#metal slug fanfiction

[fruitypixel]

A silhouette like art. I admit it's far from perfect, but it's a decent start 😄

Gift art for @thesilliestrovingalive

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Martian capture

After being ensnared by rings of blue light by a Martian impersonating General Morden at the rocket site, Fio was lifted up into the Dai-Manji. Everything became a blurred yet frightening mess. She tried to protest against her captor, but it was no use because they didn't listen.

As the grey Martian who kidnapped Fio teleported to the Rugname, Fio could hazily hear the fearful pleas and panicked screams of the real General Morden. The sounds and words emitted by General Morden grew fainter and fainter as though some force was dragging him away. Fio felt butterflies in her stomach, writhing around in utter terror, not wanting to know what would happen to her next. After a few agonising minutes, a small group of Martians entered the Dai-Manji and carefully carried Fio inside their mothership, not interested in disarming her.

The interior of the Rugname felt cavernous and eerily inhuman. Towering pillars, adorned with circular joints and intestinal tubes, connecting to each other like a living, breathing machine. The ground was covered in nearly straight rows of these heavy, industrial tubes. Between each pillar, a depiction of a UFO was engraved into the biomechanical walls. The entire space was almost dark yet it was bathed in a hazy, unsettling hue of bronze, metal, green, and deep reddish-purple, which cast an otherworldly glow.

All of this was quite daunting for Fio. She felt her mind blown by the fascinating architecture of the Rugname's interior. However, she was experiencing a profound sense of déjà vu, but it felt oddly wrong. She had never seen anything so foreign. Goosebumps formed on her skin, telling her that something wasn't right. She didn't know what, but it certainly had to mean something.

She was eerily silent, taking everything in without muttering a single word. Fio even saw a few brown-tanned Martians, who are the assault troops of this fierce species, prepared to shoot at any intruder with their spore pistols. Their presence scared her, and she instinctively gulped with uncertainty.

Soon enough, the Martians opened up a barrier, leading Fio into a foreboding chamber. It was much darker and adorned with the same pillars and industrial tubes as the hallway of the Rugname. However, the atmosphere of this area felt frightening and oppressive, making Fio tense up.

As they got closer, they encountered white Martians, the elite soldiers and commanding officers of this peculiar, malevolent species. As they inched closer and closer, Fio could hear the agonising screams of the real Morden, stripped of his dignity. She felt fear clogging her throat as her face turned pale and her stomach churned. Despite her hatred for General Morden, she couldn't help but recognise that he was human too. Torture was always a disgusting and horrible thing.

The darkness of this chamber was gradually enveloped in a pulsating bluish light, revealing Morden's electrical prison. The white Martians stood by with ferocity and caution, guarding Morden and the computer terminal connected to his shocking, claustrophobic prison. The room gets darker and Morden’s screams get fainter as the small group of grey Martians and Fio escape the horrid chamber.

They entered a new part of the Rugname, a power reactor hallway fiercely guarded by relentless Hopper Mechas. The Hopper Mechas gave Fio an intense stare of malice, but didn't bother to explode her into a million pieces. They clearly knew that the Martians wanted her for something far more important.

Instead of walking down this long hallway, the small group of grey Martians knew of a shortcut. One of the Martians walked over to a part of the wall that was faintly stained green, its tentacles slightly flapping against the floor. As two thin tentacles gracefully caressed the wall, it opened up to reveal a tubular teleporter with a glassy membrane and industrial tubes. They rudely pushed Fio inside and swiftly followed, sending themselves to somewhere else. Fio almost wanted to tell them off for pushing her inside the teleporter like that, but she knew it was no use.

The Martians were taking her to a grotesque place, one she would never forget. Once they arrived at their location, a large bronze-hued door stood before them. It automatically opened, revealing a chamber that filled Fio with disgust. It was an area of metal enveloped in a dripping mass of organic matter with a shiny reddish hue. The space was punctuated by intestinal pipes and tubular holes, sending shivers down Fio’s spine. The biomechanical mess served as a backdrop as a stasis chamber stands before the group with an eerie atmosphere.

As Fio gazed at the stasis chamber, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The organic matter in this place made her skin crawl, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her. She began to silently wonder, her mind racing with questions. What did the Martians want from her? Was it to simply imprison her? Do they have plans to subject her to rigorous experiments? A part of her dreaded the truth, but her curiosity was relentless, wanting to understand the Martians' true motives.

Unbeknownst to her, the Martians had bigger plans, greater than what she could have imagined. They delicately placed her inside the stasis chamber, suspending her in a spherical tank of an unknown clear liquid. The membrane of the stasis chamber was nearly opaque, allowing her to see everything on the other side. She gave them a look of raw fear, her panic escalating rapidly.

She frantically scanned the room before desperately clawing and pounding at the membrane. In her desperation, she even tried to slash it with her knife and shoot at it with her handgun. Unfortunately, the membrane proved to be highly resistant against Fio’s attacks, which only infuriated her further and intensified her anxiety to a breaking point.

Fio struggled against this prison, but the clear liquid began to fill her organs, making her feel physically tired. She tried to pound on the membrane, but couldn't even lift a finger. She tried to scream, but nothing escaped her throat. Her eyelids grew heavy, and the liquid disrupted the electrical signals her brain produced, inducing a sense of deep relaxation. Her brain signalled to her body to rest and let everything play out.

The last thing she could recall was the Martians leaving with one of them briefly glancing over at her before hurrying away. Tears streamed down Fio's face as she closed her eyes, her body slumped in defeat. At that time, she wanted Marco, Eri, Tarma, or all three of them to save her. She longed to be free from that terrifying hellhole and reunite with Earth's atmosphere and her comrades. She desperately longed to hug her beloved teddy bear, Peppino, once again, hoping to ease her pain.

[itficlibrary]

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[trubbishrubbish]

Happy birthday Genocide Jack! I love you. Now go enjoy your silly island adventure with all your new friends.

Quick Disclaimer: This is an au of Genocide Jack in Danganronpa 2, pretty much fanfiction in video form. As such, the characters presented are not 100% in character compared to the games. (don't worry, they are like 95% in-character) They are written in a way that I prefer them to be and what is the most fun to me. Please keep in mind when watching this and do not get upset with me if I portrayed your favorite character wrong.

Credit:

Thumbnail Artist - https://twitter.com/TenkoEnthusiast Sprite Edit Artist - @gentle-gelatin Sprite Edit Artist - Chen#1127 Sprite Edit Artist - @catboy-kiyotaka-edits Sprite Edit Artist - https://twitter.com/MidDinos Metal Slug Explosion SFX - https://www.spriters-resource.com/submitter/Gussprint/

[arsuns-ramblings]

hii thanks for the tag! i love doing ask games in their entirety yinstead of how they were meant to be done lol

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen? i'm on pc rn but it's a picture of some minecraft bees :]

🍫 Cheese or chocolate? probably cheese i prefer salty foods and will sometimes eat cheese even after i had my dessert. I do love chocolate tho

✨ Do you have any nicknames? Max, Sunny and Sun

🎵 Last song you listened to? Infinity Edge by Pentakill i love listening to metal while working

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction? oh gods yes shamefull things when i was a kid. I still am but i struggle to write so i don't post much :((

😏 Are you on discord? Yup username is arsun_ send me a dm if you wanna add me or i will probably refuse the ask TwT

 💛 Do you have any piercings? Yup snakebites

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person? How they treat other people

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be? the granola soft heart cookies their the best

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person? cat, i love my dogs but cats are better

🎧 Headphones or earbuds? headphones, earbuds hurt

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud? "In it? TOMMY INNIT??" i am not obsessed okay? (yes i am)

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know? there's a type of sea slug that shoots their genitals to the female to reproduce and then dies.

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl? night owl i hate waking up

🧸 Favorite place to nap? classic but my bed

🏳���‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community? Yup! trans (demiboy nonbinary) gay and polyamorous

🦋 Describe yourself in three words. gay hyperactive bitch

👖 Jeans or sweatpants? jeans i hate how i look in sweatpants

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order? i don't go othere ew

🧡 A color you can’t stand? in the right context i like any color tbh

💎 What’s your most prized possession? my glerch probably andeveryy drawings and notes/ birthday cards my friends gave to me

☕ Coffee or tea? tea but only iced

🦖 Favorite extinct animal? i don't think i have one-

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr? since july 2023, not that long but i did not realize that much time had passed

🌴 Desert island item? if i have the basics for survival then lots of paper and pencils

🐸 Describe your aesthetic. emo/ punk but i don't have the motivation or money to do much with my appearence so i look more basic alt

🔮 What’s your dream job? book seller like please let me be surrounded by books/ mangas all the time

💙 Relationship status? painfully single

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit. any shirt i really like with shorts, long socks and my red shoes

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to? so many i love musicals and i love to sing so like yeah

🤎 What color is your hair? dark blond kinda

💌 Do you talk to yourself? all the time

💄 Do you wear makeup? not really except for crayon and sometimes nail polish bc i'm emo lmao

🌸 Best compliment you ever received? "you look like the lovechild of will solace and nico di angelo"

No pressure tagging for funsies: @atlantis-just-drowned @ace-cat-nerd @aceof-diamond @red-hoods-left-sock @yeathisworks @i-dont-know-i-just-like-dragons @plaguethewaters

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

�� @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter five (prince hamlet)

“It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it. It’s a dirty song but someone’s gotta sing it now.” -”We Care a Lot”, Faith No More

October 13, 1988. Somewhere outside of Oswego, New York.

Lupe took the liberty of making a little spot for me on the far side of the main room, on the ledge in the little nook near the stairwell leading up to the second floor and the loft. Mrs. Hamilton threw out a note at me that that nook in particular has the best view of the entirety of the club given I can lay on my back and peer up to the edge of the second floor and a sliver of the loft ceiling. She scrounged up a couple of clean pillows from the back of the club, ones that had never been used on top of that. She lay those pillows down on the otherwise hard floorboards, and had fluffed up the one cradling my head. Once I’m reclining down on my back with my legs outstretched and my hands upon my chest, she spreads the quilt over me to keep me warm. Within time, Louie comes over to me with a mug of hot chocolate and a wad of stale marshmallows pulled from the inside of her jeans pocket.

Eh, it’s better than those stupid Mike n Ikes I had yesterday.

“Happy birthday,” Lupe tells me in a soft voice and with a shy smile upon her face. I return the favor accompanied with a warm feeling inside my skin.

“Thank you so much,” my voice cracks when I say that to her, so she gives me a giggle stifled by a hand over her mouth. Louie presses her hands to her hips as if about to sass me.

“Drink up, big boy,” she orders me, picking a marshmallow off of top of the mug and slipping it into her mouth; “Cindy Lou Who made you that big fat bowl of soup last night to warm up your tootsies and your tummy. I wanna know what the cocoa’s like.”

I take a swig from the mug: even though I know those marshmallows are stale and old, I swallow down a couple of them. Not bad, and the cocoa itself is just right.

“And?” she asks me, keeping her hands pressed to her hips.

“Perfect,” I reply, swallowing down another marshmallow and almost gagging on the hard outer shell, and without another word, she flashes me a thumbs up and a slight wink. Lupe then whispers something into Louie’s ear, and I swear it consists of “he’s so gorgeous” but their giggling covers it up enough to where I can’t actually hear it. I show them both a smirk and a slight raise of the eyebrow. To think that I am flirting with a pair of strippers at the moment, a pair of strippers who are also sisters.

Then again, I couldn’t ask for anything more than this here in Black Orchid, all snuggled up in the nook with my body warm and everything around me relaxed and willing to help me as well as please me.

They both walk away from me within time and I’m alone again with the mug and the blanket wrapped around me. I lay my head back onto the pillow and rest the mug on my chest, and gaze up at the ceiling overhead. And then there’s that girl upstairs, and I still can’t recall her name. At one point, I lift my head for a rather large swig of cocoa and marshmallows and I hear a light shuffling over me. I lay my head back down for another gaze up to the ceiling and the edge of the loft. Nothing there. Interesting.

Once I drink down the rest of the cocoa, I set down the mug on the floor, and it’s here I feel myself growing sleepy. My eyelids droop closed when I catch the sound of it again: it’s like someone’s crumpling paper. I’m too drowsy.

I doze off for a few moments, and awaken to the blurry sight of Mrs. Hamilton and Lizzy congregated before me on the other side of the room with their backs to me. I can hear them whispering to one another, and every so often I catch a sliver of a word, that is until Lizzy mentions my name. I rub my eyes and groan in my throat in hopes to grab their attention; I drop my hands in time to bear the sight of them whirling around to face me.

“Ah, there he is!” Mrs. Hamilton declares with a glimmer in her eye.

“Sleepy head lazy bones,” Lizzy teases me.

“What’s going on here?” my voice breaks from my nap.

“We were just discussing on how to bring you back to your humble abode,” Mrs. Hamilton explains to me, the twinkle in her eye never wavering. I rub my eyes again before raising myself up on my elbows.

“What’s it doing outside?” I ask them. “Is it snowing?”

“Nah, it quit snowing when we all got up this morning,” Lizzy replies. “The plows came through and took care of the roads for us all.”

“What about her, though?” I gesture up to the loft.

“Don’t worry about her,” Mrs. Hamilton assures me with a wave of the hand. “We’ll take care of her and find something for her when she wakes up.”

“What was her name, by the way—I’m drawing a blank on it...” I sit upright and rub my forehead followed by the side of my neck.

“Maya?” Lizzy fills in the blank for me.

“Maya, that was it!” Everything makes sense again.

“Yeah, Cindy told us. We didn’t know if she told you, though.”

“Eh, it’s neither here nor there at this point.” I peel back the covers and set my feet on the floor.

FLYING BANANA SLUGS ON A SANDWICH, THAT’S COLD!

“Where are my shoes?” I ask them, running my hands upon my upper arms. My teeth start chattering right then.

“I think they’re upstairs by your bed,” Mrs. Hamilton answers with an odd smirk upon her face. “Can we get you anything, by the way?”

“A thing of water, pretty please?” I suggest to them. I shiver as I climb out of the nook and head back upstairs to fetch the only thing to keep my feet from growing even colder. When I reach the top, from the looks of it, Maya hasn’t budged from her spot there on the edge of the bed.

Another question I have for her is what happened that led to her laying there in the storm drain with the rope wrapped around her ankles. I hope that when she wakes up she’ll be willing to share a recollection for me and the girls here in Black Orchid. But for the time being, I need to let her rest. I slip on my socks and, once I lace up my Chucks, I hear Mrs. Hamilton’s voice floating up from the first floor in conjunction with a man’s voice.

I stand to my feet and make my way to the stairwell: I catch a glimpse of a crown of puffy brown hair near the front door. That can’t be Scott, or Charlie for that matter: they wouldn’t know where I am, and they wouldn’t be here anyways. I reach the second stairwell in time to hear him say, “--just so long as I can warm up my ass.”

I stop there next to the nook where I took my little cat nap in hopes to recognize him. He’s short, a touch shorter than me, with that shaggy light, soft looking brown hair down past his shoulders, the scruffy seedlings of a beard about his round face, and steely blue-green eyes under a prominent brow. He’s wrapped in a heavy knit sweater underneath a lush, crushed crimson red velvet vest and a black overcoat, and has on knee high black leather boots: he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and I spot a shiny glimmer of silver on his ring finger.

“Hey, I remember you,” he says to me in an odd, European sounding accent. “Joey, right?”

“Yeah...” I have an odd feeling in my stomach about him, like I’ve seen him before but I can’t recall it at the moment. Lizzy returns to the room with a clean glass of water for me; I thank her right as he steps towards me. He leans in closer to my face such that I smell the soapy cologne wafting off of his neck.

“I heard what happened between you and Anthrax,” he confesses. “That just--God.” He shakes his head. “I have nothing to say about that, and I usually have shit to say about things.” He raises his eyebrows which brightens his face a bit; I’m getting flashbacks to the bus in Sweden two years ago.

“Pfff, tell me about it. I even quit drinking because I couldn’t live with myself if I continued. That still wasn’t enough.”

I take a slight sip from my glass before holding it before my chest and speaking up again. “You’re--I wanna say Lars?”

“Correct-a-mundo.” He wags a finger at me and I catch another glimmer of silver upon his ring finger.

“Wait a minute, I thought you were German,” I stop him.

“Danish,” he corrects me. “I’m a man about town, though.”

“So what brings you here?” I ask, feeling suspicious. He shrugs at me.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I can’t really say,” he admits to me.

“Why’s that?”

“I just can’t.”

“So--you came here for no reason?”

“No. I am here for a reason.”

“So you’re here for a reason but you admit to me that you won’t tell me?”

“Yes.”

“What is this, an Abbott and Costello routine?”

“No. I just--can’t--really--say.”

He nibbles on his bottom lip and pushes the same strand of hair behind his ear again. That bit of shine on his ring finger. Okay. Makes sense.

I drop my gaze to the triangular patch of sweater underneath his vest and his coat, and the shiny black obsidian arrowhead upon his chest. He’s like a prince, a dark prince all donned in this opulence, from the red velvet to the fine paisley lining inside of his coat and the black and silver goggles tucked in the breast pocket.

“I--I should go,” he blurts out, wheeling around and heading for the front door again. He opens the door, which reveals the blanket of bright pearly white snow outside, and I lunge for him.

“Lars!” I call out. He stops and turns to look at me, and that pendant shines in the bright white glare of the snow. I hunch my shoulders against the cold.

“I was just going to ask--what is this?” I gesture to my own chest to bring attention to his own. He glances down to the pendant upon his chest and raises his eyebrows at the sight of it as if he had seen something extraordinary.

“This? It’s my arrowhead. I got this from my grandmother when I moved here to the United States.” He swallows as he gazes up at me without lifting his head. “It’s to open up a wormhole to allow easy travel because flying can get rather pricey. I have used it all of once, though.”

I pause for a second.

“A wormhole,” I repeat that.

“Yeah.” He shifts his weight before me and clears his throat. “I didn’t believe it at first, either. But it does indeed work, though. I can go from San Francisco back to Copenhagen in just a couple of minutes if I want to. The sole issue with it is it’s kind of painful.”

“Like... how so?”

“Little pinches on the private area, especially if you’re a little bit on this side of well-endowed, and on the back and the hips, too. Then again you are climbing through a man made tear in the fabric of space and time.”

“Can we go inside to talk more about it, though?” I suggest to him, shivering at the icy, damp feeling around us.

“Might as well, You look cold.”

[lizamango]

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 2/?

A/N: Hi everyone! I’ve decided to call this fic Finding You, just to inform you for future chapters! Getting my second vaccine tomorrow!! 😁🤩

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp​, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies

Word Count: 2345 (this is so fucking satisfying omg)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Warnings: Just curse words, rewrites are hard but it’s kinda like shifting but through fanfiction??

Chapter Summary: Steve Rogers doesn’t trust you very much

Chapter 2: BUT YOU KNOW BETTER

On our way back, the STRIKE team is on celebration mode while Rogers is quiet. It won’t be a surprise if he goes to see Fury about the side mission I was assigned without his knowing. As we land on the Triskelion landing pad I watch as Captain Rogers leaves without a goodbye and heads to, undoubtedly, Fury’s office.

I tune into Fury’s communicator.

“Heads up, Fury. Angry Cap on your way. He found out about my mission.”

“Batroc?” he asks.

“He got away,” I answer regrettably.

“I’ll have international agents on high alert. You’ve done your part. Just leave the drive with me after Rogers.”

“Yes sir.”

I put all the weapons into the cache and go to clean up, changing out of my stealth suit and into a SHIELD hoodie and sweats that I keep in the locker for after missions. I wait by Fury’s office doors and he finally emerges from the elevator without an angry Cap.

“Gave him a little tour of Project Insight,” he says as he unlocks his office.

I walk in behind him. “That’s brave of you.”

“He didn’t like it.” He takes a seat and so did I.

“I’m sure he didn’t.” I fish out the hard drive and put it on the table. “One super secret hard drive for Nicholas J Fury,” I announce like a waitress.

“Good job.”

“He didn’t think so.”

“I want you to keep an eye on him. Just make sure he doesn’t do anything, alright?”

“What could he possibly do?” I raise my brows.

“He isn’t on board. I need you to get him there.”

“Don’t you already have an agent assigned to him?”

“Agent 13 is for when he’s off duty. You will be there for when he’s on.”

I scoff. “Have you met the guy? That’s all the time.”

“That’s an order, Agent.”

I nod. “Fine. Have you heard anything else on HYDRA?”

“The last reliable intel we have is three years old now, Y/N. It’s hard to track them down.”

“I don’t understand why you had to take me out. I was getting close to something. Someone. I don’t know.”

“Finding the world’s greatest soldier just took precedent. You weren’t getting anywhere for a whole year. Whatever it was, they packed it up tight.”

“Because it was something big,” I defend. “I still think you made the wrong choice. Captain America doesn’t need two babysitters.”

“Well, you try being asleep and waking up 70 years after to a whole new world and see how you feel. You’re dismissed. Get some rest. Make nice with the old man.”

I get up and leave his office. Make nice…. How do I do that when he doesn’t trust me anymore?

I get a ride home from Fitz who congratulated me on completing the mission.

“So what was he like?”

“He doesn’t like me very much,” I chuckle.

“Why not? What did you do?” he asks in an accusing tone.

“Me?!”

“He’s the perfect man, what could he have done?”

I roll my eyes but don’t answer. We arrive at my apartment and I thank Fitz for the ride back.

Unlocking my door I go straight to the bathroom for a bath. I run the water to the perfect temperature and add a bath bomb that turns the water a glittery lilac scented with lavender. I also light a candle that crackles like a fireplace that emits a subtle smokey French vanilla. A girl’s gotta treat herself. After a good long soak I get out and decide to rest up not wanting to do anything for the rest of the day.

I wake from my nap to the ringing of my phone. Reaching over to my bedside table I read the screen which has nothing but the number 1212. Well, that can’t be good.

“This is L/N,” I say.

“I need you to find the star. Keep your guard up.”

Shit, I think as I jump out of bed and get dressed in something inconspicuous. Black trousers, leather combat boots, a Kevlar vest under a back hoodie, two pistols on my belt and a knife tucked in each boot. I pick up a grey Von Dutch trucker hat on my way out.

Walking is the safest option so I navigate toward Steve Rogers’ DC apartment that he was relocated to after the New York Invasion as he decided to become a full time SHIELD agent.

I arrive outside his apartment and see Sharon on her way out.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Mission. Waiting for the Captain,” I say. I look at her scrubs. “How you liking the infectious disease ward?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Well it’s just a uniform. I guess it’s better than people shooting armour piercing bullets at me.”

“I’ll see you ‘round, Kate,” I wave, using her alias.

I track Steve’s whereabouts on my phone and see that he’s at a counselling centre for veterans. Fair enough, it’s good to admit you need help.

What do you want me to do here, Fury? I wonder to myself. I decide to do a perimeter check for any bugs, wire taps or double agents.

I reach an alleyway and after peering into it I hear the scraping of a manhole against the ground. I reach for my gun and keep it to the side as I slowly approach it.

I hear a grunt and raise the gun.

“Agent,” I immediately recognize the voice as Fury’s. “Stand down.”

“Shit, Fury.” I holster the gun and help him out of the manhole. “What happened, who did this?”

“Not safe,” he says in pain.

“W-where do we go? Rogers isn’t inside.” I inspect his wounds. “Looks like you have multiple fractures on your left arm and abdominal bruising-“

“Car ambush,” he utters as he approaches the fire escape. “Stay out here, keep a look out.” He pushes a phone into my hand, I don’t recognize it as his day to day. “Anything happens, secure line 0405. I have to… get to Rogers. Do not engage unless enemies fire first.”

“Fury-“

“That’s an order.”

I put the phone into my back pocket and stay behind as he climbs up and through the Captain’s Window.

The sky is starting to darken so I make my way through the perimeter again. Sharon returns and shortly after that, Rogers arrives, weary but alert. Just as a soldier would.

I hear some 40s music coming from the walls of the Captain’s apartment. I suppose he heard it too and got suspicious because he exits his apartment building to climb up the very same fire escape that Fury did.

My eyes follow him up and survey the roof of the building for any suspicious activity.

Suddenly three shots are fired right into one of the apartment building’s walls.

“Fuck!” I whisper, looking for the source.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs,” I hear one of my comms come through. It’s Sharon’s voice.

“Do we have a 20 on the shooter?” a dispatcher responds.

Before I know it, Captain Rogers is jumping out of his window and into the building the shots came from.

“Captain Rogers is in pursuit,” Agent Carter says.

I follow the Captain as he runs through a building following the shooter while he runs on the roof. They don’t fight but Rogers manages to throw the shield at him and does what some would say impossible as he catches it and throws it back just as hard. I stop where I am and just observe which is what Fury wanted me here for. The shooter jumps from the building and it looks like he catches himself using his… metal… arm. I look up and see Rogers standing at the edge of the rooftop, looking back down the shooter is out of sight.

“Transporting Foxtrot to BridgePoint Hospital Capitol Hill,” the dispatcher says from my comms. After sweeping the place one more time for any sign of the shooter and coming up empty I decide to take a cab to the hospital.

I put out an arm but it’s not a cab that stops in front of me.

“Get in, L/N.”

“Hill?” I get into the passenger’s seat and she starts to drive. “You’re supposed to be –“

“Fury called.”

“He was shot.”

“I know. Ballistics will tell us more at the hospital.”

“He’s gonna be okay,” I say but it’s more for my comfort than hers.

We arrive at the hospital and Maria takes a phone call while I find his room number, viewing the operation through the glass. Rogers is already there.

“Is he gonna make it?” I ask the Captain.

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me about the shooter.”

“He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.”

“Ballistics?” I ask, knowing he can hear Hill’s conversation outside.

“Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable,” he answers and looks at me.

Hill enters.

“Soviet-made,” I add as I put the picture together in my head.

“How did you know?”

I don’t get to answer her as the surgeons and nurses say that Fury’s in V-tach and rush to solve the problem.

“Fuck’s sake, Fury,” I whisper. “Don’t do this.” My hands start to shake as they lose his pulse and can’t bring him back. I notice that I’m mumbling something repeatedly but I can’t realise what.

I feel Rogers leave as the team gives up.

“Time of death, 1:03am,” the doctor calls.

I watch them wheel him out as Hill goes too. Taking a deep breath, I walk outside into the hallway.

“How did you know they were soviet-made?” Rogers asks, following me.

“Do you trust me?” I ask him, turning to face him.

“No. How did you know?”

“Why are you asking me when you don’t trust me?”

“Why are you dodging the question?”

“Cap!” Rumlow calls. “They want you back at SHIELD.”

“Give me a minute.”

“They want you now.”

“Okay,” he replies irritated.

“You’re not gonna ask me what Nick was doing in my apartment?” he asks.

“I know what he was doing there. Do you?” I raise a brow and turn on my heel, walking away.

I see Maria in the viewing room with Fury’s… body.

“I need to take him,” she says. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, alright?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not a child, Maria.”

“Do you want a ride anywhere?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“What, you’re just gonna hang around here until Rogers comes back?”

Yes that’s exactly what I was going to do. “No.”

She chuckles and walks away. I wait for all the SHIELD and STRIKE agents to clear out of the floor to go back into the waiting area. I go to the vending machine to pick up a snack and notice something that shouldn’t be there… the drive I gave Fury with SHIELD intel hidden behind three packets of bubble gum. Frowning I buy out the stack until the drive also falls to the dispenser. I take a seat, waiting for Rogers.

I don’t realise when I fell asleep until someone shakes me gently.

“I heard.”

I look up and it’s Sharon. “Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t you have an assignment debriefing to give?” I reply.

She shrugs. “That can wait. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Did you wanna know what Fury was doing at Rogers’ apartment too?” I ask, suspicious.

“Do you know?”

I nod.

“Then that’s all I need to know.”

“Fury trusts – trusted him,” I correct myself. “That means we have to.”

A beeping comes from her wrist communicator and she sighs. “I have to go. I’ll keep you in the loop about what happens at the Triskelion.”

I frown. “Why would I need to be kept in the loop?”

“Because I know you’re gonna be on the run, soon. With him. To find that shooter. Pierce won’t like that you’re after him outside of mission directives…”

“I know. You be careful, Sharon.”

She smiles stiffly and I know it’s because she’s worried about me. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were being careless and rash.”

“But you know better.”

She chuckles softly and turns to leave. I get up walk around to stretch my legs. Where the fuck is Rogers?

An hour passes and I’m back where I started but I see the man of the hour stop in front of the vending machine. I pop a strip of gum in my mouth and walk up behind him, blowing a bubble.

His face sharpens and he sighs then pulls me by the arm and takes us into a room.

“Where is it?”

“Safe.”

“Do better.”

“Fury trusted me. I’m on your side if he trusts you.”

“He doesn’t trust anyone. That’s the problem. That’s why he’s dead,” he says harshly.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Rogers sighs and pulls away. “What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I bet you knew Fury hired the Pirates didn’t you?” he accuses.

No, no I didn’t. Stunned, I blink at the news. “Made sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

“How did you know it was Soviet-made?” he repeats his earlier question, losing patience.

“I know who killed Fury,” I say. “The metal arm… I knew as soon as I saw it. 2009, Natasha had a mission in Odessa. Someone shot out her tires and killed the engineer she was protecting by shooting right through her. Soviet slug, no rifling. Metal arm. The intelligence community call him The Winter Soldier. I’ve heard him as the Asset. That’s who killed Fury.”

“How do we find him?”

“He’s been credited with two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years, Rogers. You don’t go after him. I’ve tried.”

He looks up at that, as if surprised. But he doesn’t know half the shit I’ve been through while working for SHIELD.

“So he’s a shadow.”

“Was.” I pull the drive out of my pocket and hold it up to him.

“Let’s find the Asset, then.”

 💖

Thank you for reading! I’ll update once I’ve finished Chapter 4 but I am busy this weekend!

Chapter 3

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - Luriel McBride (OC)

I finally got around to create an OC for the Redacted universe! It only took some stress and anxiety from work to get my ass into writing her. 

A little backstory about this OC. Me and Moon wanted to create our OCs interacting with one another so their names are the first letter of our Discord usernames. 

LadyMonotone = Luriel McBride 

Name: Luriel McBride 

Age: 26 years old

Gender & Pronouns: Female. She/her. 

“Let’s see… I’m a new resident here at Dahlia. Only for a while though. For my final academic coursework, a couple of students and I were transferred to D.A.M.N from Malaysia so we could graduate and earn our magical bachelor degrees. Now that’s a sentence I never imagined saying….

Hmm? What type of Empowered human am I? A Latent Graviton Energetic. 

Anyway, I’m looking forward to graduating without any drama. 

...I hope I didn’t jinx myself.”

Here’s a bit more info about Luriel that I summarised: 

A Leo and born in first of August, 1995

Born, raised and earned her mundane education in Malaysia. But after she unlocked her Latent magic, she enrolled in the local magical university before they transferred her to D.A.M.N to complete her Degree. 

She was 20 years old, hanging out with her little sister and they nearly got into an accident. That’s when she manifested her gravity magic. 

Currently lives in an apartment that’s near the local mall and D.A.M.N

Despite being a student at D.A.M.N, she still kept her job as a copywriter. She’s working remotely and keep close contact with the advertising agency back in her home country. 

And yes, the stress of juggling between being a student and an employee working in a fast-paced industry is something she screams about daily. 

Oldest among her siblings but acts like the youngest. She’s more than happy to let her little sister takes on the role as the big one among them. 

Had a very boring yet loving childhood with awesome yet a bit overprotective parents. Tight relationship with the siblings too. An average student before and even now; grades are never above B+ 

Academic goal in D.A.M.N: Pass instead of excel. 

Personality-wise? A combination of mellow and reserved. Awkward in social situations - so she would rather listen, instead of talking. 

She made a few good friends in Dahlia that taught her how to be friendly, but it’ll take some time for her to truly be comfortable around new faces. So making friends? It’s a work and a half. 

Despite being an introvert, she’s no pushover. She may lack the confidence in the social department, but her parents & siblings taught her how to be a self-assured an open-minded person.

Can also be surprisingly chatty when angry. 

Language spoken: Bahasa Malaysia, English and a bit of Mandarin

Adores romance & horror genres. Especially when they’re combined.

Her music preferences are all over the place - Gothic metal, K-pop, Japanese EDM and alternative R&B. 

Food preferences: Korean BBQ and hotpot dishes (steamboats, claypot rice & sukiyaki)

Dislikes: Compulsory socialising events from D.A.M.N, studying & alcohols. 

Being a Latent Graviton Energetic, she approach magic... differently. 

Look, she consumed a lot of media entertainment growing up; the internet is basically her third parent. So getting a hold over her powers wasn't so difficult once she knew her limits and how to get around it.

 Mastering the basics also helps out a lot and the rest? Creativity and experiences (trials and errors) are her best teachers.

Believes in soulmates but not… the usual kind. In her religion, before we gain our physical forms, we exist as souls and roam around in the spiritual realm. Each one of us have that someone - a particular soul - that we form an intimate bond (lovers, best friends & etc) with before we are sent into this world. Those souls would yearn for the other and seek them out. 

She hopes to find that other soul one day. 

Favourite colours & clothing style: Black as the main palette and accompanied by red, white, purple or pink. Her clothings focus on casual & comfortable. 

Hobbies: Reading & writing fanfictions, napping, listening to ASMR stories & conduct random and stupid experiments with her magic. 

Character alignment: Neutral Good (leaning more to Passively Good) 

Deadly sin that represent her best:  Sloth. If D.A.M.N offered online classes for their courses then you best believe that she’ll never leave her apartment. 

If she could be any animal in the world, she’d be a sea slug. Period. 

Shares a lot of classes with Lovely and have talked to them more than once though they don’t hang out outside of D.A.M.N. She knows about their Vampire boyfriend but has never seen him. 

Some of Luriel’s favourite quote/catchphrase:

Seriously? That’s a thing?/ Are you for real?

I don’t know what I’m doing. 

Uh, excuse me - the fuck?

Motherfucker just unhahaed my post on Discord!

Oh that looks painful… but impressive. Huh. 

That problem is for tomorrow’s Luriel. I’m going to take a nap now. 

Let’s just… take it one crisis at a time.

Most people enjoy their life. Or at least want to see another day. In your case, I’ll assume you don’t. 

-

Ok, so, uh... I don’t have any excuse. I went completely crazy with Luriel. Originally, I wrote Luriel on a google doc so I just pick some of her info and facts and post them here. 

There’s a lot more but for now, I think this is good enough! 

In her next post, I’ll add her interactions and opinions of Dahlia and Redacted’s characters. 

I’m gonna nap now. 

[ahsokasshoto]

Names and Faces

Star Wars: The Bad Batch fanfiction

No romantic relationships;  Omega, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, 99, Nala Se

1999 words (I really couldn’t have just added one more, could I?)

Ao3

Summary: Imagine growing up on Kamino, dysphoric for a face that you see reflected back at you not only in the mirror but in everyone around you. Imagine what it would mean to be finally be seen as different, knowing that people were finally seeing you as you saw yourself.

Omega deals with growing up trans on Kamino, and how to later tell her newfound family this important piece of her identity and history.

TW: non-graphic violence between the first and second breaks, and mentions of/hinting toward dysphoria throughout

It was an okay face, she supposed. If she looked at it from a certain angle. And squinted a bit. The jaw was too set and square; nose too wide and flat; hair too rigid. But the eyes….the eyes were good. She had to learn to like this face. She was stuck with it.

“The hell are you looking at, Question Mark?”

The jeering voice shook her out of her thoughts and she winced. She’d been daydreaming in the middle of the cafeteria while staring directly at another clone. Again. He stepped towards her, brows knit together in a familiar fury. A group of clones stood behind him, backing him up. “I asked you a question, Question Mark,” he hissed, using the snide nickname some of the clones had branded her with. She was always disappearing for tests or riding the heels of Nala Se. No one quite knew what to make of her. To them, she was a big question mark.

She stood and looked into that face, her face, reflected back at her. She tried to keep hers neutral as she said sternly, “That’s not my name.”

**

The other clone smirked. “Well, what is it then, Question Mark?” He took another step toward her, those copper-colored eyes still menacingly afire. “Or is that just another question mark for us, too?”

Fortunately for Omega, those questions would have to wait as the cafeteria was suddenly abuzz with excitement. One of the clone troupes was back from a mission. “It’s the weird ones,” Omega heard another clone whisper. “Aren’t they called the Bad Batch?” another clone responded. “Don’t you mean the sad batch?” the clone who had jeered at Omega scoffed. But at least he was distracted for now, and Omega hurriedly made for the exit when she saw him.

It was that face, the one she’d seen countless times on countless people, but it wasn’t the same. His hair fell over it, and the dark ink of the skull pattern caught the bright Kaminoan light, making it look all the more shadowed. And with him were three other clones, each with equally unique faces: one with thin, hollowed cheeks and a crosshair tattooed over his eye; one which stood taller than the others, a twisting scar spread around one whitened eye; and one wearing high-tech goggles, face buried in a datapad. She’d never seen anything like these clones before.

The one with the skull tattoo turned on his way to a table and caught her eye. He gave her a small smile and nod before turning back to sit with his team. Omega could not stop her heart from fluttering.

"Who were those clones, Nala Se?"

Nala Se blinked slowly at her. "To which clones are you referring?"

"The ones who didn't look like clones. Big guy, one with goggles, one with grey hair and the one with the skull on his face."

"Those are the clones of experimental unit 99."

"Experiments?" Omega looked down at the cold machinery which poked and prodded her skin. "What kind of experiments?"

Nala Se moved some sensors, made some notes. "Nothing that concerns you."

Omega was not deterred. "Why do they look like that? Because of the experiments?"

Nala Se paused, all but sighing as she turned to look into Omega's wide, curious eyes.

"Yes. Aberrations in their DNA enhanced traits desirable in soldiers. We further enhanced those traits manually."

"Wow." Omega leaned back. "What can they do?"

"Enough questions for now, cadet. Just relax."

Usually, the sensations of the metal sensors on her skin brought on a dysphoric discomfort that would stay with her, sometimes for days after an examination like this. But today, her mind was far away, imagining the face she'd have if she could be different like Experimental Unit 99.Omega was still lost in thought as she made her way back to her bunk. It was late, and she hoped the other clone cadets would all be asleep. But her hopes fell when she heard heavy footfalls behind her.

"Well, well, well," sneered a familiar voice. It was the cadet from earlier, his crew still lurking behind him. "If it isn't the big old question mark. What are you doing out so late? Huh?"

Omega could feel his hot breath in her face. She glared at him. "None of your business."

But the other clone merely smirked. "I saw you looking at that sad batch clone earlier. You know what I think? I think you're defective," he said, jabbing a finger at her chest, "just like them. That's why they have to do so many tests on you." He tugged at her shirt. "Why don't you show us, Question Mark?" He lifted her shirt up and punched her in the gut. It knocked the wind out of her and she fell to her knees. She had barely time to throw her arms up over her face before a foot was coming at her head. The other cadets stood by and laughed. One may have even added some kicks of his own; there were so many, she couldn't tell, and she began to grow faint and dizzy. Finally, one of them said, "I hear footsteps. We'd better get out of here!"

They took off running in the opposite direction of the approaching footsteps. They were moving too quickly to be Kaminoan. She dared not look up as they grew closer.

"Are you alright?" said a soft-spoken voice, filled with genuine concern. She'd never heard that kind of voice on Kamino, not even from Nala Se. She risked a tiny peek, and found herself looking up at another clone unlike any she'd seen. His body was slightly hunched, his face wrinkled, but he looked at Omega with some of the kindest eyes she'd seen on Kamino.

"I...I think so," she winced, struggling to sit up. The clone reached out and offered a steadying hand, which she accepted. "Ow," she winced again, feeling a sharp pain in her ribs. She hoped they weren't broken; that would be difficult to hide from Nala Se.

“I’m 99,” the clone said kindly. Omega perked up. “Like Experimental Unit 99?” she asked brightly. 99 chuckled. “The Bad Batch,” he said fondly. “They had to go through this too, you know. At least, before Wrecker got too big to scare everybody off.”

She looked up at 99, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“Not all regs are like that, though. I’ve known some good ones. It’ll get better.” He smiled at her, but she still looked dismayed.

“I don’t know. I’m different, too. I don’t look like it, but I….I feel it.”

99 gently helped Omega to her feet. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to about it, come and find me. I’d better get back to work, though. What’s your name, by the way?”

Omega smiled, and took a breath. The last letter. The last she’d ever be considered a question mark. Once the name passed her lips, there would be no going back. But she was ready.

“Omega,” she said proudly. “My name is Omega.”

**

99 had been right; things did get better once she told Nala Se she was transgender. “Most intriguing,” was all the Kaminoan woman had said, blinking those huge, taciturn eyes. She had begun production and administration of puberty blockers shortly after that.

Omega continued to meet with 99 through her transition, and the two became fast friends. She especially loved hearing his stories about the Bad Batch. The attack by the Separatists on Kamino was a devastating blow. She attended 99’s funeral ceremony, along with several regs. She looked over them all. Most did look pretty regular, but she noticed a couple, one with a hand painted on his armor and one with a tattoo of a five on his head. They must be more experienced troopers to have such marks. 99 had been right, Omega thought. Not all regs were bad if they could pay their respects to him.

People still treated Omega differently, but what no one realized was that every snide remark about her hair or her soft features or her clothing was a point of pride and power for her. They were finally seeing her as she saw herself.

And the next time the Bad Batch saw her, she could look back at them with a face as same but different as theirs.

**

"Tech, how's it going with that datapad?" Hunter said in a low voice. He, Tech, Wrecker, Echo, and Omega wandered the surface of Bracca, searching for a particular piece of machinery.

Something caught Omega's eye: a shock of color stuck out against the rusty brown all around them. She knelt down for a closer look. It was a small flower, delicate purple petals reaching through the junk for a chance at sunlight. It was beautiful.

"Nothing yet. The latent charges in the rest of the machinery here must be skewing my tech as much as your senses, Hunter." Tech shook his head. "My screen is like a big, blank question mark." The words jolted Omega out of her reverie. Her mind was suddenly thrust back to Kamino, when those words were slugged at her as much as fists were. Her chest grew tight and her heart began to pound.

“Omega?” Hunter heard her panting as much as he sensed her panic and was at her side in a moment. “Omega, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Her thoughts were racing; it was difficult to focus. “I....I just….” Big, splotchy tears began to spill. Everyone had stopped now to look at her, concern lining each of their faces. “Question mark. That’s what people used to call me, back on Kamino. Before….before I….” She couldn’t finish before choking out a sob. She turned away from them and ran back in the direction of the ship. Hunter made to follow, but Echo placed a hand on his shoulder. “Give her some space. If she wants to tell us, she will.”

The crew arrived back at the ship some time later to find Omega waiting for them. She looked at them solemnly, almost sheepishly. “I’m sorry I ran off back there,” she said quietly.

“That’s alright, Omega. Is everything okay?” Hunter asked gently.

Omega took a deep breath. “When I was first growing up on Kamino, I knew that I felt different, but I didn’t look any different from everyone else. I didn’t want to be a soldier. I didn’t want to be like them at all. I’d be taken away for tests a lot, and no one knew what to make of me. I was just a big question mark to them.”

She looked down at her hands. “Now when people see how different I look, it makes me happy. Because they’re seeing me as I am. A girl. I’m transgender,” she finished, and risked a glance up at the group. The members of the Bad Batch were all beaming at her with immeasurable pride.

"Wow," Wrecker whispered, his good eye wide and sparkling with admiration.

"Thank you for telling us, Omega," Hunter said earnestly, kneeling down to look her in the eye.

"We are so lucky to have you," Tech piped from behind Hunter.

"Absolutely. You may not have wanted to be a soldier, but you're brave and strong as one," Echo said.

"But way prettier!" Wrecker added, and they all laughed.

"Thank you guys," Omega said finally, wiping the tears from her eyes. "No one's ever understood me like you have. I couldn't ask for a better family."

"Me neither," Hunter replied.

"Here, here!" Tech agreed.

Wrecker couldn't take it anymore. "Oh, bring it in!" he cried and he wrapped his arms around Tech and Echo and sandwiched Hunter and Omega between them in a group hug. Omega’s heart swelled to know that she finally had a place and a family to which she belonged. Where she could be free to be exactly who she was meant to be.

[inspectingg]

Exterminator (Gruvia fanfiction) Chapter VI: Cascading feelings

© 2021 inspectingg (on tumblr, wattpad and fanfiction.net). All rights reserved.

Synopsis: The administration indisputably decided that social status not only determined one’s wealth, but also life or death. Driven by corruption, those who thrived at the top of the chain dominated the world. Desperate to seize absolute control, Exterminators were given the decree to kill. With the entire fate of the human race under their control, it is imperative to lose all morality and sentiment. When killing people is a full-time job, it becomes second nature for Gray Fullbuster. But when the first person he has ever vowed to protect was his next victim, he makes the difficult decision to keep her under his care, training her to kill – or else be killed.

Genre: romance, action & dystopian.

This fanfiction contains violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter VI - Cascading feelings

“Where on earth did the captain take you?” 

Gajeel’s boisterous voice echoed through the empty chamber, only to receive a playful punch from Lucy. 

“You’re so loud, what if someone heard you?”

The dark-haired man simply scoffed. “It’s not like all sixty-one of the recruits saw them or anything,” he commented sarcastically. “Even Commander Scarlet was left speechless.” Gajeel turned his attention back to Juvia, who sat at the opposite side of Lucy’s bed. Her shoulder hammered painfully, yet all she could think about was Gray. His cold lips on hers. The way his muscular hold would never leave hers. Juvia’s voice caught in her throat as she finally allowed herself to speak. 

“I-It doesn’t matter anymore,” she sighed. She felt her eyes burn, but she was not going to let another tear fall. “Thanks for worrying,” Juvia whispered, “but could I have some time alone?” 

Gajeel and Lucy exchanged a frown, but eventually nodded in sync as Juvia’s eyebrows creased painfully. “Please?” 

Juvia had no idea what time it was, nor what day. The walls of the chambers were left unscathed and she completely forgot about her tally she made back in the tunnel. Juvia exhaled but she instantly regretted as her shoulder flinched with a sudden pain that jolted through her entire body. 

Before she could slip beneath the covers, she felt a blow across her face. The shock spread across her cheek, swelling painfully. 

“Have you knocked her out?” 

The familiar voice instantly sent Juvia’s eyes fluttering shut. Suddenly, she felt a coarse surface entwine her wrists together. A cloth was roughly shoved into her mouth, causing Juvia to gag.

“Carry her over here,” a second voice muttered. Juvia felt her body moved away from the bed. “I’ll follow you.”

Juvia bit down on her lips as she held back a scream. The man’s grasp seized her shoulders and they burned against her muscles as she felt herself being hoisted away from the chambers. 

“Be as quiet as possible,” Bora seethed. 

Juvia’s eyes slowly opened and she found her body hanging against the metal bar, inches away from falling into the pit. A rush of cold air cascaded against her face as her doom was presented in front of her.

“Should I throw her over now?”

Juvia almost jerked with fright as his voice echoed through the empty halls. Bora contemplated before snarling with a sinister thought. “No…” Juvia winced as she felt a harsh hand against her shoulder. 

“Bora!” the other man barked. “What the hell are you doing? I don’t want to be caught.” 

Bora simply ignored him, his hands clawing onto her injured shoulder. Juvia screamed through her restrains, but what caused her to sob helplessly was when she felt another hand slide nonchalantly into her shirt. His skin sent her cringing as she felt his fingers snake around her hips like a slug. 

“You’re the one missing out,” Bora snickered. Juvia could feel her blood boil, desperately trying to writhe away from his unwelcomed touch. With all the energy she could muster, she kicked Bora’s face, sending him staggering backwards. 

“What the fuck?” The other man reached out in an attempt to push her over the edge. Juvia slammed her eyes shut, letting out a scream as she felt a force against her. 

Suddenly, she felt her hip crash against the metal railing as a strong hand encircled her. Juvia’s eyes fluttered open, landing on Gray. His face remained expressionless as he swiftly removed the cloth from her mouth. 

His eyes were bloodshot as he creased his eyebrows at the two attackers. Bora backed away, panicking as Gray settled Juvia down onto the ground safely. 

“Gray,” Juvia whispered. However, her whimper was left unanswered as Gray promptly turned away.

“C-Captain Fullbuster, please give me another chance.” Bora’s lips trembled as he immediately backed away. Juvia could swear that she saw Bora’s pants darken as he quivered in fear. With all motion lost completely, Bora fell backwards as Gray approached him with an obscurity Juvia had never seen in her entire life. A bleak haze casted over his pupils, hovering over his darkened eyelashes. Juvia could no longer remember the rope tied against her wrists and the throb that hammered at her shoulder. His eyes no longer mirrored the tame expression he held for her. It was almost as if he was a stranger. 

Gray’s arms bulged as he thrashed fist against Bora’s face. With a swift step, he hurled the man over his shoulders and before Juvia could realise what was happening, Bora’s holler echoed through the pit as he descended into darkness. 

Gray’s figure calmly approached the other man, whose face was distorted in pure fear. Juvia finally found her voice again. 

“Gray, please,” Juvia cried out immediately. “Please take me away.” 

Juvia held onto her breath as she watched Gray come to a complete halt. His eyes met hers for a brief moment as he turned to face her. Baring his teeth, Juvia watched in terror as his lips widened into a sinister smirk. Inevitably, Juvia shed the tear that she never knew she had kept at bay. His eyes glowered in delight as he snarled through his teeth. 

“I will.” 

But Juvia knew his words were no longer trustworthy as Gray had simply smashed his fist into the man’s face. His energy heightened with each blow he delivered. Juvia’s hands were now burning against her constraints as she desperately tried to tear away from them. However, her feet remained motionless as Gray’s merciless strikes continued. His knuckles flared red, crashing effortlessly into the man’s face until he was barely recognisable. The resounding howls of the man diminished with each attack. Juvia could only stare. 

Red splattered across Gray’s cheek as he delivered the final blow, leaving the man faceless. Gray wiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing the blood until it tainted his skin. The exterminator 

Juvia could only stare as a pool of blood began to expand around the motionless body. Her throat scorched against her saliva as she finally allowed tears to stream down her face. Her lips became ajar and let out a screech as all her fears suddenly ate at her. The overwhelming feeling of despair decided to hit her right at that moment and she realised that it was all because of Gray. All her pain and suffering were the result of Gray helping her – and he didn’t even know why. 

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Juvia shuddered as she watched Gray scrub at his knuckles. They glowed a mauve purple under the flickering light, revealing scatters of bruises all across his hand. 

“Why did you do it?” Juvia’s voice penetrated the silence. Gray paused, his eyes darkened in thought. He curled his fingers into a fist and proceeded to harshly rub at his injuries, attempting to wipe away the blood from his hands. He suddenly gritted his teeth in annoyance, realising that Juvia’s gaze never wavered from him. His knuckles were now clean, but instead, a glowing wound glared back at him. 

“Could you at least tell me that?” Juvia whispered. She remained determined, rising from the bed, ignoring the lingering pain at her shoulders. “Why you killed him?”

Gray flinched as he suddenly felt a pair of soft hands rested against his back. A shaky breath brushed against his shoulder as she gently leaned against him. “I-I still trust you,” she murmured. In an instant, something triggered at his heart and a cold breeze rushed through his bloodstream as he felt a flame dissipate away. Gray strained his body from thrashing violently as a hurricane within his body began to grow, thrashing across his chest. His bruised hand hastily grasped onto his chest, bunching the material into his fist he suddenly couldn’t contain himself anymore. The smooth skin that touched his rough one sent a spark against his throat. Swallowing hard, Gray turned to face the girl. Shaking, he struggled to touch her wet cheeks. 

It was the second time he saw her cry, and for some reason, it really hurt. Something in his heart would grapple for life, as if letting go will send him into an eternal abyss. To his surprise, Juvia immediately nestled her cheek into his palm. 

“Will you tell me, Gray?” With her petite hands, she guided his other hand to her waist. “Please, I want to know.” 

Juvia’s sapphire eyes reflected his dark ones, and he couldn’t seem to look away. The way he felt himself burn from her touch caused him to lose all sense as the words she spoke were lost. He could only focus on the way those supple lips slightly opened and closed, revealing a place he wouldn’t mind venturing again. Gray cautiously grazed his thumb across her pale cheek, wiping at another tear that trailed down her face. 

“You needed help,” he muttered. Inching closer, Gray allowed his forehead to rest against hers. Juvia nuzzled her face towards his, but didn’t back down. 

“Yes, I needed help but why did you help me?” Juvia paused, moving her face away for a brief moment. Gray refused to part from her warmth and groaned softly. “Answer me, Gray,” Juvia demanded gently. She let out an inaudible gasp as she felt her body being pulled in closer. The tip of their noses touched briefly before she felt his eyelashes flutter open against her face. His onyx orbs bored into her.

“Because I could.” His husky voice infiltrated her and she let it vibrate through her body. He threaded his fingers between hers. 

“T-That’s the same as not knowing,” Juvia stuttered. She became breathless as she felt the coldness of his fingers link between hers. “Give me the real reason, Gray.” 

In response, he simply tightened his hold, curling his fingertips around the back of her hand. Stroking her hand gingerly, he clenched his jaw as he realised that he didn’t have a real reason himself. 

“I have this strange feeling I have never felt before,” he hummed against her. Juvia gulped in surprise as she felt his lips skim her philtrum. “I really want to touch you.” 

Juvia could feel her face burn as she felt his hand leave his cheek and trace over her chin. The idling touch of his fingertips almost seemed to teased her as they trailed down to her neck. 

“I killed them because I want you.” 

Juvia couldn’t find her voice as his lips closed the gap between them. The way his lips protruded across hers left her stunned. His teeth gently tug at her bottom lip, begging for entrance. Juvia obeyed his command, eagerly letting her mouth ajar. The delicate twirl of his tongue expertly danced with hers, locking for a moment before he slanted his mouth so he could enter farther. Juvia let out a moan as she felt his hands embrace her tightly against him. With their chests pressed together, their hearts collided and waltzed to the same captivating rhythm. 

Reluctantly, they pulled away, gasping for air. Juvia shuddered in delight as she felt his finger rub against her hip. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in so their foreheads touched once again. 

“Gray?” 

The exterminator allowed his eyes to survey her carefully. 

“Thank you for saving me,” she mumbled. “Again.” 

Gray let out a deep chuckle; once again giving Juvia butterflies in her stomach. 

“Do you feel guilty?” 

Juvia immediately regretted speaking as she found herself losing the heat from touching him. his arms tore away from hers and his body immediately retreated away into a place Juvia found difficult to see. 

“I don’t have to feel guilty.” He turned slowly to look at her again. “And neither do you.” 

Juvia frowned, looking down at her feet in both annoyance and disappointment. 

“I’m grateful that you saved me, Gray, but why did you do that to him?”

She flinched as Gray’s fists calmly reached down to the hem of his shirt to pull it away roughly. 

“Do what?” He turned, etching the sides of his lips into an empty smile. “I don’t understand, Juvia,” he laughed dully. “I killed him for you, didn’t I? How I do it shouldn’t matter.” 

Juvia hesitantly rested a hand on his bare back. “But… didn’t you think that it was inhumane to kill him like that?” 

Gray simply cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Inhumane?” His eye twitched for a brief moment before tossing the shirt aside. “I don’t understand?” He approached Juvia once again, this time, an unfamiliar glower haunted him. Juvia backed away unknowingly as he once again caught her between his arms. Roughly capturing her lips again, Juvia cried out in shock. His lips hungrily overlapped against hers, consuming her whole. Juvia desperately tried to tear away from him, but her refusal of his touch only caused him to grasp her harder. His teeth bit at her lips and Juvia could feel them swell as he slipped his tongue between hers swiftly. Finally, he let go of her, but this time Juvia felt her heart sink with emptiness. She felt lonely as his eyes never once looked at her the second time they kissed that night. And as someone who has been on her own for all her life, this was the loneliest she had ever felt. 

[writing-and-bad-decisions]

One Rainy Night

A Haikyuu Fanfiction

Pairing: Yaku/Lev

Words: 4632

Summary: 

“Wait!” Lev called out, but it was no use, and the two boys watched pitifully as their bus sped down the road, around the corner and out of sight. 

“Dammit!” Yaku shouted, though it was mostly drowned out by the rain. The two ducked into the bus shelter, finally getting coverage from the storm.

“What time is the next bus coming?” Lev asked, running his hands through his wet hair, dishevelling it even more. 

“Half an hour.” Yaku huffed, dropping himself down on the bench with an audible squelch. His muscles were burning from the exertion.

“Should we walk home instead?” Lev asked. The two stared out at the torrent, the rain clattering loudly on the metal roof. 

“No, it’s too dangerous. We should wait. God we’re drenched.”

Alternatively,

The weather is disgusting, Yaku is locked out of his apartment, and apparently all it takes to make you realise your feelings for someone is a little power-outage.

Note:

Hello! I wrote this over the course of 15 days, and am very proud of myself for my consistency (that’s the longest writing streak I’ve had all year, with is awesome!). I’m pretty happy with how this turned out! Any comments/constructive criticism is always welcome, I hope you enjoy!

-----

The rain was incessant, pounding Yaku’s body with cold pellets as he sprinted through the school yard, Lev following close behind. It was soaking him from all directions, the splashing of puddles like shrapnel on his exposed legs. The two ran, panting and shivering through the haze as they made their way down the street, weaving through the few pedestrians also foolish enough to be wandering about in the onslaught. It was currently 6:04, and their bus was going to be arriving at the bus stop at precisely 6:05. Yaku was hoping that the rain would have delayed it at least a few minutes, but as they rounded the corner, his stomach sank. 

“Wait!” Lev called out, but it was no use, and the two boys watched pitifully as their bus sped down the road, around the corner and out of sight. 

“Dammit!” Yaku shouted, though it was mostly drowned out by the rain. The two ducked into the bus shelter, finally getting coverage from the storm.

“What time is the next bus coming?” Lev asked, running his hands through his wet hair, dishevelling it even more. 

“Half an hour.” Yaku huffed, dropping himself down on the bench with an audible squelch. His muscles were burning from the exertion.

“Should we walk home instead?” Lev asked. The two stared out at the torrent, the rain clattering loudly on the metal roof. 

“No, it’s too dangerous. We should wait. God we’re drenched.” Lev shuffled over to the bench, slinging his soaking bag off his shoulder. 

The two had discovered that they lived in the same apartment complex pretty quickly once Lev had joined the volleyball team, which in itself had its ups and downs. On the upside, Yaku wasn’t lonely on his commute to and from school anymore. On the downside, Lev took their close proximity as an excuse to bug him for help every chance he got. “Yaku-san! Can you help me study for my maths test?” “Yaku-san, can you help me practice my receives?” “Yaku-san~”

“I could have sworn rain wasn’t predicted today.” Lev said. Yaku peeled off his volleyball jacket, attempting to ring it out before giving up and dumping the wet clump of fabric on the bench beside him. The two fiddled around with their clothing for a minute, attempting to get a little more comfortable before giving up and settling into their seats. 

“God it’s freezing.” Yaku muttered, rubbing his arms aggressively. He could almost swear his bone marrow was freezing over.

“Do you want my jacket?” Lev asked. Unlike himself, Lev had been wise enough to put his jacket in his bag before the sprint to the bus stop, so despite the bag itself being soaked, the garment was relatively dry.

“No, it’s fine.” Finding the friction rather impractical, he settled for curling his arms against his body.

“Are you sure?” Lev asked, peering at him with concern. He had a few specks of water clinging to his eyelashes, which glittered in the streetlight. “You’re shivering.”

“Yeah. Besides, I don’t want you to get cold.”

“I’m Russian, that makes me immune to the cold!” He declared.

“You’re half Russian.”

“Okay then, I’m half immune.” Yaku smiled and shook his head, though his body stiffened as the wind picked up. “At the very least…” Lev slid closer until their shoulders and thighs were pressed against each other, before resting his arm across the back of the bench. 

“For warmth.” He clarified when Yaku gave him a funny look, though he didn’t complain, and instead leaned into his body. 

“You’re really warm.” He said quietly, his head rested against Lev’s shoulder. Lev chuckled, angling his head away slightly. 

“You feel like a corpse.” Yaku slapped his knee. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You feel frozen though.” After a moment’s hesitation, Lev wrapped his arm around Yaku’s shoulder, pulling him closer, and in turn Yaku curled into his side. To keep warm, Yaku reminded himself, though he couldn’t help but think how nice the arrangement felt. The thought itself concerned him slightly, but he was wet and freezing, and Lev was soaked, and he could feel the first year’s warmth through his shirt. Despite the horrendous weather, and their sticky clothing, and their aching muscles, it was a nice moment. The two stayed like that, silently cuddling, until the bus arrived. 

-----

After a very cold wait, and an even colder bus ride, the two boys finally arrived at their apartment complex. 

“I cannot wait to get changed out of this.” Lev said as they quickly strode across the lobby. 

“God I need a hot shower.” Yaku grumbled as they stepped into the elevator. Lev hummed in agreement, pressing the button for Yaku’s floor, and then his own.

“Sounds nice, though honestly I think I’m a little sick of being wet today.” Yaku nodded.

“Fair, you look like a drowned cat.” Lev squawked in offence as the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, and Yaku stepped out. “I’ll see you Monday.” He said in farewell. 

Lev stuck his tongue out at him, before breaking into a grin and waving as the doors shut. Yaku smiled, shaking his head at his antics as he made his way down the hall. He stopped in front of his apartment, slugging his bag off his shoulder and sending droplets across the tiled floor. The bag sagged pitifully as he opened it, and Yaku began to riffle through it for his keys. His eyebrows began to knit together the longer it took, before he froze. His keys were in his wallet, which he kept in his gym bag… which he left in his school locker.

“Fuck.” He groaned, hitting his head on the door with a gentle thud. Fantastic. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and thumbed the keypad. It dialed a few times, before his father picked up. 

“Morisuke?”

“Hey dad.” He said. “I left my keys in my locker at school, what time are you going to be home tonight.” There was a long sigh through the phone, and Yaku’s stomach knotted with guilt. He sounded exhausted. 

“I’ve still got quite a lot of work to finish off in the office, and there’s a lot of delay with the rains in this weather… I’m sorry Mori, I don’t think I’m going to be home for another two hours or so. Is there somewhere you can go in the meantime?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to drag you away from your work. One of my kouhai is in the building, so I can probably stay at his place.”

“That’s good then. I’ll see you tonight Morisuke.”

“Get home safely.”

-----

By the time Yaku had made it to Lev’s floor, his teeth were chattering painfully in his mouth. His clothing, though no longer soaking, was still plastered to his skin, and the chill of the building’s hair conditioning sent painful shivers through his muscles. His hand shook as he raised it to knock. There were a few moments of silence before he could hear footsteps towards the door, and briefly, he wondered what he would do if Lev’s parents answered instead. Standing in the doorway, shivered from head to toe and explaining his situation would be awkward, to say the least. Thankfully, Lev answered, albeit with a perplexed expression. 

“Oh, Yaku-san,” Unlike himself, Lev had gotten changed out of his wet uniform, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve short. To Yaku’s envy, he was noticeably dry. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just, I left the keys to my apartment at school, and my father isn’t getting home for another few hours. Would I be able to hang out at your place for a while until he arrives?” He tacked on quickly, “That would be fine with your family right?”

“Yes, of course! Come in!” Lev stepped aside and practically herded Yaku inside. “My family won’t be home tonight anyway. You’re still soaking though, I’ll get you a towel, and a change of clothes – actually, would you like to take a shower?” 

“Please. That would be great.” He licked his icy lips, the thought of a warm shower sounded heavenly. 

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Lev disappeared down the hall, and Yaku took the opportunity to examine his surroundings. Despite Lev harassing him for help every other weekend, study sessions always took place at Yaku’s apartment, so he had never actually seen Lev’s home before. He was standing in the entryway, which led into an open-plan kitchen, living room and dining room area. The design was modern, very similar to his own apartment, but more homey, with several photographs and other memorabilia decorating the walls. Across the room, situated in the living room area, was a large window spanning across the wall, showcasing the heavy storm outside. Lev appeared a moment later, a towel and a change of clothes nestled in his arms. 

“Here you go! You can just leave your shoes and bag right here.” Yaku dumped his bag and kicked his shoes off, before eagerly grabbing the items out of Lev’s hands. “Down the hall, the bathroom is the second door on the left. 

“Thanks.” Lev gave him a grin, before turning and heading into the kitchen, whilst Yaku made his way through the apartment.

He closed the bathroom door behind him, quickly stripping off his sodden clothes and jumping into the shower. The hot water was euphoric on his cold skin, and he closed his eyes, sighing contently. Yaku stood under the steam motionless, allowing the warmth to ebb away at the tightness of his muscles and seep into his bones. Once the numbness had faded and his limbs had thawed, he grabbed the bottle of soap and began washing himself. 

The soap smelt of lemongrass and lime, so distinctly Lev that it took him off guard, though the thought was somehow comforting, instead of weird. He let his thoughts carry him. The scent reminded him of the sun, of countless warm days spent in the gym playing volleyball. Of the crisp air, and morning jogs to school with Lev, who’s hyperactivity was quelled by the exercise and instead of making boisterous conversation, he would simply smile down at him. Yaku turned off the water, pursing his lips at where his thoughts had brought him. It was true that he had been spending a lot more time with the fair-haired first year recently, with them commuting together, hanging out on the weekends and spending time after volleyball practice to work on Lev’s receives. Yaku wondered when it was he stopped thinking of Lev as irritating and instead thought of him as… rather pleasant, he supposed. 

Dismissing the thought, he stepped out of the shower, and immediately regretted it as he was met with the cold air. He dried himself and changed, though noticed an apparent issue. Right, Lev was tall, so of course his clothing would be massive on him. He fixed himself up as much as possible, at least, until he was mildly presentable, and left the bathroom. 

“I’m out.” Yaku said, leaving the hallway and entering the kitchen. Lev turned from where he stood at the stove, apron tied around his waist, and froze. He stared at Yaku, his expressions shifting from shock, to confusion, to… something else, before finally landing on amusement. He laughed.

“Come on, it’s not that funny.” The sweatpants Lev had provided had ended way beyond his feet, resulting in them needing to be folded a considerable amount and causing two lumps of fabric to accumulate at his ankles. The shirt, which sat unevenly on his shoulders and reached his thighs, had been tucked into the tightly tied waistband. To say he looked rumpled would be an understatement.

“Sorry, just – you look like a cute little kid in my clothes.” Yaku glared at him, but the shower had relaxed him and he was too tired to retaliate. He was also choosing to ignore the strange swell he felt at the word “cute”

“I’m not cute, and I’m not a little kid. I’m older than you, remember.” He grumbled. Lev looked like he wanted to say something mischievous, but held it back, instead replying 

“Of course.”

“What are you cooking?” He asked, moving on. Yaku could smell the spices from out in the hallway. 

“Just some curry. Are you going to be staying for dinner?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright?” 

“Of course!” Lev beamed, “There’s heaps anyway, I wouldn’t be able to eat all of it on my own.”

“Cool. Anything I can help with?” Yaku peered around his body to the stove, where a pot sat simmering. There was a rice cooker steaming off to the side. 

“No, thank you, I’ve got it handled. You can just sit around and relax if you’d like.” Deciding not to contest against Lev’s cooking abilities, which, if he was being completely honest, he didn’t have much faith in, he made his way into the living room. Yaku picked up the remote and turned on the TV, but was met with a wall of static. 

“Oh yeah, I tried that earlier.” Lev called out from the kitchen. “I think the weather has messed with the connection. The wind has really picked up outside.” Glancing towards the window, Yaku could confirm that, yes, miraculously, it seemed to be storming even harder. 

He turned off the television and instead began investigating the room, drifting towards the bookcase in the corner.  He assumed it belonged to the rest of his family, as Lev wasn’t really the reading type. Only a few weeks ago, Lev had been complaining about the assigned book he had to read for English class, and after much harassment, the issue ended with Lev and himself sprawled out on Yaku’s couch as he read the first few chapters to him. Lev was a handful, that was for sure, though comparatively, he wasn’t the worst kouhai in the world. Yaku and Sugawara-san didn’t text very often, though from their few conversations, Yaku had heard just how illiterate the Karasuno first years were. He was thankful Lev wasn’t that stupid, the thought bringing a small smile to his face. 

After another few minutes of snooping, Yaku settled himself down on the couch and gazed at the dark void of the window. Behind him, he could hear Lev shuffling around in the kitchen. He listened to the soft bubbling of the stove, the high pitched rustle of metal as Lev rifled around in a draw. He was humming some kind of melody as he cooked, though Yaku couldn’t make out the tune. A sudden wave of melancholy washed over Yaku, grounding him into the softness of the couch. There was something special about this moment, the complete calm and normality. It was a stark contrast to his usual nights, where for once instead of the silence and haunting loneliness of his apartment, he was met with the comfortable domestically of Lev’s home. It brought about a strange yearning inside of him that he couldn’t place. A deep tugging on his heartstrings which made him acutely aware of how significant this moment was, as it was the beginning of something big, and beautiful, and life changing. He wanted to cherish this feeling, to hold onto this strange comfort that he didn’t understand. 

His thoughts were broken by Lev’s call for dinner, and he stood up, feeling quite disoriented, and joined him at the table. 

-----

To Yaku’s surprise, the food was absolutely delicious, and inwardly he apologised for ever doubting Lev’s cooking abilities. As tactless as he seemed, the kid could cook. Yaku reclined in his seat, eyes closed, and enjoyed the warm sensation of a hot meal in his system. He felt absolutely exhausted, his muscles still sore from practice and the cold, but somehow, he felt extremely content. He opened his eyes to find Lev staring at him, cheek rested in his palm and a small, impossibly soft smile on his face. The sight made his chest flutter. 

“What’s up?” Yaku asked, and Lev’s trance broke as he realised that he’d been caught. 

“Oh! Nothing, just,” He sat back up in his seat. “You look really happy right now.” Before Yaku could even think of a response, Lev rose from his seat and began clearing the table.

“I’ll help you clean up.” Yaku offered, and Lev waved dismissively. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to. I’ll dry.” Lev didn’t disagree anymore, instead giving Yaku another of those abnormally soft smiles which sent his heart racing, and the two proceeded to clean the kitchen in a comfortable silence. Once they were done, Lev said

“I’m going to make a hot chocolate, do you want one?” 

“Right after curry?”

“Yeah! Why not?” Yaku shook his head.

“I think I’ll pass, I’m not a big fan of sweets.”

“Oh come on.” Lev pleaded. “I make pretty amazing hot chocolates.” He stared at him with a small pout which Yaku found uncharacteristically endearing, and he couldn’t find the will to refuse. 

“Okay, fine.”

“Yes!” Lev cheered, and got out the supplies for the drinks whilst Yaku watched with mild amusement. 

The two of them settled down onto the couch with their hot chocolates, and Yaku had to admit, the beverage was pretty nice. He listened to Lev ramble on about some gossip with the other first years, something about Inuoka asking out two different girls, who both ended up being gay, which resulted in him setting them up. Apparently he was happy for the two of them, but quite sour about Lev and Shibayama teasing him about it. The conversation was quite meaningless, but there was something special about Lev’s company tonight, and Yaku was very much enjoying himself. Lev’s babbling was interrupted by a large crack of thunder, and they both looked up as the lights flickered.

“I hope the power doesn’t––” a sudden darkness enveloped them.

“Spoke too soon.” Yaku remarked. 

“What should we do now? Should I go get a torch?”

“No, don’t bother, we have our phones anyway. I guess we can just sit and watch the rain?” Lev hummed in response, and the two shuffled closer to angle themselves towards the window. 

It was pitchblack with the lights on, but in the dark they could see the surrounding city outside, the dull artificial light providing a small bit of illumination to the room. The world seemed quieter in the dark, though Yaku quickly realised that was due to the heater, which he had barely noticed earlier, being off now. Lev seemed to have come to a similar conclusion. 

“I’ll go get a blanket.” He said, and disappeared from the couch for a minute, reappearing with a large cotton blanket to cover themselves with. After a few minutes of silence, Yaku asked

“Hey Lev, what’s your type?”

“My type?” He asked, seemingly caught off guard.

“Yeah, on the topic of dating.” Lev was silent for a moment, thinking. 

“Well, I’ve never dated anyone before, but I’d say I like girls who are quite tall, and on the flip side for boys, um…” He paused for a moment “I think short boys are pretty cute.” there was a flicker of something in Yaku, a sudden nervousness that turned his mouth dry. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“You like guys?” It came out stiffer than he intended. Lev hesitated. 

“Yeah… that’s not a problem is it?” The insecurity sounded foreign in his voice.

“Oh! No–” Yaku realised how he had sounded. “Not at all, I’m gay.”

“Ah.” Lev replied, before breaking into giggles. “That kind of makes sense actually.”

“What? How so?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Lev shook his head of whatever he was thinking. “So what’s your type then?” The atmosphere felt heavy somehow, and Yaku wasn’t sure how to reply. What was his type? He supposed he liked guys who were tall, and lanky, and sweet and goofy, but how could he say that aloud when it sounded a lot like Lev and–

Oh. 

Oh.

Shit.

The realisation made home want to slap himself, he was so fucking stupid. Huddled under the blanket, only a few inches apart from each other, felt suddenly intimate. He was aware of Lev’s body heat radiating beside him, of every small shift of his limbs. Yaku felt very small beside him as Lev stared down at him, expression masked by the darkness, with his head quirked to the side. 

“Yaku-san?” He said questionably, oblivious to his inner turmoil, and Yaku realised how long he’d been zoned out for. 

“I-I’m not really sure.” He stuttered out, but before Lev could say anything else, the chime of a phone interrupted their conversation. Thankful for the distraction, Yaku shuffled around in the blanket, trying to find where his phone had been wedged. 

“It’s my father.” He explained once he found it, before picking up. “Hello?”

“I’m really sorry Morisuke.” His father began. “The weather’s gotten so bad that the trains have stopped. I’m going to stay at your grandmother’s house for the night, are you okay where you are?”

“I’m fine.” He replied. “The power’s gone out in the building, but we’re alright. Stay safe, I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Bye Mori.” He hung up. 

“Is everything alright?” Lev asked, his voice filled with concern. The tense atmosphere from earlier had dissipated, much to Yaku’s relief. 

“The rain has gotten so bad that the trains have stopped, so my father isn’t able to get home. Is it–”

“You can stay the night.” Lev interrupted, a little too enthusiastically. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

“Thank you.”

-----

“Does your father always work late Yaku-san?” Lev asked quietly after a long stretch of silence. The silences seemed to be getting longer between them, not that either of them minded. There was a certain comfort that came with sitting with someone else in the dark.

“Hmm? Yeah, always has.”

“What about your mother.” Yaku shifted in the blanket. 

“She’s… out of the picture.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“So, are you alone most of the time?”

“Yeah. When I was younger I used to get really lonely but I'm used to it now, so it doesn’t really bother me anymore.” Lev nodded. 

“My parents are both working most of the time as well, though I’ve always had my sister for company. Now that she’s moved out, the apartment just feels… empty without her. And, well,” Lev began. “I guess I’ve just found out recently that I don’t like to be alone.” 

The rain on the window punctuated the moment of silence. There was a familiarity in Lev’s words which made his chest swell, and Yaku was brought back to hollow nights in his empty apartment, a somber solitude that, as he reflected now, had never really left him, but instead had become an ever-present heaviness he stubbornly ignored.

“I’m… glad we’re not alone tonight.” Yaku said, and he meant it more than he could put into words. Right there, in that moment, there was nowhere else he wanted to be. No one else he wanted to be with. Lev turned his head to look at him, and although Yaku couldn’t make out his features, he could feel his smile. 

“Me too.” Yaku’s eyes were drawn to Lev’s hand, which rested on top of the blanket, and he had the sudden urge to grab it. “You know, back in middle school, I had a lot of friends, but I never really felt that close to any of them. But, now that I’m in high school and on the volleyball team, I kind of feel like I’m a part of a big family or something. Everyone’s been so nice showing me the ropes and teaching me how to play, even though Kenma doesn’t like me and I annoy you, I’m really happy.”

“You don’t annoy me.” The words slipped out on their own, and Lev huffed a laugh. Yaku tried to recover. “Okay, you annoy me a little bit. What can I say, you’re a handful.”

“But?”

“Who said there was a but?” He teased. 

“Yaku-san!” Lev whined, and he laughed. 

“But… the longer I spend around you, the less you annoy me and I discover that under that tall, lanky, dopey exterior you’re actually… really sweet, and nice, and kind of endearing I guess.” Lev looked at him for a long moment, his full attention on his words, before reaching out and wrapping his slender fingers around Yaku’s hand. He stilled, surprised by the sudden contact, before entwining their fingers. Lev’s hands were large, but delicate, not worn by years of volleyball practice like Yaku’s were.

“Thank you.” Lev whispered, and Yaku looked up from their hands. 

“For what?”

“Just… everything.”

They stayed like that for a while, hands laced together as if it was the most natural thing in the world for them, though, Yaku reflected, a lot of things seemed to come easy with Lev. 

The apartment felt small, disconnected from the outside world by the storm. Nothing and no one else existed outside of this space. For this night, it was only Yaku and Lev in the world, alone but together, and neither of them wanted it any other way.

“Yaku-san?” He pulled his eyes from the window and turned to see Lev staring down at him. Yaku was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, shoulders pressed together, faces mere inches apart. It would be so easy to kiss Lev, here in the dark, isolated from everyone and everything, where nothing existed but the two of them. Lev seemed to have the same idea as he slowly lowered his head. 

Their lips brushed gently, as if Lev was waiting for him to reciprocate, and he did, unravelling their fingers and gripping at his shirt collar, pulling him down further. Lev snaked his arm around his waist and they leaned into each other. It was a gentle kiss, soft and sweet, as Lev’s lips moved delicately against his own. Despite how inexperienced they both were, there was no hesitance from either of them, and instead they held each other with impossible ease. 

A loud crack of thunder broke the spell and they fell apart, staring at each other in bewilderment before breaking into laughter. 

“We should probably go to bed soon, it’s getting late.” Yaku said, a little breathless. He fought the urge to touch his fingers to his lips.

“Or…” Lev began, and he could feel the mischievous smile in his voice. “We could stay here for a while longer.” Yaku laughed, rolling his eyes as Lev cupped his cheeks and joined their lips once more. 

-----

It was easy to lose track of time when kissing Lev. Moments seemed to blur into each other as he focused on the sensation of their brushing lips and the weight of Lev’s hands gently around him. Eventually though, sleep beckonned them, and they couldn’t ignore it any longer. Lev stood, letting the blanket fall away and offered his hand to Yaku, which he took eagerly. 

“Yaku-san,” Lev started, pulling him into a standing position. Yaku stumbled slightly, finding his muscles weak from exhaustion, and was thankful to have Lev holding him for support. “Do you want to sleep with me?” The question was quiet, bashful, and Yaku squeezed his hand tighter. 

“Yes.” Lev led the way through the blackened apartment and into his bedroom, where they slipped under the covers once more. They embraced, Yaku’s head snuggled into his chest and Lev’s face resting in the crook of his neck, his hot breath grazing his sensitive skin. They laid like that, warm and intertwined, with the chill of the rain a distant memory, and drifted slowly off to sleep.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

We’re cooking the pizza!

It was a lovely evening with no current mission to worry about, and someone was responsible for cooking dinner tonight…

Tarma: *walks into the kitchen* Oh! Sup, Trevor? What are you making for supper? I’m starving!

Trevor: *his eyes are intently glued to Tarma, holding onto a circular pan* I’m just cooking pizza…

Marco was calmly minding his own business, typing away on his trusty laptop. Suddenly, Trevor accidentally hit Marco in the face with the circular pan. This incident caused Trevor and Tarma to burst into hysterical laughter.

Trevor: Oh my lord! Are you okay?! *he feels embarrassed and is trying to calm down, but couldn’t stop laughing*

Marco: *he doesn’t dare to look at Trevor as his hands are covering his smacked face* Noooo… That fucking hurts!

[scarpool-gmk]

3

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 3 (4/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

Techno music blasted Annabeth's eardrums as she walked into the forensic lab.

'What do you got, Abbs?" Gibbs asked, his calm voice cutting through the music. He pressed a button on a remote a couple times, and Annabeth felt relief as the volume went down.

"Gibbs! You're finally here! So, I've heard, and you have to tell me all about the new-oh…" The bouncy forensic scientist suddenly became quiet when she saw Annabeth. "Hi," she said tersely.

Annabeth smiled, uncertain. What was up with this lady? "Hi," she responded a bit awkwardly. After a brief hesitation, she stuck her hand out and said, "I'm Anne." At the same time, the gothic scientist did the same with a simple, "Abby."

Annabeth forced a chuckle out and shook the woman's hand. "It's good to meet you, Abby."

"Yeah…hmmm…" Abby muttered, narrowing her eyes and exaggeratedly scrutinizing Annabeth's face.

"So," Annabeth said, eager to move on. "What do you have for us, Abby?"

That seemed to snap the lab rat out of it, but now she looked offended and turned her stare to Gibbs.

Gibbs, for his part, looked unconcerned and unbothered, if anything, just a bit amused. "Whatcha' got Abbs?"

Abby immediately sprang into action. "Okay. First, let me show you the slug that Ducky got me."

Annabeth did not miss the smug look on Gibbs' face.

Abby held up a case with a used bullet in it. "The bullet used was nothing special. I haven't found a match for the striations on our database, but I'm not done going through it, yet."

An enlarged and detailed picture of the slug popped up on the big screen along with some other specs. Annabeth focused in on the slug. That was the thing that killed her brother.

"So, we're looking for someone that owns a gun capable of firing a nine millimeter?"

"Yeah," Abby said, "But that is one of the most common bullet sizes, and I'll need to test the gun to match it. That is, once I start reconstructing it. For a common bullet such as this FMJ, I'll need to get every striation and marking down right."

"Okay," Gibbs responded, "What else you got? What was on the phone?"

"I haven't gotten to it yet, but it did help me with the model that I made." Abby brought up a program on her computer and displayed it on the big screen. There was a green digital man in an outline of a car. "Okay, so your Staff Sergeant was driving, and he was definitely on his phone." The green man on the screen dictated his actions along with Abby's words. "Then the car that was chasing him slides up next to him as we can tell from the skid marks from the crime scene." A blue man in his own car outlines shows up on the screen. "Now, get this. It's the driver that shoots him."

"The driver?" Gibbs confirmed, turning around to face Abby.

"Yeah," Abby said, "At that close of a distance between the two cars, if the shooter was in the passenger seat, there would be gun residue on the car. And using the specs, I was able to find the trajectory of the bullet."

There was a cartoonish bang, and a red line from the blue man's gun makes its way to the green man's head.

"Although this little guy didn't go all the way through the Sergeants head," Abby continued, "It went close enough to the other side that his phone, in all the commotion, hit him where the bullet was passing, and I got that from the traces of the metal of the slug on his cell."

"We need to know who he was calling," Gibbs said.

"I know," Abby said, "And it should be super simple, but I just need to wait until the charger comes in. His phone is, like, as old and standard as yours, Gibbs."

"You haven't been able to get a hold of his call records?" Gibbs asked.

"Ask McGee," Abby answered, "I tried getting through, but the service providers are being weird. McGee was working on getting it."

"It could be a burn phone," Annabeth suggested.

"If it is, it's definitely an annoying one," Abby huffed, "But what would the Staff Sergeant need a burner phone for?"

Gibbs shrugged and handed her the red, caffeinated drink that Annabeth just discovered a couple minutes ago. "Let's find out," he turned to leave, "Thanks, Abbs."

"Wait!" Abby exclaimed, "I'm not done."

Gibbs swiveled around. "What else you got?"

Abby smirked. "I can't believe you didn't notice."

"Notice what?" Gibbs asked.

Abby motioned to her table where a bunch of evidence laid about in bags. Annabeth's eyes widened. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed. It was just lying there!

"What am I looking at?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, this is good. I don't know what kind of voodoo it is laced with, but it took me a while of hard concentration after, like, two hours of pure Abby-gut feeling to actually figure it out."

"Abby," Gibbs said, impatiently.

"I'm telling you, Gibbs," Abby said, "Just look and find what you missed."

If Annabeth had been paying attention, she would have been amused by the small sigh of defeat Gibbs gave. But she was distracted. Her vision was locked on the weapon that she should have known would be on Michael's person. Searching him and the car for anything like this should have been a top priority. How stupid of her! Now she couldn't take it away without bringing any more suspicion on her or her team.

She was brought out of her mental scolding when her eyes met with the cold blue stare from Gibbs. She immediately looked away, but the damage was done. Gibbs had found what had captivated Annabeth's attention and picked up an evidence bag.

"That's one nice looking dagger," he said.

"Yeah," Abby said, hyped up, "It's like a relic, Gibbs. This thing should be in a museum. Not only that, but check out the specs of this thing."

Annabeth almost broke her neck to look at Abby, her mind running on double time. Specs? Did Abby test the dagger?! This was not good. Not that Annabeth wasn't curious, but she would rather not find out what Celestial Bronze was made out of from a group of mortals that would be best kept ignorant about the divine world.

"Gibbs, I'm pretty sure I just found orichalcum."

"Ori-what?"

"Orichalcum," Abby's smile couldn't have gotten any wider. "Gibbs, this is famous amongst historians and mythological enthusiasts. It's linked with ancient civilizations like the Romans, Greeks, and Atlanteans. Oh, I have always known Atlantis is real!"

As Abby drifted off, her mind taking her to another place, Gibbs and Annabeth both leaned in to get a look at the compositions which made up the Celestial Bronze dagger.

"Very high in copper," Gibbs said, "and also extremely high in…" He balked and turned back to look at the dagger again. "Is that gold?"

Abby snapped back to reality. "Yeah, it is. Orichalcum was labeled as a metal by these old civilizations, but it's really an alloy. Now, gold and copper are great and all, but what is this?"

Annabeth leaned in to read what Abby was referring to. "Thirty-three-point three percent of an… unidentified material?" Annabeth's mind was conflicted as she read aloud. On one hand, mortals weren't supposed to know about Celestial Bronze; it's why the mist obscured it to mortals, which was probably the reason that Abby and Gibbs had trouble with it. But on the other, this was so cool! The fact that Celestial Bronze was like a mix of bronze, having mostly copper with hints of lead, and of what historians label as orichalcum, mostly gold with silver and more copper, was extremely exciting. But this third, mysterious element was incredibly intriguing. Once this whole quest was over, she would have to figure out what divine element was mixed up in all this.

"Unidentified Material?" Gibbs repeated.

"Yup," Abby said, "And with that high of a percent rating, there is no doubt- that element has never been discovered before. Gibbs, I would kill to figure out what that material is, and I'm just saying that as an expression."

"You think he was killed for the dagger?" Annabeth asked, incredulous.

"Maybe not for it," Gibbs said, "but it's definitely related. Is that it, Abby?"

"Yeah, that's it."

Gibbs reached over to kiss her on the cheek. "Good job, Abbs."

"Thanks, Gibbs, I'll probably be in the garage working on the car next time you want to come talk with me."

"Alright. Lima! Come on."

Annabeth rushed to leave, thanking Abby and telling her it was nice to meet her.

"It was nice to meet you, too," Abby said. Except, it sounded really forced.

Annabeth heard the music being cranked back up to its original volume as she left. Was Abby like that all the time?

Annabeth shook herself from her thoughts. She had to stay alert and act professionally. "Should we go to autopsy next?" She proposed while heading for the stairs. "Let's see what Dr. Mallard has for us."

Gibbs tilted his head in a nod. "Lead the way, Agent."

-Σαμεσ-

"What do you think they're like?" Jimmy asked his mentor.

"Well, I think they are a group of trained, professional agents- no matter how young they might be."

"You've already said that, Doctor."

"Well," Dr. Mallard said impatiently, "What do you want me to say, Mr. Palmer?"

"Well," Jimmy stopped. What a good question… The hiss of the door opening saved him. And Jimmy turned to see who was coming into autopsy.

"Ah! Jethro!" Ducky called out. Jimmy didn't like how relieved he sounded. "And Miss Lima."

"Dr. Mallard," the woman greeted, "Mr. Palmer."

Jimmy raised his hand in greeting.

"Please, it's Ducky to my associates," Dr. Mallard insisted.

"Alright then, Ducky," Agent Lima responded.

Jimmy decided to join in as well. "I'm Jimmy. I would shake your hand but, ah…" he displayed his already bloody gloves.

The doctor shot him a disapproving glance.

'Nice going, Jimmy. Way to emphasize the blood and make things uncomfortable.'

But Agent Lima wasn't. She smiled at him, completely unfazed.

"So, what can you tell us, Duck?" Gibbs said. Jimmy was glad that he didn't get another one of Gibbs's stink eyes.

"Well," Ducky said, "For one thing, this young man was a fighter."

"I already know that, Duck," Gibbs said.

"Er- I don't think you know the extent," Ducky said. He motioned for Jimmy. "Now see along his body. He has a plethora of scars and wounds. The newest wounds are, of course, the impacts of the car crash, which occurred right after the time of death, but many are very old. Look at these scars along his arms and abdomen."

Jimmy lifted the victim's arms to help indicate what the doctor was talking about.

"Many of these were made by blades, but they were not self-inflicted. Some are new, while many more are years old. A large amount was highly treated, but a few were left for the body to deal with. During my biopsy, which, mind you, I have not officially completed yet, I found many injuries that were made at least a decade ago. This young man has seen much abuse and violence during his life; I would recommend talking to his guardians to look into such domestic abuse."

"Already on it," Gibbs said, "What about those scars on his back?"

"Ah- those are also most recent. Mr. Palmer, if you would help me."

"Of course, Doctor," Jimmy said, rushing to help turn the body over.

"You know, it reminds me of a case in my time in Afghanistan."

Jimmy smiled as his mentor went on a personal story, something which Jimmy loved listening to.

"Yes, one of the soldiers had taken to walking around late in the evening. One day, he came back with scars on his back. Turns out, he met a bear and had gotten too close. Yes, it was safe to say that he would stop his late-night walks." Ducky chuckled.

Jimmy smiled as he remembered a story of his own. "Yeah, I got my back scratched one time, too." Jimmy was flashed back to living in an apartment as he was in med school. "My roommate, he got a cat without telling me. I woke up one morning to find the cat on my back, and it really did a number on me, all the scratch marks. I think I still have some scars…" Jimmy smile waned as he remembered the pain and how ill he had felt that entire week. "Yeah, he and I got into a big argument because of how allergic I was…"

Jimmy came back to the present when Dr. Mallard cleared his throat. He found Agent Gibbs looking at him, unimpressed, and Agent Lima staring at the dead Staff Sergeant. She was probably pitying the Sergeant for having his terrifying scars be compared to Jimmy's cat story.

"Yes, except those scars, feline and ursine, would be considered mere scratch marks compared to these marks," Dr. Mallard continued. "I already sent some tissue samples to Abby, but she didn't find any clues to identify the tool used."

Gibbs frowned. Jimmy could sympathize. It was definitely odd. "You mean the wound was cleaned?" Gibbs asked.

"Em, possibly" Dr. Mallard replied, "While it would be interesting to find what chemical was used to clean it, there weren't any traces of acids or any other type of chemical. Yes, strange, indeed. Once I start autopsy, we'll be able to find if traces were able to seep further in, but I doubt it."

"What can you say about any of the newer injuries?" Agent Lima inquired, "Other than the claw marks on his back, were there any newer bruises or scrapes?"

"Actually, yes," Dr. Mallard answered, "And they all point to your Staff Sergeant being in a fight. He has bruising all on his knuckles and fingers, indicating he was up close with his attackers before getting into the car."

"He was being chased," Gibbs said.

"It would seem like it," Dr. Mallard agreed, "He even has a bruise on his elbow that suggests he was able to deliver quite a blow. But that was all. I should be able to glean some more from him once I start the procedure." He patted the body. "I'm sure he has much to tell us."

"Thank you, Ducky," Agent Lima said.

"Thanks, Duck."

"My pleasure," Dr. Mallard said. "Oh, and Jethro, taking the stairs, are you?"

Jimmy perked up at that. Was that why he didn't hear the elevator ding?

"It's only a floor down from Abby," Jimmy heard Agent Lima grumble.

Jimmy shared a glance with Dr. Mallard. Was she the reason Gibbs took the stairs?

-Αντώνης-

Tony looked at the screen. McGee told him that Abby said this thing was magical, and he could kind of see it. Apparently, she complained forever how the camera just would not focus on it. He tilted his head to follow the blurry, simple, swirly pattern on the blade. "You know it reminds me of that sword from Lord of the Rings," Tony said, "What was it, Fling?" That couldn't be right.

"Sting, Tony," McGee answered.

"Ah, thank you, McHobbit," Tony said.

"Anytime."

When Abby had sent the picture to McGee, he had put it on the big screen and read aloud her notes. Underwood got really nervous and started to ramble until La Rue harshly told him to shut up. He didn't know why she had called him Goat boy. Hopefully, it would be a fun story he could ask about. He probably shouldn't ask La Rue about it, though. Tony turned his head completely sideways. He had to agree with La Rue about one thing. This was a nice dagger.

"Looking for a new angle, DiNozzo?"

Tony immediately straightened. "Always, Boss."

"Well, what did you get from it?"

"Fingerprints, Boss," Tony said, "Abby called, telling us that the only fingerprints that were on the dagger were from Staff Sergeant Kahale."

"It was his dagger."

Tony cringed. Getting a sarcastic response from Gibbs is never a good thing. He motioned for McGee to hit the clicker.

"We went to the car renter, Boss. He was your typical car salesman, greedy, has a legal document in place for everything. He confirmed that Staff Sergeant Kahale was the one to rent the car. He also gave him a discount that he has for military personnel."

"Receipt says he paid in cash," La Rue inputted.

"Actually," McGee chimed in, "He was a cash user. He did have a bank account, but all of the transactions were deposits of his paycheck and cash withdrawals."

"He did keep some too. Some receipts from a bar were found on him," Underwood said. He walked up to McGee and pointed to the clicker. "Can I?"

Tony watched in shock as McGee handed it to him.

"Thanks. All came from a place called The Drowsy Owl. Started and owned by a Mr. Reshaun Sachs. One of those receipts places him grabbing a bite last night." A copy of the receipt showed on the screen and zoomed in, highlighting the time. "It was just a couple hours before the time of the crash."

"I called his C.O.," McGee said, grabbing the clicker back, "He said that Michael was not living on the ship while they were docked and had no idea where he was staying."

"But…" Gibbs encouraged.

"But there was a key with an ID code on him." McGee clicked, and a homepage website for an apartment complex came up on the plasma. "Grover called the landlord."

'Grover!?' Tony shot a bewildered glance at Ziva. She just smirked at him. Cheeky woman. What does she know?

"She told us that he paid in cash," McGee continued, "No surprises there. He had been there a couple of days and had told her he was planning on staying for about a week."

"She also said that he would leave early in the morning and come back really late at night, one time as late as two in the morning," Underwood-or "Grover"- said.

"Or as early as two in the morning," McGee joked.

"Eyyy!" Underwood laughed. He and McGee shared a high-five.

Something inside Tony broke. It was probably his heart for jokes.

Nobody was impressed. In fact, they all seemed offended that such a bad joke was uttered, but that didn't seem to bother the McGeek duo. The Undernerds.

"Agent David and Percy said that Mrs. Kahale told them that they did submit a missing persons report," Underwood said. McGee handed the clicker back over to him. "And it took a while, but Tim was able to find it."

'Tim!?'

"It was a collective effort," McGee corrected.

The form popped up on the screen.

"Looks completely filled out to me," Jackson observed, "Why didn't we find it originally?"

"Because they did not complete the entire process," McGee replied.

Underwood made the plasma screen zoom in on a particular part of the form. "See this information?"

"Name: Michael Kahale," Ziva read aloud, "Date of Birth: 03/15/88; Height: 4'5"; Weight: …"

"It's all old information," Gibbs said.

"Right," Underwood said, "It was never updated."

"They also never contacted the Center for Missing Kids, contacted Inspector General, or did anything else, Boss," McGee said. "They just filled out the form and never touched it again."

"Interesting," Ziva said, "They are lawyers. Shouldn't they, out of all people, know how to do this?"

"Well, Mrs. Kahale wasn't very fond of her stepson," Jackson mused.

Was he suggesting that the step-mother had something to do with it? Tony smiled. Yes! But Ziva was not having it.

"No, Tony. I don't think the wife was involved in any such way."

"You have to think outside the box, Ziva," Tony insisted.

"Oh, no. That idea is very much in the box- your box. Anyway," Ziva said, getting back on topic, "I called Mr. Kahale, and he sounded much more emotionally hurt and is eager to help us in any way."

"Well," Agent Lima said, "It is something to check up on in any case." She frowned. "Wait, Michael paid over seven hundred for the rental, then he is eating out every day, and he is also renting out an apartment. He did this all in cash? Where did he get all this money? Can you bring up the money transactions?"

"Sure," Grover said, pulling the list up.

The senior agent of the Long Island team looked at the list. "It doesn't make sense." She said all of a sudden. "From the amount that he took out, he could not make all those payments."

Woah, did she read all those numbers and figure it all out that fast?

McGee took a longer look at the numbers. "You're right!"

"So, how was he able to pay?" Jackson asked.

"Fake money?" Tony suggested.

Clarisse scowled, "That's disgraceful."

"If it is, then we have to check the cash that was used," Gibbs said. "DiNozzo head back to the car dealer. Take Ziva with you."

Tony held in a groan. Another road-trip. "On it, Boss."

"Percy and I will pick up Mr. Kahale and check up on the missing person case," Agent Lima said. "Clarisse and Grover will go to the bar."

Tony heard Underwood gulp. "We will?"

La Rue cracked her knuckles. "Got a problem, Goat boy?"

"N-no! Not at all."

Tony sympathized. Poor dude. La Rue was brutal.

Gibbs went around his desk to grab his gear. He slammed the drawer of his desk shut. "McGee, take us to the apartment."

Tony smirked as McClumsy scrambled to grab his gear. Looks like the teams weren't being paired up this time. Nice.

Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs all piled into the elevator and waited for McGee to catch up. The Long Islanders all opted to take the stairs.

McGee ran into the elevator in a mess and out of breath. "Sorry, Boss. I wasn't entirely prepared."

Gibbs nodded. The elevator doors closed. It wasn't long until Gibbs flipped the power.

'Finally.'

McGee flipped his laptop open, balancing it on his arms. He brought up the files of each agent.

"Agent Anne Lima, twenty-three, graduated top of her class from the University of California. She worked under law enforcement and was quickly promoted. She then moved to New York, where she became affiliated with NCIS. Again, she was quickly promoted as the base there is small, and they had an influx of agents join.

"Next up is Agent Percy Jackson. He is also twenty-three. He graduated from the University of Albany. Apparently, Agent Lima handpicked him to be a part of her team. She said that she saw great potential in him and that he had valuable skills to add to her team."

Ziva scoffed lightly, "Well, he did not add much when we went to visit Mrs. Kahale. He did not help me question or console her, which, in truth, she did not need any consoling." Ziva's expression lightened, "However, he did mention seeing a dagger by the front door."

"A dagger? Like the one we found with Michael Kahale?" McGee asked.

Ziva, for the first time ever, looked sincerely embarrassed. "I do not know. I did not see it. If it was there, then it evaded my attention quite successfully."

"Wow," Tony teased, "Guess those Mossad skills are getting rusty."

"It's because I hang around you so much, Tony. I do learn from others, you know. Maybe, I should stop."

'Ouch,' Tony quipped to himself, once again praising Ziva wittiness. But no way would he, Anthony Dinozzo Jr., be outdone by a probie. "Oh? So, you do look up to me then. But just to let you know, my skills can't be acquired by such simple means."

"Really?" Ziva sarcastically asked, nodding in a mocking show of attention.

"Yeah," Tony said, matter-of-factly, "It's a family trade, and- Ng!"

Tony sheepishly looked at his boss, who still had his hand up from giving a brand-spanking-new Gibsslap. "Sorry, Boss."

Gibbs then turned to give a scolding look at Ziva. "How come she doesn't get Gibsslapped?" Tony grumped to himself.

Ziva put her hands up in surrender. "I am sorry," she said, "I will stop encouraging him."

Gibbs gave her a slap on the head. Ziva made a face. "Starting now," she added.

Feeling immensely better at the judgment that just played out, Tony let a smile split his face and let Ziva be graced by its presence. He saw her eye twitch in annoyance, but otherwise, she didn't react.

Gibbs nodded to McGee.

"Next is Agent Clarisse La Rue. She is twenty-eight and from Arizona. She spent a year at a community college there before finishing up her degree at American University. She then moved north, becoming a cop. She eventually ended up applying for NCIS and getting the spot there. She specializes in all sorts of combat styles and weapons."

"Yes, she is just a wonderful person," Tony said. "I couldn't get anything out of her, Boss. She is one tough cookie."

"And then we have Agent Grover Underwood."

"Why don't you just call him Grover, McFriendly?" Tony asked.

"He is a really nice guy once you get to know him, Tony."

"Really?" Tony quirked his eyebrow, "You are on first-name basis, and you showed him the ways of the clicker."

"It's not that hard, Tony," McGee droned out, "All it takes is a little practice."

"That thing is sentient, and you know it. You need to gain its trust or be able to evilly manipulate it," Tony maintained.

McGee just sighed and continued on. "He is twenty-six, Alumni of University of Albany just like Jackson, and has been in NCIS the longest. However, he was not doing so well. He kept failing many assignments. This changed when he joined Lima's squad. He was actually promoted to being a senior agent under her group."

"Wait," Tony interrupted, "He's not the probie? He is actually the veteran NCIS agent of the group?"

"Yeah," McGee responded, "Agent Jackson is actually the probie."

"Wow," Tony muttered, "That is something."

"Yes, in fact, Grover was the mentor to Agent Lima and Agent Jackson, before Agent Lima ultimately surpassed him."

"Jackson did say that he and Underwood went to the same school," Ziva said.

"What else did you get from him?" Gibbs asked

"Nothing, I'm afraid," Ziva said, "He made a connection about his mother, and that was the main topic. He and I recounted stories about our mothers. Her name is Sally Jackson. She is an aspiring novelist. Percy's favorite color is blue, and so his mother tried to make as much of his food blue when he was young. Apparently, she makes delicious blue chocolate cookies even now."

"Wow," Tony said, "Blue food…" He tried imagining it. "You know blue cookies look kind of appetizing. I don't think I would try blue pizza, though."

Gibbs had switched the power back on while Tony was speaking. As they all got off and went to their respective cars, Tony heard Gibbs ask McGee, "So, what's this about the service provider?"

Tony did not envy McGee's position of being privately questioned by Gibbs. He looked at Ziva. Hopefully, their car ride would be much better.

Previous Chapter Chapter List Next Chapter

[geekyogicheese]

Tagged by @important-metaphors, @iishallbelieve, @natassakar and @nakey-cats-take-bathsss ~ thank you ladies! I've been really bad with my tags (my life is a little mad at the moment). Also, am doing this on my phone so there is sweet FA formatting.

1. Do you make your bed?

If I'm the last one out of it yes. But I'm generally not, so that in addition to the rest of the room makes it look like we've robbed!

2. What's your favourite number?

5 and 7 :)

3. What's your job?

I'm communications manager for a corporate.

4. Can you parallel park?

Yes, and alley dock too.

5. Job you had, which would surprise people?

I dunno what would be surprising to people? I am a qualified yoga teacher, and give classes at work as well as at the local country club.

6. Do you think aliens are real?

Do I think there are other worlds exactly like our own? No. But, I do think this universe is too vast for us to be it (would be a bit of a letdown!).

7. Can you drive a manual car?

Yes - automatic cars cost a lot in this country so most people learn manual when they are taught to drive.

8. What's your guilty pleasure?

Fanfiction!

9. Tattoos?

Yes, four - all on the right side of my body, and all Egyptian themed.

10. Favourite colour?

Green, blue, grey.

11. Things people do that drive you crazy?

Chew with their mouth open, talk in movies (or sit on their phones), lie.

12. Any phobias?

I have an irrational disgust for slugs. In fact, anything without a spine.

13. Favourite childhood sport?

Gymnastics and ballet.

14. Do you talk to yourself?

Yes! Especially when I have had an argument with someone and am replaying it ~ that's when I think of my best comebacks.

15. What movies do you adore?

I love most of them, but don't see too many of them at the cinemas at the moment (I have two little kids).

16. Do you like doing puzzles?

I hated it as a kid - they seemed so boring! But I love doing them with my kids now.

17. Favourite kind of music?

Rock, hard rock and METAL 🤘.

Tagging these mutuals (and please don't feel obliged to respond, my activity on here has been super patchy): @wolfierose13, @andtheycallmethecockroach, @memorycantransmigrate, @sheknowswhatitsliketobebroken, @donkey-is-my-spirit-animal, @useyourtelescope, @pendragaryen, @wolfheartgirl.

[whitewallwhispers]

Little Lies

Narcos - Javier Peña - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

A young writer moves to Colombia to perform research on the drug war for her latest novel. She’s willing to do anything for information, which leads her down a rabbit hole that begins to blur the line between pretending to be someone and becoming something she might not be ready for.

Her latest target is a D.E.A. Agent named Javier Peña. Now they’re both being pulled into something neither of them were expecting.

Warnings: Smut - unsatisfied partner, cum play, daddy kink. Extreme violence. Very explicit. (Guns, gunshot wounds, blood, brain matter, knives, stabbing, more blood. Very graphic.) Strong language (pretty much every expletive under the sun.) Nothing you haven’t seen in the show, but a lot for a fanfic.

My hope is that you can imagine this character as any race with any style of hair (as someone with short hair I get annoyed when every fic mentions long locks and ponytails). Also (super minor detail) as right or left handed.

Author’s Note: This starts out very lighthearted, I hope it can make you laugh. But then it gets very dark. If you feel like you can’t stomach that part, don’t worry. I’ll have a non-explicit summary in Part Eight to get you up to speed without the gory details.

Tag List (Open! Chat or Reply): @fanfiction-trashpile | @sophster1881​ | @theringostarfanclub | @thinemineours

“Cum on my tits,” she mewled, arching her back with faked pleasure and need.

Don’t you dare cum inside me, you bastard. There was only one person allowed to do that.

The paunchy old man began to grunt like some sort of farm animal, his hands hooked under her knees and holding them apart unceremoniously. Uselessly.

She wasn’t even remotely aroused - it was a miracle she wasn’t as dry as a desert, but thankfully at least her body knew how to cover the basics. She’d spent the past five minutes moaning half-heartedly while thinking about what she wanted for breakfast tomorrow.

It seemed to be working for him, though. His pace was already stuttering, his breathing ragged, sweat pouring down his forehead and chest like a pair of greasy waterfalls.

Okay, ew.

She needed to stop looking at him. So she closed her eyes and thought of England.

“Please, daddy, cum all over my tits,” she panted, clawing at the sheets beneath her as if she was unable to contain herself.

Finally, the fucker obliged, groaning like he was about to die. Painfully so. Unfortunately his aim was terrible and a stream landed square across her face.

Oh, God. She braced herself, blocking off her throat so as to minimize how much she’d taste. She wiped his sticky semen up with her thumb and stuck it in her mouth, sucking it clean while moaning as if it was as good as sex itself.

She hadn’t done enough. It tasted as rank as she’d expected and it was all she could do not to gag.

“That’s a good girl,” the man panted. “Lick up daddy’s cum, all of it, and daddy will treat you extra good.”

Fucking everloving fuckity fuck fuck.

She was too desperate for cash not to oblige. But not until she got paid.

“Put it on the table, daddy.”

He rolled off of her with yet another animalistic grunt and went for his wallet, pulling out an unexpectedly hefty stack of bills and putting it on her nightstand. He turned to face her, looking down at her with hungry, piggy eyes as he stroked his cock.

“Lick it up, princess.”

She deserved an Oscar, an Emmy, and a Tony Award for the show she put on cleaning her chest of his spew and swallowing it like it was five-star caviar. By the time she was finished he was half hard again, but she wasn’t about to let things develop into round two - she wasn’t that desperate.

“I have another client due in five minutes,” she lied, laying out on her side and grinning at him with eyes as wide and lustful as if he were a Greek god. “I always lose track of time when I’m with you.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, then, princess,” he answered with a wink. “Same time?”

Oh, goody.

“Of course, daddy.”

He couldn’t have gotten dressed any slower if he’d tried, his eyes raking over her body the entire time, his sweat immediately pooling and sticking to his shirt as soon as he had it on. Her room would smell like his body odor for the rest of the night - if she was unlucky, until tomorrow morning.

It felt like a miracle when she finally got him out the door, but not before he gave her one last kiss, shoving his slimy tongue in her mouth and making it explore her like a drunken slug. She slid the locks into place and slumped against the door, feeling like she’d just rolled around in a gutter.

The shower was so hot she thought she might give herself a first degree burn, but it felt too good to turn the temperature down. She scrubbed herself three times over before stepping out and drying her body, too tired to do the same with her hair. She slipped into her pajamas and pulled her soiled topsheet from her bed, tossing it in the corner to be washed later. Grabbing a blanket from the couch, she wrapped herself up as she counted her cash.

He’d paid her time and a half, all for that stupid last-minute show. At least he made it worthwhile. She reluctantly got back on her feet to make her way back to the bathroom to roll up her wad of bills and stuff it into the tampon box in the cabinet under her sink.

When her head hit her pillows, she fell right asleep.

The sound of screeching tires jolted her awake.

Immediately, an innate and instinctual fear rippled through her, sending the hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing up straight. Car doors slammed - three of them. Feet shuffled loudly up to the doorway beneath her window, fervent murmurs dampened by the glass.

She was out of bed in a flash, ripping open her sock drawer, hands blindly feeling around in the dark until her fingers found the cold metal of her gun. She pulled it out and cocked it, keeping the safety on. For now.

Bang.

A gunshot. Something shattering. Then the repeated thump, thump, slam of what she could only guess was someone busting open the front door of her apartment building.

Her blood became frigid but her skin felt like it was on fire.

Fuck.

Whoever it was, whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. She raced across her apartment to hide herself around the corner of her bathroom, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breathing. For a while, there was only deafening silence.

And then came the clamor of footsteps thundering up the staircase, the slam of fists on doors, voices shouting “Open up!”

Some hopelessly optimistic part of her hoped that it was the police coming to arrest someone. Someone who couldn’t possibly be her.

“Where is she? Where does she live? The foreign bitch. Which apartment is hers?” The voice was familiar and she nearly vomited on the spot.

Manuel.

He’d found her, and if he’d seen her walking around with her gun it hadn’t phased him.

She was about to make a break for it to get to her phone when there came a violent crash at her door.

“I know you’re in there, you filthy fucking cunt!” Manuel roared. “Police whore!”

The weak wood creaked loudly and she could hear the hinges rattle loosely in their sockets.

Gunshots.

Three, then four, then five.

Wood splintered and metal clanged, followed by fierce, repeated kicks.

All at once, there was a great eruption of tearing and shattering. The lights flicked on.

“Come out, you stupid bitch.”

Several sets of footsteps entered her apartment, and she knew this was it.

Life or death.

She grit her teeth so hard she half expected her jaw to snap. She swallowed, her breathing so rapid it scared her and her heart pounding harder than it ever had before. Adrenaline was coursing through her like high voltage electricity, making her entire body feel like it was being pulled taut, held together by strings and wires stretched to their absolute limit.

One set of footsteps began to grow closer, and she could make out the sounds of her bed and couch being scraped across the floor.

She switched off the safety.

Something came over her.

Live or die.

Kill or be killed.

All of a sudden it was like she was standing outside of herself, watching the scene unfold. Everything slowed down, as if she were moving underwater.

Her hand went out around the corner first, already firing, before she pivoted the rest of her body around.

She’d gotten lucky - she’d shot the approaching man right in the stomach.

As he fell to his knees he fired a shot at her, then another bullet came from across the room.

She crouched and shot the man in front of her again. He was close enough that she got him right in the head, and before his body fell to the ground she launched herself across the floor so that he landed against her.

Three bullets sunk into his back, making the most sickening thuds, spraying blood everywhere. She was vaguely aware that blood and something else was dripping onto her from the gaping wound in his head, but couldn’t afford to care. She gripped his shirt and rammed her shoulder into his chest to keep him upright, the dead weight of his corpse threatening to knock her over.

She reached her hand out around him and began to shoot wildly in the general direction of where she thought the bullets might have been coming from. When another man cried out in agony, she knew she’d at least been somewhat successful.

More bullets flew past her, a few sinking into the back of her human shield again.

Then there were footsteps racing towards her.

“You fucking bitch!” Manuel screamed, firing shot after shot as he ran towards her.

She tried to shoot at him as he came down on her, but he knocked her gun out of her hand and it went skidding across the floor.

He pointed his barrel directly at her head, the scorching metal burning her forehead as he thrust the tip of it into her skin.

That was it.

She’d failed.

But at least she’d tried.

He pulled the trigger.

Click.

Either he was out of bullets or his gun had jammed, but it didn’t matter.

She stood and grabbed the barrel, pointing it up, trying to wrench it out of his grip, but she didn’t have the strength.

He fired a shot into the ceiling.

Fuck. So it wasn’t empty.

With her other hand she punched him as hard as she could in the balls.

He doubled over, collapsing over the corpse of the other cartel member and tumbling to the floor. She sprinted towards the kitchen, turning the corner just as another round was fired at her from across the room.

Whoever she’d shot, she hadn’t killed them.

She could try to run, but she’d never make it. Manuel had already gotten up and was firing at her again. She barely ducked in time, bullets shattering the tile backsplash above her stove. She ripped open the nearest drawer while staying as low as she could. Her hands fumbled for a moment before she found what she was looking for - thank God she barely had anything in there.

Two of those few things were a pair of large blades - one a cleaver, the other a sharp chef’s knife. Staying low she scooted to the far end of the counter. Waiting.

Manuel’s footsteps grew closer and his bullets more accurate, sending shards of the counter raining down on her. He probably could’ve killed her from there, but that wasn’t his style. He’d want to get her point blank in the head, looking her in the eyes as he ripped the life from her.

When he rounded the corner, his gun once again pointed right at her, she threw herself at his legs with all her might, one hand sinking the chef’s knife into his thigh and the other pulling at the back of his knee, trying to knock him over.

He fired another shot into the ceiling as he lost his balance, but by the time he hit the ground she was already swinging the cleaver at his inner thigh, biting through his jeans into the flesh as she yanked it outwards, hoping to lengthen the cut and maybe catch an artery. With her other hand she began stabbing at his stomach, her own turning each time her knife sunk into him with thick, wet sounds.

Manuel screamed, lifting his hand to fire at her again. He got one bullet out before she turned the cleaver in her grip and sliced out at his wrist, slamming the blade through his skin and tendons so hard the handle flew out of her grasp as he yanked his arm away.

He dropped the gun, but his other hand was reaching for her wrist that still stabbed at his stomach wildly. Manuel was able to wrench her hand back, and she thought he might be able to grab the knife from her, but then he coughed.

A cascade of blood flew from his mouth and he began to choke.

His hand slipped from her wrist as he tried to sit up, weakly reaching for the cleaver, but before he could get to it, his entire body went limp. He convulsed for a few moments, a horrible gurgling sound bubbling from his mouth as it overflowed with blood.

And then he was still.

But she didn’t have time to process it.

A bullet whizzed by only inches from her face and she launched herself backwards behind the safety of the counter. She scooted back so she could lie on her stomach and slid herself as far out as she dared to grab Manuel’s gun and yank it towards her. A bullet flew by her arm and sank into what remained of the door.

She had no idea where the last man was. Carefully, she sat up and rested her head against the corner of the counter, turning just enough that she could see a sliver of the room beyond.

He was propped up behind her bed, chest and arms laying across it, bleeding profusely from his right pectoral as he shakily pointed his gun in her direction. He must’ve sensed she was peeking out at him, because he fired right at her again.

Thankfully his aim was worsening, because it sank into the wall instead of her head.

She shuffled back again, trying to think of a plan.

He couldn’t see her when she was low.

There was no way for him to know where she was behind the counter.

So she slid about two thirds of the way across it, by the edge of the sink, and collected herself, dropping her knife and gripping the gun in both hands.

She might only get one chance.

If she fucked this up, she might die.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally launched herself up, firing as soon as the gun cleared the counter, desperately hoping that she’d get close. He fired back, but only for a moment. As she caught him in the arm he dropped his gun and flopped backwards onto the floor.

But was he dead?

No.

She could hear his ragged breathing, and after a moment he began to shout.

“Fucking police whore,” he bellowed. “You’ll fucking die. We’ll fucking kill you. Where this came from? There will be more. They’ll fucking get you. You’re dead. You’re already dead.”

Slowly, she knelt down to pick up the knife again, holding her gun in one hand and it in the other.

With measured steps she made her way from behind the counter across the room to the end of her bed.

She could see him, then, laying on the ground, bleeding.

Wounded.

Not enough to die.

Upon seeing her, he launched himself up again, making for his gun.

She raised hers and shot at him.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Now it was out of bullets.

He was desperately trying to reach his firearm.

Maybe he couldn’t have grabbed it.

Maybe she was already in the clear.

But she was still outside of herself, watching her body go through motions of violence and chaos.

So she dropped her gun and closed the distance between them, standing behind him and gripping his hair in a fist. She yanked his head back.

He looked at her.

His eyes were a soft, light brown. He had thick black brows and full lips and a bit of stubble on his chin.

He was a human being.

He was probably younger than she was.

He was afraid.

But she was outside of herself. Her mind registered these things, but her body did not.

So she ran her knife along his throat all the same, slicing it deep and even.

Blood began to gush from the wound so fiercely it scared her and she released him as if he were on fire.

He flopped forward, crashing onto her bed, his hands clawing desperately at his neck as blood poured between his fingers. His body slid to the ground and he looked up at her with his beautiful eyes until they clouded over with the unflinching stillness of death.

Only then did her mind and body became one again.

The first thing she did was throw up.

Right onto his torso.

Out of all the emotions she could be experiencing in that moment, the only thing she felt was guilt. Guilt for defiling his body like that. For some reason it didn’t matter that he’d been trying to kill her. Somehow the crime of puking on his corpse felt like the worse of the two. The concept of death was still sacred to her, and she had just defilied someone in what should be their final state of dignity.

Once her vomit faded to bile, then dry heaves, she was able to straighten herself up. She dropped the knife and ran a shaking hand through her hair. The clatter of the metal hitting the floor was deafening. She winced. There was an unbearable weight on her, something coating much of her body and pushing her down. Mostly her arms, her face.

She looked at her hands.

They were completely crimson, soaked and dripping in a thick coat of blood.

She gagged again, but nothing came up.

Desperate not to look at herself, she surveyed the room.

They’d broken through her door through the hinges, shooting them off and forcing their way in, kicking in much of the half-rotted wood on that side.

All of her locks remained intact.

Something flew out of her then, something that may have been a laugh but was accompanied by a flood of tears. By sound, it continued to be a laugh. A roaring giggle that made her shoulders shake and stomach hurt. But she was crying - hard. Harder than she ever had before.

Then, she was on autopilot. Still laughing and sobbing over the state of her door, the state of her apartment, the state of herself, she somehow made her way to her phone.

She’d memorized Javier’s numbers in case she ever felt unsafe.

Even though her attackers were dead, she’d never felt more unsafe in her life.

Never had a ring sounded so long, so loud, so grating and awful.

One, two, three, four. Again and again.

Then nothing.

His cell phone was a bust.

So she tried his office.

One, two.

“Peña.” He sounded tired. Annoyed.

“Javi.” Her voice was so strange, so strained, so weak and foggy. “It’s me. Something happened. I - I don’t know what to do.”

“Something happened? What happened?” His voice was laced with concern and impatience.

“They came, and then I -”

And then I what?

Murdered three people? Shot and stabbed three men to death?

Covered my apartment in blood and bullets and brain matter?

“Holy fuck, Javi, I think I -”

“Who came?”

“Manuel. The friend who beat me. And other cartel members.”

“Are they still there?”

“…yes.”

In the technical sense, sure. But did a corpse count as the self?

“I’ll round up a team. I’m on my way.”

“No!” she yelled. “No, don’t, don’t bring anyone, you can’t. Just you. Just you, please, Javi, please don’t bring anyone else. They can’t see, no one can see, I can’t…Javi, I can’t. No one can see, no one can -”

“What happened?” Now he sounded concerned. Maybe even scared.

“Javi, please. Just you. Just come. I don’t know, I - I don’t know.”

She hung up then, unable to stand any more questions.

Suddenly exhausted, she leaned up against the wall and sunk down to the floor, latching her hands onto the hair on the sides of her head and curling herself up as small as she possibly could.

[irenewolfland]

Negan x reader

Hi guys! There are 3 days left until I leave for Walker Stalker Nashville and I am beyond pumped and ready beyond belief! So here is a little fanfiction to tide me over while this torturously slow weak slugs by. In honor of Jeffrey Dean Morgan I give you a Negan x Reader fic… “Gone?” (Negan pov) It had been a looong day of fighting both the dead and the living. Some of the groups still had to be put in their place, but it usually wasn’t anything that a humorous threat couldn’t solve. Other than a few loosey goosies here and there the run had been overall successful. Food in their bellies, supplies for the Sanctuary, and guns for the amorey. Yep… a good day if he did say so himself. And he did, with a little grin. With a bit of a pep in his step, he headed upstairs towards the wives’ parlor room; Lucille swinging almost giddley in his grasp. “Well, hello ladies,” he drawled out as he practicling swung himself through the open doorway. They all turned at the sound of his voice, knowing that when Negan entered a room it was best to pay attention. Sauntering over to the bar, Negan poored himself a glass of scotch and tossed it back with a gulp. He chuckled as he wiped the moisture from his lips. Sharry approached cautiousley. It was very rare that their leader was in such a good mood, and the last thing that she wanted was to accidentally set him off. “Good day?” she inquired. He replied with a full toothed smile, “Hell of a fucking good one! Almost perfect, except for a few loose ends. But, Lucille can handle that kinda shit, heheh!” Sharry had to keep herself from rolling her eyes at his crude comments. She knew that the other wives would agree in that they didn’t want to know what Negan got up to when he wasn’t around. Breathing out an exaggerated sigh, Negan rolled his shoulders allowing tight muscles and sore joints to strech and pop. “Yep,” he said; popping the p at the end,“I believe a massage from one of my beautiful fucking wives will do me some good right before bed.” He almost laughed when they all went suddenly silent. He wasn’t bad to them, but he knew that any one of them would drop him, given the chance to do so. However; he couldn’t keep himself from needling them. “Aaaw, now don’t all speak up at once.” “It’s Y/N’s night,” Amber’s quick whisper broke the silence and all eyes turned to her hunched form on the couch. Hearing Negan’s happy chuckles, Sharry turned to face him with a glare. “Well, I guess tonight’s gonna end up pretty fucking perfect. AFTER. ALL,” he said emphasizing every word. With that he drug his tongue over his teeth until his lips landed in a devilish smirk. His version of a fuck you to Sharry. Pushing off from the bar he strutted out the door and down the hall, whistling as he went. Closer to his room was a narrow door that lead to the only other room up there. Y/N’s room. She hadn’t liked the idea of staying with the other wives so she had begged him for her own room, and it was getting to where he had a rediculously hard fucking time saying no to that woman. And, it was getting worse as he spent more time around her. The other wives simply sat in the parlor all day and were as content as could be wether he came around or not. But, he had known Y/N was different the moment he met her. Since her agreeance to being his wife about two years ago; she had convinced him to give her her own room, let her accompany him on his dailey walk abouts, show her how to use a gun and knife, and she’s even cleaned Lucille a time or two. She has him so God damn wrapped around her cute, little fucking pinky finger that he can feel the collar pulling tight around his neck every now and then. Oddly enough, he’s grown rather used to and maybe… a bit fucking fond of the feeling. Giving in to Y/N’s little demands reminded him of a simpler time that he usually didn’t like to be reminded of. Raising Lucille from her perch on his shoulder, Negan tapped the bat in a knocking motion on the metal door. “Open the fuck up, baby doll! Haha, you have the honor of dealing with my gorgous self tonight,” he chuckled. … No answer. Blinking in confusion, he tried again. Knocks a little harder; the bangs echo through the quiet hall. “Doll! Are you napping in there!?” … Silence. Grumbling curses under his breathe, Negan throws his weight into the door shoving it open and almost breaking it. He’s stopped short when he sees that the room is empty. The bed is made with no one in it, the bathroom door is flung open with no body inside, and the whole room is dead silent except for his breathing. Heaving a heavy sigh and running his hand through his hair, Negan walks out of the bedroom and down to his own. He opens the door and begins pulling off his jacket, scarf, and propping Lucille up against the wall. A large relief falls over his mind as he realizes that he knows where Y/N is, now. Back when she’d first moved into her room next to his, she had bad insomnia. And since he couldn’t very well have her fucking wandering around the damn Santuary at God knows what fucking hour, he’d offered her to sleep in his room so that she wouldn’t be alone. Thinking now, he couldn’t really remember when it had gone from Y/N crashing on his couch to her now crawling into his bed every other night. Now days if he didn’t find her in her room at about this time of day it meant that she had snuck into his for an earley nap. He couldn’t count how many times she had been waiting for him, whenever he got home. No one else ever waited or even cared if he got home at all. A small smile tugged at his lips as he walked over to his bedroom door. He knew that he’d find Y/N curled up in his blankets and hugging his pillow just like he always did when she’d chosen to spend the night with him. “You better have something fucking good for me in return for having to play hide and seek with your ass, doll!” he joked; pushing the door open. The door creeked open and his smile slowly left his face. The bed was empty and made as he had left it this morning. The bathroom door was open, revealing that it too was vacant. The room hadn’t been touched, which meant that Y/N had not been here. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t in her room. He didn’t know where she was!? WHERE THE FUCK WAS SHE!? Breathing heavy and labored, Negan turned and sprinted out of the room; knocking Lucille over in the process. But, he didn’t notice. He had to find Y/N! She wasn’t where she was supposed to be; she wasn’t where she always was! He jolted to a stop in front of the wives’ parlor. They all jumped when he slammed the door open. He was huffing and puffing from anger, exhaustion, and … fear. “WHERE IS SHE!?” The women only looked at him with fear and confusion. They didn’t know what he was talking about. He roared, “Y/N! WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE!?” He was losing his grip on what little patience he had. They all trembled, afraid that this was going to end in bloody punishment. Thankfully, Sharry stepped up. “We don’t know. We havn’t seen her all day.” The air left Negan’s lungs. His shoulders slumped as he ran through a million thoughts in his head. The wives didn’t know where Y/N was. No one else in the Santuary really knows Y/N, so none of the regular workers would be able to tell him where she’d gone, either. And, the only savior who knew her was Simon, but he had been on the run wih Negan today. He didn’t know where she was! And he had no way of finding out! With one thought in his head, Negan stormed out of the parlor and ran down the hallway until he reached the kitchen. It was around supper time so the big cafeteria was crowded with people waiting to be served and the cooks who worked in the back. Just a normal night. That is, until the big bad leader comes sprinting into the room looking like a ghost was on his tale. After placing himself in the middle of the crowded mess hall, Negan almost choked on his own breath as began to shout. “Y/N!” He was hyperventalating, and clawing his hands through his disheveled hair as he continued to search the crowd in a panic. “Y/N! FUCK, BABY DOOOOLLL!?” Everywhere he looked he saw faces fucking staring at him. Some that he recognized, some that he didn’t. But it didn’t fucking matter, because none of them were Y/N. Taking one last wheezing breathe and preparing to scream his lung out, Negan gave one final call. “Y/N!!” “Negan!” His head jerked in the direction of the sound. When his dark eyes met hers through the crowd, Negan felt as if gravity itself was forcing him towards her. He ran. He ran until he reached her and when her tiny body knocked into his chest he quickly locked his arms around her. With shaky breathes, he pulled back so he could look at her. Y/N was smiling like she always did whenever Negan would hug her or kiss her. Not a care in the world. But at the moment, he felt as if the world had just fucking shattered. And, he was still trying to put the pieces back together. Bringing his hands up to cup her face, to touch, to reassure himself that she was there; Negan let out a shaky breath, “W..Where the fuuck were you?” Y/N cocked her head, brow raised. Her wide eyes full of the innocence of a puppy. “I was with Simon,” she answered. Her voice was low, worried that she might further upset Negan. Just then, Negan realized that Simon was standing behind Y/N with a look of concern. With a small smile; the savior explained,“She found an apple tree just outside the gates. She came and grabbed me just as soon as we got back. We went and picked a few to bring back to the kitchen.” Sure enough, Simon was holding a small whicker basket full of green apples. A big smile broke out on Y/N’s face as she looked back at Negan. He felt her arms hug him tight as she spoke animatedly. “Me and Simon even found a bunch more trees! He said that if we could fence off that little space of woods that we could have our own orchard!” Her eyes were shining with excitement; she was so proud of herself. Negan could practically feel her bubbling happiness, and that had him smiling back at her. But, he could tell that his face was strained. After noticing this, Y/N suddenly fell serious. “Negan?” she asked; her head tilting in that inquiring way. “Y-yeah, baby doll?” he was still shaking; but his full attention was zeroed in on her. Eyes pleading, she gently intwined her tiny fingers with his own. “Can we go home?” In that moment, he would have given her anything. Hell, he would have given her anything at any fucking moment. So, with a tired sigh of both relief and exhaustion; he simply nodded his heavy head. Tightening his hold on her hand, Negan turned to lead them out of the crowded cafeteria when he realized that everyone was staring. “WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK ARE YOU ASSHOLES LOOKING AT!?” Of course, this quickly sent everyone into minding their own buisness. Shaking his head, Negan quickly lead Y/N through the halls and up the stairs until they reached his room. He closed and locked the door, not wanting any interruptions lest he kill somebody. He wasn’t exactly feeling his fucking fittest at the moment. “Lucille!” the squeel made him jerk around until he saw Y/N picking his prized possesion up off of the floor. “What are you doing on the ground?” she said as she held the barbed bat with gentle hands. Negan was always amazed at the amount of respect that Y/N showed Lucille. She didn’t know how or why the weapon was so important to him, but all that matters was that it was. So, he could only stare wide eyed as she carefully placed the bat in it’s designated spot. The chair by the window that nobody used. Honestly, Negan couldn’t remember if he’d knocked Lucille over or not. He had been in a fucking panic like no other. He felt bad that he hadn’’t even thought to pick her up. “Ready for bed?” asked Y/N as she turned away from Lucille. She could tell that something had been bothering him. Something major. But, she also knew that Negan would rather chew a pinecone than tell her. So, her best bet was to get him into bed and get him relaxed. She didn’t like how on edge being the leader made Negan. “Um …yeah,” he answered with a small nod. After the huge emotional cataclysm he’d just been through, his body and brain were a bit numb as the reconstruction was going on. Y/N giggled at his slow ass reply, before waltzing over and taking his hand in hers. “Let’s go then. I’m pretty tired too,” she said as she lead him to the bedroom. Negan followed; again, too fucking numb to really do anything else. Just like all the times that they had slept together before, they were completely comfortable with each other. Y/N stripped out of her day clothes and stole one of his white t-shirts that landed just bellow her ass. Too hot to sleep in anything more, really. Meanwhile, Negan lost everything but his tight fitting, black boxers. They both crawled into the huge bed. Him on the right side that had always been his, and her on the left that she had gradually claimed as hers. After flicking the lamp off, Negan felt a tug on his bare shoulder. He knew what she wanted, and sure enough, when he rolled over to face her in the dark he could still see her arms thrown out towards him. Reaching for him with adoration in her eyes. When his only reply was a cocked brow, Y/N stuck out that bottom lip and did her best God damned impression of a kicked puppy. She was fucking cheating! “Please, I need it,"she whispered; which actually meant that she thought that he needed it. And after the mother fucking day that he had had, he sure as shit needed it. However; he was not going to fucking admit that to anyone. So, Negan answered with an indignant grunt, "Fine.” Y/N smiled as he crawled over her; the bed dipping comfortingly beneath their combined weight. Negan finally let himself settle into her embrace. His head rested comfortably on her chest, just above her breasts. Their bodies were alined and pressed together from the stomach down. She held him close, arms wrapped around his neck. Small hands running absentmindedly through his hair. And, he held her even closer. Arms looped around her waist, pulling her tightly against his body. As he laid there with his ear pressed to her soft skin, listeneing to her steady heart beat; Negan thought about how bad today could have gone. It had turned out to be nothing but a shit ton of bad timing, but what if it hadn’t been? When he hadn’t found her in her room, Negan had immediately felt that tug of worry in his guts. He hadn’t liked it either, but it passed rather quickly. However; when he didn’t find her in his room either, his brain had jumped to the worst fucking conclusion. Y/N had been gone, and Negan had had no way of finding her. How was he supposed to have known if she was hurt or not? There was no way for him to fucking know, and he really hated that. He also hated how quickly he’d flipped his shit. Negan couldn’t really describe the feeling because he can fucking remember the last time he’d felt anything like it. But, It had felt like an ice pick was slowly clawing into his chest. Like he’d had a fucking noose around around his throat. Like all of the bones in his body were too fucking heavy to move. He’d felt … hopeless. Fucking hopeless! What if instead of Simon being with Y/N, he had come back alone? What if he had told Negan that she had run away?! What if she had gotten killed on a run?! Or … what if she had been bitten?! “Negan?” The voice was quiet but it still made him jump. He was fucked and he knew it. Y/N continued to speak still petting his head all the while. “I’m sorry for goning out today, but I took Simon with me just like you told me to.” Great. Now, she thought that she was in trouble. “I know baby doll. And I’m real fuccking proud of you for following my rules. But, do you think that you can follow one more?” he asked with his head still lying on her chest. Negan didn’t think he could face her with the level of fucking embarrassment that he was at. He felt her face nod against the top of his head. “You can ask me for anything, Negan,” she replied with pure sincerity. She knew that he always gave her what she wanted without thought, so it was only right to offer the same to him. God fucking damn, did his name sound sweet on her lips! “Fr-from now on, I want you tell somebody when you go out. I don’t care if it’s me when I’m here or Sharry when I’m fucking not. Just somebody, so that I can find out where you’re at. K?” Negan groweled at the fact that the situation had shook him so badly. He was supposed to be a mother fucking leader for Christ’s sake! Unaffected, in control, and fucking heartless! “K,” she replied as she yawned, “Were you worried?” Negan’s head popped up to face Y/N, his dark eyes met hers. Worried? That was a stupid fucking meaningless word that should have no place in his vocabulary after all the shit that he’s been through. But……. yes. He had been worried. Worried out of his fucking mind, when he couldn’t find her. Worried, when he’d thought that she was gone. “Yes” he said softly, before just letting his head drop back down to her chest. Negan just felt raw, and so he simply goes limp in her hold. Not wanting to think, at all. A couple minutes of blessed fucking silence later is broken by a quiet whisper. “I love you, Negan.” A content sigh left his lips when he felt a light kiss pressed to his forehead. Just like she always did after a rough day. Comforting him, and he never even thought of all of the fucking awsome things that he would miss about her if Y/N was gone. He placed his lips against her collarbone and released a quiet breath. “Well, I don’t know when or how or fucking why; but I love you too, sweetheart.” A little laugh escaped her mouth, and Negan knew that she had probably just been waiting on his stubborn ass to say something. She was smart like that. But she gave him the time to come to the realization on his own, because she knows that he had to accept the fact that he could still care about shit in this fucked up world. And,Negan did care about her. Haha! He fucking loved her! And today was just a small taste of how fucked he’d be without her. THE END If you liked this fic, feel free to request something