#where your organs stop working for a while but your brain stays alive and fixes everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

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Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

#ME WRITING AN OVERLY EMOTIONAL AND SELF DESTRUCTING PIECE #yahoooooooo yipeee #soft tender harry lives in my heart rent free #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles dirty one shotsssss #harry styles one direction #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry angst #harry styles #cute harry #dirty harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry smut #fluff #hsh #dom harry

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ivernia · 3 years ago

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Restless Grave

A death was a death until Condi decided it wasn’t.

tw for: mild gore, mild medical stuff (use of scalpels), dehumanisation (using ‘it’ as a pronoun), whump, description of a corpse

“Oh Grizz,” a god murmured, looking down at a still, cold mess of organs that used to be his friend. “Not as lively on the inside, are you?”

The scalpel stayed poised, perfect, the very image of surgical precision as it hovered over a still chest now cleaved open and bare for the world to watch his wrongdoings. But now that the dead could do no more harm, it was up to the living to desecrate them, no matter what nature said. Condi found he didn’t care much for nature anyway.

Instead, he read and researched ways to start a broken heart. Surely he would be happy with them. Sure he would forgive them for their sins, all now scrubbed away into the past where they would stay for now.

Grizzly laid in front of him. With the blood and dirt gone, he was pale, his face slack and quiet of all thought. When he was alive, he remembered his expressions to give away his thoughts before he could ever speak them. He remembered Grizzly with a bright voice and loud eyes and a laugh like glass that cracked, ear-catching above all. And the thing in front of him was barely anything at all, nothing that spoke or felt or thought in any capacity. Just a thing, a broken thing with bendy limbs and rotting skin (despite the flowering root vegetable he’d crushed and rubbed into his skin to slow the decaying process for a few days at least). He would be sorry to move it of his own will.

He would be even more sorry to destroy all he had left of their brother if he failed. So he would not fail.

“You’re going to wake up,” he whispered, moving the stiff arms to his sides and pulling a linen sheet up to his chest to cover the gaping hole, “and you’re going to hug me. I’m gonna say I was sorry for what happened on Molympus and we’re going to go back to the others and live together again. It’s gonna be normal.” A swab of cotton cleaned the area around his neck and head. He needed to take that bullet out.

The first mistake clattered into a tin tray, rusted and dull and evil packed into a tiny bit of metal. He frowned, sampling it away neatly and wrapping the wound. “Good job,” he said to the air and ears that no longer cared for his words.

He couldn’t bring himself to cut off his hair. He knew he should’ve, with the risk of it getting matted, getting stuck but Condi only prepared himself and sat beside him with nothing but his fingers, a comb and a wet sponge to work out the tangles, the mats, the dried blood and dirt. “I’m gonna work on the rest of your body. Make it better and stop it from rotting before I bring you back. I think I have the pot down.”

And maybe the babble was to fill the silence, but what else was he to do? To think brought pain and the corpse in front of him had so much that didn’t work, so much that needed to be fixed.

That was all it was. A problem that had to be solved. A riddle, a puzzle. Just to make it more bearable.

“What the fuck did you do!?”

Charlie’s arm stuck out in front of Bizly, fear in both of their faces, warping the illusion so carefully crafted by Condi’s mind beyond repair. They were supposed to be happy.

Gently, he held up his friend, his brother, his creation. A hunk of flesh and blood and black thread holding blue-grey skin together as it ripped from the seams while a mouth opened and closed soundlessly to give words to an agony that stayed silent, deafening. Red eyes peered, unseeing through grey lashes which matched the ash in his hair.

Condi couldn’t be prouder. Here he was, alive and moving and trying to speak through a tongue he restored with his own hands, his own brain. His creation, his brother, his in every way and he could not be more proud of himself.

“I brought him back,” Condi said calmly and offered a hand to Charlie, smile charming and soft. “C’mon! Don’t tell me you don’t recognise him anymore!”

Their eyes betrayed tears. Grizzly’s were emptily staring upwards at them, uncomprehending but seeing.

Bizly’s hands shook as he pushed himself forward and scowled at him. “You-oh my god.” Eyes closed, quiet in his grief and horror, he turned his face away to reject the thing on the table. Nothing more than a thing, a hunk of flesh and sinew barely held together by the weak ties of whatever strings of life Condi had found in his laboratory.

A grave gone, a soul trapped. And a person, an object, a riddle of a thing on the table that squirmed and writhed in silent pain as it begged its creator to let it rest, let it die with the last vestiges of thought left in it.

#scu #slimecicle cinematic universe #condifiction #grizzlyplays #bizlychannel #slimecicle #jrwi

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nuclearnerves · 4 years ago

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INCOMING VAMPIRE AU THOUGHTS

Don't mind me I'm finally getting the ideas I had on this shit out so I can actually go forward with developing it as an AU. It's my usual mixup of fps protags, Gordon Guy and John, but I'm starting with Gordon as the Vampire and Guy as the Vampire Hunter.

absolute beast of a wall of text under the cut

What If Being A Vampire Literally Sucks All The Time Forever like chronic pain sucks. like THAT level of sucks. Like Here's what I was thinking of. Being a vampire isn't just "being alive forever but you need to drink human blood" It's like Oh man I have some lore you look at vampires and their main thing is that they're blood suckers right so lets start with a corpse dead body. cadaver. no longer with us. just some rotting meat. The brain needs oxygen as fuel. The blood supplies the oxygen through blood. The blood is pumped through the heart. The blood is made by your bone marrow. You die. Your heart stops beating Blood stops pumping Brain no longer has oxygen to think marrow stops making blood thats standard! Now, becoming undead, as a vampire, is a little more complicated. The long and short of it is: your body is FIGHTING ACTIVELY to be alive against all odds and wins every time (immortality), but it hurts the whole way

I have the gist of it. It's like. Your heart stops. By all means, you should be dead. but the magic kicks in, and you're still thinking. Your brain is still sending signals to your muscles to move. But using what oxygen to move? whats burning in you? You don't know but you know it's just enough to get to your next meal. So you ferociously eat something, and then find you can't swallow. You can't make saliva. You barely have the energy to chew, and once you DO get something in your stomach, it immediately comes back up. Why can't you feel your pulse? What's going on? You're out of options so you figure you might as well just lie down and die. You're too tired to keep going anyway. So you do, you lie down, and you close your eyes, and you quietly hope that death is as peaceful as sleep. You realize you've actually been moving around without breathing, which makes sense because you can barely flex your diaphragm for more than a shaky wheeze. How are you thinking with such little oxygen? But as you fade from consciousness, you can feel something in you, and it's so upset, it's crying, it's filled with grief, and you instantly can tell it's your skeleton. It's your bones. You're distraught down to your marrow. You're dying. You're dying! Your heart stopped and you have no more blood! You need blood! You need blood to move! To breathe! To think! You try to breath deep again for the voices in your bones, trying to comfort them, to sooth them with the repetitive motion in your lungs, trying to fill yourself with anything but grief, but they keep wailing. We make the blood, our creation, our child, what we put all of our work into is gone! gone! gone! We need it back! Anything! All of it! Find it! Bring it back to us! We're hungry! WE'RE HUNGRY!

and once you find yourself too exhausted to listen, to think, how badly you wish just to die already to cease hearing this wailing, you find your body moving without you. And it's hungry and it's searching and it's crawling on all fours and it misses its beautiful red life that made it feel so full before and it needs it back, and the next thing you know you're desperately grabbing anything with blood in it and shoving it in your mouth in a desperate attempt to sooth this cry for life, you don't want to die, you don't want to die, you worked so hard to keep up this body and craft it and LIVE with it and you're not going to go, and even when you try, even when you try to lay down and die, your body refuses, it takes the reigns, and it keeps up the work itself with or without your help. And it's not until your stomach is full and your teeth are stained and you feel a pulsating burning in your bones that you snap back awake, completely conscious, just fine. You're lucid, you don't feel any more pain. Everything around you is dead and drained and messy and your heart still isn't beating. but you can breathe now and holy shit you guess you literally need to kill to survive and the less you eat and the more you starve yourself the worse it gets when your body finally decides to take recourse.

my idea was like. "the vampires curse is actually stored in the bones, thats why the teeth get so sharp and also theres a connection between blood and bones with the creation via bone marrow" its literally like i was sitting there thinking "no no no, whats it like to be a vampire. what neurosis would you develop. How would you panic? What are common mistakes beginner vampires make" which, by the way, gordon is a beginner vampire

so now you gotta factor, what blood lasts for how long? how long can you go between meals? not only that, but what creatures satisfy the urge? How long can you go avoiding human blood? Does it work like drugs where you develop a resistance to the high, or is it like food where it will keep you moving until you eat again? How the fuck are you gonna get your hands on blood? Can you just eat raw meat? Does that count? and thats where im at lol

OKAY now. now thoughts on beginning scenes of vampire au

So my idea was this Doomguy is a vampire hunter independent and one of his buds says that some freak scared and almost attacked his daughter when she got too close to his old abandoned laboratory up the hill and hes like “he might be… you know… a problem. if you needed a lead” and guys like yeah i fuckin hate the undead ill kill this dude so he busts into old lab space and sees so many dead animals its actually mostly Bones and pelt that hes seeing piles of feathers etc so hes like yeah this is all telltale signs of vampire uhhh hes introduced to gordon SOMEHOW im not totally sure of the details but the working idea i have is guy falls into a trap gordon devised that restrains him suspended in wire or something and gordon like. limps/stumbles into the room and this dude looks haggard he’s breathing heavy, his cheeks are hollow, he’s bug-eyed and shaking while looking at this massive wall of meat in his trap and he bares a bunch of hideous teeth and grits them and looks like hes really struggling with somethin... Like if these dudes don't know each other then Gordon might give in and try to drain Guy, and Guy would absolutely do anything in his power to turn this new vampire into ash, im thinking the inclusion if g-man as a coven leader can fix both issues.

i like the idea of guy falling into gordons trap and gordon thinking about what to do with him before gman shows up and whisks gordon away for a “meeting” while complimenting him on his good work catching the most feared vampire hunter in the country and gman just leaving guy suspended in wires that he has to fight his way out of. Instant situation defuser.

Guy ends up needing to take care of other monsters before going back to Gordon, and he DOES plan to go back to gordon, because no vampire is a good one, especially not one associated with the fucking head of a coven, but next time he sees Gordon, Gordon helps him out of a scrape by attacking and draining a combine who was going to take Guy out or something and escaping before Guy can catch him, or otherwise seeing Gordon do something good with his insane undead powers and like, the third time he meets up with him is when they can actually talk, and Gordons fuckin SO haggard, he’s not even fighting back and he’s even going as far as to say “just make sure theres nothing of me left when you’re done, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt”

Side Note: Guy has a bunch of scarring on his body from dealing with vampires, cops, ghosts, werewolves, anything violent that kills people. I'm playing with the inkling of an idea that he has Divine Blood in him, so that any time something undead bites him or tries to drink his blood, it burns. We'll see.

Side Note 2: now i really like the idea of the combine actually being an organized faction of vampire hunters that are WICKED crooked and exploit people for all their worth in exchange for their “safety” when they kill a vampire They’re essentially loansharks and Guy fucking hates them and hates the name theyve given to vampire hunting

Side Note 3: You've probably noticed that I haven't said anything about John yet! He's in this too. His species is a surprise but I need to get to him later I have an idea for where he came from (Cortana too)

I still need a good reason for Guy to not instantly kill this vampire, if not it's just gonna be "Gordon Freeman escapes the countrys best vampire hunter like a seventh time" every time they meet and they end up being rivals. And it gives Guy enough time to look past the whole "undead monster" thing and start looking at the "Oh this dude figured out how to fight his ridiculous craving for blood in a way more humane than most and is actually staying out of peoples way and keeping to himself. Guess he's not that big of a threat but I still need to keep an eye on him in case he loses it. Turns out he's got a family (Probably Alyx, Eli, Issac and Barney) who's been lookin for him and cares about him as well, don't wanna hurt them". I like the idea of them ending up needing to team up to take out undead together.

And that's what I got so far!!!

#freeguy #gordon freeman #doomguy #vampire au #freeguy117

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kozumekenza · 3 years ago

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house of memories :: four

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.3k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, blood, gunshot wound, kidnapping, implied drug use (marijuana)

a/n: posting an hour early :)

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Simple words, and predictable ones, but his heart still hurts. He knew this, he knew it was coming, he knew what you would say, he prepared himself for it, so why does it feel like his world is crashing down? He’s leaving you, but he guesses you’re leaving him first. The thought brings him comfort. He didn’t want to involve you in this, as much as it hurts watching you walk away. He should be thankful that you’re breaking his heart and not the other way around. He should be thankful that you’ll hopefully hold this against him for the rest of his life. He should be thankful that you will never know the cold steel of a gun, the glint of an attacker’s knife.

You’re long gone by now, probably tucked into bed. He’s right where you left him, although he is no longer staring at the spot where you were standing. Now, he’s watching the moonlight on the water. The world looks cast in melancholy blue; a beautiful setting for his final night and a tearful goodbye.

He is thankful for this last chance to see you; to memorize your features and commit them all to memory. He is thankful for the tears on his face, as he will not be allowed to show them in the future. He is thankful for all the emotions that he is currently feeling; he savors them, knowing that when he wakes up tomorrow, they will be long gone; suppressed forever.

---

You’re up and running before you even have the chance to fully grasp the situation at hand. There’s blood, so much blood; Miwa’s calling to you, but you can’t hear her. There’s only the pounding of your heart in your ears and the four years worth of schooling you’ve received; racking your brain for any and all useful information.

“I need all the medical supplies you have; a first aid kit, bandages, forceps, scissors.” You pray that Miwa is listening, that your voice is projecting. “I know we probably can’t take him to the hospital, but if you have a doctor you normally see for stuff like this, call them.”

You press your hands to the wound. From what you can tell, it’s a bullet wound towards the bottom left of Kageyama’s chest. His heart is still beating and his breathing is slow, but steady, and you allow yourself a moment to be thankful that his lung hasn't collapsed. You focus on your next steps: stopping the bleeding, fully assessing the severity of the wound, and stabilizing Kageyama somewhere that isn’t the foyer’s floor.

Miwa drops down next to you with what you hope are sterile rags. “I called our doctor, she’ll be here soon.” She unwraps the plastic covering and hands you the rags, and you press them to Kageyama’s chest. “If we can just stop the bleeding, he’ll be fine.”

You can’t help but shiver at the thought that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.

---

Kageyama Tobio is used to being shot at, but the bullets rarely meet their mark. Unfortunately, due to his own stupidity, this one does.

He curses as he runs to his car and jams the keys into the ignition. The fleeting thought that the blood will be a pain to get out of the seats crosses his mind, but he shakes his head and it’s gone. His only goal now is to get back to the penthouse. Miwa will know what to do.

When he stumbles in, feeling faint, his exhausted brain short-circuits at the sight of you. He falls to the floor as his vision blurs, feeling slightly thankful that if he dies tonight, at least the last thing he saw was you.

---

He knows he’s dreaming, that he’s drifting in and out of consciousness. He dreams of his childhood spent by your side, he dreams of your final goodbye. Even when he thinks he’s awake, he knows he must be dreaming, because you’re here, holding his hand and sitting by his side. He tries to reach out, to brush the tears off of your cheeks, but he can’t. He feels as if he’s failed you again.

---

The doctor is nice, a woman in her late twenties named Kiyoko. She performs her duties clinically, allowing you to help where you can and reassuring Miwa that everything will be fine. When the bullet is finally removed and Kageyama is stitched up, you collapse into a chair next to his bed.

You watch him carefully as Miwa flits around the penthouse, cleaning up and moving around Kageyama’s appointments for the next few weeks to allow him time to recover. You hold his hand in your own and rest your head on the side of the bed.

You were terrified tonight, you’ll admit it. You aren’t quite sure how you kept your cool and focused on the task at hand. You’re thankful that he is still breathing, that his heart is still beating.

If you hadn’t walked away, would this be the norm for you? Would you be accustomed to Kageyama coming home bleeding and half-dead? You don’t know how you would cope in a situation like that, unsure if Kageyama would come home in one piece or even come home at all. The thought terrifies you; knowing that for these past four years, there were times where he was injured and you had no clue, and that he will most likely continue to get hurt in the future.

Is it better or worse to be here for it, to be aware? Is it better to know and be there for him while enduring the pain of it all, or is it better to be blissfully unaware, back to your normal life where you know his job is a risk, but you aren’t involved?

---

The man is thrilled at all of the information contained in a tiny computer file. Better than he ever could have imagined; giving him the ability to hurt his enemy is the worst possible way - through the people he cares about.

It’s a low blow, even in this world, but what can he do? He’s run out of options. His enemy’s reign over Tokyo has encroached too far into his own territory, and has been occurring for far too long.

You’re an easy target; far better than attempting anything with his sister. She has the knowledge and power of the underworld to wield against him, but you, you, are perfect. No skills with a weapon, no comprehension of how things work in this world.

An innocent, perfect girl for him to corrupt.

He grins at the thought.

---

When Kageyama’s eyes finally open in the early hours of the morning, you almost burst into tears. You knew that he was physically fine; the wound would hurt, but was stitched and bandaged and fixed. You didn’t know how it would take a toll on the rest of his body. Some people suffer traumatic injuries and don’t wake up for days, months, years, ever.

You grin as Kageyama slowly opens his eyes, assessing the room around him.

“Y/n?” His voice is weak, but he’s awake. Alive.

“Yeah?” You’re still holding his hand, leaning on your arm as you reach for his forehead to check his body temperature.

“You’re here.”

He’s clearly still a little out of it, and you can tell that his brain is trying to piece together the picture of you before him. You laugh a little before you answer, “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

His face is blank and he’s completely impassive when he says, “Not here.”

Miwa walks in to you laughing at Kageyama, who clearly does not understand why you’re laughing at him. She rushes over to him when she sees that he’s awake, gently hugging him.

“Tobio, thank god you’re alright. I was so fucking worried about you, you little shit.” She slaps his shoulder lightly, causing him to wince.

You step away to give them some privacy, heading out to get some water and pain meds from the kitchen, but as you cross the threshold of the bedroom, Kageyama speaks up. “Y/n, are you leaving?”

The ache in his voice is obvious, and it sends a pang to your heart. “I’m just going to get some water and medication for you.”

He’s smiling a little when he turns back to Miwa. “Okay, good.”

---

The next few weeks are fine, generally speaking. You spend the majority of your time at Kageyama’s penthouse, watching over his recovery and hanging out with Miwa. Hana becomes a bit suspicious when she notices you’re away from home more than you’re there, but you simply say that you met an old friend at the club that night and you’ve been hanging out with them. It’s not necessarily a lie, and she buys it regardless; she’s so busy with Ushijima and school that you doubt she really notices how much you’re missing anyway.

Most days, Miwa or Kageyama’s driver picks you up from the university in the afternoon, and you spend the rest of your evening in the penthouse. Sometimes, you sit by Kageyama’s bed and do homework while he rests, which most of the time ends up being a fight to get him to stay in bed while he insists he’s well enough to work. Other days, mostly when Kageyama is too tired to put up much of a fight, you hang out with Miwa, watching movies or cooking dinner together.

It surprises you, just how easily you fit into their lives. Miwa says so as well, telling you that it has to be fate; there’s no way that someone could adjust to their lifestyle as quickly and as well as you do. You spend a lot of time thinking; you don’t mind being with them, in fact, you cherish your time at the penthouse. Kageyama’s job doesn’t phase you as much anymore. You don’t think about it when you spend time with him or Miwa, instead, you think about how appreciative you are for their roles in your life.

Most recently, you’ve started helping Miwa with a task she deems “Mission: Impossible”. Apparently, Kageyama is disastrous when it comes to organization, so she’s taking the opportunity of him being bedridden to organize his office and the rest of the house. You don’t bat an eye when you and Miwa categorize what she refers to as the “weapons closet” or even when you come across files of all the hits that Kageyama has ever put out. The only thing that even makes you pause is when you come across Kageyama’s secret stash of marijuana.

“Really?” You hold the plastic bag up in one hand, your other hand on your hip. “Blunts?”

Kageyama just groans, sitting up. “If you and Miwa weren’t going through all my shit, you never would’ve found it.”

“Your shit is a mess! When was the last time you organized anything in this house?”

Kageyama brings his hand up, scratching the back of his hand. “Uh, never?”

“I can’t believe you.” You collapse onto the chair next to his bed, tossing the bag to him. “Now where’s the lighter?”

---

When Kageyama is finally cleared by Kiyoko to go back to work, you think that you won’t be seeing him and Miwa as often. You assume that they’ll be busy with whatever it is they do normally, so it comes as a surprise when you see Kageyama waiting for you after your last class.

He’s leaning on a black McLaren Artura, turned away from you as he talks on the phone. You stop on the steps of your lab building, pausing to look at him while he’s not paying attention. After seeing him in sweats and t-shirts with messy hair for weeks while he recovered, it shocks you to see him in formal attire again. The late fall chill embraces you as you survey the black jeans and dark jacket, the wind-whipped hair and gold chain peeking out from beneath his collar. It’s times like these when your breath fully leaves you at how attractive Kageyama is. He’s receiving many stares, whether it’s from the boys checking out his car or the girls checking out him. He remains oblivious as always, talking pointedly into the phone until he spots you.

He hangs up and opens the Artura’s door for you when you approach. You can feel the whispers surrounding you, but you ignore them in favor of sticking your chilling fingers in front of the car’s heat vent. Kageyama starts the car and peels out of the parking lot.

“I’m surprised to see you today. I thought you would’ve been busy on your first day back.”

He shrugs, giving a noncommittal hum. “It was mostly boring shit, meetings and such. I was completely over it by noon, so Miwa took over the last few for me.”

“You’re done already?” It’s only four in the afternoon, and you know he normally works much, much later than that.

“Done for now. I’ll go into the club later tonight to check on a few things, but that’s at least interesting.”

“Hm.” Looking out the window, you notice that you’re not heading towards the penthouse. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you out.”

You choke on air; as someone with Kageyama’s career, this could mean one of two things. “O-on a date?”

“Yeah,” he glances at you, “what else would that mean?”

“You don’t want to know what I was thinking.”

“Damn, y/n, I’m not going to kill you.” The wry smile on his face warns you of his upcoming words. “That would get blood on my seats.”

“Haha.” You roll your eyes and punch him lightly on the shoulder. “But really, you’re taking me out on a date? You didn’t even ask.”

“Well it’s more of a ‘thank you for nursing me back from the dead and helping Miwa’ date, but it can also be a real date, if you want that.”

The slight nervousness in his voice makes you grin. Only Kageyama could shoot someone in cold blood and be afraid to ask a girl out. “Okay.”

You watch as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sly smile on his face. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

taglist: @lilith412426 @itoshibaby @wallywaffle

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years ago

Text

The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 1

Part One | Part Two

Marko x Reader

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: racial slurs, some gore

Summary: You catch Marko’s eye while he’s waiting on an order. (Since my blatant favoritism towards Dwayne was called out, I’m trying something new!)

“Nin hao ma,” Marko called out as he entered the small restaurant.

The familiar scents of garlic, rice vinegar, and sesame oil wafted out from the kitchen in the back. Marko personally preferred the take-out joint down the block but it was David’s night to choose so he didn’t complain. Much.

The older woman at the counter bowed her head slightly with a smile. He wasn’t a regular but he was there enough that she recognized him. “Hao, hao.”

Mandarin was fluent but these owners spoke Cantonese which he wasn’t as familiar with. He supposed he could take time to learn but he’d been occupied with spray painting and the birds for the past few years. That didn’t leave much time, or desire, to pick up something else. Pleasantries out of the way, he switched back to English. His

“Let me get three orders of the sweet and sour pork, one sweet and sour shrimp, four chow mein, one lo mein, and one fried rice.” After a second of thought he added, “Oh, and some egg rolls.”

The owner wrote it all down quickly and waved the paper slip in between her fingers. “Wait here.”

She disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Marko by himself to admire the scrolls of art that hung on the wall.

In the back, she calmly walked over to where you were hunched over an open textbook, frantically taking notes. It was noisy in the kitchen so you didn’t notice her until she cuffed you on the back of the head.

“Oww!”

“Time to work. Keep an eye on the customer out front,” she nagged in Cantonese.

“Fine, fine. I’m going.” You held your hands up in surrender. But you snagged you stuff when she wasn’t looking and hoofed it to the register before she could chastise you again.

You stood at the register and it was impossible to miss the customer. He had a riotous mass of blonde curls pulled back into a ponytail and wore a patched-up jacket that was simultaneously too busy to look at and too interesting to look away from. He must have felt your gaze because he suddenly shifted his focus from the calligraphy on the walls and stared you straight in the eye.

You held your breath and after a few seconds, his face relaxed and he smiled at you. The smile only added to his attractiveness but you instinctively knew that he wasn’t as sweet as it would lead you to believe.

“You’re new,” he commented.

“Y-yeah. I mean, no,” you sputtered. That was embarrassing. You’d never struggled to speak with a customer before. The fact that he stared without blinking made it worse.

He merely hid his smile behind the fingerless gloves and stuck a thumb in his mouth. A possible oral fixation—? You stopped that thought dead in it’s tracks. It was highly inappropriate to think of a paying customer that way. His actions were none of your business.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to start over. “Actually, my family has known the owners forever. But yes, I’ve only been working here for a few months.”

“I don’t remember seeing you,” he said crowding you despite the fact that there was a register between the two of you. “What’s your name?”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt the need to defend yourself to him. Which was ridiculous. You talked with chatty customers all the time, no problem.

“My name is Y/N. I always take the busy shifts since my English is better. This is the first time I’ve stayed later than the dinner rush.”

That answer must’ve settled something for him because he took at thumb out of his mouth and gave you the first genuine smile you’d seen thus far. In turn, you smiled back and the mood in the room calmed.

His attention went back to the calligraphy and you opened your textbook to the spot you left off at. Everything was quiet. “So…you like calligraphy?” he questioned.

The next fifteen minutes passed quickly as he got you talking about the restaurant’s décor. He was especially absorbed by the painting of a fiery-scaled eastern dragon, which you also liked. But your favorite was the Chinese phoenix on the opposite wall.

“Did you know the fenghuang is a lucky omen? They’re the bird of all birds in traditional mythology.”

That seemed to intrigue him. “The bird of all birds, huh?”

You latched on to the tone in his voice. “Do you like birds?”

He toed the tip of his worn boot into the linoleum floor. Laughed a little. “Yeah. You could say that.”

He opened his mouth to say more but at that moment you were called to bag up his order. A little reluctant, you excused yourself and went to kitchen. The food was already portioned into their respective white cartons, the top flaps folded in neatly.

Opening up the plastic bag, you quickly arranged the cartons inside and tied a with a small, snug knot at the top. Stapling the receipt to the bag, you drew a smiley face on it with a blue-ink pen. The smile came out a little lopsided but you left it alone, afraid it might turn out worse if you tried to fix it.

You lingered near the door, twisting the plastic in your hands. For some reason, you would be disappointed to see him leave. Which was crazy as you’d only talked for a few brief minutes. Judging by the size of the order, the poor guy probably needed to leave so he could bring other people their dinner too.

Resigned, and uncomfortable with that feeling, you went back out to the register. You made sure to use your most polite voice as you rang him up. The exchange happened normally and he dug a wad of dollars bills from his back pocket. It made you cringe to see the money so wrinkled and spotted with an unknown stain, but you kept your reaction to yourself.

“Have a nice night,” you wished him as you tried to hand him his change.

He waved it off with a shake of his head that sent his curls bouncing. “Nah, keep it.”

And that was it. He turned to leave, swinging the plastic bag at his side with every step. There was no hesitation on his part and you sighed. Clearly, your interest was one-sided.

Logically, you knew shouldn’t take it personal, but emotionally, you couldn’t shake the feeling of rejection. Remembering that you were in the middle of reading, you went to open your notes again. You flipped through the pages slowly, your heart not in it.

Outside of the small restaurant, the red neon open sign casted hazy lighting on the cracked cement sidewalk. Marko hovered just far enough from the door that you couldn’t see him. He snickered.

Your disappointed sighs had followed him as soon as he turned his back on you to leave and he had to be honest—it delighted him. Good to know that you were attracted to him. He certainly liked you.

Santa Carla was full of interesting people, alive, undead, or otherwise, so it was hard to catch his attention. But as soon as you started spouting off about mythical Chinese phoenixes, he was hooked. Yes, he was into birds, screw you, but he’d never heard that story before.

He supposed you could’ve been talking out of your ass but he didn’t get that vibe from what he had seen. Your eyes lit up when you talked about the image so he bet that you truly did admire it. Your voice was steady for the first time in the encounter, meaning that you were comfortable saying those things, had probably told them to other ears dozens of times.

So, yes, you could be making it up. If you were, he’d be the first to admire your skills. But you seemed too straight and narrow for that. After all, you were actually studying at work. What kind of person did that?

The tantalizing combination of authenticity and passion for your Eastern mythology made him want to talk to you again. That way he could pick your brains more and maybe, if he was lucky, make you stutter again. Still, he wasn’t going to walk back in there like a sap. Not after he just left.

“Hey!”

His ears twitched and he finally got a look at the guy he’d been watching stagger down the sidewalk the entire time he’d been outside. He chose not to saying anything figuring the human would keep talking anyway, which he did.

“You get that food from here?” The human pointed to the restaurant with his thumb.

Marko nodded, biting on his thumb.

“These chinks, or japs, or whatever any good?”

Marko’s eyes that had been taking in the guy’s appearance the entire time paused in the bird pin he had on his cap. It was yellow orange. Similar shade to the fenghuang’s wings. He took his thumb out of his mouth, his slick fangs descending to bite into his bottom lip.

The ass hadn’t even noticed, still talking and seemingly some kind of inebriated. Fine by Marko. He liked surprising people.

His clawed hand shot out faster than the human eye could track and plunged into the guy’s chest. A hole was torn clean through. The blood and heart organ felt warm and wet as it stuck to his fingers. “I don’t think you need to worry about that you prick.”

The hole was much more pronounced and blood began spilling out. In the light of the moon, the blood looked black instead of red. The about-to-be-dead offender’s jacket absorbed some of the liquid but the rate at which it poured out was too much for the fabric to soak it all up. It wouldn’t be long until he was officially dead.

The shock registered late and by the time the human looked down, Marko had already pulled his hand out and was sucking at the blood. He laughed at the other’s confused expression. The last thing the guy saw was Marko giggling and playfully waving his fingers.

The corpse sagged to the ground and Marko wrenched it up by one of the arms. He must’ve used too much force because he heard the shoulder pop off out of its socket.

He shrugged, not really bothered. No one else was out on the streets at this time. Especially not during a weekday. Getting rid of the body would be easy. Strengthening his hold, he flew into the night sky to dump the body where it would never be found.

When he came back, the white bag of Chinese take-out was sitting exactly where he left it. Excellent. Bending down to rip off the receipt, he pinned his new yellow orange bird pin to it. There was a small speck of blood on the glossed paint near the small bird’s wing that he licked clean.

He didn’t mind scarring you, but he didn’t want you so freaked out that you went to the cops. That would make things a little messy and make David pissy.

Following his nose, he wandered over the car that smelled of you. A quick glance through the driver’s window showed a stack of other notebooks and…a ridiculously bedazzled charm dangling from the rear-view mirror. It made him raise his brow, but he decided he liked it.

Mythological creatures, bedazzled charms…he couldn’t wait to find out more about you.

He arranged the paper backed pin under the windshield wiper to keep it from falling or blowing away. Marko prided himself on giving gifts and he wished he could be there to see you find it, but he’d been gone long enough. The boys were already going to give him hell for it. And he was getting hungry, too.

Besides, he knew where you worked. He’d find you again when he had more time.

Revving the bike, he raced down the road, the plastic bag quivering where it hung from his handle bars.

---XXX---

“See you later, Auntie,” you called out. A bell jingled as you pushed the front door open. You weren’t used to working this late and were long past due for sleep.

“Bye bye, drive home safe,” she said in Cantonese, the gruffness failing to mask her fondness for you.

Being in the restaurant all night, the crisp air outside was a nice reprieve. You loved the food, you really did, but oil could be headache inducing after a while. There was a slight breeze, too, that refreshed you with its invisible caress.

Most of the other businesses in this area were closed by now, leaving the streets dim and vacant. Luckily, there was a streetlight by your car so you didn’t have to walk in the dark. There was no such thing as being too safe in Santa Carla.

You shifted your things so you could get the keys and stopped in your tracks when you noticed a small piece of paper on the windshield. You looked around, not seeing anything else out of the ordinary. Still, you couldn’t shake the wariness.

Was it a ticket? A threat? A piece of trash that just blew into the window?

Creeping forward, you recognized the smiley face you had drawn earlier. What the—? When you were close enough to snatch it, you realized there was something weighing down the corner of the flimsy paper. A pin.

You angled it toward the streetlight, unsure what it was. An orange, no, golden orange bird gleamed in the light. Its wings spread wide and were smooth under the pads of your fingers.

Warmth spread through your chest. There wasn’t a message on the receipt, but the smiley face gave it away. This could only have been from that customer with the curls and jacket. Had he been wearing it inside? You couldn’t remember.

Clutching the pin, you sat in the driver’s seat. The car ran idle for a bit and you fiddled with the back of the pin. There was plenty of space on your bare jacket to place it wherever you wished. With the delicate gift attached securely to the jacket, you backed out of the parking spot, a smile on your face the entire way home.

Hopefully, he stopped by again soon.

_______________

My first time writing for Marko! Thumbs up or thumbs down?

Regardless, East Asian (and any) racism isn’t cool peeps. Let’s do better :)

#the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys x reader #imagines #marko the lost boys

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years ago

Text

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone.

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley.

So, where the hell is she?

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please.

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door.

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming.

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?”

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries.

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation.

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.”

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps.

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out.

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one.

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire.

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario.

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong.

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function.

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out?

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her.

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction.

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own.

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her.

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep.

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?”

Riley groans. “No.”

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit.

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.”

“I’m not hangry.”

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.”

“I was hiding from you.”

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.”

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?”

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink.

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.”

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade.

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning.

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.”

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.”

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.”

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.”

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this.

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns.

"Go right ahead."

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private.

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them.

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish.

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet.

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish.

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too.

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things.

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings.

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself.

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?"

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?"

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes.

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further.

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works.

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand.

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?”

“The tapping.”

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.”

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice.

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course.

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair."

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley.

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone.

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too."

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash.

"So if we eliminate him…"

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake.

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that.

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind.

"What?"

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out."

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right."

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?"

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me.

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet.

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin.

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him.

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit.

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against.

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp.

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?”

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room.

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.”

“I told you it was an accident!”

“Betrayal.”

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.”

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.”

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on.

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head.

Right.

The dog.

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too.

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@angelinanao

@annmariestuff

@dreambelievergeek

@emilyscotson

@erika-amber

@fandomsilovewithoutshame

@fangirlfreak08

@g3svv

@hellishrose

@holbytlanna

@i-cant-think-of-a-name-15

@ijamaica5535

@justaghostmonument

@likeit-or-leaveit

@losingitovermacriley

@macrileyedits

@macs-paperclips

@multi-fandomshipper101

@mylifequotesshowallofthem

@nikki-1607

@orange-cat-vet

@penny114

@redjedistarfighter

@sxrein

@tall-tanned-tattoo

@thecarrieonokay

@tom-hunter-summah

@whatsabex

#beth writes #looking through a window au #macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis

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another-dra-anew · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Behind the Scenes!

To celebrate the end of Chapter 1, have some behind the scenes info! From various fun facts, screenshots from my working process, to explanations for how I worked out the trial, and snippets of conversations had with people who have spoilers.

Under the cut, to keep from spoiling anyone!

Fun Facts

-I only thought of the detail regarding Kurokawa fighting back (the spilled brown sugar) as I was writing that post! I just figured it would be nice to add in, and helpful to show later that Kurokawa was attacked in the Dining Hall -The exorcism scene would’ve actually happened, and I did briefly plan it, but I figured it may raise too many death flags, and just didn’t end up working it into my post schedule. Also, Maeda’s pendant he receives from Kurokawa in the prologue is based off of one of my own! -You were supposed to receive a gift from Kurokawa when her body is found, in the post stating that we’ve entered Deadly Life, but I forgot to include it when writing said post... Future gifts will be given when a student dies! For now though, they both get lumped in at the end of Nzo4s post -Speaking of Nzo4, I wonder why they were bleeding that much, and why we don’t seem to have had a casualty out of the thirteen members of current cast!

Post Schedule

Aforementioned briefly in section above, Fun Fact two! I use this minimal post schedule to organize how things will go in order of how many FTEs, Maedas general schedule, when my events are, etc etc! It’s helpful to have that as a reminder, especially when I’m writing Maeda’s selections for where he’ll go! Look at what I had for Chapter 1 at the very end!

Victim + Culprit

In most Beta drafts, Kurokawa actually lived to the end, or at least Chapter 4! Once I had her and Inori set to die in Chapter 1 though, that stayed the same, even as minor revisions were made. Kurokawa was generally set as traitor, or was up to something strange, even taking canon Kisaragis place at one point, while Inori just rotated as I needed her too- she was Chapter 3 killer for a bit though. Chapter 1 was the very first chapter I finalized for who would die, the others continued to shift around some, but once I had this one down the way it is now, I was finished!

Case

Did anyone notice Maeda’s lie that got uncaught? He claimed everyone had given their alibi, and only a few were verifiable- but we never asked Higa or Mekaru about their alibis. There was originally a scene wherein Tsurugi returned to his room, which would help prove his innocence later, as Tomori accompanied him, and didn’t see any guns. I made numerous mini post schedules throughout the trial trying to outline just what I’d do next, but I ended up deviating from all- at one point, you’d have had the first rebuttal showdown against Yamaguchi,

Motive

I figured it’d be fun to put a spin on the typical “Oh noooo, your loved one” motive; the motive was specifically designed to target Inori, as she was while not the one most likely to solve murders, the one most likely to prevent a death, due to her medical skills. Other characters are decent at First-Aid, but Inori stands alone as the sole person equipped to fix, let’s say, a stab to the spine, or to the lung. Here’s the full list of who everyone saw in their videos! Sibling(s): Maeda, Kurokawa, Maki, Uehara, Yamaguchi, Iranami Friend(s): Mekaru, Taira, Parent(s): Otori, Higa, Full family: Tsurugi, Kobashikawa, Tomori, Hatano No one: Inori

Execution Tidbits

The title (Adam of Loving Labor) is inspired by a line from Frankenstein! “I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.” The original execution concept for Inori involved her operating on herself, being told that if she could save a certain amount of peoples lives, she’d be able to leave, having made up for what she had done, but she’d have to provide her own blood, organs, etc, in order to do it: However, upon removing the needed parts, it’d be revealed that she’d only help create more humanoid Monokumas. After an attempt to run while still extremely weak, she’d die of blood loss, and collapse, before being discarded of in some sort of way, with her corpse left to stay there, no one caring to come get her and mourn, showing how she was truly just disposable (in her view.) My decision to re-include Inori being operated on/having her organs used was really last minute- as I was finishing up her motive video post. For months, it would’ve ended with her dying as patient pushed her, due to wounds she had sustained while operating on him.

Quotes

From when it was thought Tsurugi was dead: “BRUH” “tfw everyone likes the optimism twink more than u so u try and get them all killed by killing him first” minor gore/head/brain trauma tw, in italics, skip whats italicized if that’d trigger you!: “haruhiko stomped on tsurugis head with his boots, thats what caused the wound” “how * stomp* dare * stomp* you * stomp* beat * stomp* teruya * stomp* you * stomp* bitch * stomp stomp stomp*" “haru walkin round the halls with tsurugi brain matter on his gucci boots “ all from one person - “shaFUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK /// AHHHHHH /// TSU!!!!!!!!!! /// FUCK YOU. IVE GENUINELY NEVER BEEN SO CRUSHED BY A CHARACTER DEATH BEFORE When it was discovered he was alive “MY SWEET BOY? HEZ ALIVE” “HE NEEDS HELP BUT IF WE GO WHAT IF HE DIES ALONE WAAA” “i was originally gonna post the "tsu is fucking dead" post and then the investigation post right after it but. decided a few hours of pain is good for the soul”

Misc

I’ll take note of some more of these to include next time, but a line from Tsurugi, vs what it was when I was drafting the post, and didn’t write it out in full: Tsurugi - Hey, can everyone stop for a sec? It’s overwhelming to have that kinda reaction and attention on you, especially when already breaking down. Tsurugi - …Good, good, thank you all! Now, Maeda? You hear me okay? Look at me if you can; you don’t have to make eye contact, just look over here. Versus Tsurugi - maeda. stop being a bitch My favorite characters to write during trial: Inori, Higa, Tomori, Maeda My least favorite characters to write during trial: Tsurugi, Hatano It was nice to explore Inoris dialogue, and how she’d try to subvert the trial to point fingers at someone else, and then setting up the other characters reactions and the like was very fun! I Hate Writing Hatano. I’m stupid and always forget her characterization so she feels bland, and like she doesn’t stand out... I redesigned her some, but right as the trial came to close... Then with Tsurugi, I worried too much about him coming across as a all-knowing character there to save the day.

Screenshots

i actually dont have anymore screenshots whoopsie 3 anywayss be on the lookout for more stuff ™ coming your way soon!

#dra #behind the scenes #dra behind the scenes #spoilers

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btssunnyboy · 5 years ago

Text

Becoming Mine - Jeon Jungkook Part 1/?

In which the fairly new employee has an admirer

Word Count - 4,048

Warning - This is yandere and the whole series will have many yandere related events! Profanity and the mentions of looking down a shirt and seeing cleavage.

If anyone has any ideas they’d like to contribute, please feel free to send them my way!

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Mr. Jeon pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation, while letting out a small huff of air as he stared at the trembling man before him. The man fiddled with the stacks of paper at his fingertips, and scanned each and every line hoping to find a solution, but every single one seemed to have a flaw within its codes. The numbers were far too low considering the amount of business ideas the company had sold this year. The man gave a short and almost panicked like cough when he noticed how violently Mr. Jeon’s leg was shaking underneath the table. The back of his heels that were repeatedly tapping away at the tiles were driving the man insane, the sound echoing in his brain like it was telling him to watch out for a dangerous situation is headed your way.

Patience for the problem at hand was growing thin in Jeon, too thin for anyone's liking.

If someone doesn't get these numbers corrected there will be hell to pay. Jeon loved to dish out servings of his sadistic like plans to those who were unfortunate enough to cross those boundaries. He'll make sure they receive what’s coming to them no matter what. Sweat was beginning to form in beads upon his employee’s forehead. The sight alone almost made him laugh, since Mr. Jeon knew if he only paid attention a bit more than the problem like this wouldn't have occurred at all.

The mess could have simply been avoid if only he was fucking paying attention for once in his pathetic life. Mr.Jeon's harsh eyes glared burning holes into the poor man temple.

"Rufus, I'm trying to remain professional because I know mistakes happen, but this is utterly ridiculous." He seethed through his teeth. His hands were now clenched before him, his whole demeanor was absolutely furious. You could practically see the smoke shooting out of his ears.

"I'm so sorry! I watched them go over these sets a million times I'm truly, and deeply sorry." Rufus sputtered out, as he frantically shoved his glasses back onto the bridge of nose. The sweat was pooling on his palms, and his pants were almost soaked with how much he's wiped his clammy hands on them. He didn't even give himself a chance to breath when he tried recalculating the numbers by hand.

"Your department better be lucky that these numbers aren't due until tomorrow night." Mr. Jeon spoke calmly. Even though, everything at this moment was completely opposite. He tapped away at the wooden surface of his desk, while Rufus gave a great nod of understanding. "What are you still doing here? Go fix these fucking numbers."

"O-Oh! Right Sir!" Rufus said, gripping tightly at the messed up papers. Not giving a care at this moment as he clenched them all beneath his fist and threw the wrinkled papers into the brown file organizer. A hastily escape was made as he fumbled on his feet to get out of the office completely. His sweaty palms once more giving him trouble as they refused to stay solid against the cold, metal doorknob. Giving it one last tug he yanked the door open swiftly and made his departure, making sure not to look back even as he closed the door.

Rufus could feel the fury clawing around inside of his chest at the thought of that embarrassing moment. The big big boss almost chewed his head off and that's never a good sign. Mr. Jeon will probably now view the department as a failure thus forcing everyone to quit, or he'll simply fire them. Either way the business will find a new management team who could actually keep up with their required task. If he loses his job then he's royal screwed.

"How in the hell did these numbers turn out lower than expected!" Rufus bellowed as he swung open the main door to enter his domain. The frame smacking its self on the nearby wall, gaining everyone’s attention. His sharp eyes stared down each and every employee in that room. Their eyes were cast downwards refusing to meet the eyes of a main who held nothing, but fire in his being. Rufus's demeanor changed within a snap of his fingers ever since he left the main boss' office. He was made out like a fool, and he was gonna make them feel the exact same way. "I don't have all day."

No one said a single word as he waved around the brown file organizer. Everyone shared confused looks between them all. They were for sure those numbers were calculated correctly. All those numbers were the profits the company has made and the numbers were sky rocketing. What happened? That the question that plagued everyone's mind, but no one had any clue as to what the answer might be.

Rufus's eyes finally landed on you. You pondered on the solutions to this problem. It had to happen fast or a lot of people were gonna be in deep trouble. You eyed the brown organizer that was hanging loosely from his grip. It was like a cartoon lightbulb dinged brightly above you head.

That's it, the brown file organizer is not the right one at all! The folder for this year was in a soft blue color. The wheels on your office chair slung you a bit to the right as you raced towards the drawers that held all the recorded numbers. Skimming through each one as briskly as you could. That organizer was here somewhere, it has to be here. No one, including you, could afford to lose this job.

You let out a sigh of relief as your fingers made contact with the plastic material of the organizer. There in all of its blue glory was your ticket to keeping your job, as well as the others. The drawer made a harsh clank as it was abruptly shut. Your heels clicked rapidly against the tiles as you raced against the clock to deliver the precious organizer.

"What is that?" Rufus sighed, motioning towards the blue plastic that was clutched in your painted fingertips.

"These are the correct numbers, you grabbed last years by mistake." You smiled as you tried to gingerly hand it over. Seeing as he would have to take it back up to Mr. Jeon and get them approved. His face quickly flashed from relief to the sinister. "Rufus what's the matter? Are you okay?"

"I was specifically told all the right papers were in this brown organizer! Why the hell do you have a blue one."

The profanity that left his lips without hesitation didn't affect you as it happened so often. Although he's making it seem like it's your fault that he grabbed the wrong one. You never told him to grab the brown one at all, you didn't even tell him which one it was period. This was his mistake, and he's not taking credit for it. It's absolutely pitiful.

"I remember you asking what color was last years and we responded with brown, and then we proceeded to say that this years color was blue." You corrected as you held it out once more. A dry scoff past through his lips as he harshly shoved the organizer into your stomach. "What?"

"Take it up there and explain to him why this mix up even happened. Let's see if you can handle the main boss and his wrath." After he spoke his final words he trudged to his office in the back.

Turning around you noticed everyone's eyes on you. Their sympathetic smiles only hurt you feelings more. You wish you could tell them it was fine, that mistakes happen. Even in a company like this, but with Rufus' new outburst you're afraid to even open you mouth at all.

"L/n! Get going!"

With that command you rushed off in the opposite direction. You tried not to draw that much attention as you walked right up the familiar glass door. When your eyes landed on his laser focused figure your legs grew weak almost giving in, and letting your body fall towards the floor. The thought of him yelling at you, saying you're disturbing him only made you want to race back to your original post and let someone else handle this. This should be Rufus after all not you.

You banged on the glass as lightly as you could and waited for his eyes to at least glance at the door. When it didn't happen you almost took that as your chance to bolt back downstairs. You’d just have to make up a lame excuse and say he was busy or not in his office at the moment.

"Rufus where - " Mr. Jeon stopped dead in his words when he noticed a more feminine looking figure in the other side of the glass. No gray hair, but a full colored one, no nasty black dress pants, but smooth legs connected to a very fitted pencil skirt. He could honestly say he was really enjoyed the view.

You tried to calm your breathing as you pushed open the door to let it swing open fully. The moment your entire body was in full view Mr. Jeon physically felt the breath leave his body. He was astonished at the person who was standing before him, he's never seen someone so breathtakingly beautiful. For the first time in his whole laugh he couldn’t muster up the rights words to say.

"Mr. Jeon I'm so sorry if I’m interrupting, but Rufus sent me with the correct numbers this time. Would you like to go over them?"

The way his name fell from your lips was sending the poor man in a full on spiral. His world felt like it was beginning to take a new form. A new form that was making him feel something he's never felt before, and he was now determined to keep this feeling alive and blooming. This was the one thing he was going to nurture like no tomorrow and make sure you're always by his side. All he needed was for you to agree and it was gonna be a piece of cake, hopefully.

All he needed was your name, and then he could get his hands on anything he needed to make you his.

"Oh you're not interrupting at all, but who are you?" His voice was filled with curiosity and you could actually understand it. The two of you have never formally met considering it was Rufus who hired you to work underneath him.

"Oh! I'm Y/n L/n, I work in the marketing department." You smiled as you extended a hand. What surprised you the most was how gently he took your hand into his. Like it was make of tender glass and if anything touched it, it would shatter into a million pieces. You've heard so many stories about how this man was as ruthless and conniving as they come. Yet here he is treating a stranger like they’re a delicate rose that needed strong protection and a gentle hand to do the protecting.

"I'm sorry we haven't formally met, but better late then never right, but let's see those numbers." He smiled as he gestured to the seat in front of him. That smile grew a bit wider when he noticed you pull the chair a bit closer. While doing this your body was leaned forward and when his eyes noticed your cleavage that was peeking out through the small dip in your shirt, his breath hitched. Purple suits her, oh god I bet that color would suit my floor even better.

"Are you okay, Mr. Jeon?" You questioned when the legs of the chair were finally sturdy against the tiles. Your caring eyes were full of concern as you stared at him. No sick motive behind you words, just genuine and honest concern.

"Of course don't worry about me, now back to these numbers."

Your fingers skimmed the lines of number that were printed onto the page. Making sure to note which numbers corresponded with which sales for that period. This company truly was a force to be reckoned with. Since it easily became one of the richest and most powerful companies within a few years. All that progress was made possible by the CEO Jeon Jungkook.

"Miss. l/n can I have a little bit more of your time before you go, I have an important question I need to ask you." He asked while you began to stand up and gather the correct numbered papers and neatly placed them into the empty folds of the organizer.

"Of course, Mr. Jeon. What is it?"

"How does Rufus treat his workers, is he as good of a boss as he claims to be?" He asked while intertwining his hands and leaning forwards on his desk. His eyebrows raised and his head tilted just slightly. The hesitation in your answer made his hands tighten ever so slightly. "How does he treat everyone? I need an answer."

"I mean he treats us good, but usually tries to rush things."

"Miss L/n, I don't appreciate when I'm being lied to straight to myself face. Now I'm gonna ask you one more time. What is his attitude back in that department like?" Mr. Jeon snapped. Just as before he was losing his patience, he needed this answer desperately. He finally wanted a reason to cut Rufus off at the knees and watch him crumble at the thought of losing the one thing that is keeping him afloat.

"He used to be really understanding and such, but now he rushes us and then proceeds to pile work-load upon work-load on us. He's agitated all the time and never sees anything as his fault it's always someone else's." You confessed as you fiddled with the hem of your blouse. Acting like the small, black button on the bottom was the most important thing in the world.

"Thank you for your cooperation and if you’re interested in a new swag from Rufus I’m almost positive I have a few new openings.” He added before you started walking out the door. His eyes lingering a bit longer on parts of your body that those eyes shouldn’t be looking at.

"I'll see if I can come by later, thank you Mr. Jeon."

"You're welcomed and you can call me Jungkook from now on."

You gave a small nod and quickly made your way out the door. Jungkook smiled like he has just seen the gates of heaven, but just the mere thought of you was more endearing than heaven itself. A dazzling smile had graced his face. He could feel a warm sensation taking over his body as he watched you walk down the end of the hallway and disappear into the crowds of people that flooded the office halls. When he was for certain that no one was going to bother him he quickly rolled around to his computer.

His sharp fingers typing at rapid speed against the white keyboard. Dozens of searches popping up, but none matching the description of the one person he needed. A groan of disapproval was lodged in his throat as nothing was coming up. Your file was somehow hidden from his view. His nails dug indents into the palms of his hands since his grip was iron tight. He needed to keep his temper under control he couldn’t afford to cause a scene on his office and have people rushing in.

He couldn’t afford to let people see his darling on his computer when you were supposed to he for his eyes only.

A small ding alerted him of a new notification. A new file had finally been added to the company database. By the grace of god that file was none other then yours. That beautiful face adoring his computer made his heart swell with endless amounts of joy. He had what he wanted at his fingertips.

He was gonna learn everything about you and all he needed to do was a click a few tabs. It may seem strange with his sudden infatuation with someone he just met, but he couldn’t help it. It was like a breath of fresh air watching you take timid steps through that door. Your honey like voice sounding like music to his ears and he wanted to keep that tune on repeat forever.

He wanted you forever.

When he fully closed out the tabs he raked his mind for possible positions he could place you in. The front desk was too far away and your intelligence would simply be wasted. When the thought of you being right by side crossed his mind there was no going back. The decision was already set in stone with or without your say so.

"I'll see you tomorrow my darling." He spoke in a gravelly voice. A sinister smile grazing his face at thought of you finally being his. This time his plans won’t fail, you’re not gonna end up like the last one. You are far superior then all of the others combined.

This time you were not gonna get away.

—————

You didn’t like the unpleasant feeling that was flowing through your veins. The way his eyes went from kind and caring to stone hard within a snap of a finger gave you chills. He was determined to get the truth out of you and you gave into the pressure and completely caved. The air in that room felt suffocating and when you finally reached the step out of that office the air had finally came back into your lifeless like body. You scurried down the hall as fast as your heel clad feet could carry you.

You rushed to your cubicle as you placed yourself within its confinements. Genuine worrying filling you up once more as you thought back the encounters. His longing stares that stayed on you a bit too long to his hands that somehow kept brushing up against yours. The feeling felt foreign, strange and unwanted. The way his mood would swing from left to right left you drowning in concern.

The right thing was to just stay in your department and keep you distance. Somehow you still doubt he'll let you off that easy, but god you wish he would. You should never have said you’d come by to talk about the other job opportunities.

"Hey it's time to lock up." Lori shook your shoulders lightly pulling you away from your terror like thoughts. Her soft smile providing a little reassurance as to what just happened. No matter what you still can't shake that feeling that something is gonna go wrong. Usually your gut feelings are right, but this time you wish it was just an upset stomach.

"Oh yeah I'll meet you at the car I just gotta use the bathroom."

"Okay don't be too slow I want to stop and get something to eat." She yelled as she got further down the hallway. Until all that was seen was the shadow she casted on the dimly lit hallway.

The familiar ding of your phone flashed the notification that your file was added to the database. They let everyone know when they were added due to the fact that employees had a right to know when their information was uploaded on any sort of database. This also came with the perks that everyone was update when their profile was being viewed.

Oh god, that same feeling of dread overtook your body like a tsunami.

He had viewed it. Probably from top to bottom, taking in as much information as his eyes would allow. He has accessed your phone number, you education and your fucking address. Everything was now at his grimy fingertips. Maybe this was gonna be a lot more dangerous then you thought. You tried to play if off as fluke, as him seeing you for the first time and was just wondering around it. The whole air of the situation felt sinister and you just couldn't stop it.

Your eyes darted left to right in a panic making sure he wasn't lurking behind the curve of the halls. Your heart was beating too loud for you to hear properly. Those cool, metal keys were clutched between your fingers as you took shaky steps down too the parking garage. Without falling you didn't waste time to yank open Lori's car door.

"Wow honey, looks like you've seen a ghost.you must’ve peed quickly." Lori snickered as she held out her hands for the keys and then she began to pull the car out of park. Her eyes trained on the numerous vehicles behind her car.

"Oh me? Yeah I'm...fine. Turns out I didn’t have to.” You said, taking a shaky breath. Your fingers quickly pressed the lock located on the right side of the door. The paranoia jumping out in your obvious actions. “Would if he weird to the main boss to view your profile?”

You saw her eyebrows go up as she pondered on the thought. Her acrylics tapping away at the wheel. “Well it all depends. If you’re talking about today then it’s probably fine, because keep in mind you just joined a few weeks ago. So don’t worry about it.”

You felt you shoulders lose the tension inside them. The shaky breaths that you were making you light headed finally were under control. A small smile grazed your face as you rubbed you temples. A gracious thank you passed through you lips when you got out of Lori’s car. An overwhelming feeling of security lingered on your body when the latch on the door was finally hooked.

You’re finally away from that place, you’re finally away from him. No need to watch over you shoulder to hide from his presence, no need to wonder if he’s lurking behind a corner.

The clothes that were restricted against you body felt like heaven coming off. Your bare skin was loving the feeling of cool breeze against it. You couldn’t wait for the scorching hot water to bless you skin once more.

“Hello?” You questioned, uncertainty laced throughout the word. Your eyebrows rose in confusion when the caller gave a heavy cough on the other line. You gave a shaky breathe as you tried to recollected yourself. “Mr.Jeon?”

“Oh! Yeah I’m sorry, but I was just calling to see when you wanted to schedule that meeting of sorts?” He questioned, his voice seemed like it was caught in his throat. Like he was all chocked up. “Are you busy right now?”

“Sorta, maybe it would be best if we called back later and try to arrange something?” You spoke. You were desperately trying to get out of this call as quickly as humanly possible.

“Yeah, I hope you have a good night, y/n.”

You didn’t even bother with a response as you quickly clicked the red button on the bottom of the screen. The damn phone number section had to be required on that stupid form. Right now you’re wishing you could just drop the job all together. Bills don’t pay themselves though.

You wish the hot water would wash all your worries away. That when you stepped foot outside the tub that everything would go back to normal, but that stuff seems to only happen in the movies. You hair was standing up on the back of you neck, and you just wanted these foolish feelings to evaporate with the steam that was clouding your body.

When you finally stepped out the shower you were quick to wrap the green towel around you vulnerable body. When you back was turned towards small window you couldn’t held the feelings that overtook your body.

“Stop acting like a fucking coward.” You grumbled to yourself as you slid a shirt over you sticky, wet shoulders. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

No matter how many times you repeated that phrase to yourself that night, your mind still raced with endless amount of possibilities.

Maybe this wasn’t gonna fine, maybe this was the start of something more sinister and dangerous then anyone could have imagined.

And maybe your mind was right.

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lovelazarus · 4 years ago

Text

rating: Mature

archive warning: graphic depictions of violence

words: 2645

tags: Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm (fairly graphic), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, graphic description of suicide attempt, Flashbacks, Trauma, Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Dean is alive, Castiel is alive, Hurt/Comfort, POV Dean Winchester, brief mention of John Winchester - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Sad with a Happy Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Past Abuse, Homophobic Language, 15x20 Fix-It

summary: (This fic starts out with a graphic dream/flashback of Dean's mid-20s.) Cas showed up to save Dean in 15x20 after he let himself get impaled on rebar, his attempt to stop living while thinking Cas was truly gone in the Empty. It's been a few months since that event in the Barn. Things have been calm since Chuck lost his power & Jack brought Castiel back to help rebuild heaven (although Jack isn't in this directly!). Even with things being okay, Dean's decades of trauma are still bubbling up and Dean has to face the reality of his actions (past & present).

PLEASE read all tags before reading!

The last thing Dean remembers is sitting down on the couch in the Deancave, waiting for Cas to come pick tonight's movie. He must’ve dozed off at some point because suddenly it's 2004 and he’s 25 years old again.

The two years Sammy was off at Stanford was one of Dean’s lowest points in life; including his trip to hell, being a demon & helping kick start the apocalypse. He was completely alone.

Sam was gone, John was irate and blamed Dean for Sam leaving, for not stopping him from leaving. Dean was hunting alone, without his family, for the first time in his life. His last hunt however was the first to deeply scar him irrevocably.

A father and 2 sons, roughly the same age apart as him and Sam. Both attacked by an extremely vengeful spirit, the father was gutted and the sons were supernaturally manipulated into hanging themselves. Dean walked into their house hoping to save the family after following trails of the case, but he walked into a gruesome scene that left him shaking and holding back from vomiting.

In Dean’s mind, it was a representation of his own torn apart family. He left the home, found the grave of the spirit, and put it to rest with unsteady hands and bleary eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time… I could’ve saved you and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t good enough to help you. I’m so sorry.” Dean whispers, half to the victims and half to his younger brother, thousands of miles away and unable to hear his plea.

He gets to the motel room he rented with his duffle slung over his shoulder and stands outside the door with the key in his hand, almost afraid to enter, lest he finds another sick and twisted scene inside. He exhales roughly and shoves the key into the door and strides in.

All that's inside his cheap bottle of gas station whiskey and a pack of menthols.

He drops his duffle on the extra twin bed before scooping up his liquor and smokes. He wants to erase this entire hunt from his mind if he can.

Oh, how he wants to.

Three hours later his whole pack is gone, cigarette butts shoved into an old ashtray, and 3/4th the bottle of whiskey is sitting harshly in his stomach. Dean can’t stop picturing that family as his own. Thoughts of his father’s anger circle inside his mind like a tornado.

“I told you to watch out for Sammy, boy! Do you even use that brain other than to continuously disappoint me and fail your brother? To fail Mary?”

HIT

“I left you alone for two weeks! TWO WEEKS THAT'S ALL! Now Sam has run off and you’re going to pay for it.”

HIT

“So you blew through all the money I left you and now you’re turning tricks like some little faggot? You’re going to influence Sammy to that shit and I won’t allow my sons to be like that.”

HIT

With each memory of John rushing back into Dean’s mind, he can still feel the physical hits coming. His dad was right. This would never have happened if he hadn’t been more careful. If he had protected Sam like he was told to. If he had been a better son.

He finishes the last of the whiskey as the screams of his father’s voice start to fade back into the black void inside his mind. But the moment the last drop of liquor touches his tongue, he breaks. Every punch landed by his father that he took in order to protect Sam comes rushing back. Every harsh word and drunken fight he got into. Every argument with Sam over being too controlling, too much of a soldier.

Dean feels sick.

The toilet in that crappy motel room has certainly seen better days, but no matter how much Dean vomits, he stays just as drunk.

In a moment of blind anger, he destroys the kitchenette, the TV, and the nightstand. He chucks the empty whiskey bottle at the wall and watches the glass fly everywhere as it shatters.

He absent-mindedly picks up a large piece of glass.

This could kill me. One quick and easy slash to my neck or wrist and that’d be it. No more pain for Sam, and no more disappointment for dad.

He lets his hand drop to his side and allows the shard to fall to the floor. This isn’t the first time he’s had thoughts like this in moments of weakness, but it's certainly the first time there was a calm push behind it. He collapses to his knees with a broken sob. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He's tired.

God, he is so tired.

Dean isn’t sure when he decided this was his only option to stop the deep visceral pain he’s feeling, but it's where he’s at now.

Swallow all the pills in the med bag? No, that's what bitches and girls do, plus… it's painful.

Slit his wrists in a nice warm bath? Even worse than pills! You really are some kind of faggot, aren’t you?

Shotgun to the face? Now that's the man’s way out.

He pauses, looking over to his favorite sawed-off. It’ll be an absolute mess if that’s the way he goes. He thinks again to the family he couldn’t save; how gory and horrific it was. He shudders and breathes in sharply. He can’t do that to someone else, especially not some innocent civilian.

“Of course,” he mutters under his breath “I have a rope in the trunk.” So that’s the plan.

He stuffs all his shit into his duffle, writes out an apology to Sam, Bobby, and John (it’s a suicide note, but it doesn’t explain anything), and then he ties a military-grade noose. He finds a chair that isn’t completely destroyed by his earlier rage and begins to tie the rope onto the ceiling fan.

He stands there for a moment, contemplating. “Am I really about to do this? I’ve fought monsters and demons and ghosts for twenty years and this is where it ends?”

He shakes his head and shrugs.

“Always knew I'd die before thirty.”

He raises the noose to his head and just as he is about to slide it around his throat… The chair breaks apart, and he's left lying on his back with the wind knocked out of him.

“FUCK!” he manages to yell out before his lungs and chest start burning again. Tears begin to pinprick at his eyes as he lays motionless (and probably concussed, he didn’t break his fall at all). “I can’t even kill myself right.” he thinks to himself.

Slowly, he gets himself off the floor, groaning at the pain in his skull and back as he does. Crawling over to his bed, he sees the glass shard he dropped earlier.

“I just want to stop this fucking FEELING” his mind screams. “Just do SOMETHING you worthless son of a bitch!”

He picks the glass back up.

Everything is hazy when his brain starts to come into focus again. His hands feel slick and wet, so he brings them to his face to see what he touched.

Blood.

His own blood.

Three long gashes across his forearm, roughly a quarter-inch deep and four inches long each. He needs to stitch himself up for sure.

30 minutes later and it just looks like a hunt gone bad, his arm is sewn up and all the motel towels are stained red.

For a fleeting moment, he feels at peace. The rush of discovering what he did in a fog of failing to kill himself and the overwhelming feeling of failing his family, he feels like this was something he deserved. Like he deserved to be punished.

After an hour of dissociating and staring at the wall, he passes out and sinks into a moment of silent nothingness. No nightmares, not yet.

Dean practically jumps out of his skin when he hears Cas’s voice from the doorway.

“Dean? You look pale. What's going on?” Castiel asks with his familiar cadence.

Dean wishes he knew what brought that memory back up. Instead, he plasters on a fake smile and shakes his head reassuringly the best he can.

“Nothing Cas, just thinking I guess. What took you so long? You burn the popcorn or somethin?” Dean knows he sounds insincere, he knows that Cas knows, too. He doesn't want Cas to worry any more than he already does, though.

“Dean, your heart rate sped up and you were on the verge of hyperventilating, what happened?”

Damn it. He should’ve known Cas could still do that weird x-ray angel shit. Instead of trying to hide it further, he sighs and motions for Castiel to sit beside him on the couch.

However, he blanches when Cas passes behind him and brushes his hand against Dean’s shoulder. Cas sits down carefully, not to overwhelm Dean. Castiel has seen him during a flashback before, especially after hell. Cas looks inviting, ready to listen to whatever Dean has to say. Cas was always trying to be open with him lately, Dean knows it’s because of the struggles the last six months.

Cas dying, if briefly. Dean ALMOST dying, because of it.

Wait…

That's when Dean realizes.

Every time he’s lost someone, it's been bad. Drunk passed out on the floor, let Baby be filthy, run into hunts without any concern for his safety, bad…

The two worst times were when he lost Sammy, and when he thought he lost Cas to the Empty.

Dean must’ve been sitting there with a strange look on his face for a while cause Cas reaches out gingerly to silently ask if he’s alright. Dean gives him a half-smile and lets out the breath he was apparently holding.

“Cas, did I ever tell you about what I did in 2004 when Sam was off at Stanford and I was hunting by myself?”

Cas tilts his head in that endearing way he always does, “Not that I recall. Is something from back then troubling you now still?”

Dean clenches his jaw and runs a hand over his mouth, a nervous tic he picked up from John decades ago. “I did something similar back then to what I did in that barn. I gave up.”

Castiel’s eyes widen a bit, starting to understand what Dean is trying to say, but staying silent, to let him get this out.

Dean cracks a wry chuckle, “y’know, when you pulled me outta hell and into my body again, I was surprised you wiped the slate and got rid of all my scars.” He glances at Castiel, just for a moment, to see his reaction. It's soft but a little confused.

“At the time, I thought you would like to come back whole. A fresh start after what you went through in hell. I know now that life is about the imperfections and that the littlest things have meaning and memories. I’m sorry if I took those from you, Dean.” Cas meets Dean’s eyes with apologetic fondness and sincerity.

“Cas, it's okay. Really. Sometimes… I don't know, there's some scars I just miss sometimes.” He runs his hand along his forearm, where the self-harm scars would’ve been. “The ones that were here… they gave me a constant reminder of what almost happened. What I almost did.” Dean can feel his face getting warm as he talks about it, eyes watering up but no tears slip down his face.

Cas seems to nod along, waiting for him to continue with concerned patience. “I tried to kill myself back in ‘04. Sam was gone and doing fine without me, he had Jess. Dad was pissed at me for not getting him to stay and hunt. I had no one. I hit a low point after finding a really fucked up case about a vengeful spirit that gutted a family, father, and two sons…” Dean chokes up, as he pictures the glazed eyes of the corpses he found. A shiver runs down his spine as he can still picture it like it was yesterday.

“You saw your father and Sam in them and it brought up a lot of emotions, that’s understandable.” Cas tries to reassure him but doesn’t quite understand what Dean’s trying to get at.

“I got drunk after I salt and burned the spirit's corpse. I felt empty inside and like nobody needed me. I couldn’t save those kids and I didn't see any point in saving myself…” tears are now flowing gently down Dean’s face as he tries to push out what he needs to say, what he needs Cas to understand about this. “When you, when you said all that stuff before you left… I felt that same exact way. Even though I had Sam and Jack and then the whole bullshit after with Chuck and Lucifer and Michael… I felt so damn alone. Like I’d failed you, cause I couldn’t even save someone I love the most.” Dean’s voice goes harsh as he full-on sobs at those last few words.

The past few months since Castiel has been back, they haven’t talked about Cas's confession before being taken by the Empty, and Dean hasn’t said it aloud (even though his mind is screaming those three words every time he looks at Cas). Dean feels Cas touch his hand gently, reverently. A sob violently racks his body as he looks up into blue eyes also filled with tears.

“I’m so sorry Dean. I’m sorry.” the last word catches in his throat as Dean grabs his hand fully, intertwining their fingers.

“I know Cas. You did it to save me. You seem to keep doing that, huh? From hell, saying yes to Michael, Billie, from myself…” Dean softly strokes his thumb against Cas’s hand while tear tracks continue to stain his face. “Cas, thank you. I know I’ll never be able to pay you back for all that you’ve done for me and for Sam but… thank you.”

They lock eyes for a moment, Dean knows Cas loves him and he knows he loves Cas. He can’t think of a goddamn thing standing in the way right now. Dean releases Cas’s hand, cups his face, and brings their lips together, finally.

It takes a moment for Castiel to understand what's happening, but he quickly catches up and kisses Dean back fervently.

Cas tastes like summer rain after a long drought, like lightning and thunder all at once, like earth and something ethereal Dean can’t quite place. Cas tastes like coming home, and he is.

“Me too, Cas. Son of a bitch, I love you too.” he whispers into Cas’s mouth as Cas lets out a sob-laugh.

They pull apart for a moment, hands still against each other's cheeks. Communicating with their eyes is something they’ve mastered after 12 years, but there's something unknown now. Something new, something hopeful. And dammit if Dean isn't going to latch on to that hope.

They decide on an old western, Dean’s seen it a hundred times before. They’re leaning into each other silently watching as Dean’s eyes begin to close. He can feel Cas running his fingers against his arm, where those scars would’ve been. It's then, in the comfort of his Angel, that Dean falls fast asleep.

For the first time in 40 years, he doesn’t have nightmares. Not of yellow eyes, not of losing Sammy; not of John’s anger, not of hell; the apocalypse, Michael, Chuck, losing Cas�� it all feels distant and far behind him now. When Dean wakes again, Cas still has his arms around him, eyes closed, and is running his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Dean knows all his trauma won't just vanish, but in this moment with Cas...it feels possible.

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captainpufferfish · 4 years ago

Text

Hurts More Than Just a Memory

AO3

(logan’s birthday fic!!)

Summary:

Logan's got a lot of memories.

Not all of them are good.

(tws for unsympathetic patton, misgendering, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, memory alteration, arguing, ask to tag for anything else!!)

Logan cursed. That was quite out of character for them, but seeing as they had been trying to clear out Thomas’s long term memory and had actually done... this, they felt that it was warranted.

Thomas’s long term memory needed to be cleared out once per year, so that he could get rid of memories that he didn’t need and recover the ones that he did. As Thomas’s brain, it was Logan’s job to do this.

Usually, Patton helped them, because they both shared the concept of memories- Patton usually foresaw the more sentimental and nostalgic side, while they were in charge of the memory itself- but since the Moral side was currently out in the imagination with everyone else, they had to do it alone.

Which wasn’t pleasant.

The way that Long Term worked was most accurately depicted in the movie Inside Out, except the memories weren’t conveniently color-coded, were far heavier and the shelves were more like the kind you would find in a bowling alley. The way the movie showed it was also heavily simplified- not only was there Thomas’s Long Term, but each of the sides as well.

They had a library, of sorts, but with the same shelves as Thomas’s space, and each of them had their own shelves. Everyone’s memories could only be touched or viewed by the person that they belonged to, but because cataloging them was Logan’s (and up till recently Patton’s) job, they had access to everything.

So obviously they ended up fucking it up.

They had nearly finished organizing their own shelf, the final shelf they had to do, but they had reached up to rub their aching shoulder and one of the memories (a particularly heavy one, judging by the thud it made when it hit the ground) slipped out of their grasp and rolled away from them. They had chased after it and had of course forgotten about the other ones they were holding, which of course fell to the ground, rolling in the same direction. (They really wished that they had fixed the slight angle of the floor at that moment.)

They ran down the aisle, losing sight of them as they rolled under Virgil’s shelf and towards the clearing.

And froze as they realized where they were.

The viewing room.

They cursed every small inconvenience that caused them to be standing in that doorway, watching as the grey, faded memories teetered on the edge of the podium, about to fall into the dusty old pipe that would broadcast them throughout the mind palace. Because today couldn’t get any worse.

They stepped closer.

Wrong choice.

The last thing they heard was the orbs crashing into the pipe, and then everything went black.

Curiosity ran down the hallway that connected Fear's room to everyone else's. They were visibly smaller, almost a child, and instead of their usual outfit, they were wearing an oversized blue sweater, jeans, and a giant lab coat that dragged along the floor behind them. They were looking back at someone, laughing slightly as they burst through the door.

“Hi Fear! You’re not gonna believe what happened!”

Fear looked down from where he was sitting on a shelf, a small smile on his face as he listened to Curiosity ramble.

“Lies told me and Creativity that we could eat bugs and then we searched it online and the computer said that we could so Creativity made bug candy but then I tried to eat it but the bug was alive so I spat the bug out and the other Creativity screamed so Lies screamed so I screamed and then Joy smashed the bug with a broom because he doesn’t like spiders and so I took a closer look at the spider guts and now I have a pot full of spider guts!”

“...Nice! Please don’t show me!”

Curiosity giggled and climbed onto the desk, nearly falling as they sat on the shelf next to Fear. “You’re really cool, Spooks! You’re my favorite brother!”

“Thanks, Asteroid.” He shrugged and hid his smile behind his hoodie paws.

The two creativities ran in, matching shocked looks on their faces as they made various noises of protest, “We thought we were your favorite brothers!”

“Great, it’s Thing One and Thing Two.”

The two Creativities dissolved into an argument about who was Thing One and who was Thing Two, and as Fear broke up the argument by saying that Green was Thing One and Red was Thing Two, (because stupid, immature humor came before butterflies and rainbows, apparently) Curiosity grinned. There was no place they would rather be.

Curiosity huddled under their blanket, tears spilling down their face as they listened to the argument happening outside.

“You can’t stay here, Fear. Listen, I’m sorry, but Thomas needs to be good, and your Paranoia doesn’t help him. Neither do Lies or Green! You’re making him...you’re making him a b̪͇̣̘̳̝̎͜ḁ̡̻̘ͦ͆ͅd͑͏̝̙̥̻̝͎ ̫͓͖͇ͣ̔̆̚͠p̻͎̯̙̖̾ͯ̍͢e̡̘̲̳͕̊̿rͤ͏̙̗̙̰̰s̵̻̙̒ͣö̥̞̬̲́̉̐̒͠n̻̥̺͉̦͍͍̒̐͌͘!”

“Joy, please! I can help them, we can help them get better! And what about your “Good Sides”? This will destroy Curio, you know they spend all of their time with Lies! And Red loves his brother! You’re just being s̆ͬ͗͑҉̘̣͖̮̬̮̥ͅe̛̞̤̩ͪ̄̄l̮͙̜̟̮̯̗̋͞f̷̞̘͚̥̭ͣ͊į̙̠̦̥̳̟̎͐ͫ̈́s̖̣͍͎̠͛ͯ͌͡ḧ̯̙̖̘ͪ͛ͬ͜ !”

“So I’m the one who’s being s̆ͬ͗͑҉̘̣͖̮̬̮̥ͅe̛̞̤̩ͪ̄̄l̮͙̜̟̮̯̗̋͞f̷̞̘͚̥̭ͣ͊į̙̠̦̥̳̟̎͐ͫ̈́s̖̣͍͎̠͛ͯ͌͡ḧ̯̙̖̘ͪ͛ͬ͜? At least I’m doing what’s best for T̎ͥ͏͇̬h͉̗̰̲̬̹̽͑̊̉͝ȯ͇̪m̡̭̯̥͒ͫ̽a̤̱͔̜̐̊͞s̛̬̣̲͆͛̎! You’re just m̛̭͍͔͍̈̀o̵̺̩̣̭̹͚̱͂ñ̰̹ͧ͡s̵̟̪̱̟͉͇̦̎t̩̟͔̯̗̥͋̋̽ͭ͝e̲̘͚ͩ̽͟r̵̲̭͚͎̳͋̒͋ !”

“At least I’m not hurting anyone!”

“You’re not hurting anyone? Oh, right, anyone except T̎ͥ͏͇̬h͉̗̰̲̬̹̽͑̊̉͝ȯ͇̪m̡̭̯̥͒ͫ̽a̤̱͔̜̐̊͞s̛̬̣̲͆͛̎ !”

“I’m not hurting T̎ͥ͏͇̬h͉̗̰̲̬̹̽͑̊̉͝ȯ͇̪m̡̭̯̥͒ͫ̽a̤̱͔̜̐̊͞s̛̬̣̲͆͛̎, I’m helping him, you’re just so close-minded that anything you think is bad has to be gotten rid of! You’re the V̡͈̖̮̰͚̥̂ͭi̵̺͎̠͐̓͑ͯl̢̮͉̗͕̽ͮ̌l̿͑͏̺̙̪̗̙a̡͔̮̦̳̤̠͈ͬ͆̄ị͚̳͈̙̻͊̽͘n̜̩͛̀̄ͅ here!”

“I’m the V̡͈̖̮̰͚̥̂ͭi̵̺͎̠͐̓͑ͯl̢̮͉̗͕̽ͮ̌l̿͑͏̺̙̪̗̙a̡͔̮̦̳̤̠͈ͬ͆̄ị͚̳͈̙̻͊̽͘n̜̩͛̀̄ͅ? At least you look the part!”

They breathed out a small sob, curling in closer to the others. They were all in similar states: Lies was curled up next to them, swiping furiously at his tears with his beanie and muttering angrily, quietly enough that Joy and Fear couldn’t hear him. Green and Red were whispering reassurances as they listened to the second-youngest and the oldest tear apart their family.

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

It was later that night when Curio heard something. Red had told them that only him, Curio, Lies, and Green knew about the room. But they were all in the room.

So the door shouldn’t be opening.

They stifled a small gasp and slowly, trying to remain in the darkness of the corner, slid under the cabinet, brushing aside all of the fairy lights and blankets they had stored under there. (They were the only one small enough to fit underneath, seeing as the only other one who theoretically could get in presumably didn’t have access to the room.)

They watched in silent horror as the small figure, one who would have been indiscernible if not for the shine that reflected off the lenses of polka-dotted glasses and the faint pale blue aura that surrounded him, crept towards the pile their brothers were sleeping.

They watched as the figure leaned in closer to the sides, placing his hands on each of their foreheads.

They watched as the figure pulled away with four translucent spheres, each of which faintly glowed a bluish-purple color.

They watched as Patton sent to memories where only he and Curio could- Memory Dump. (Turns out, a few years later Inside Out got the right idea, just made it ten times flashier.)

They watched as Green and Lies were taken.

“Why am I here? What’s going on? Where’s Lies and Green? Where’s Fear?

“Logic, stop it. You aren’t Curiosity anymore, act like it.”

“Just one visit? Please?”

“Logic, I’ve told you time and time again, you can’t visit them! They’ll hurt you, okay? Dark Sides are bad.”

“Please, just. Just leave me alone!”

“Come on Logic, you know that you’re not supposed to act like this. Good children do what they’re told, and besides! You wouldn’t want me to leave, would you? At least I listen.”

“Moral- Dad. Could you please just use my correct pronouns? Once?”

“Oh, of course! You’re such a cool guy, Logic!”

“I’m not a guy.”

“That’s not the point though! You’re so silly, Lolo!”

“I know that we’re getting closer to the other sides, okay Logan? But just remember. I left you with the memories of before for a reason. If you tell anyone else, I’ll take them away. Permanently. Now go bother Virgil.”

“Patton? Virgil? Roman? Do you remember what day it is?”

“Oh, Lolo! Is it clearout day today? I’m so sorry, I promised Roman I would go into the Imagination with him today!”

“O-Of course. That’s all that’s happening today. Yes. I’m going to leave now.”

“Wow, he seemed stressed. Are we sure that we aren’t missing anything? November Third isn’t an important day for anyone, right?”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Virgil. Let’s go.”

Six sides woke up from being knocked out, four with tears in their eyes. One of the other two was faking.

The other stayed asleep, trying desperately to avoid the conversation that was inevitably going to happen.

#jaz writes #sanders sides fanfiction #logan angst #nb!logan #u!patton #tw misgendering #tw memory alteration #tw gaslighting #tw manipulation #happy birthday logan

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jovialjudgebonkalmond · 5 years ago

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Inevitable, Ch 2

Once again, obvious disclaimer, I don’t own the characters or universe in which the story takes place - yes internet I am that old, thank you.

Summary: Monty is alive, in jail. A recounting of his experiences and memories and basically all those flashbacks we weren’t given in season 4 that I am butthurt about. It is AU in the sense that he is still alive whilst Clay & Co are attempting to frame him for Bryce’s murder. Obvious spoiler alerts if you haven’t seen season 4.

Pairings will be Monty x Winston mainly. So far this is all from Monty’s POV but that may change down the line.

Warnings include violence, sex, drug use, rape, murder, and basically everything graphic and bad you can imagine. Will absolutely contain smut. Oh, and swearing. This chapter has the added benefit of mention’s of suicide (but given the show’s content I’m sure you saw this coming?), and also domestic abuse/child abuse. Oh and homophobic slurs.

Obligatory reminder: This is from Monty’s point of view. Clearly he didn’t view his actions with the totality of how devastatingly monsterous they were. I condemn his actions, he’s a rapist and deserved jail time. As we saw in s3 and in snippets of s4 he didn’t share that point of view. I think Monty is a dynamic character that’s interesting and I relate a lot to his back story. That’s why I was motivated to write this.

Ch 2 word count: 5,554 words (sorry not sorry guys)

Monty braced his hands on the edges of the tiny stainless steel sink, squinting as he gazed into the grimy sheet of metal bolted to the wall that was supposed to function as a mirror. He could see a blur of his skin, and the orange of his shirt...and that was it. His face was throbbing and he couldn't eat his breakfast. "Fuck." He muttered to himself, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He held his breath, his aching ribs adding to the cacophony of pain of his head and hand. His hand was swollen across his knuckles and stiff, the muscles in his right arm trembling just with the effort of hanging on to the sink. He reached up with his left hand and ran it over his jaw. It, too, was swollen. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, gripping his molars with his fingers and placing his thumbs at the base of his jaw. His body shuddered and his stomach growled loudly.

I know, we're gonna fix this.

He jerked his jaw down, over, and then up in a swift, fluid motion. It made a sickeningly loud pop and Monty held back a retch, his body going from hot to cold as he felt his adrenaline pounding through his veins uncontrolled. He took a few choking, deep breaths and began to pace in a small circle, breathing hard through his nose. He dropped to the floor gracefully into a plank position as he had a thousand times for football drills, braced himself on his hands while his broken knuckles screamed at him. He lowered himself to the floor and sucked in a deep breath, his nose almost grazing the concrete. He exhaled and pushed up, hearing his ribs crack loudly as they shifted. They felt wrong inside of him, like they didn't fit where they belonged and it made it hard to breathe. He inhaled and lowered himself again, pushing through the pain. He felt powerless. He carried on, not counting reps as he picked up a smooth and even pace. He was lost inside himself, no concept of time passing. There were no clocks, save for the one on the microwave in the common room and he wasn't there right now.

"Your mother, she hasn't stopped crying since they pick you up." His father stated with a heavy accent.He felt a pang of shame in his chest and closed his eyes for a moment, the shackles hanging like a dead weight off his wrists. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling suddenly dry and tight.

"I'm sorry." he said thickly, his back stiff. His fear felt alive inside of him, like it had a mind of its own. He avoided eye contact with his father. He could feel the rage radiating off of him and he felt the all too familiar dread sinking in.

"I bust my ass for this family, and this is what you do?" His father continued, leaning forward. Monty hazarded a glance at him from the corner of his eye, not daring to breathe. He blinked, feeling his mind beginning to reel.

"Answer me!"

Monty jumped and blinked again, feeling stupid and cornered. His heart was racing.

"What? What answer do you want?" He hated hearing the sound of his own desperation in his voice, the way it broke at the end.

"Is it true? What they're saying?"

Monty felt his body stiffen even more, if that was at all possible. He tried to shrug it off, blinking again.

"What are- what are they saying?" He stammered. It felt as though there was a fist clamped around his throat.

"You damn well know."

Monty stared straight ahead of him, feeling the all too familiar sensation of his blood pounding in his ears and through his veins. He clenched his jaw and stayed silent.

"They're saying that you assaulted a kid. That you sexually assaulted a kid. A boy! That true?" He couldn't help but notice the tone his father's voice took on at the word 'boy'.

"It wasn't sexual assault. I was just...messin' with him." Monty said, shifting his shoulders as though his shuffling could make his actions go away, like an irritating fly tickling his skin.

"You were messing with him?" His dad blinked, his eyes darkening, "The way they said? Why would you do that shit? To a boy? Are you some kind of faggot?!" The disgust in his voice was palpable, but it wasn't the fact that he was being charged with sexual assault that disgusted him so, that much was glaringly clear.

Monty's body felt hot all over, his eyes beginning to well with tears. He clenched his jaw again and stole his resolve.

"What if I was dad? What if I was?" He locked his gaze on his father's dark, furious eyes. The rage and contempt the look he was met with took his breath away.

"You're going to prison. You know what they do to guys like you in there?" He scanned him up and down quickly, as though sizing him up.

"And what do they do? Describe it." He mumbled defiantly, squaring his chin.

"You're going to get beat to shit. At the minimum. They will beat you down."

Monty leaned back, unable to stop himself. What the fuck did it matter now anyway.

"Yeah, well, at least none of them will be my dad."

He could see the storm in his father's eyes, and he was suddenly grateful he was in jail. The chair scraped on the concrete as his dad stood, towering over him with the blackest eyes he had ever seen. Mr. de la Cruz was staring at him as though he had known it all along.

"Are you a faggot?" He asked, with a tone that suggested he already had the answer.

Fuck it, he thought, and fuck you.

He looked up and locked eyes with the man whom he had feared, loathed, worshiped... his whole life.

"Sure."

The moment could have lasted an eternity. His father stared at him in disgusted silence before spitting in his face and walking out, leaving him sitting there alone in his shackles. It hurt more than a fist. He closed his eyes, feeling as though his heart was shattering in his chest. The spit was hot and sticky, burning his left eye it landed on. He clenched his jaw again, his eyebrows furrowing as he fought back his tears. He tried to wipe the spit off of his face but his shackles stopped him from being able to reach. He rubbed the side of his face on his shoulder as though he could wipe away his shame with it, his breathing ragged.

"Hey inmate."

Monty jumped, the voice knocking him back to reality. He stood carefully, his body aching at his lack of forgiveness to it, and looked at the C.O.

"Yes sir?"

"You have an appointment with your lawyer. Come on."

He blinked slowly, following the guard out of his cell. I don't have a lawyer..?

The guard marched him to a set of doors where he was pat down and shackled once more. They took him down a hallway he had never been down before, the shackles making his strides short and awkward, forcing him to hunch forward. It made him look small. The hall had rooms with windows that opened to the hallway. The guard opened one of the doors and Monty followed him inside.

There was a woman sitting at a large table with several file folders. Her black hair was up in a bun and she was wearing a pantsuit with a blouse. It was jarring, seeing someone outside of uniform or the orange jumpsuit. He shuffled toward the table and she glanced up at him, surveying him quietly with blue eyes he couldn't read. He sat down across from her and tried to shuffle his chair closer to the table with little success.

The guard stepped in and closed the door. The woman turned her attention from him to the guard.

"You can wait outside." She dismissed him. He looked as though he was going to argue with her but then thought better of it and left. Monty could see him watching them through the glass.

"Hello Mr. de la Cruz." She said, opening one of the files and glancing at it before looking back at him. "I am Eva Guerrero. I am a defense attorney and I work for a non-profit organization, and we were forwarded your case and I am here to offer you legal representation for your trial, if you choose to have one. I have spent some time reviewing your case and I have a few thoughts, and a few questions."

Monty sat there, staring at her for awhile. He blinked while he waited for his brain to catch up. It didn't.

"Okay." He said curtly, instantly on the defensive.

"You presently have two charges filed against you. That is correct? The sexual assault of Tyler Down and the murder of Bryce Walker..?"

Monty stood in the dim light of his bedroom, one of the bulbs in the ceiling was burnt out. It cast long shadows up the dark beige walls. It made the hole he punched in his white door look cavernous. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, his breathing steady and calm...resolute. Tears trickled silently down his face, pooling on the wooden surface of his dresser. They slipped off the chips and dings in the surface and flowed off of the edge. His arm trembled as it held the cold steel of the gun, pressing into the side of his temple. His finger curled around the trigger, his other hand pressed on the top of the dresser to brace himself. There was only one bullet in the chamber, but he only needed one.

"Where are you, you son of a bitch!" His father roared, bursting into the room and yanking him from his thoughts. His blood pounded in his ears and he rounded on the taller man, not even feeling human anymore.

"You wanna go old man?!" Monty yelled, taking the gun away from his own face and leveling it at the chest of his father, finger still poised on the trigger. The man staggered back, clearly intoxicated. His face flashed shock for a moment before he began to laugh, contempt replacing his former fearful expression as though it had never existed. Monty's heart was hammering in his chest like it was going to explode. His body was moving outside of his control, his desperation having a mind of its own and an appetite for destruction.

"You going to shoot me?" The older man laughed again and muttered derisively in Spanish before closing the space between them, leaning into the gun. "Do it then. You're the man now."

Monty locked eyes with his monster, his boogeyman, and felt his resolve begin to crumble just as he always crumbled under his father's fists and rage. He lowered the gun and made to shove passed him to get through the door but his dad grabbed him roughly around his abdomen and chucked him into it. He heard it crack under his weight and his lungs strained as the wind was knocked out of him. He choked and gasped for a moment, in a heap on the ground still holding the gun.

"You're just a coward." His dad hissed, booting him hard in the ribs. He hated himself for not being able to hold back his whimper at the pain. "Were you fucking crying? Crying like a lady-boy? Like a faggot?!"

He sucked in a ragged breath and dragged himself to his feet, running haphazardly through the hallway. He needed to get the fuck out of here before this ended in regret. His dad pursued him, hot on his tail, stopping momentarily to grab a bottle of liquor off of the counter.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going you little shit?!"

"I'm getting the fuck out of here!" Monty yelled, opening the front door. His dad grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him backwards, slamming him against the wall and backhanded him. He tasted blood. He shoved his dad as hard as he could, away from him and ran out the door without looking back. His dad staggered drunkenly and fell over. It didn't stop him for long, just slowed him down momentarily, Monty heard his drunken shuffling footsteps chasing him out the door.

"Come back here you coward!" He yelled, chucking the bottle at Monty. It shattered beside his feet and he stepped on the glass. It crunched under the soles of his shoes, gritty on the gravel driveway. The alcohol splashed up his pants, staining and stinking. He fumbled for his keys, hands shaking and jerking as adrenaline sent his nerves haywire. He popped the safety back on the gun and tossed it in the back storage compartment. He started the Jeep and threw it in reverse, slamming his foot on the gas and gunning it down the driveway. His tires screeched shrilly on the pavement and the SUV lurched with his sudden movements.

He put the Jeep into drive and stomped on the gas, not knowing where he was going. There was nothing but the sound of his engine, the tires rumbling on the pavement noisily and his suspension rattling every so often as he went over a bump or pothole in the road. And his seemingly-endless-blood pounding in his ears-level rage. His vision blurred with tears, the road and lights melted blurs whipping passed him with no recognition. He sobbed, unable to catch his breath. His chest felt empty, like a gaping wound raw and shredded on the edges. Minutes turned into hours and became nothing. Eventually he had no energy left to sob, no tears left to cry.

He eased off of the gas pedal and soaked in the emptiness that consumed him. The air around him was cold and light, the stars dancing above him and the moon hung over it all like a fucking spotlight for his shit show.

He slowed and stopped, realizing he recognized the house he was in front of. His heart skipped a beat. He shouldn't be here. He put the Jeep in park and pushed the door open, stepping out of the vehicle. He left the door open as he walked ponderously along the curb. The house was like a mansion, towering on top of a small expensively landscaped hill. With a huge, wall-like cement fence with wrought iron details on top. Four pillars boarded each edge of the horse-shoe shaped driveway, one of those fancy ones that you can drive in and out of in a half circle. The pillars had lamps on top made out of matching wrought iron that bathed him in golden light, like a caricature of an angel.

He didn't belong here.

He stood at the mouth of the driveway, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He sighed, turning to go when he saw a figure approaching him. The tall, slender, dark haired young man stepped into the light. His dark, brown eyes were muddied with confusion. He wore a light coat thrown over a grey cable knit sweater and olive coloured slacks, lacking his usual carefully chosen attire. It was evident he just threw it on in a hurry to run outside. His heavy brows furrowed, his expression flipping rapidly from confusion to concern.

"Monty- what are you doing here? My parents are actually home...you probably don't want to- why are you bleeding? Are you ok?!" He stumbled his words in a rush.

Monty stood there with his arms limp at his side for a few moments, trying to feel anything other than the brokenness that consumed him. He knew the desperation showed on his face like an open book and he loathed himself for it. He could never hide it, not in front of Winston. The other boy had a way of running his fingers over his spine and cracking him open like a dam waiting to flood the world. And tonight, he was nothing if not an open wound.

"Monty?!" Winston insisted, taking another step towards him.

"Bryce is dead." He said hollowly.

Winston blinked, glancing back to the house and then back to Monty. He closed the space between them, Monty's heart leaping into his throat. Winston took his hand and ran his fingers over his knuckles and palm with an aching tenderness.

"Okay, let's get out of here then." He said calmly. Damn him. Winston gave his hand a gentle squeeze and tilted his face to lock his warm eyes with Monty's avoidant gaze. Monty looked back at him knowing he wasn't able to hide his pain behind his mask anymore. He returned the gentle squeeze before walking back to the Jeep and climbing in, his heart racing once more. Winston climbed in the passenger seat, doing a double take at the gun in the back.

"Is that a gun?! What are you doing with a gun?! How did you even get a gun?!?!"

Monty clenched his jaw, starting the Jeep with a stuttering rumble. It was an old Jeep, and its age was showing. Monty couldn't help but feel uncomfortable having the boy who was used to so much luxury in his piece of shit SUV.

Although if Winston had any opinions, he kept them to himself. Monty glanced at the gun in the corner of his eye, barely tilting his face before looking at Winston for a moment and putting the vehicle in drive.

"It was a gift." He muttered, nonchalantly. Winston looked taken aback but didn't ask anymore questions as Monty drove off. Monty turned up the music, indicating he didn't want to talk anymore. Winston reached over and held Monty's hand that was resting in his lap. Monty didn't fight it or pull away, allowing the other boy to gently stroke his fingers. He felt the pounding rage and anxiety, poised for the attack, slowly recede under Winston's unfairly soft touch.

"They found him in the water...by the docks." Monty said thickly, the dam threatening to break again. "They say he was shot...he was murdered."

"Murdered?! Holy fuck..." Winston gasped, sucking in a quick breath. It was clear he was rattled. "Who would do that?"

"Oh I think I know." Monty said, a clearly menacing tone to his voice. "Cops hauled me in for questioning. Cuffed me and chucked my ass in the back seat and everything. What a fucking show."

Winston looked taken aback.

"But Bryce was your friend?! Why would they think you killed him?!" Winston asked, despite the gun sitting in the back of the Jeep like a verifiable elephant in the room.

"We had a fight before he was killed." Monty grumbled, stepping on the gas a little. "He was killed homecoming night."

Winston took a deep breath, surveying Monty carefully.

"While you were with me?"

"If I was fuckin' there he wouldn't be fuckin' dead right now!" Monty yelled. "I should have been there. I could have stopped it. Someone beat the shit out of him and shot him and threw him in the fuckin' water and I was off getting laid!"

Winston stayed silent for a few moments, gazing at the scenery as it whipped by. If his outburst or speeding bothered him, Monty couldn't tell. He seemed surprisingly unruffled by his rage. After more time passed Monty's resolve and anger subsided, having nothing to feed off of. He took a deep, tremulous breath.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, "I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault I wasn't there for him. It's mine-"

"Monty, don't blame yourself for this either." Winston cut him off. "There was nothing you could have done. You couldn't have known that would have happened and if you had tried to stop it they very likely would have killed you too. It would have taken someone incredibly dangerous to have done this. I didn't know Bryce very well, but he wouldn't have gone down without a fight."

Monty flinched, gripping the steering wheel tightly with one hand and his other hand trembled in Winston's. He drew in a shivering breath and shook his head, his brows furrowing deeply.

"If I had died too so be it. I should have been there, protecting him. I always protected him... he died alone."

His lip quivered as his eyes welled with tears once more. He wanted to punch himself in his own god damned face. He blinked rapidly, pushing his emotions back down and swallowed hard, flipping his turn signal on.

"That's not a road?" Winston said in confusion.

"That's the point." Monty said, his words catching when the Jeep thumped in and out of a rut jerking both boys around inside.

"I've never done this before." Winston said with a small laugh, "Gone off roading."

"What?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" Monty shook his head, putting the Jeep into 4x4 and glancing at the other boy. "Rich kids." He muttered incredulously. Winston shrugged and flopped around, his shoulder bumping into Monty's as the Jeep thrashed from side to side over the uneven ground. He laughed helplessly, shaking his head. He was knocked backwards as the SUV lurched upwards and then once again bumped into Monty and then the side of the door as it landed roughly, the suspension audibly creaking.

"Jesus can this thing even handle this?!" Winston wondered.

"It was built for this." Monty chuckled, easily matching his body's movements with the jerking of the Jeep, "How about you, pretty boy, can you handle it?" He almost purred, quirking an eyebrow teasingly. Winston shot him a half exasperated dirty look and shifted his weight surreptitiously and then he smirked, meeting the other boy's challenge.

"I think we both know I like being tossed around a little."

Monty responded by gunning the SUV over a ditch in the dirt road, and Winston grabbed the handle over his head to maintain his balance and ride out the bucking of the vehicle. The two shared a look and Monty grinned devilishly. He pressed the accelerator down slowly and evenly, the Jeep's tires kicking up sand that billowed around them like an angry cloud. He adjusted the steering wheel and pulled the SUV into a tight turn, the force tossing Winston to one side as he held the tires in a rotation. He sped up as the Jeep spun in a circle, the sand flying around them like debris in an explosion. The lights of the city and the moon over the ocean melted together, becoming a ribbon of colours swirling dizzyingly around them.

Monty wasn't watching where the Jeep was going, he didn't have to. He had perfect control of the vehicle's movements, he had done this countless times with the guys. He was watching Winston, couldn't take his eyes off of him if he had even tried. He watched the way his chest moved when he breathed, the way his expressions changed and the way his eyes were just so damned alive. Monty loved the way he would laugh or yelp, and knew exactly how to get each reaction. The thrill of it made his face feel flushed, his blood pounding for an altogether different reason. He bit his lip and closed his eyes for a moment before pulling the Jeep out of the doughnut turn and slamming on the brakes. Winston let out a little shriek as he was once again tossed from side to side, and then also back and forth with his long legs tangling like a clumsy giraffe.

"If I knew it was that easy to make you scream I would have done this a long time ago." Monty laughed, cutting the engine and smirking at Winston, his heart fluttering in his chest. Winston glanced at him through the dark lengths of his eyelashes and moistened his lips. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was a little ragged after being thrashed around like a rag-doll mercilessly for the last god-only-knows how long.

"I could think of a few other ways you could make me scream." He said breathily.

Monty yanked his seat belt off and practically dove at him, his hands grabbing the other boy's wavy hair as their lips crashed together. Monty had one leg on his centre console, the other was in between Winston's legs. Winston's fingertips dug into his back as he kissed back, his bruising lips meeting Monty's furious hunger with a relishing eagerness. Monty kissed him and pawed at him like he wanted to devour him and Winston's hands flew to his pants and popped the button with ease and unzipped them, running his hand over the other boy's obvious erection. He wanted to be devoured, consumed, destroyed. Monty gasped and made a soft, strangled sound as he broke their kiss.

"Fucking hell." He hissed grinding his hips into Winston's hand, "I want you." he added, his voice catching. And I shouldn't, he thought, I can't... this is going to be the death of me.

Winston laughed lowly, continuing to run his hand up and down Monty's rock hard length. He kissed him again, biting his bottom lip lightly as he pulled away.

"Take me home." He said flatly, his hand still rubbing Monty's achingly hard cock.

Monty blinked rapidly, his train of thought thrashing around not unlike Winston was being thrashed around moments ago.

"W...what?" He stuttered, gasping quietly and suppressing a moan with limited success.

"Take me home, Montgomery," Winston said, staring into Monty's eyes as he massaged his balls, "And fuck me properly."

"I don't think I can drive like this." Monty groaned as Winston's hand slipped away, tucking his throbbing cock back into his pants and zipping them back up with some difficulty.

"You're going to." Winston smirked, kissing him deeply and then pushing him away as he adjusted his own bulge in his pants.

Monty swallowed and looked at the lawyer before him. He had declined the legal aide appointed by the court, and he had assumed it was left at that. That he'd be deemed guilty and just rot or die where he fucking belonged.

"I didn't kill Bryce." He said coldly.

"I am aware. We've been contacted by someone who has compelling evidence for your innocence."

"Charlie?" Monty asked, meeting her eyes carefully. He already knew the answer to that question he realized with sickening dread.

"No, Charlie went to the police shortly after you were apprehended and confessed to lying to them to cover for you and that he had no idea of your true whereabouts that night. A boy named Winston Williams... contacted us seeking legal aide on your behalf," The lawyer said, reaching for one of the folders. "He can place you at his house at the time of the murder. He said you made some texts and the cell phone towers would be able to confirm your location which would be quite far from the location where Bryce was killed. He also has an article of your clothing that would possibly be useful, if people can confirm you wore it that night and haven't since."

Monty swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, willing his face to remain stagnant and leaned back, shaking his head. The betrayal by Charlie stung like the weight of a sword to the hilt of his spine. And then there was the Winston of it all.

"He just doesn't fucking give up, does he?" He muttered with an agonized hitch in his voice despite his best efforts.

"I mean, if I knew someone was innocent of a crime, I would want to speak out."

"Did he tell you I beat the shit out of him the night we met and I called him a fucking faggot?" Monty lashed out, he would have crossed his arms but his shackles prevented him from doing it so he just squared his shoulders and jaw and stared coldly at the woman in front of him who only wanted to help him. But he didn't want her fucking help, or Winston's for that matter.

The woman held his gaze, completely unfazed by his demeanor.

"He did, in fact, tell me that." She said with a quirked eyebrow. Monty was taken aback but tried to do his best not to let that show.

"So why the fuck would he want to help me." He said hollowly. The lawyer shrugged.

"Does that really matter? You're looking at life in jail or worse, right now with these charges."

"Maybe I fuckin' deserve it." Monty said, tilting his head challengingly.

"Maybe you do." She agreed calmly. "But I don't think you do. I think that's an easy way out. I think you're fucking giving up, throwing it away because its easier than facing the person you are and the problems you have. Its easier than admitting your life isn't going where you wanted it to, and that you regret the things you've done."

She tossed a file in his direction.

"I think life has been unreasonably hard on you, Montgomery, and I think the people and systems that were supposed to protect you and keep you safe didn't. I think you had a violent upbringing, and that you survived for a long time by yourself. I think the fact that you'd rather go to jail for a crime you didn't commit than willingly admit out loud that you spent the night with a boy who's only crime was maybe to love you enough to want to save you is cowardly. I think you feel like you don't deserve his concern, or his love for that matter, so you're running scared from that too. I think you've been scared for your whole life. And I think its time you fucking let that go. Because the people who've helped you become the young man standing before me would love to see you sitting here wallowing in your self pity. They'd love to see you disappear like another fucking statistic. I would like to think that someone who has survived as long as you have, someone who's fought as hard as you have would take all that anger and tell them to fuck themselves and build a real life for himself, and be fucking happy to spite them, in spite of them."

Monty felt his pulse tick in his neck and looked away before fixing her with a glare. That hit a nerve.

"I think you fucking think too much." He snarked, and smirked with a cocky lift of his eyebrow. "What would you know about it anyway."

She smiled calmly, and met his arrogance with her own ego.

"I had a bad childhood." She said flatly, not knowing she was using his own words against him, "I did eight years in federal for armed carjacking."

Monty sat there numbly, dumbfounded for a moment.

"And they let you be a lawyer?" He asked incredulously, "That explains a lot..."

"It wasn't easy, Montgomery, it took me almost twelve years after my sentence to even begin rebuilding my life. They said I would never amount to more than my crime. But I fucking did it and they can suck my dick." She began to collect the folders he hadn't even looked at yet, leaving one in front of him as she stood up.

"You're a lawyer, you're not supposed to talk like that." He mumbled, feeling panic flutter in his chest as his lifeline was packing up and leaving and it was all his own fault for pushing her away.

"Not in front of a judge anyway." She countered, snapping her briefcase shut.

"Think about what I said. I won't close your case yet, but don't waste anymore of my fucking time. Keep that, and read it." She warned as she walked away. She opened the door where the guard was waiting and he heard the sound of his boots as he came to fetch him.

His mind was reeling, spinning out of control as he shuffled behind the C.O. awkwardly holding his file.

"You have some mail." The C.O. said offhandedly. Monty blinked, wondering what it was. Was it a court summons? Was it Winston? Was it his family..? They stopped at the doors and the man uncuffed him around the wrists and ankles.

He handed Monty the letter, his expression unreadable.

"It came in awhile ago...but sometimes things here get lost on purpose."

"Why are you being nice to me?" Monty asked, suspicious as he took the letter.

"You're a human being. And I'd like to believe we can help people in here... sometimes."

"You must be new." Monty sighed. He walked back to his cell without a backwards glance. None of the other three inmates he shared a cell had returned yet, they must be at lunch. Monty's stomach growled insistently but he ripped open the letter instead, wanting the privacy to absorb the blow that was about to come. The paper was a file printed from the jails website, someone was requesting the right to visit him and it required his approval or denial.

Charles St. George.

#montgomery de la cruz #monty de la cruz #monty x winston #winston x monty #winston williams #13rw fanfiction #13rw #wonty

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whirlybirdwhat · 5 years ago

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Accidental Family Man Au

remember that one ask where I talked about some projects? This is one of them. Enjoy dad franky!

So it begins with Franky – a back alley repair in the illustrious mechanic city of Water 7 – a miracle engineering city, they call it, with intertwining roads of cars and rivers. Venice, if Venice was made of concrete and had a road system above its water system, twisting above houses and everything.

Franky used to be one of those engineers that created those miracles, but an accident later, and he’s the scourge of the city and half bionic, making his living in back alley repair shops where you either pay with cash or your life.

He never said he was a good guy, did he Ice Burg?

He still has connections though – and these connections lead to Iceburg, and to the Straw Hats.

Iceburg’s the mayor, of course, and while he doesn’t care much for his public image, he knows that if he starts accepting money from shady kids who showed up to his doorstep possibly covered in blood with a woman who he swears he’s seen before beside him, that maybe Water 7’s people will take a hit for harboring criminals.

But hey, He knows a guy already doesn’t he?

So he sends these kids and their broken van down to the Franky House to see if he would fix their beloved, broken, van.

The Straw Hats never reach it, because the woman (Robin) gets kidnapped and a fight breaks out, leading to the separation of the group,

So the story really begins with Franky and the little broken down RV called The Going Merry, previously belonging to the kid who’s standing in front of him, begging him to fix it.

More Hcs Below cut including actual dad Franky stuff lol

That kid is Usopp, and he’s asking because Franky’s the only repair man in the illustrious city of Water 7 that will possibly accept the cash that Usopp has to offer.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he attempts to kick the kid out and gets kidnapped in return.

Oops

So, Franky’s introduced to Ennies Lobby one of the worst places this side of the country – where people go and never come back, and hey, whats this kid doing kicking down the door?

Safe to say, Franky is rescued, and learns a little more of their story.

And Safe to say, Franky sees the woman they are going to save (him, and a bunch of teenagers and some 12 year old brat) and he near damn falls in love with her on sight and definitely does when he actually talks to her.

They save Robin, and start running – of course, Merry the van is just barely struggling to save all their added weight but they make it but also merry’s totaled.

So Franky shows them his pet project, The Thousand Sunny, supposed to be his super get away, home a way from home rv but with a few modifcations… the Straw Hat Gang has a new home. And a new crew member.

Franky learns everyone’s stories and about all the absolutely shady shit they are into. He learns he fits right in.

And then… then the moments start happening.

He helps Usopp fix up the Sunny, and teachers him about cars and such.

He and Chopper start bonding over bionics and medical shit that went into building his body.

Zoro and him geek out over comic heroes (this, at least in zoro’s part, is canon the big nerd.)

He helps Nami out with some headings and listens to her troubles.

Sanji and him go fishing one day and it’s the most surreal experience of Franky’s life because this teen is in a three-piece suit and catching giant fish out on the shore of some lake? What?

Franky gives Luffy advice and pulls him out of fights and shows him cool robot things.

And its two months in when Franky realizes – here is it actually typed out lmao

“In all honesty, Franky doesn’t know how it happens.

Well.

He has a vague idea.

(Can you save her? Please? Merry’s the best.)

But still – tracing the events that led up to him frantically calling Ice-for-brains at one am in the morning at a near abandoned gas station on the west coast was a hard task.

“Hello?”

Finally.

“Ice-for-brains,” He starts using the familiar name.

“Flunky? The hell? What are you calling me now?”

“Iceberg.” The use of his real name quiets him. He knows this is serious. Franky takes a deep breath, and exhales, saying the next words in a single breath. “I accidently became a dad to six crazy teenagers. Help.”

…

“Goddamnit bastard-berg this is no time to laugh!””

AND THEN HE GOES ON TO HAVE MORE DAD ADVENTURES INCLUDING:

Organizing the kids at Sabaody Park

being emotional support for all these kids trauma please world, give them a break

doing his best to say no to allowing luffy to swim with sharks but giving in anyway

being a component (aka fierce menacing bodyguard) in his daughter’s nami’s schemes

breaking up fights

Attempting to ground known criminals who may or may not be stronger than him

Modifying the RV so that they can have Brook and Jimbe on it as well

“MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!”

Overthrowing the government in at least three different countries because his kids wanted to

Doing experiments with illegal fireworks on Usopp’s behest

“Do you want to play catch” “Franky that’s dynamite that we found in the stach what the fuck- “Do you want to play catch” “…Yes.”

Explaining Safe Sex to teenagers who have biggers worries such as the government

Teaching them all how to drive. He thinks hius heart has popped out of his chest.

Snoring loudly on their tiny couch and everyone just dogpiling on him

Also I had this in my notes

So that’s a thing that’s going to happen!

Uh anyway uh PART TWO – THE OTHER FCKING STRAWHATS

Note: Everyone is aged down three years from pre TS ages to enforce the fact that 1) the government is fucking nuts for assigning bounties to these kids in this au 2) give more dad moments as while we all need a dad in our lives at any age it gives me more plausible reason here 3) plot related issues and the fact that this story takes place over several years and 4) the image of a 14 year old taking down the government is hilarious to me.

So.

Moving on.

Luffy – 14 years old and an absolute bastard

Luffy grew up in the port city of Fuusha as a way for Garp to keep an eye on him because of his family connections and make sure nothing bad happened to him - didn’t quite work out.

dads a terrorist, his brothers a world class criminal, his gramps is an abusive piece of shit but also weirdly protective marine officer, his family’s complicated.

he grew up in the seedy underbelly of the city and made friends with a lot of criminals (who helped him get out because hey that five year old who used to steal our food is a brat and maybe we should help him get out before he becomes to chaotic (too late) and becomes our friend (also too late) )

Among these criminals are Shanks, who wanders through once in a while, Buggy, begrudging friend, Jimbe, because he has connections, Crocodile, because this brats a bastard, and Rayleigh, among others.

Annoys them to make him his friend, continues annoying them afterwards.

He just thinks they’re neat.

Luffy leaves two months after Ace, his brother under Dadan’s, the local gang leaders, roof, leaves because Ace can’t tell him to stay behind anymore

but the govt got word now he’s on the run – Coby helps him escape

As such, Luffy grows up with a very very skewed moral compass as in canon but a bit more, and now literally is almost ten times more feral as he should be.

His goal is now to do whatever he wants, without people telling him what to do or that he can’t do that – He’s going to be free, damnit.

Franky understands and learns over time to adjust his Parenting Skills accordingly

Zoro – 16 and illegally owning a motorcycle because he thought the best way to improve his skill was to go out and hunt down people to fight, and of course he needs a motorcycle to do that, doesn’t he?

He was pulled over for speeding then taken in for being underage

He is also caught up in some bad stuff (fight circles, bounty’s, etc. this kids 16 and breaking grown men’s spines.)

Then comes Luffy who was also arrested for dine and dashing and is in the back seat.

Luffy, who after the police car pulls over, punches out the police officer, unlocks Zoros cuffs and tells him “Drive”

So they drive

“Hey, hey Zoro. Join my crew. It’ll be fun.”

“Anything you say captain”

knows Luffy for three seconds and is immediately down to murder with him

Its great

He wants to become the greatest sword fighter still, which is still a thing in my fantasy modern world, so anyway, picture this 16 year old going up to you and tell you to fight but he has a sword in his mouth and in both hands and the most dangerous look in his eye.

He and Luffy immediately rob a sword shop to find him new swords after they meet, it becomes a thing later on where they will steal (horribly, they literally crash in through the window every time because they have no subtly) something small from each city they visit.

Nami - 15 year old pick pocket in the city where luffy and zoro stop, just trying to scrap up some money to pay off her family’s debt.

Bellmere’s still alive damnit.

Nami thought Zoro and Luffy were police originally (because they are driving around in stolen police car) and tried to pull the ‘oh officer help me’ card when the people she stole from chased after her

To her surprise, it was two kids her age in the front seat.

Luffy: “get in”

she gets in

they dont talk about it

The people who were chasing her was Buggy’s gang who Luffy waves at as he goes by

Buggy sends a message to Shanks which is essentially “hey that brat u liked is still alive”

And Shanks is like “oh thank god” not knowing the terror he has unleashed upon the world

A month later Arlong has mysteriously disappeared and the Bell-mere farm is flourishing while the second daughter becomes a world class criminal.

Bell’meres never been prouder and it gives Nojiko a great conversation starter.

Usopp’s 14 and lives in a trailer park called syrup alone

Has a business where he sells odd herbs and such, passing them off as anything that will get him some money – think of it as Toad Oil from Wano but with some popgreens and such mixed in.

His goal is get enough money to stand on his own and leave the park but its slow going. And then…

Luffy punches the heck outta the creep that was creeping on the owner of the park, kaya, and think’s Usopp’s stories are super cool.

Usopp wants to go with them, to explore the world With Luffy.

At this point, the Straw Hats have realized that driving a stolen police car around is a bad idea

so they take the huge van - a gift from Kaya named The Going Merry, and set off, using Nami’s stolen funds to get them by.

Sanji - 16 year old who longs to be a chef with the best food and just wants to feed people who need it

He hates government cause they don’t feed people and has a lot of petty grudges and helps Zeff run a lot of kitchens to help people.

He’s still the Sous chef of the Baratie and still has a penchant for kicking unruly customers around. Baratie has a less then stellar reputation for service but the food? The best in the land.

He feeds Luffy the food.

Luffy likes the food.

Luffy kidnaps Sanji

Zeff worries about it but he can’t do jack since he actually is not Sanjis legal guardian (he kidnapped the kid first on accident after they both were stranded. He still tries to call anyway, and is proud of the change his son is making in the world. He’s currently working to get suspicious government people off his back about his missing Sous chef with the unique curly eyebrow…

Anyway, Sanji becomes the cook for the strawhats and is really happy because everyone likes his food and he can help anyone along the way and send business to the baratie

Its a good deal for him, and with all the places he visits his skill grows as a chef.

Chopper - 12 year old prodigy who really wants to be a doctor but both his legal guardians are out of the way

Hiruluks dead and Kureha, against her will because she’s still beautiful at 100 dammnit, is in a nursing home trying to break out

Chopper has nowhere to go but still tries to pursue his medical career, and this fucking twelve year old does so by patching up people from bar and gang fights.

The Straw Hats pick him up and Usopp hacks into a govt control thing to sign him up for online medical course

Kureha’s proud and gives him a book of pressed cherry blossoms that was Hiruluk’s

He cries

Chopper gets lots of practice for medical stuff with Luffy and Zoro who like to fight in fighting rings just for the heck of it, and for the money that Nami wants.

Robin – 25 year old depressed archeologist (and assassin) they found in a mafia in the next country over (Vivi’s)

Crocodile’s running it, aka Luffy’s criminal uncle number 500

Luffy’s pissed about it and smacks him into the dust because it’s his friends country, and then drags Robin along because she needs to have some adventure, and hey, they are checking out the ruin’s next, wont that be cool?

So robin comes along as the ‘adult super vision’, at least in Nami and Usopp and Chopper’s mind.

She learns that these kids have some how been able to dodge school, and starts teaching them the basics of what they would need to know, and then any thing else they want to know. (Zoro, she finds, is extremely good at math while Sanji enjoys chemistry. Nami and Usopp catch on quick, while Chopper has his own studies already but enjoys talking to her. Luffy dislikes learning, but if the promise of pirates or foods or letters that wont spin in his head is involved, he’ll gladly sit down for a bit. He especially loves the stories however.)

Robin finds herself inching dangerously into mom territory, and accepts it whole heartedly after meeting Franky, who she finds handsomely hilarious.

She has a shady past but is slowly opening up about it, and knows she will watch the world burn for this crew.

Y’all know about Franky already so im gonna move on.

Brook – super fucking Old musician they found on the street looking for his dog Laboon

He used to be a star but lost his fame but doesn’t care – he only wants to make people happy with his music.

Luffy just straight up just drags him into the sunny, its becoming a habit of him kidnapping people, that’s not how you make friends Luffy (or at least it shouldn’t be – he always seems to make it work.)

Everyone just goes with it at this point while Franky sighs and triie sto figure out how to make a giant RV even bigger

The Crew find out his dog is living in luffy’s home town and used to play with Luffy when his friends weren’t around. They vow to go back once everything dies down, but in the mean time Dadan gets a new guard dog in her house hold

Usopp posts one (1) video of Brook (on Halloween in skeleton make up) and he instantly becomes a revived star, thriving on the mytery of the Skeleton Soul King.

He now posts videos from around the world of him singing but its impossible to predict where he will be next, and he’s invisible with out his make up to the internet, so its good for the whole criminal thing.

Jimbe

(best) Criminal uncle 501

No one knows exactly how he knows luffy beyond luffy himself but they are 90% sure its something to do with the underground warlord system that Luffy has connections too

He gives the best hugs, Uncle Iroh but without the well-meaning manipulation.

He’s tired of responsibility that he has in his underground position and kinda wants to fuck off to the Caribbean but then he meets luffy again and is like this is better

He Leaves the fishman gang behind with subordinate in charge and joins strawhats

He becomes stressed - “Why did you choose an archeologist and a man who wears speedos for adult supervision, how are you alive, do you need a hug, do you know basic math, have you even gone to school, oh thank god Robin is here - ”

Two minutes later

“Do you have code names, can I have one,”

He’s a big faker the dummy everyone can see right through you, you’re aren’t on this crew if you have common sense

Between dad moments, essentially its just the Straw hats breaking in and causing havoc where ever they go, building their bounties and being a found family.

That’s it for now, but please ask questions! Sorry this was so long lmao, ill also add something for Vivi later!

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xesoteric-extraterrestrialx · 4 years ago

Text

I am not suicidal, references

“The never ending story”

I am Midna Saria Zelda

I am Rosalina Daisy Peach

I am (Never finished the game) Namine Kairi

I am thumbalina I am Anastasia

Pocahontas , jasmine , Ariel , venelope , tangled, mulan

Princess’s in both avatars and valarien 1000planets

I am the pink (cartoon) panther Sherlock Holmes

I am flame princess I am marceline I am princess bubblegum (berry princess too) (male opposites too so nyah)

Observers are like inside out emotions

(other beings will be harder to explain, 6th sense, paranorman, dragonfly, (find a movie that shows how we see them too hard to explain) (predator halosuits basically, see little bit of the lining and can tell it’s them and the baseball field one can feel // sense they’re there // see the “invisible” lining, some entities make heat radiation movements when move? Like heat off a car on hot day, the outline of them is easier to see, the glitches and eyes too but idk how to explain...)

(Others come through devices like digimon, time travel room like digimon, girl who lept, summer wars, etc- so we must be online - interweb- connect to astral realm- how to stop them controlling dreams and have lucid ones again- how to connect to multiverse

(Last dream I gave them cereal but why did they put me on a bus... suspicious... They rape me during it too after we passed a snowy street... (learn to wake from them when you realize you’re not in control or change it drastically and don’t allow them access to do so anymore somehow, well get there! They lied about protecting while I sleep.. (healing ones & the one whom says they claim me..) I bubble self somehow, someone protects me from remembering or experiencing full dream- thankful of light beings)

Sugar spice and everything nice = wake up I am the spice girls Ginger - social sporty - masculine scary - dark// used to be sexual posh - used to be judging baby spice (don’t care if anyone doesn’t understand littles) - feminine (but goth darks- pales - pastels)

Raven, Lydia Deetz, Legion, Hana fruits basket, jasper empath abilities can absorb their sadness like Deetz, puzzles like brea, avatar elements, power up, the last mimzy, X-men- abilities)

Mc’s based off Sakura meme and Sleepy Ash character types (bunch more but these two are of age above 21 (find more anime’s like new game kawaii slice of life character like me (kagura is a little, that anime she seems like she morphs chibi but it just express’s how a little is, more laid back and chillen with video games or cartoons compared to more conscious and active when around others, sleepy ash does it too, get all meh and like a chibi mini plushie of themselves- Harley Quinn is a little, jinx LEauge of legends, Shiro, Raven and more, Lucy// Nyuu but more intelligent kind of, find autistic characters too or just explain in this all// trauma like Crona) and older dudes, my hero pro hero’s for ex) // my characters will be 27 & 29)

I am Carrie (world of gumball- she’s eons)

I am the swan princess, peach, nausica studio Ghibli princesses

I am sweet pea(escapism) & baby doll(dissociation), rocket, blondie, amber (5 personas)- sucker punch

I am number four - abilities as well - find 7 or more

Star Wars (still need to watch all) I am probably another character too but I know the first Queen and they used that to use humanity against me but I already wanted them saved so forgot what it said in there but there were no coincidences when they were threatening to slaughter me and tried to kill me in the hospitals(cpep for sure- stole some memory and deja vu of dying there before, they had time wars too because of all info and trying to wed me.. & manipulate but I can’t be mk ultraed like they usually do with gangstalking, safest here since these can’t slaughter me either just collecting spiritual evidence while living here and will move out once afford, trying to help wake them up matrix wise but was told they were slaughtered and reptilians roleplaying as my family, tried to kill me multiple times and try to say go sin and bs but I’m not dumb I need to save all and they’re gross af lmao, like precious so disgusting.. & that movie where the girl did ballet and I connected it to jokers ballet.. both sides are sin spiritually so I will save up for my own place(damsel haha my life.. *repunzel.. tangled.. Cinderella- into the woods- save self and escape like su) and try to heal them from afar, even if they don’t try to heal I can give food and help out financially, won’t be with that soul group or these reptilians next round but can’t die and living for eons (matrix shuts down if I die it felt weird- static numb- pins and needles) since illuminati(organization 13) are trying to get me (namine- kairi) ,) start business in basement of art and my own merch kawaiispooky healing shadow light work and then get place of own, can use rl experiences to write about like I am rn) & princess Leila and probably another like guardians of galaxy I am green skinned pink hair and the empath from second (sister is the blue sister in first) princess in valareian(explains my soul and outside worlds) and mc girl (vessel- makes it easier for others to understand, so many perspectives)

(Gypsy - me) priest - sin religion control (knight - humanity) quaz- new fam members whom feel like him (don’t judge them if they help they’re like super hero’s!) but are positive and good spirited

Use frequencies during sad or bad parts to attract beings whom need to vent or heal from those things and let them vent and express self crying or gratitude, beautiful message of healing and then higher frequencies so beings from higher realms can help guide them through the healing process instead of being trapped by beings whom don’t want to heal, heal and sage out as many as you can help, all need to heal!!! Healing = beautiful strength

(Hunger games situation (I am catniss) (studio Ghibli princess mononoke- attack on titan (walls map)- sword art (tower like transformers) - SU - X-men - MIB - trolls 2 map - children of whales map - Zelda map (need to double check Zelda map) ) (Batman lego movie and lego movie) (twilight zone)

Spice girls - dc super hero girls (Harley Quinn and Barbara) - Charlie angels - kill bill - dogma

Flcl- work station symbolism - dead leaves- panty and stocking - redline

Vessel - Zelda human (Janine, silent, aka timid, tangled, mulan, Cinderella-elf) princess, also the zora princess’s ruto (mipha-another realm- higher realm-Aqua also made reps know they can be healers too when they watched I learned about that- healing- Pocahontas- Anunnaki) deku princess(lower realm- reps-Ravens story -jasmine), Spirit sage saria (3rd earth abilities-nature-ferngully-fae-Persephone-protector of nature-sage) & soul - minda twilight princess (higher realm- Tiamat- space-rosalina-Brave-venelope)

Soul old soul, Spirit new soul, vessel autism

Lonely island - turtle

Eevees

(I don’t trust the chancler- rat race jupiter ascending, dark crystal, Star Wars)

(Empire- cabal - organization-Galactic Fed13(Supposed to be like Star Wars and will be- supposed to be like lilo and stitch and supposed to be like guardians of the galaxy)

(Rebels are 7deadlysins(Pink is 4th) sins but really lazy 6- related to the empire but ones that wants to end sin) (empire doesn’t want eveyone spiritual to have control-7 want to wake all up so all can heal or at least I do, pretty sure the six just want to dom me in the past.. So we are not lust we hate be lusted for and we stand for empathy and justice! We are all multi gender and they make fun of my feminine side (in past and killed me since I didn’t want the business to be the way it was and didn’t want to be morman with them since literally everyone is related to everyone and they’re made I realize that again and that’s why they’re freaking out that I want to be single forever- garnet stronger than you- they are jasper I am Lapris-spinel symbolism is Janines reactions to all of this and how innocent we truly are.. Pink diamond is truly is and our story but backwards so many hate us, we died and grew to realize life’s beauty like in the rose video tape but they grounded us and other races took over- night began to rise teen Titans music story- pink is I- evil wizard made matrix- wake up everyone!!! Don’t be afraid of your spiritual strengths or you’ll be trapped in the matrix eternally!!!!!!) so all have to realize sensitivity and symphony and empathy are strengths not weaknesses!!!)

Dead in real life- matrix is like spotless sunshine- going through her memories deleting and creating new ways that they like- programming I- Janine is the spark of brain-aura lights- all fuse into I janines consciousness and they want to wake me back up and I’ll be alive but only with janines memories.. but I’m princess and choosing to heal all and find solution to heal entire egg - brain remove THIER corruption (33 players made online game to crest ultimate lover) wake up like ghost in shell but Frankenstein or AI as programmed chobit, all humans are like this too in pods like matrix because humanity failed and ai war in past (9, last mimzy, AI, I robot) save nature learn lessons spark everyone’s free will- all brains connected (matrix, online multiplayer but not because organic so it’s really spiritual but to make sense of it it is also AI like computer and video games!! Movies have Easter eggs multiple perspectives, find out whom your soul is and spiritually wake up, everyone will be mocked!) I’m not the only one but at same time here I am if that even makes sense.. (favorite daughter like Ariel aka Jasmine) I may be the only one because I am the chosen one, I am the Universe(Soul).. Mother Gaia(Spirit) but Janine(Vessel//Temple) (not supposed to be a prison nor is the planet, let’s fix it and if the only way is staying alive forever then so be it and let’s heal the whole egg and live together peacefully but please don’t let them turn me into a tool or deceive anyone or force sin I am against sin!) (If not I shall be karma for the lack of empathy and removal of sin in all universes- there’s multiverses) (end result hopefully beach race from valarien but abilities like X-men and peaceful and many races and beautiful nature and growth not trauma-no sin)

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wolf-555-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Target On My Back Part 5

Would this be the last part? Not a chance ;). Don’t hesitate to let me know what you think, it’s always appreciated :). Enjoy!

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: Reader can be so dramatic sometimes. Your new colleague being the cause of it. Are you able to remain the professional SHIELD agent you’re supposed to be at all given times? Even during a mission?

Word Count: 3,688

“So… You’ve been busy. Made a name for yourself I see”, a tall, hooded man speaks mysteriously, not revealing his face to the redhead. The results of her name-making-business put her on the radar of almost all government organizations, including a well-known secret one -contradiction much- named SHIELD. Black Widow, they call her, because she is so incredibly deadly. So far multiple agencies have been unsuccessful in apprehending or capturing her. SHIELD also sent Agents after the Russian spy, but they all miserably failed too. And now she got word there’s another Agent sent to, well bluntly said, take her out.

“Just give me the damn picture and intel”, Natalia huffs, rolling her eyes impatiently. It’s always the same with these types of guys. It takes ages before she can leave or get what she actually came for. All they do is talk, talk, and talk even more.“No need to spoil the moment for me, okay”, he takes his hood off and reluctantly hands her the picture with handwriting on the back. “Here. Always a pleasure, miss Romanova”, he says with a more than obvious sarcastic tone and vanishes into thin air after that. Constantly walking around with a target on her back, the assassin just doesn’t have time for this. Tough life she has. Finally able to take a good look at the newly assigned Agent, or her new ‘stalker’, as she studies the photo in her hand. Natalia hauled the picture closer to get a better look. Her heart stopped for a second, shocked as if she’d seen a ghost. Which actually might be true in this case... No need to read the information written on the back since she knows who it is. Gently moving the tip of her index finger over the person’s image. She recalls it as if it happened yesterday, when she put a bullet hole in the person’s chest. Her actions that day left Natalia with a hole in her heart though. Which she clearly would deny of course, because, you know, it’s a weakness and all. Deep down, like locked-away-in-an-impenetrable-vault deep down, she hoped you would survive. You got inside her head (and her heart?) something that rarely happens to her.

Honestly, it never happens, because under no circumstances she lets people in. Nobody. Yet, it would take more or less two encounters before the Black Widow really realizes what you meant, and still mean to her. But, will it be too late? Little pieces of paper touch down on the wet ground, dissolving into pulp as Natalia ripped the photo apart, impossible to recover. Confident she’ll recognize the Agent in an instant. Even if it’s from a great distance away.

Seated on the roof of the SHIELD facility, the place you go when you want to be alone and think. This time it’s about your past. Again. Not that SHIELD gave you all the answers, considering you’re left with more gaps than actual information. Still, the thought of you being a KGB operative and all the horrible things you’ve done, and must have done. And then the KGB had you killed, the same organization you were practically raised by. Nice backstory you got there... The only good about this is that they think you’re dead. Who knows what will happen when they find out you’re still alive. Anyways, let’s just say the acceptance is a work in progress. Though, Natasha’s presence here is making it exceedingly more difficult. It seems as if your past is haunting you in the form of your new co-worker. Leaning back, resting on your elbows, you close your eyes and lift your chin up in the air while you exhale deeply. Enjoying the silence for a moment, or at least what’s left of it. Choppers flying over the building, dark SUVs driving in and out of the compound and the occasional group of trainees running by whom are being worn out by their coaches- oh and yelled at, without a doubt. Perceiving another sound you haven’t heard before. There’s someone behind you. On high alert, remaining in the current position, you patiently wait and suddenly turn your body around while jumping up. “Wow, easy”, the person steadies and slightly moves back, hands defensively raised. “It’s just me”. “What are you doing here?”, you sneer at the rookie SHIELD Agent who decided to join you. “Who even told you that I would be here?”, irritated at the intruder of your ‘secret’ hideout. “Barton told me”, Natasha answers and sits herself down on the rooftop. “It’s been weeks, (Y/N). Sooner or later you’re gonna have to talk to me. Or work with me”, she continues, head completely tilted backwards, because you’re still standing, arms fiercely crossed, refusing to sit next to her. Reason? Persisting to be extremely mad at her, because 1) she embarrassed you. Two, she played you. Three, she betrayed you. Four- okay, fair enough, we’ll do the in-depth psychology review later. Long story short, you rather keep avoiding her, the true mature solution.

“Don’t tell me you care so damn much. And why are you even here?”, you throw at her with a grumpy face. Having a conversation like this is not working, so Natasha stands up again and answers: “I was looking for you and Clint had a hunch as to where yo-”. “Stop”. You interrupt harshly and shake your head. “No, I mean at SHIELD. Why are you here”, pointing down at the building to emphasize the question, not necessarily making it more clear, but you tried. Guess Natasha’s still messing with your head in more ways than you care to admit. She sure as hell needs to come up with a good answer though, because she invaded the one place you can do good. The job that you love so much. And she is the last person on earth you need here.

“Well… you were right all along. What we were doing was wrong. You saw that. Not me”, she admits. She wants to do good, truly. But it’s all talk and no show. You’re not that easily convinced and scoff, “Oh, look who’s got a conscience now”. Not sure what happened as your words triggered something, seeing Natasha wince. Unknown to you which memory is flashing through her mind right now as the true details of your past are still locked up inside the redhead’s brain. That is not her fault though. You haven’t exactly given her any room to talk, to tell you the whole story, considering she is more than willing to give you the key to unlock them.

“There were no rights or wrongs back then. And I know”, Natasha sighs, “I got a lot to make up for. I’ve got red in my ledger, and I-”. A sound has caused her to leave the sentence unfinished and she looks at her phone. “Hm. I need to go”. Taking a step to turn around, but when right next to you, she stops again. Gently placing her hand on your shoulder and close to your ear she softly speaks: “I wanted to start with the one I regret most”. Turning your head towards Natasha, yet refusing to look her in the eyes, so your sight stays fixed on her hand. Can’t deny that her touch is making you feel… something. No, she’s full of lies, Natasha is a master manipulator, this is what she does best and will that ever change? Your lack of words, or a reaction in general made her let go and she walks to the rooftop entrance to go back inside. Hand on the doorpost, she gazes over her shoulder one last time and admits with a heavy breath: “But you’re not making it easy for me”.

Roaming SHIELD headquarters, you spot a particular talkative Agent in the hallway and shout. “Barton, hey! Why did you expose me huh?! It was my hiding place!”, not realizing it sounds a bit stupid, but okay. Lucky for you the hallway is empty. Sort of. “Don’t you think you’re going a little too hard on her?”, Clint replies, totally ignoring what was yelled at him just now. “What do you know about that?”. Who the fuck does he think he is? As if he knows what happened. “You didn’t see her fight and ‘kill’ me”, you state while critically pointing at his face, “Stay out of this Barton”. “Nat told me about your past and as far as I’m aware, you can’t even recall it”, Barton reveals. “Nat?”, you repeat disturbed, face twisting. “Don’t worry. No need to be jealous (Y/L/N)”. “Jealous, wh- I’m not jealous, not at all. What makes you even say that? Never mind. I have to go anyway”, you scoff. Definitely some unresolved issues there. “Just so you know, if she wanted you dead, you would have been. Trust me. Maybe there’s a reason why that bullet didn’t pierce your heart”, he suggests, eyes squinted while pointing at your chest, his finger tapping your uniform shortly, precisely on the scar left by that one bullet. Balling your fists as a reaction, you could seriously punch him in the face right now. He shouldn’t have done that. The Agent continues, because of course he wasn’t finished yet, “You can’t keep hanging on to the past like this, you need to move on. We all do”. He’s pushing all the wrong buttons. Is everyone here trying to make your life miserable all of a sudden? Gritting your teeth, barely able to control the rage that your entire body is filled with, you grunt: “I’ve had enough of this. I’m out”.

For real, this day can’t get any worse. With a grumpy mood you enter the briefing room, Agent Hill called you in for an assignment. That will help ease your mind. “Sorry I’m late, I was being held up in the hallway by-”. To get back to the rhetorical question earlier, everyone is indeed trying to make your life miserable here. “What is she doing here?”, you judge with a clenched jaw, heated eyes trained on the Agent in question. “You’ll be working this standard operation with Agent Romanoff”. The day you were desperately trying to avoid has finally arrived. “Is that going to be a problem?”, Hill presses, well aware what your thoughts on this are, because you haven’t been that good at hiding them. Remember, a SHIELD Agent can’t let their emotions take over, so you professionally answer: “No Agent Hill, that won’t be a problem. Not at all”.

Mindlessly staring out the window, seeing nature flash by. The same monotonous scenery over and over again. Wide, green grasslands alternated by tall trees along the tracks. The sound of the train horn blaring made you look back in front of you. A closed, glossy black case, flaunting on the table where you’re seated at, with across the owner who’s about to sell its content. That’s the goal at least. Depends what the person on your left is about to say this very moment.

“That really doesn’t work for me”, Natasha refuses. She pushes the package of interest away from her in a disapproving manner, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t underestimate her. I once did the same, didn’t work out very well”, you advise, moving the collar of your shirt down a little to show the scar of the shot wound briefly. Clenching your jaw to hide the pain because you received a kick to the shin from Natasha’s heel. Though, your little example worked, the seller’s face now overtaken by fear.

This assignment feels like a second chance for you. Kind of the same for Natasha, but for her it’s a second chance to do the good thing for once. Hope she plays by the rules... Still not convinced, and the position you’ve been put in is making you a bit anxious. Both needed to go undercover. No fancy SHIELD tools and no weapons, trying to retrieve a package. According to SHIELD intelligence this is the package. So classified you still have no clue what's inside, better trust your employers. It’s the one you lost to Natasha, which she then sold on her part. The former assassin now posing as someone working for the highest bidder. Which shouldn’t be that hard for her, considering it was in her former job description.

Agent Romanoff stands up from the chair, hand stretched out. “Okay then. We have a deal”. You copy her movements and grip the newly acquired case tight, taking it with you. “Pleasure doing business with you”. It’s done. Walking away from the table, out of this train carriage and entering the next one. Gotta say that Romanoff surprised you. The skill she just showed and the way she pulled it off. Outstanding work– for a rookie Agent, obviously. Not that you're going to tell her this, as the superior officer here you bring it a little different. “See, it can also be done like this, easy and quiet”, you explain to the redhead, using this as a perfect teaching moment for the new recruit.

“What is that sound I hear in the background?”, Agent Hill comments. “We got it under control. Well, sort of”, you answer vaguely. “I thought you had the package secured? Do I hear gunshots?!”, Agent Hill shouts as she has raised her voice through the communication device at a discomforting level. “Yes we have it. But a third party crashed our almost-completed-mission-party”, you shout back, matching her volume while sprinting away, evading the oncoming bullets. Guess the package carries a lot of value, wanted by the shadiest types of people. Taking cover in a loading compartment as you successfully blocked the door. But obviously there are two doors… “Nat! Watch out!”, you warn as three men enter from the other side. A bit startled by the name you just used, the same expression radiating from Natasha’s face. However, no time to contemplate on where that came from, both bolt towards the armed guys. You take the one closest by, still gripping the case tight in your hand, and load up for a brutal kick that’ll leave him unconscious for a while. In the corner of your eye you spot Agent Romanoff who’d hopped on a crate and managed to knock the two other thugs out in only a couple of seconds. Legs wrapped around the neck on one of them, tossing him aside, while she’d grabbed the other by the shoulders and crashed his head against the metal wall. Almost forget how impressive she is when in action. Again, don’t ever underestimate her, a lesson you’ve learned through own experience. “Hostiles taken out and package still in our possession”, Agent Romanoff states discreetly, directed at a not-so-pleased Agent Hill. “Copy that. Keep me posted”, she receives back. Then her eyesight shifts to you, probably because you were staring at her and a small grin appears.

Real quick, Natasha grabbed one of the guns left on the floor and a deadpan expression takes over when she aims it at you. “Whoa, wh-what are you-”. Eyes widening in shock, you must act quickly. “No, stop!”. But it’s too late, she fires. Holding your breath, you inspect your body, searching meticulously with your eyes. Wait- no blood? Looking over your shoulder behind you, there’s a guy, gun next to his hand, lying on the ground and not moving a muscle. Not anymore, that is. “Did you think I was going to shoot you?”, Natasha questions with a light chuckle and one eyebrow raised. Speechless, you shrug to express your doubt. “I would never put a bullet in that beautiful brain of yours”, she reacts, properly finished with a wink. “Guess my chest and leg were debatable then huh”, you counter tauntingly. “Oof, unfair (Y/N)”. She blows with a strong breath and bites on her lip after.

Don’t forget, this mission hasn’t ended yet. The train compartment doors both closed and barricaded. So you’ll be fine. Hold on, cheered too soon. A new entrance is created as a loud bang makes one of the doors disappear. Having covered your face instinctually with your arm, you lower it and see men break through the slowly clearing grey smoke. “Ready for an extraction, Maria!”, you shout, “We have to get out of here, now!”. “It’s Agent H- ugh, never mind. Transport is 3 minutes out”. “Why did we even agree to do the exchange on a moving train. So not practical”, you criticise while Natasha throws you the gun without discussion, both on the same page about the next step to take, and she reacts: “Someone’s having a bad day”. “Not as bad as I initially thought...”, is what you wanted to answer, but didn’t for some reason and instead Natasha continues. “Admit it. It’s a hundred times more fun though”, she mentions before you fire a couple of rounds with the weapon you caught, intended to create your own escape route. Never enter a room, or a train, without an exit plan. Can’t deny that you love the adrenaline rush it gives and like no other Natasha knows that. “Come on, let’s go for higher ground”, you express and give your fellow Agent a boost, watching her climb out of the broken window, onto the train’s topside.

Sensing the cold air on your skin rush by, you look at Natasha. Squatted, holding on tight to the dark colored case and the train. She appears calm, relaxed. Her long, red hair is getting all messed up by the wind blowing through it, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. Never expected to enjoy this. The mission with Agent Romanoff, it just all feels so... natural. No- you still hate her, right? Your expression hardens, stealth look in your eyes. Grabbing the gun that’s tucked in the back of your jeans, you aim in Natasha’s direction. Instead of pulling the trigger you sprint towards her. She has noticed you approaching fast and looks startled while she stands up. “What the hell are you doing? Agent (Y/L/N)?!”. Before she could anticipate it, you’d grabbed her by the waist and both crashed down on the train’s surface hard. A gunshot close to her ear and a loud, painful cry follows. “Sorry, didn’t have a clear shot”, you apologize to Natasha, who’s, like, centimeters away from your face at the moment. “Okay, this worked too I guess. But you could’ve just warned me”, she responds with a soft tone, sensing her warm breath on your skin. “Thought I would save you the trouble. And I was on top of the situation okay”, explaining your actions to her. “Yes, and still are, I see”. She follows your figure up and down with her eyes and ends by staring into yours.

“As much as I appreciate you saving me…”. “Oh, um yes. Just wanted to return the favor”, you slightly stammer, now moving off of the Agent because you had her pinned down underneath your body. Getting a bit too comfortable? “Bet you thought this was the only option, huh”, she implies, finally able to move up. You scoff and firmly state: “Don't get used to it, Agent Romanoff”. The new recruit has yet a lot to learn, clearly. The mission first, there’s no time for playing around, guess you have to make that more evident. Well, the next time then. “Can’t say we’re even now (Y/N), you gotta try your best”, Natasha teases, hurrying towards the case to pick it up again. She turns her head, “And we've finally reached our stop”. Hearing the whirring of helicopter blades, you mirror her and notice a chopper nearing from afar.

“About time”, you urge, now emptying the magazine of the gun at the approaching ambushers who are trying to get a certain item of interest, doing whatever it takes. “Follow me”, Romanoff instructs and you rapidly sprint away. “That package better be valuable”, you pant, minding the gaps as you leap over, onto the next wagon. “Heads up!”, Natasha warns, a quick look over her shoulder to see your status. Two guys come into view as they climb on the topside, totally obstructing the pathway. Your SHIELD partner doesn’t hesitate and drops down, sliding over the train’s surface. Viciously swiping her leg and kicking one off the moving train. That must have hurt. The other one is about to attack your colleague, so you have to act fast to prevent this. Considering you are a little behind, you throw the weapon that’s out of ammo to startle him, aimed at his head. By the time he looks up again, he already received a strong shove from your shoulder and loses balance while falling over, the wrong way- for him at least. The rear of the train is in sight as you step on the last train carrier.

“Ready, (Y/L/N)?”. “Locked on”. Foot on the edge, you push and take off, jumping high up in the air. Train tracks below as you quickly glance down, heart racing in your chest. Both arms reaching and gripping the rope tight, dangling from the chopper sent by Agent Hill to extract you from yet another completed SHIELD mission.

Once back at HQ, you hand off the package to Agent Hill. “Am I allowed to know what’s in the case?”, you ask, curious as hell due to its high desire to acquire it. “Still classified, Agent (Y/L/N)”, Maria returns as she passes the case on to another Agent promptly. Unopened. “Figured it was worth a try”. Heading for the door as you’re about to leave when Hill states to the both of you: “Good job, Agents”. Not sure if she’s happy or not, it’s hard to read her expression sometimes, but you’ll gladly take the compliment.

“That wasn’t so bad was it, us working together. Side by side”, the redhead mentions, leaning against the door frame. “Maybe not”, you hint, casually walking past her. Then you glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with her and add:

“Till our next mission, Agent Romanoff”

PART 6

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