to my eyelashes along with the raindrops, before falling and tracing a hot pattern down my cheek. I tried to smile, but my lips were shaking and the lump in my throat only grew at the sound of him speaking.

"Hey," I said back, my voice wavering. "Would you mind doing me a favour?" I knew my voice was high pitched and shaking, despite how hard I was trying to keep it steady. I just wanted the day to be over.

"What is it?" He asked quickly, and I knew he had heard the tremor in my voice; the tears that had built up in my eyes again.

"Can you come get me?" I ducked my head away from the rain, feeling my top begin to soak through.

"Of course. Where are you?" His voice held a hint of panic, but he remained calm and as soothing as ever. I could hear him moving, probably already walking towards the door.

"I'm at the bus stop outside college." I almost whispered, trying to calm down my breathing and still my shaking hands. I couldn't stop replaying the events from the day, my mind running over every stupid thing I had done.

"I'm on my way, baby, do you want me to stay on the line with you?" I let a sad smile lift up the corners of my mouth at how sweet he was. As much as his voice was calming me down, I didn't want him to talk to me and drive at the same time.

"No, don't worry, just focus on driving. Thank you so much." I whispered, my teeth beginning to chatter.

"I'll be there soon, okay? Just hold on." I nodded even thought he couldn't see me, and put my phone away when he hung up. I was shivering all over by then, both from my anxiety and the cold. The street was completely deserted and I sighed shakily, feeling the water begin to drip down the back of my neck, praying for Yoongi to get to me as soon as possible.

It was almost fifteen minutes before he came. Not that it was his fault, of course, but by that time I couldn't even feel my fingers, and I was completely soaked. Yoongi's car rounded the corner and slowed beside me, and I quickly got in, barely able to shut the door with how badly I was shaking. He started driving almost as soon as I was inside, but looked over at me worriedly as he did so.

"Y/N." I heard him say as he took me in, and he grabbed my hand, taking a sharp breath in when he felt my skin. "You're so cold, oh my god."

I started crying, overwhelmed by the warmth inside the car, and suddenly thinking about how I was probably ruining his seats with my soaking clothes, along with everything else clouding up my head.

"Oh, Y/N, baby, no." He breathed, clutching my hand tighter, keeping his eyes on the road but glancing at me with a pained expression. "Just breathe okay, you're fine, I promise. Everything's fine."

I nodded, hunched over, trying to keep as little of me on the seats as possible. The whole way back he spoke slowly and reassuringly to me, never letting go of my hand. I began to calm my breathing, feeling his effect wash over me. By the time we got home I wasn't crying anymore, just exhaustedly sniffling, still shivering from my wet skin and clothes.

We hurried inside, through the rain, and I gasped at the warmth inside Yoongi's apartment. I wiped under my eyes, shaking out my shoes, embarrassed at how I was behaving. He slipped off his own shoes before turning to me. 

He sighed again at the sight of me and gently took my head in both his hands, pushing my face into his chest, ignoring the way my soaking hair began to stain his shirt.

"Come on." he took my hand and began leading me upstairs, still shivering. "Let's get you out of those clothes."

He sat me down on the bathroom counter, helping me out of my soaking trousers. I felt pathetic, and uncomfortable, and kept my head down as he pulled off my socks gently, hands warm agains my frigid skin.

"Arms up." He commanded softly, and I obliged, too tired to even respond. He gently pulled my shirt off and put it in the hamper with the other clothes. He kissed my forehead quickly.

"I'll be back in a second."

A moment later he came back in with some of his own clothes, and helped me pull them over my still shivering body. In his hoodie and sweatpants, I followed him into the bedroom, where he pointed at the bed, not saying anything. I followed wholeheartedly, practically falling into the covers and letting out a sigh of relief at the warmth that I was enveloped in.

I was much calmer by the time Yoongi came back in, my breaths even and my eyes tired. I gave him a grateful smile as he placed a mug of hot chocolate on the table beside me, without a word. He walked over to the other side of the bed, getting in and opening his arms.

I sighed again, happily moving closer and letting him wrap his arms around me, rubbing up and down my back slowly as I pushed my face into his chest.

"What happened?" He murmured, pressing his cheek against the top of my head. I closed my eyes, frowning.

"I just had a really, really bad day."

It sounded stupid, but he hummed in response, tracing his fingers up my spine.

"Wanna talk about it?"

I shook my head against him and felt him nod, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry." I muttered, thinking of the date we were supposed to have, and his car seat, and how he now had to take care of me.

"No, no." He spoke softly, tightening his arms around me. "Don't be, okay?" He tilted his head back to see me, and I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. After a moment he leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to my lips, barely touching, and then one to my nose, before wrapping me up again. He didn't say anything more, but he didn't need to. I knew just through his actions everything he was telling me: he loved me, and supported me, and just wanted me to be okay.

I found his hand and took it gently, tightening my grip around him with a small smile. The day became less significant - almost forgotten about - and the things that had seemed so terrible didn't seem as important as I breathed him in, my body relaxing against his side. He brought my hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against the back of it gently. 

"How did I get so lucky?" I murmured, and he let out a soft chuckle, running his fingers through my hair and down to my waist.

"I could ask the same thing."

masterlist

[overdrivels]

Could I request something with the good old-fashioned 'we have to share a bed because there's only one and no one told us beforehand' trope? With either Hanzo or McCree; you can decide which. (Like one of them and the reader get assigned to the same mission and have to stay a hotel or safehouse or something, idk.)

It’s Snow Problem

I am 9000% convinced that Hanzo would take the stupid floor if there wasn’t some really good reason behind it (like the floor was lava). So I mashed up two tropes: one bed + we’re going to freeze to death unless we share body heat.

The only reason why I never picked up this trope was because I would personally pick the floor. I’m very used to sleeping on hard surfaces, so the floor would be my preferred sleeping place unless there was, like I said before, lava.

“Da-damn, t-the–the he-h-heat’s n, not working eith-either?”

You literally could not stop your teeth from chattering or your fingers from trembling as you desperately messed around with the dial on the very, very outdated radiator. Didn’t this cabin have some sort of code to follow? You can’t be sure if the dial isn’t turning because it’s frozen or if you just couldn’t put enough strength into your frozen digits.

“There’s n-no hot water.”

Behind you, Hanzo steps out from the bathroom, barely able to contain the shaking in his voice. His heavy coat was positively encrusted with white, glittering ice decorated his hair, the dying rays of the sun catching them and lighting them up obnoxiously. It showed no sign of melting anytime soon. His face was red with windburn—you’re sure you didn’t look any better—and his breath hung around him like a ghostly veil.

It’d be a miracle if neither of you managed to catch a cold or worse.

You curse your luck and at Winston who sent you both here to Yukon on this mission to investigate rumors about Talon activity. Something about a hidden laboratory deep in the icy tundra of the Yukon. The two of you almost got caved in when you entered the space—it seemed to have been a final defense mechanism for Talon’s abandoned bases.

In hindsight, you really should’ve asked Mei to switch with you when she was assigned to go the Bahamas. Mei looked absolutely miserable when she was asked to go. You have no doubt she has the same thoughts as you at this moment. She never really did like showing off her skin.

It wasn’t as though you were both entirely unprepared–extra set of clothes, self-activating heat packs (courtesy of Genji), blankets, and other supplies that would’ve proven useful in the situation.

That is, if those supplies were drenched in the brief swim they took down some slushy body of water. In your defense, the footing was bad and in both your defenses, neither of you could afford to jump into the fast-moving waters. Luckily, Hanzo had managed to pin it to fallen tree with a well-aimed arrow. Retrieving it proved a little more harrowing than expected: you both nearly fell in when the tree partially gives out, leaving your pants and boots soaked. Luckily, the journey back to the cabin was a short one, saving you both from the possibility freezing your limbs. But not short enough to avoid the storm that is currently raging outside.

You cross the room to look out the window—it’s almost completely frosted over. The telltale ‘squish’ of your boots remind you of just how uncomfortable wet socks are and that they need to come off along with any other clothes that you have on.

“The-the generator’s out-outside. Sh-shit.”

It doesn’t look like the storm is going to let up anytime soon either. Going out there may be the equivalent of suicide. The lingering cold that roots itself firmly into your bones remind you of just how unforgiving the weather can be. The fireplace itself is empty, all the wood being outside. It’s probably all wet anyway.

“There’s no signal,” Hanzo announces, setting his communicator down on the table. You politely ignore how he nearly knocks it to the ground with the way his fingers shake.

“Looks-looks like we-we’ll have to wea-we-weather this one out. God damn it all.”

No electricity, no heat, no communications, no hot water–no people in sight of your tiny cabin window, it’s practically a repeat of the Omnic Crisis, just with less shit burning to the ground. If you both want to survive the night, there were some things you had to handle first. Namely, getting out of these clothes that are no longer doing anything to contain your body heat. A bulb of dread and anxiety drops into your stomach, swimming around for a brief moment.

You take a quick glance at Hanzo who seems preoccupied with checking his bow with whatever little light is left. In a few minutes, you’ll be lucky to see your hands in front of your own faces. It’s a small comfort that he won’t be able to see you (but your traitorous mind wonders what he would think if he did see). You shake your head to cast away those thoughts, droplets of cold water flinging everywhere. First thing’s first.

You take a breath for courage, and begin to tearing off your soaked gloves with your teeth, your other hand too clumsy to be of much help. You almost gag, the taste of melted snow and worn plastic fills your mouth.

Your attempts to undress must’ve attracted Hanzo’s attention. He sounds positively scandalized when he hisses, “What are you doing?”

“We need–we need to get out of these clothes.”

You could sense Hanzo opening his mouth to protest and immediately cut him off before he has a chance to lecture you on dignity. “You’ll fr-freeze, Hanzo. There’s no heat, no hot water, we’re—we’re soaked. Take whatever no-n-notions you have about modesty and shove–shove ‘em; we need to stay alive.” That’s what you’re doing at the moment, anyway.

At his skeptical silence, you add, “I’ll turn around, so no need to worry–I can’t see very well in the dark, anyway.” The wind rattles the windows as though adding to your point.

Little did you know, Hanzo had been specially trained to function in the dark without the need to enhancements or fancy goggles like a certain arachnid. Assassinations didn’t usually take place in broad daylight, after all. Every movement, every twitch of your muscles was easily captured in his eyes. It is beyond distracting, but he’d never let you know that.

Despite his silence, you know that Hanzo understands the sense you are making when you also hear the rustle of clothes behind you. Satisfied with his compliance (and that you won’t have to report to anyone that someone died because they refused to take of their clothes), you continued your own disrobing.

Each particle of clothing hit the hardwood floors with a loud, wet slap, and you can feel the floor jump at the impact, almost mocking you both. The tension is almost palpable, making the act of removing your clothes even more difficult with the extra water and snow caked onto it. With each piece of clothing you lose, you shiver violently at the air that assaults you. But you clench your teeth and press on. You have your own skin to save. The greatest relief comes when you take off your socks—there’s no worse feeling outside of pain that compares to the skin-crawling squish of wet socks—even though the wooden floors are cold as all hell.

“They–they should’ve sent M-M-Mei on this mission,” you say jokingly as you wring out your shirt. “She would’ve loved this. Probably would’ve been better prepared, too.”

You only receive icy silence, your attempt at a livening the atmosphere dies as it comes out of your mouth. Hanzo seems very single-minded in his unclothing. You slap an unsteady hand to your forehead. That thought was dirty. He’s your comrade-in-arms, not a pin-up. Calm down.

Normally, your thoughts didn’t travel down this route–sure, he is attractive, but not enough to distract you. Maybe the cold’s hindering your mental facilities. That must be it.

You strip down to your underwear and, to your infinite irritation, even those were soaked somehow. You’re going to put in a complaint with Winston about his new snow and water-proof gear. You tug at your underwear, grimacing at the wetness.

‘To hell with it’, you decided as you reluctantly pulled those off, too. You glanced quickly back at Hanzo as you did, hoping that he wouldn’t see.

It’s so dark you could barely even see him.

Actually, you don’t even see the archer anywhere. You whip your head around, trying to catch sight of his outline. Where did he–?

“Here.”

You’re hit by something soft and blissfully dry. It’s a large towel, musty from disuse, but welcome, nonetheless.

“Thank–thank you.”

He grunts, and there’s the sound of him putting on his own towel. You first wring your hair through it, the icy water dripping down your bare back is far from comfortable, before you wrap it around yourself in a very pathetic attempt to get warm. It barely does its job, and you feel a little less exposed to the elements. Now that you’re no longer in danger of freezing to death via an icy cage of fabric, there are other matters to attend to.

You cast a forlorn glance at the silhouette of the duffel bag, wondering if anything survived the brief dunk in the water. You decide it’s worth a shot, and try to open it. You hiss at the stinging cold. The bag is freezing still from having been dropped into the slushy water. Next time, you’re going to take a drone and you’re going to cold-proof it so it can carry your stuff. Brilliant.

You hold the towel closed as you rummage through the contents of the bag—wet clothes, wet bags, wet and ice-encrusted everything except—

“Yes!” You pull out a thick stick, and before Hanzo could even stop you, you twist and snap it, immediately flooding the room with a warm yellow light (and accidentally blinding yourself).

Hanzo hisses like a disgruntled cat, snatching the emergency light stick from your hands as you begin to rub your eyes free of the afterimages.

When you’re finally able to open them without seeing strange colors, you had to fight to keep your mouth closed. Hanzo is completely shirtless save a towel around his midsection, covering up his stomach and upper thighs. The muscles previously hidden by the thick layers of protective gear and winter wear now exposed to the nippy air. You drop your gaze so you’re not tempted to stare—you’ve seen other sculpted men before, but the fact that it’s Hanzo makes this different somehow. Though, something seems off about him.

You keep your gaze to the floor, his legs. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, and rubbed your eyes to be sure. (It stung more than you would’ve liked.)

“You–you have legs? Human…legs?”

Behind him, what you thought were prostheses seemed to now be just empty casings, lying neatly on the ground. He glares at you but quickly turns away, arms crossed over his chest, the light making the dragons on his arm seem more ominous than usual. You’re not sure because the light itself isn’t strong enough for you to tell, but you could swear that there is a tinge of pink on his chest and cheeks.  

However, his biting voice immediately drives your thoughts away from that. “Is that a problem?” The condensation from his mouth circles him like dragons. The imagery is almost frightful.

“N-no, no!” you stammer, “I just, I just thought that…y-you know what, never mind.”

You turn your back and kneel down, returning to rummaging through the contents of the wet bag, trying find something useful and to distract yourself from the awkwardness of a topic that shouldn’t be discussed. A series of shivers run down your spine at the contact. Damn, you really should’ve switched with Mei—but then she’d be stuck in this situation, and she’s not exactly comfortable with being nude, especially in the presence of others (but logically, she’d probably be the most unlikely person to be caught in this sort of situation in the first place).

You chance upon a medium size container and you immediately brighten when you realize what it is.

“Hey, Hanzo, look when I found!” You hold up the thermos, kept airtight and thus uncontaminated by the cold. Perhaps it’s a little too tight, and you struggle to get it open while using your elbows to squeeze the towel against your body.

“Allow me.”

Hanzo gently snatches it from your trembling fingers, kneeling down to meet you at eye level. You couldn’t help but watch as the light illuminates his muscles undulating as he attempts to do what you could not, and highlights the sharp angle of his face and his nose, the fullness of his lips—you had to look away. The cold must be making you delirious.

“Here.”

He’s already poured a cup for you. Even at this distance, he refused to look at you, eyes stubbornly averting your general direction. You pluck it from his hands with a quiet, “Thanks”.  A close look at the contents revealed it to be more of a golden broth that the chef insisted you both take with you. The steam that rises from it is a wonderful reminder that the broth is very warm—perfect for this situation.

From the corner of your eye, you see Hanzo put his hands together and mutter a quick “いっただきます” before raising the steaming bowl to his lips and taking a hearty sip. You did the same and almost gagged at the taste.

It is somewhat metallic—strong hints of ginseng, ginger, and other flavors that you couldn’t quite place. It undoubtedly warms you, the stark contrast sends a harsh shiver down your body, skin raising with gooseflesh. Your teeth tingles from the heat, and your stomach feels a ton heavy like molten lava just made its home there. You didn’t really realize it before, but you seem to have been getting used to the cold.

You take another large, but difficult gulp; the broth leaves behind a bitter yet soothing aftertaste (you don’t think you’d drink it a second time outside of a life or death situation). You’re going to have a word with the chef when you get back to Gibraltar. You don’t know if Hanzo disliked the taste, but he didn’t comment, so neither did you. You weren’t exactly in the best position to complain about warm sustenance in the middle of a blizzard, after all.

You both ate in silence, the occasional slurp breaking it.

It probably wouldn’t be long before the other Overwatch agents noticed your disappearances—Winston had insisted on updates every six hours, and the last communications either of you had with the scientist was early this morning right before you and Hanzo went to scope the Talon lab. Since the communicator isn’t working, you wondered how long it’d take before anyone back at base realizes that you’re both stranded here.

Stupid technology, even after so many years of advancement, it still can’t send a signal in the middle of a snowstorm?

Hanzo gets up from his kneeling position, having finished his portion of soup. You’re still having some difficulty drinking it without holding your breath. Though, by the time you are done, Hanzo’s returned. He hands you some clothes hangers from the closet, now that you can both see in the dark to not stab yourself with one accidentally (unfortunate as it may be, it’s happened before).

“We should hang up our clothes so they may dry.”

You take a look at your sodden pile. “Oh, right, th-thank.” You set down your cup and take your chilly clothes into your arms and the offered hangers before stepping into the bathroom. As a side thought, you twist a knob on the sink and unsurprisingly, get nothing. You sigh. It was worth a shot.

You see that Hanzo was one step ahead of you, his clothes are already hanging neatly from the shower curtain. You wonder when he had the chance to do so without you hearing. You shake your head, it must’ve been when you were too preoccupied with stripping. Though, as you’re hanging your clothes, something else catches your eye.

A white, long rectangle of cloth hangs innocently off the railing, water dripping from it rhythmically. Wait, you recognized this. It was a…loincloth? You keep your mouth shut, teeth clenched to the point that they couldn’t even chatter. This is not a good point of conversation. Not at all. You’re sure that if you speak a word of this to anyone, you’d somehow receive an arrow to the head. Several, if Hanzo was angry enough.

So you quietly hang up your clothes, readjust your towel, and back out of the room. You sincerely hope that Hanzo does not realize you’ve seen his choice of undergarments (but to be fair, he hung them up first), you’re not sure you could ever erase the image from your mind.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t seem to even be thinking such things, instead, he’s standing there awkwardly, staring at the bed with open apprehension. Strange.

“What’s wrong?”

He continues looking at the bed, the corner of his mouth turned downward in distaste. You also squint at it like the answer would manifest itself if you stared hard enough. Was it monsters? Bed bugs?

You blink slowly at him, then at the bed.

It hits you like a freight train. It’s a problem neither of you realized when you first entered the cabin, too preoccupied with trying to get out of the storm and its non-existence comforts.

There’s only one bed.

It’s not that small, but it’s barely enough to fit the two of you, it seems. Inwardly, you groan. You’re sure that you’d never hear the end of this if any of the other Overwatch members find out.

“I will ta-take the floor,” Hanzo says briskly, already trying to establish his new place of rest by sitting down. You had to wince sympathetically when he gave a full body shiver—you could even see the goosebumps from where you stand. Not even his pride is going to be enough to keep him warm at night. His self-loathing and hate, perhaps, but again—thoughts you really shouldn’t entertain.

“You’ll freeze to death down there,” you protest, lifting up the covers. They were thick, and seem like they’d be great at keeping you warm. Unfortunately enough, there’s only one of them. “Not like there are any other blankets, either.”

He does not respond. You crawl into the bed first, biting back a gasp when your body meets the cold mattress. You position yourself as close to the wall as possible without actually touching it, leaving ample space for the archer.

When you turn, you see he still hasn’t moved from his spot, and you sigh. “Come on, Hanzo. It’s just for one night.” Hopefully. “There’s nothing for-for you to sleep on. Just—just get up here. I’ll just stay o-over on this side.”

You could feel his hesitation, so you turn again to face the wall laying down onto the pillow to give him so privacy (or the illusion of detachment)—the pillow, too, is freezing and your wet hair pressing against your skin made it even worse. You really couldn’t wait to get back to base. Maybe trade stories with Mei when she undoubtedly returns with sunburn.

“If you insist,” he says quietly, reluctantly. You take that as your cue to press yourself even further from ‘his’ side of the bed.

Slowly, you could hear Hanzo get up and take a few tentative steps toward the bed. You could hear his ribbon pulling free, and you could almost see his hair coming free of its confines, spilling over his shoulders stiffly. The mattress dips underneath his weight as he crawls in carefully, laying as far away as the blankets would allow. You have to hold onto your end tightly to keep them from slipping off and getting stolen by your new bedmate. You both lay there, back to back. If you even turn just little bit, your skin would be pressed against his own–you could imagine it just sticking to each other. Your back tingles at the proximity, and you try hard not to focus on the fact that you could feel his presence right behind you.

The chattering in your teeth is slowly subsiding, the warmth of two bodies underneath the covers chases away the cold that haunts you both. The metronome of your dripping clothes is the only thing that fills the silence accompanied by the howl of the wind. You could feel Hanzo’s breathing more than you could hear it—the blanket dips and rises with each breath.

When you finally regain some semblance of consciousness, you notice that it’s hot—almost too hot and you’re sweating all over, but at the same time, it was chilly. Your eyes could barely open, aching and somewhat swollen. It must’ve been the wind and ice yesterday, you reasoned. The next thing that comes is that you’re painfully aware of more skin to skin contact than you remember going to bed with.

You couldn’t move without feeling the sensation of peeling skin. The threat of a painful extraction is almost as cringe-worthy as what you image to be Hanzo’s reaction to waking up in this sort of position. At least by some miracle, both your towels are intact, left in the place you both had them when you went to sleep.

But to make matters worse rather than better, Hanzo fills the space between your chin and collarbone with his face, curling into a ball and pressing himself against you as though you two would suddenly click into place. One arm is curled around your back, and the other is trapped between both your bodies, drawing you impossibly close. It vaguely reminded you of a child seeking their parent’s comfort or, if your mind dares go into that territory, two lov—no, no. Don’t go there, thoughts.

However, your thoughts are quickly drowned out when Hanzo noses his way into your neck, his lips skim against your clavicle and you jump at the sensation. ‘It’s okay,’ you told yourself as your heart begins to race like mad. He is just sleeping. He doesn’t know what he’s doing; it’s an accident. As if to prove you wrong, he continues to press his lips there and mumble unintelligibly. You tried to squirm away, the ticklish sensation combined with the close proximity was too much to bear, biting down the need to start laughing or shoving him out of the bed.

Apparently displeased with your struggles, he tucks his chin in, and almost sprawls himself against you, pressing you down onto you back and lying on top. The sudden motion makes you hiss—you were right, the feeling of peeling skin really hurts. But you have little time to dwell on it when his weight is almost suffocating you. Your new position is arguably less ticklish, but no less awkward. You shift, trying to get comfortable, but his weight pins you down firmly.  

“Oh, com’on, Hanzo,” you whisper. You’re surprised he still hasn’t woken up—what sort of ninja is he anyway?

You try another half-hearted struggle, but huff and give up when it doesn’t seem like you’re making any headway, too tired to bother. Might as well let the archer do his thing—there isn’t much you could do anyway outside of bucking his straight off the bed and giving him a very rude awakening (that may or may not result in him attacking you in a blind panic).

Vaguely, you notice it’s still dark, and the screams of the wind from hours before have now died down to become whispers. It seems like the storm has calmed down, sufficient for a signal to get through and for help to come. It’s too bad you’re stuck under a couple hundred pounds of sleeping muscle. You smile to yourself and look down blearily at the archer.

He seems so comfortable, hair splayed out messily around him, legs intertwined with yours so intimately that you’re sure that he’s going to die of embarrassment when he wakes up. You sigh, closing your eyes and willing yourself to go back to sleep. You could deal with this later. The beating of his heart against your chest, his steady breaths, and warmth makes that easy.

The next time you awaken, there’s the distinct sound of chatter, a lack of a body, and a hand to your forehead. It’s large and comfortable, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat that seems to have clogged your throat and nose.

“’nzo?”

You whine when the hand jerks back, exposing your forehead to the chilly morning (was it still morning?) air.

“—ne moment. You’re awake?”

You make a noise of affirmation in the back of your throat—it hurts and it feels like something’s stabbing the insides, you realize. You bury yourself deeper beneath the covers, feeling like you haven’t slept a wink. Your body aches, and your head hurts—it must be the result of having your hair still wet while you slept in such cold weather. That sounds logical.

A few more words were exchanged between Hanzo and whomever he was talking to before, it sounds somewhat heated and pressing, but you weren’t paying attention, sleep beckoning you like a siren’s call that you had no strength to resist.

“Stay awake. You’ve caught a cold,” Hanzo says softly but sternly when he notices you trying to doze off again.

Through your haze, you don’t really understand the severity of his words, but you nod anyway, if only to have him leave you alone so you may return to sleep sooner. You could hear him rummaging through bags, cursing firmly and searching more frantically when he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for.

You’re tempted to laugh at him, but right now, you’re just too tired to do much but try to follow his order. You blink at his back—it’s clothed. Maybe his shirt has dried? What about your own clothes then?

“Apologizes, but there is no medicine,” he says suddenly. Your leg jerks, your whole body jolting to temporary wakefulness. It looks like despite your best attempt, you ended up dozing off after all. “I have contacted the others, they will be here in several hours.”

“S’okay,” you mumble. You just wanted to sleep some more, and it’s too cold to do some comfortably. “Hey, Hanzo. Do me a favor?”

“Yes?”

“Get in here, it’s cold.”

For the record, I rather like the ginseng chicken soups my mother makes. It just doesn’t taste very good in the first few sips. 

[salt-sass-and-lyrium]

Friend Dramu

(... do people still say dramu? God I’m so old)

So I have this friend... let’s call her Sarah. Sarah is great. I adore her. I actually have a pretty big crush on her. Found out not too long ago that she actually has a crush on me as well (didn’t know how I felt about her, started dating someone, then found out), but is currently in a relationship so, oh well, missed connections or whatever.

Anyway.

Sarah’s boyfriend is a creep. Like. ‘Gives me the legit willies’ creep. You know how when you see a guy who looks like a foot and acts like a jackass with some great girl and you’re like “.. how the fuck--.” Yeah. Their relationship is the embodiment of that. Sarah loves him... let’s call him Jim. Sarah loves Jim. She adores him. I can’t see why. I actually knew Jim (though admittedly not very well) before they even met, and he’s always weirded me out. Always. He never actually did anything, so I just let it go, but he just gave me a weird vibe that made me super uncomfortable, so I pretty much avoided him.

But, him and Sarah started dating, and I adore Sarah, and she adores him so... we’re kinda forced together. But, like I said, Jim is a creep. And an ass. Who has a probably serious drinking problem. I didn’t know this prior to them dating, but apparently he has a history of getting drunk and beating women. Anyway, long story short, Sarah, Jim and I, along with a few of their friends all hung out for a FriendsGiving in the fucking boonies last year. Sarah got literally black out drunk. Like, had no idea where she was, falling all over herself, apparently chipped a tooth at some point, had zero memory of anything the next day black out drunk. But, Sarah has a crush on me, and wants to diddle me. But. I’m not that girl. If you’re so drunk you can’t walk, don’t know where you are, then you can’t consent. And I’m not fucking someone who can’t give consent.

Unfortunately, Jim is fully aware of Sarah’s crush (I don’t know if he knows I reciprocate her feelings, but w/e, it’s irrelevant). So Jim spent the evening first gently hinting at Sarah wanting to fuck me, then flat out just trying to shove us into a room together so we could fuck. Again. I’m not that type of girl. I’m not going to take advantage of someone who has no idea where the fuck they are, so I keep pretending to be oblivious, or just ignoring him. Jim gets extremely drunk as well, and starts getting handsy with me. Which, I’m not kosher with. He ‘accidentally’ enters a room where he knows I’m changing (and people outside the room are shouting at him to not enter because I was changing), ‘accidentally’ just happens to walk in front of me fucking naked (he is not an attractive man, tbh) several times. ‘Accidentally’ tries to pull me into his lap. “Accidentally” keeps touching me. Then he tries to talk me into taking a shower with him (yeaaaah, no) and then, what topped it off, was he literally tried to force his way into the bathroom with me. Like, he’s easily twice my fucking size, and I’m “legs braced against the sink body pressed against the door” trying to stop this fucking guy from breaking the door down so he can try and force me to fuck his black out drunk girlfriend. I’m telling him to go away, that I’m trying to pee (I actually was) and that I don’t want him to come in. He’s just shouting over me and throwing himself against the door. I’m like .5 seconds away from calling the cops when he suddenly stops and walks away. I pee, but before I get out of the bathroom, he and Sarah had gotten into some sort of argument, which resulted in him shoving her across the room, kicking open a door and storming out of the house. Which, I’m 150% not fucking okay with. Not to mention he talks to her like she’s a fucking idiot, when she’s easily one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met. Like, that’s not the crush talking. She’s got an incredibly scientific mind and it’s fucking amazing.

ANYWAY.

After the FriendsGiving fiasco, I told Sarah that Jim made me extremely uncomfortable, to the point where I literally had a panic attack and had to drive home, panicking and slightly drunk, from the fucking boonies where there’s not even fucking street lights at like 2am. It was kinda awkward for a while, and still is really awkward. Because Sarah adores Jim. And wants to bring him EVERY WHERE. Like, I wanted to go see John Wick 2 when it was in theaters. She asked me if I wanted to go with her, and I of course said yes, because I hadn’t seen her in a while. I - several times - mentioned how happy I was to have a ‘just us girls’ type of day, and Sarah agreed. And then right before we were supposed to meet up, I get a “We’ll be heading out soon” message.

... uhhhh who the fuck is WE? Her and fucking Jim, that’s who. So, I didn’t go (and still haven’t seen it, no spoilers). Happened again. And again. In fact, I haven’t seen her in person in months. I’ve specifically stated, numerous times, that I just want to hang out with just her, not Jim. Granted, I’ve sugar coated it more than I probably should have, but I feel “just us girls” and “just us two”, among other things, is pretty clear. So, we didn’t talk for a while, and I really missed her. She messaged me, twice, recently. First time she asked if I wanted to go see a play with her (she just said, “with me”). And I legit wasn’t positive if I’d be able to or not, so I said maybe. She mentioned “we” and then said that our ‘mutual friend’ Jen (like we’ve met but barely know each other) would be joining. Ok. Cool. I can do Jen. Then, she lets it slip that Jim is coming. SO, no. I don’t go.

The other day, she asks me if I’m going to this EDM event this coming weekend. I had plans in the morning, and it’s in the afternoon, so I said “maybe”. She started talking about how  much she wanted to see me and how excited she was to spend time with me (assuming I went) and how we needed to spend some time together and catch up, yada yada yada. So while I’d initially not planned on going, I started considering it. And then she dropped the “Yeah, you can carpool with me and Jim!”

... no, Sarah. No. 

Like, I KNOW she knows that Jim makes me uncomfortable. I’ve told her. She apologized for it, said that he’s dialing back his drinking, yada yada yada. I wasn’t really in the mood to hear it at the time (because it’s BS) and still aren’t, but she knows. I guess she’s still trying to force us to be friends or something, I dunno. 

I’m just bummed because I’d like to spend time with her, and just her (or her and literally anyone who is not Jim, tbh) but she just keeps worming him into any plans we make. Get our nails done and get wine? Cool. Jim is going to meet us for wine. Go shopping? Cool, Jim is tagging along. Literally specified Girl’s Movie Night at my place? Welp, guess who’s SUPER INTO all of the movies we’re planning on watching and just HAS to tag along? Fucking Jim. And frankly, it’s not any of my business who she dates. She’s an adult, I can not and will not tell her how to live her life. But it just rubs me the wrong way. He treats her and talks to her like she’s an idiot and she either is so spun she doesn’t see it, or doesn’t care. He’s gotten physical with her at least once, but I suspect probably more. Especially because it’s a thing that’s happened with his exes, and if you’re the type of person who’d hit a S.O. then it doesn’t matter who you’re with. And I’m just at a loss for what to do. I don’t want to lose her as a friend, but I don’t want to hang out with Jim, or be around Jim, or even in the same building as Jim (he SERIOUSLY creeps me out and makes me uncomfortable). And she’s either not getting that, or ignoring it. And it sucks

TL;DR: I’ve got a really awesome friend who has a really shitty boyfriend who makes me extremely uncomfortable. Said boyfriend, in addition to just being shitty, is also violent, a raging drunk, an asshole and a creep. I’ve told awesome friend (admittedly, I sugar coated it, but still made it clear imho)  that her boyfriend makes me uncomfortable, but she keeps trying to seemingly force us to hang out and keeps inviting him places, even when I specify that it’s ‘just us girls’ or ‘just us two’ yada yada yada. As a result, since shitty boyfriend literally makes me uncomfortable to the point it ruins my day, I won’t go anywhere with him. Which, since she keeps trying to bring him to any and everything we plan, means I haven’t been able to hang out with her at all. Which, super sucks. Annnd idk what to do about it.