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winterdawnzephyr · 2 years

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late night talking // radio silence; aled x daniel

Summary: A stressed-out Daniel calls Aled in the middle of the night (day?) for emotional support. As late night talking goes, their conversation meanders. Set after the events of Radio Silence.

Word count: 1778

Link to AO3 post

It was 3:54 AM and Daniel was not okay.

Tipping back his head, he drained the third can of cold brew he'd had that night -- or was it morning? -- and slammed it down on the last remaining spot amidst his pile of chemistry notes. A stray droplet landed on the past paper he was working on, staining the godforsaken diagram of the Born-Haber cycle brown.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned. Elbows resting on his pages of calculations (most bearing red slashes from his cold-brew induced fits of rage), he dug his eyes into the heels of his palms and resisted the urge to cry.

He had been stuck on Hess' Law questions for the past hour. They weren't even difficult. He just kept making stupid mistakes -- not changing positive signs to negative, forgetting to half the enthalpy of atomization of Cl2, missing the state symbols. Cambridge didn't accept people who made stupid mistakes. What if he didn't get an A* in Chemistry because of this? What if, after working his ass off the last 10 years of his life, after doing all those readings and passing his interview, they rejected him because a stupid mistake bumped him down a grade?

He imagined giving up his plan to get a PhD in Biology and pursue research to work in his father's electronics shop, fixing gadgets and mending computers or whatever his father does. Fuck, that sounded pretentious. He always felt a stab of guilt whenever that thought crossed his mind -- which was not uncommon. There was nothing wrong with working in an electronics shop, except for the fact he felt a small part of himself die inside at the thought of giving up his lifelong passion. No more lab coats and goggles. No more ... how did Frances put it? Right, "skeletons and bacteria and stuff".

There was no way he was letting Hess' Law ruin his chances of getting into Cambridge. He couldn't let it. This dream was all he had.

Well, not exactly.

Daniel did the only thing he could think of in that moment. He picked up his phone and dialled his lifeline.

┈┈┈┈․° * °․┈┈┈┈

"Hey," Daniel said hoarsely. It just registered to him that it was 3:54 AM and he had probably just woken Aled for no reason. "Jesus, Aled. sorry. It's so late --"

"Dan, are you okay?" Aled's voice, soft and concerned, crackled through the speakerphone.

Somehow, just hearing their voice was enough to make tears well up in his eyes. He thought if he kept them in any longer, his eyes might burst. So he let them spill.

"Chemistry. Chemistry is ruining my life." All the numbers and formulae and diagrams laid out before him grew fuzzy. He could feel a drop of tear fall and join the brown stain on his past paper. Wonderful.

Aled stayed quiet, giving him time to collect himself. He could imagine Aled with their eyes wide like a puppy’s, their eyebrows raised just a touch – they always were when Aled was worried.

Daniel took a big gulp of air. His breath smelled disgustingly like one too many cans of cold brew. Well, I guess one good thing about Aled being so far away is he can't tease me about my coffee breath.

"It's just- my exam's in a week and I- I can't mess this up. I need to get an A* in Chem. I can't still be struggling with Hess' fucking Law this close to the exams. And I keep making stupid mistakes like mixing up plus and minus" He wiped an eye and let out a laugh. "This is so stupid. I feel stupid. Sorry, I shouldn't be calling you this late for this."

"It's okay, I was up anyways." They paused. "You're not stupid. But you're also more than your grades."

"I know," he whispered. "But everyone already knows I got an offer from Cambridge and I'm scared I'll fail and- and let everyone down and- “

"You won't let me down."

I love you so much.

"I..." Daniel faltered. Why couldn't he speak?

But he knew Aled, of all people, understood. They knew how it felt for thoughts to be coiled up in the dusty corners of your mind for so long that you’re afraid giving them a voice would break them.

At least, for now.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

"If I didn't know you better," Aled said gently, "I would tell you to sleep."

"I had three cans of cold brew."

"Dan!"

"Shut up, I get it-"

"Coffee Breath," Aled teased.

Daniel shook his head and smiled to himself. Well, guess I was wrong.

“How could you? Don’t you dare insult cold brew in front of me again.” They both chuckled. “Anyways, there is no way I'm sleeping now. The caffeine is blocking my adenosine receptors and my brain is setting off fireworks."

"You’re such a nerd."

"And you’re a hypocrite. Why are you up at this ungodly hour?"

Aled was silent for a moment. “Do you remember the YouTube Live! thing that contacted me?”

“Yeah?”

“Well…” he said, sounding half excited, half nervous, “I may or may not be doing a live show for Universe City in August?”

Daniel sat up straight, almost knocking over his three cans of cold brew.

“For real?”

“For real.”

“Aled, that’s great. When did you find out?”

“Just two days ago!” Aled said quickly. “I was going to tell you, but you’re busy enough with exams and have much more important things to worry about and-”

“Hey, stop right there,” Daniel chided them softly. “If I get to call you past 4am and have you deal with my anxious ass, you can tell me about your literally life-changing show no matter how much Chemistry is screwing with my life."

"Maybe," Aled replied sheepishly. “If you say so.” Are they… embarrassed?

Daniel felt a small pang at the thought that Aled might have been nervous about sharing the news with him. Of course, Aled had always been reserved, but there used to be no secrets between them. Then he remembered the arguments they had because he stupidly refused to believe Aled actually liked him, and felt another spike of shame.

Stupid of me to think they would be comfortable sharing everything with me, he thought ruefully, then stopped himself.

Something he’d been learning lately was that none of this was any one person’s fault. They could both feel endlessly guilty for being arses in their own ways – Aled for literally going radio silent on him, himself for being unimaginably obtuse – but what would be the point? They were past that. They’d agreed to be more open with each other, but these things took time. And Daniel would wait, however long it takes.

Shit happens - that’s life. He was just glad Aled was back in his life so they could brave this mess together.

“I’m proud of you. For restarting Universe City. For doing the live show.”

And Daniel meant it. God knows he loved every single facet of Aled Last, but he especially loved the version that was completely themselves, who was passionate and creative and wonderfully weird.

He wished the rest of the world to witness that version of Aled as well.

“Thanks,” Aled said shyly.

They cleared their throat. “Well anyways, since it’s a live show, I want to do something special. So I’ve been expanding our song. I want it to fit the new storyline I have planned before the show. Do you… do you want to hear it?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course.”

Aled turned on their video call, and Daniel followed suit.

Aled looked much better than they had four months ago. Their cheeks had gained back some of its baby-like roundness. Whereas their hair was limp and dull before, it was now soft blond blending into pastel pink at the tips, which were just past their shoulders now. Since Frances had told him about the haircut incident with Aled’s mother, he had stopped teasing them about cutting their hair. Draped over their shoulders was their city-skyline blanket, under which they wore a T-shirt with two dinosaurs kissing.

In short, Aled looked really cute, and Daniel kind of wanted to kiss them.

Since he couldn’t, he said instead, “Is it just me, or are those dinosaurs on your shirt being really gay?”

“You mean, like us?”

They both chuckled.

It took Alex a while to fumble with something on their computer. Then they mumbled “Here goes,” and the backing track the two of them recorded so long ago started playing — Aled on the drums, himself on the bass — and then Aled started singing and he was mesmerised:

There’s nothing left for us any more

Why aren’t you listening?

Why aren’t you listening to me?

There’s nothing left.

But old sport, take my hand

And we’ll rise from the ashes

Past the dark blue and the Fire

We’ll make something for us

Just for us

Then the music faded, and Aled’s voice, only moments ago so bright amidst the thundering instrumentals, had turned shy once again, snapping Daniel out of his trance. “So…do you like it?”

We’ll make something just for us.

Daniel felt a lump form in his throat. Does coffee mess with a person’s emotions? Surely, it should. He’d have to check his biology notes later.

“Are you kidding me? The new lyrics are fantastic. It’s amazing. I- I love it.”

Aled tucked a strand of hair behind their ear and blushed. One corner of their lip was turned up in a bashful smile.

Gods, he really wanted to kiss them.

“I-”

A smatter of knocks could be heard from Aled’s side. They stood up immediately, throwing their phone on the bed so Daniel could only see Aled’s ceiling. There was more clattering and-

“Al I love you but I swear to god if you don’t stop causing a racket I will- What are you even doing this late??” It was Carys.

“Whoops…” Daniel said.

Carys’ face took up the screen. “Ohhhh you’re being gay,” she cackled. “Hi Daniel! In that case guys have fun but I have an early shift tomorrow so keep it down, won’t you? Okay bye good night-and-morning.”

And just like that, she was gone, replaced by Aled’s shocked expression, puppy-eyes wide.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, then Daniel burst out laughing, and Aled started laughing even louder.

“I said keep it down!” The faint sound of Carys' half-irritated shout drifted from somewhere outside Aled’s room.

“Tell her I’m sorry?” Daniel said.

“Shut up.” Aled said, smirking.

┈┈┈┈․° * °․┈┈┈┈

It was 4:28 AM and Daniel felt, for the first time in a long while, that they were okay.

Notes:

That moment when you exhaust the meager supply of Daniel x Aled content that exists so you have to write your own...

Seriously, I want to read more about them!! So if anyone has written or will write more about their relationship, please share it with me.

Not sure why I chose to write a whole fic surrounding a phone conversation because 1. I hate phone conversations, and 2. I struggle with writing dialogue. I hope you still enjoyed the fic even though my inexperience in the two aforementioned areas may have made the dialogue unnatural :D

P.S. Was the first section just me venting about Hess' Law vicariously through Daniel? Yes. It absolutely was.

#radio silence #radio silence fic #aled and daniel #aled last #daniel jun #universe city #alice oseman #osemanverse

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nunalastor · 2 months

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https://archiveofourown.org/series/4061815

I think these fics will be of interest to the jealously loving radioapple and onewaybroadcast shippers that flock to your blog.

link!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #nunalastor asks #radioapple #radiostatic #radio silence #one way broadcast #fic #fanfic #fic rec #rec #wtfever our tag is i'm tired

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whumpsday · 7 months

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K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #7

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, captivity, stewing in fear, starvation, aftermath of torture

@whumptober Day 7: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.” / Radio Silence

Silence was safe at the hunters’ base. Silence meant that no one was coming for him, that he had time to rest. And more than anything, Kane valued his quiet time alone.

It was never a surprise when the hunters came for him. As a vampire, his hearing was exceptional, as was his sense of smell. He was meant to be the hunter, the predator. Now that he was the prey, it worked just as well to let him know when danger was on its way, not that he could to anything to protect himself from it.

Footsteps on a staircase, raucous laughter, angry muttering, a heavy metal object scraping against concrete. All sounds that now sparked an insurmountable terror within him, roused him from exhausted sleep so he could kneel in waiting or huddle in the corner.

There were false alarms, of course. Hunters socialized on the floor just above him, their voices familiar from his most painful memories even when they spoke of things entirely unrelated to him. He could make out the tone, but not the words. One stepped toward the stairs and his whole body locked up, waiting to see if their footsteps retreated upstairs, or validated his panic and descended closer.

Kane was a vampire. He was a predator. He was starving. His body urged him to get closer, closer, ignorant of the cell he was trapped in, crying as he turned up the feast waiting so near. His mind cried the opposite, praying for the sounds to fade away as the humans stayed as far from him as they could get.

Someone high-fived a friend, and he flinched below, alone in his cell.

#whumptober2023 #no.7 #i paced around for hours on empty; i jumped at the slightest of sounds #radio silence #oc #fic #captivity #starvation #kane and jim drabbles #kanes whumptober bites #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #vampire whump

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houndfaker · 3 months

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doodles of scenes from the kikyukamitsu fic collection i am oh so brave about posting publicly. read it here

#persona 3 #p3 #p4au #persona 4 arena ultimax #yukari takeba #mitsuru kirijo #kikuno saikawa #kikuyukamitsu #quinn moment #quinn drawings #quinn writes #thats right baby we're maintagging it i dont CARE. YOURE GOING TO LOOK AT MY RAREPAIR DRAWINGHS AND YOURE GONNA LIKE IT #this fic got way more attention from people i dont even know than i expected i was totaly banking on Radio Silence.#needless to say theres going to be more. i was validated (1) you cant get rid fo me now

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johnslittlespoon · 5 days

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ohhh my GOD it's 4am and ch3 of the dog coded fic is finally done i could WEEPPP lfg

i literally had to save half the scenes i planned out for the next chapter bc it was already nearly 5k words and it would've ended up being like 9k otherwise lmaoo and it's a lotta them yapping but ykw. it's progress so idc <33 just need the bestie to beta when i wake up and then hopefullyyy will post before tonight :') thank u for ur patience as always i rly rly appreciate it <3333

#dog coded bucky fic #reluctantly accepting this fic will not be a nice neat 6 ch. at Least 7 due to this miscalculation. likely 8-10 bc it Will happen again lol #but also this MEANSSSS we can get back to brainrotting for a bit >:)#i feel like it's obvious i was writing almost all day bc of my radio silence like the only time i shut the fuck up is when i rly focus up #no but fr don't get ur hopes up bc it rly is so much dialogue which granted is my fave thing in the world to write but #idk if it's ppl's fave thing to read so. fair warning. listen the boys have gotta yap sometimes. esp john. it's kinda his thing

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seaquestions · 8 months

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they're not gonna get us

[ID: a drawing of two naruto ocs, beni (@miel-miette's oc) and asagi, lying down in a shallow pool in opposite directions, their heads facing each other - asagi is upside down in the composition. beni is wearing a red sleeveless ao dai, her eyes closed, long light pink hair splaying out beneath her. asagi is a fishperson whose appearance is based on koi fish, hair in a long pushed back mohawk, wearing an open shirt & coat. she has a large scar on her face, and her one eye is open looking at beni. End ID]

#naruto oc #ocs #niksartstuffs #gay people.....................#anyway contrary to the total radio silence irt art on this blog i have been drawing a few things i just havent. been posting shit lol #i have to gather all my pokemon brainworms first. get a grip #funfact i started writing fic abt silver and clair. satisfying my kid self 👍

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quietlyimplode · 7 months

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the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: day 7 - Radio Silence

Warnings: character death

Word Count: 1.9k (gif not mine)

Summary: Tony can find anyone, unless they really don’t want to be found, or they can’t be.

A/N: (character death pertains to none of the core team or associated, but to me feels just as tragic. There was no other way this could go.)

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

2013

NEW YORK

Tony sits staring at the computer. There’s a video recording of his friend in police interrogation, being accused of killing a man.

He watches closely and still can’t work out how he gets out of hand cuffs, but the most interesting part of the interrogation is when Agent Coulson arrives.

Tony watches in interest as Clint all but ignores the offer to join Shield and stalks off.

He’s so young.

Not that Clint is an old man now, but he just looks so small as a teenager, maybe early twenties. Likely by the stamp date he should know how old.

The video recording stops, and Tony turns to the next one.

Clint is older. It’s obvious by his demeanor and posture.

More like a military man.

Tony doesn’t like it.

He seems sadder, more serious and adult even though there’s only a year between videos.

He wonders what happened after that first one, because clearly something did.

Turning them off, he returns to the picture of Barney.

Steve had done a good job, given Clint’s description, and the picture had bounced across databases.

There had been exactly three hits.

One police record.

One military record.

And one picture he found out in Wichita Falls with a man matching his description as a drivers license.

It meant one of two things.

Barney was dead.

Or…

Barney really didn’t want to be found.

Natasha finds Pepper sitting at the window.

The expanse of it, makes it ones of Natasha’s favourite places.

She knows it’s one of Pepper’s as well.

They’d had many conversations at it, and she almost walks away as she sees Pepper reading.

Sometimes peace is hard won, especially for Pepper who seems to always be pulled in a thousand directions.

“Hey,” Pepper greets her and Natasha nods in responses

Apart from Maria, Pepper lends herself to be one of Natasha’s closest friends, even though she’s sure the red head does not feel the same.

It’s okay though, Natasha never feels like she expects the relationships to be equal.

“You look deep in thought,” Pepper comments, moving over and placing her book away.

Natasha sits as offered; and thinks for a moment.

She sought her out, and now… she wasn’t sure.

But who else to have this conversation with?

“I. Clint and I,” she starts, “we want to get married.”

Peppers face morphs into one of sheer delight and happiness, and she hugs her spontaneously.

“Nat! That’s great news. Seriously? And you said yes? And he asked?”

Pepper smiles, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

Natasha sits, just far enough away, so that she doesn’t get another hug.

“Yeah, he asked, and I said yes, but we have to do some things before we can, you know.”

“Tie the knot?” Pepper supplies.

Natasha cocks her head.

“What?”

Pepper laughs.

“Sorry, euphemism for getting married. Continue, forget I said anything.”

Natasha nods.

“What’s the conditions?”

“Family,” Natasha says quietly.

“I have a sister, and Clint has a brother,” she confesses.

“Oh, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“We want to see if we can find them,” she says quietly, “maybe they can come.”

Pepper seems to understand, her quietness gentle as Natasha looks up.

“Where are they?”

Shrugging again, Natasha finds herself wanting to talk about Yelena. It seems safe here, and she rarely allows herself the luxury.

“Do you think people can be forgiven?”

The question is cryptic, deliberately so.

Pepper doesn’t answer.

“Do you think that there are things that are unforgivable?”

Unsure how to answer, she waits for Natasha to elaborate.

It’s a safe bet.

In the silence, Natasha tells her a story; a story of two girls in a strange land, learning how to be Americans. That she, in all her grief had made herself forget, forget the time they spent with each other, to make it through, lest it be held against her.

Pepper is sure she’s leaving out details.

But when she takes her hand and assures her that survival demands something else of people, Natasha looks grateful for the words.

“She’s alive,” Natasha says as though it’s the first time she’s allowed herself to say the words out loud.

“I just want to help her,” she whispers.

Pepper’s eyes well at the confession.

“Do you know where she is?”

Natasha shakes her head, hands in her lap.

“She’s alive though.”

“What about Clint’s brother?”

“We don’t know.”

Pepper frowns and bites her lip.

“Nat, you do realise you’ve set yourself an impossible task, or set of tasks?”

“Why?”

“You don’t know if they’re alive, let alone how to find them, and well, what if you can’t? Does that mean you can’t follow your own path? Get married?”

Natasha doesn’t answer.

“Tony’s looking for them, if he can’t find them, we’ll make a different plan,” she pauses.

“It is my path though, to find her, and for Clint to find him. Now anyway; and after the last year, there’s no time like the present, and if they can be; I want them to be there.”

She looks to Pepper.

“And you too, if you’ll come.”

Pepper grins and nods.

“I’ll be there, and I’ll help too, in anyway I can.”

They both look out the window, Natasha unsure what to say. They both know though, that if Tony can’t find them; no one can.

Tony finds him in the gym, he watches as he punches the speed ball, his agility his friend displays is mesmerizing.

The rattatatta of the bag is repetitive and Tony tries to wait with the information he’s holding.

“Clint?” he calls.

Nothing.

“Clint? Can you hear me?”

The speed ball stops and Clint turns around.

An easy smile greets him.

“News?” he asks, grabbing a water bottle.

There’s blood on his hand wraps.

Tony wonders just how long Clint has been punching the bag for.

He holds up the folder.

“Depending on how you look at it.”

Clint sits and opens the file.

Disappointment passes over his face, hope fading, as there’s no clear location.

“You couldn’t find him?”

Tony knows when to admit defeat. There was no leads no matter how much he searched over the last four days.

“I can’t find him, but I have a last known location, somewhere I think he was.”

Clint doesn’t say anything.

“Clint?”

Tony feels he knows. He’d had hope and now it was fading.

“Where is it?”

Clint asks.

“Wichita Falls,” Tony laughs. “A town that has many people and none at all.”

Clint nods, “yeah he would go there, he’d be invisible but there’s enough space for him to do his own thing.”

Tony points to the picture he found, and Steve’s sketch.

Clint is silent, deep in thought.

“Are you going to go?” Tony asks.

“How can I not?” Clint replies.

“The world almost ends, and I don’t know if my brother is dead or alive. Maybe it’s about time I go see if I can find him.”

Tony sees the serious soldier, and it’s at odds of his friend the joking archer.

Whatever this is for Clint, it changes him.

“I can go with you?”

Tony offers it, trying to add conviction. He knows it’s not his place.

Clint looks through the pages again, almost desperate. Tony wishes there were more.

“No, I think, it’ll be okay, Nat will be there, we can.. We got this,” Clint replies, scattered as he gathers the pages.

He looks up, face serious and guarded.

“Thanks Tony, for all of this.”

He stands.

“Any news on Yelena?”

Tony shakes his head.

“That’s going to take me a bit longer I think, there’s a server that keeps making the information bounce. I’ll catch it though, and maybe when you’re back, I’ll have more information.”

Clint nods.

“Our plane is fueled up and ready to go, you can fly right?”

The generosity isn’t lost on Clint, and he stares at his friend, he’s lent him a plane and called it “ours”.

“Why?”

Tony shrugs.

“It’s what I’d want someone to do for me, I guess.”

Clint holds his hand out to shake Tony’s and when Tony clasps it, he pulls him into a hug.

“Thanks, man,” he whispers.

It takes Tony a second, but he hugs him back

“Uh, no problem.”

2013

WICHITA FALLS

Clint sits pilot seat, staring as the plane is moved into the hanger.

Natasha hands him a water and they sit in a comfortable silence.

“Do we have somewhere to stay?” she asks finally.

Clint takes a second.

“Barney used to sneak candy into the house to give to me when I couldn’t stop crying. He’d tell me to suck on it because it would stop my sobbing.”

He pauses.

“My sobbing would aggravate my father to follow me and tell me he’d give me something to cry about. I grew up with Barney, and loved him, and then we just… never saw each other again.”

He stares, and bites hard on his lip.

Natasha watches, as she’s so good at doing.

“What if his radio silence was better for the both of us? Together we were chaos. Alone; maybe we had more of a chance. Do you think he knew that?”

He doesn’t wait for Natasha to answer rhetorical questions.

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t come back for me.”

Natasha feels the stab.

“Maybe he just couldn’t,” she responds, slightly defensive.

He softens, feeling the blow he’s landed on her.

“Yeah, maybe he just couldn’t.”

There’s a small pub out on the edge of town.

It turns out they knew Barney.

The bartender is an older, wisened man whose beard is as long as his arms.

Natasha stands back, as Clint asks the question, and they both hold their breath.

“Why do you want to know about Barney?” the man asks, suspiciously.

Clint swallows.

“He’s my brother,” he responds.

The man softens.

“Oh.”

He stops wiping the bar.

“You’re Clint?”

The man talks of Barney as a friend, and throws the keys to a woman, Natasha assumes to be his wife.

“I’ll be back,” he tells her.

He takes them on a walk to a small apartment on the outskirts of town, he has sadness in his eyes, and he tells him Barney was here. That this, the little apartment on the first floor, was where he lived.

“We served together,” the man tells him, “I convinced him to come here… some difficulties with memory, some impulse issues… he needed someone to watch his back, until… you know.”

Up until his death.

A quiet death, and a loud life.

He tells them stories of Barney’s ability to drink anyone under the table, and laughs as he reminisces on how they stayed up one night and just threw darts.

“I lost so much money that night, did you know he had good aim?”

Clint swallows and nods, trying to take on the information.

His brother.

He wasn’t a good man, but he wasn’t a bad one.

Bachelor for life and a contradiction at that - someone who spent all his time gambling and smoking; but also taught basic martial arts to kids at the local YMCA.

No children. No partner.

But a legacy all the same.

There are no words for panic and grief Clint feels.

His brother.

His protector.

It’s too late.

He’s gone.

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springdandelixn · 1 year

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I'm sooo excited you're taking requests, love! 🖤

This Jonathan Pine gif just makes me feral...

so, maybe reader has done something stupid on a mission and now she's in a greater danger. Can be as dark/smutty (or both 😏) as you feel it. I hope this works for you and there's absolutely 0 pressure (;

Radio Silence

Summary: Your mission to capture Jonathan Pine goes sideways in the most unexpected way.

Warnings: implied noncon, kidnapping, gunplay, bondage & death threats. There may be more but be aware that this is a dark fic. Read at your own discretion.

Characters: Jonathan Pine x Agent!Reader

A/N: This fic was pretty much inspired by watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Thank you, @coldnique for this request though I do apologize if it's a bit sloppy. It's Monday again.

Your feedback is highly appreciated and encouraged. Reblogs would be really amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

“I got eyes on the target.”

“Remember, don’t spook him or we will lose him again,” Hank calls through the earpiece.

“Copy that.” You say with finality before fixing your scarf to tuck your chin deep within the wool. You shove your hands in the pockets of your coat and reel into the act of a shivering civilian before looking both ways and crossing the street, heading towards the building your mark entered.

For three long years, the British Intelligence has been hunting down Jonathan Pine after going rogue and started causing havoc by selling sensitive information to interested buyers across the globe. You worked closely on the case, tracking him down and going after every lead that presented itself. But each time you think you’re a step closer to catching him, the trail quickly goes cold and you’re once more back on the drawing board.

Until one day, when an anonymous tip came of Jonathan resurfacing, that he was spotted on several occasions in a small neighborhood in Brooklyn, Hank immediately had you shipped off to New York in hopes of finally bringing him in.

You’re the most qualified for the job, Hank told you when you asked why you were going in alone and you didn’t doubt his judgment for you believed it to be true. With Jonathan gone, you were the top agent of the organization, and you’ve proven countless times your credibility in bringing down some of the most dangerous beings on the planet. But you know that wasn’t the sole reason he chose you, rather the fact that you were once mentored by the rogue agent himself.

For years, you’ve worked closely alongside him, digesting every fact and feat he would demonstrate in order for you to do your work the best that you can. All the skills he possessed were passed on that you were ranked second to him. And it secretly brought a smile to your face and had you feeling slightly cocky and confident, how the irony that his own pupil would be the one to turn him in and bring him to justice.

It still pained you though, that it had to come to this point in your career. How much you pitied your former mentor that he’s chosen to use his expertise to harm instead of continuing to protect the greater good. Either way, you won’t let your sentiments muddle your judgment. He’s done bad things and it’s your job to stop him no matter what it takes.

Leaning against the concrete wall of the building—a library, you wait a few seconds before walking in. You pat your hip through your coat pocket, making sure that your weapon is within reach. You didn’t see them upon arriving at the borough yet you’re confident that backup has been prepared and is on the ready in case the situation gets hairy.

It’s not as crowded as you expected as you walk towards the shelves of books and you don’t quite know if you should see it as a positive; giving you more visual of your surroundings, or a negative; making it slightly harder to blend in, making it easy for Joanthan to recognize you amongst the civilians. But you keep your composure, making the best of the situation and remain at the sidelines, running a hand through the spines of the hardcover while looking for a spot for you to wait.

With vigilant eyes and light feet, you peruse every aisle, keeping up the act of a college student looking for resource materials. You grab a random book from its hold and flip it open, opting to take a seat on one of the singular armchairs at the corner of the library that give you a good view of the exit as well as the round help desk at the center of the vicinity.

You whisper an update through your comms but frown when faint static plays into your ears before going radio silent on the other end. You repeat your words, hoping for any response of acknowledgment but still get none. The building must be interfering with the frequency, you think, but don’t dwell too much on the fact, choosing to focus instead on the task at hand.

People pass by in front of you and give extra attention to each dark blond you see. Yet some minutes pass and you can’t help the groan of frustration you breathe out when he’s still yet to be seen. He couldn’t have gotten far, and he wouldn’t think of using any back exits for you’re positive he hasn’t picked up your scent. Still, you remain seated and discard the thought of searching the entire library. You keep your senses on high alert for any telltale signs of his presence while flipping through the pages of the book on your lap.

“I’m terribly sorry.” You know that voice. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Your head snaps to the side, your heart rate spiking when you see him by the entrance with a book in his hand which he hands to the elderly woman clutching a cane standing in front of him. You take note of his appearance; a grey hoodie hidden underneath a leather jacket. You scoff in amusement when you see no effort into hiding his face. Rookie mistake.

As soon as his interaction with the woman ends, you stand from your seat and casually return the book to the shelf. You feign choosing a new read, counting down to ten before slowly making your way out of the building when he finally leaves.

“He’s on foot. I’m tailing him.” You call into your comms yet still, the line remains silent.

You maintain your distance while keeping your eyes locked on the back of his head and follow him down the street. You’re positive that he’s heading back to where he’s been holing up, leading you right to him. The image of him taken by shock burns into your mind and you can’t help but smile once he realizes it’s you that’s cornered him like a rat.

Blood pumps into your ears as your body sings with excitement, keeping your pursuit and grinning when he turns into an alley. Like a rat. You echo in your head and immediately reach for your weapon as you sprint down the path. Once you reach the corner, you keep to the crowd and take a deep breath before pushing into the alley.

You stand stunned in confusion when nothing but an empty backstreet greets you. You don’t understand, you just saw him come in here and yet there are no signs that giveaway any soul coming by. The wired fence up ahead is too tall to scale up fast, the fire escape ladders remain untouched. You jiggle the handle of a lone door at the side of the brick wall but it’s locked and you’re certain he wouldn’t have jimmied it open for you would have, for sure, caught him in the act.

You tuck your gun back into your holster and huff out a breath as the thought that he’s once more slipped from your grasp fills you. This can’t be! You almost had him! And yet, you are once more met with a dead end, one you don’t understand how it came to be.

Defeated, you decide to regroup back at your hideout to figure out the next steps to catching him. He couldn’t have gotten far and if you call for the local police force to cord out Brooklyn, it’s no question that he’d be apprehended just in time.

All of a sudden, you gasp in surprise when an arm wraps tightly around your neck from behind, a solid surface pressed against your back as you struggle to set yourself free from your assailant. Your hands grab the arm that entraps you when it tightens further, the muscle digging into your throat, preventing you from making a sound.

“Looking for me, sweetheart?” The deep baritone that fills your ears is all too familiar. No!

A stinging pain then blooms at the back of your neck, your breath hitching as you feel a cool, alien liquid quickly run through your veins. You’re then released, a hand pressing at your back and shoving you forward, making you drop down to your knees before you could even catch yourself.

Your breathing is suddenly labored, your skin tingling and body growing heavy that you slump face first onto the dirtied concrete floor. You fight to push yourself up except a hand grabs you by the shoulder and you’re flipped onto your back, your head cracking against the pavement. A pained groan slithers from your lips and when you open your eyes, your vision is skewed. What’s happening to me? You want to voice out but your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton.

Jonathan’s face comes into view, a wicked grin playing on his lips. You try to stand but it’s no use. Your body feels so heavy that you don’t think you can even move. He says your name, once, twice, you don’t know. Then his face blurs, mixing with the colors of the alley and the stone walls that surround you, his deep chuckle the last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you whole.

Your mind feels all too convoluted when you open your eyes, blinking several times before the world gradually comes into clarity. It’s like you wrestled with a bear with how your body aches, feeling it deep within your bones, making you groan. You try to move, to get off the soft surface you’re laid on but panic quickly runs through your veins when the realization that you’re naked, wrists bound together dawns on you.

Looking around frantically, you try to take in your surroundings, assessing the situation you were thrust into. You’re on a bed, plain sheets rumpled atop with a lone pillow hanging by the edge. The room is bare of any furniture leave for the singular bedside table with a lamp emanating a muted yellow hue and a singular table at the far end corner. Although, what you notice next makes the hair on your skin stand in fear, the lone dark figure sitting by the desk, a light tapping coming from its direction.

You’re certain that your captor is Jonathan, that despite your disorientation, he’s the last person you saw before you blacked out. You blink as you fight to steady your vision, your throat tightening as the fear that once took over your senses is replaced by anger. He stands and you groan as you tug on your restraints, bending your knees as you prepare yourself to fight back.

“What did you do to me?!” You snarl, swiping your legs immediately when he comes closer. “Let me go, you psycho!” Another groan pulls free from your lips when the restraints dig deep into your skin. “I’m going to kill you once I’m free! And I don’t give a fuck about what Hank says!”

A deep chuckle echoes through the room and you narrow your eyes, baring your teeth when his face comes into view. “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere anytime soon, sweetheart.” He scoffs, a grin of amusement playing on his lips before he leans closer. He reaches over to caress your cheek and you quickly snap your teeth at him, barely missing his fingers when he retracts his hand. “Ohh, you’ve certainly gotten tougher since we last saw each other.”

“Better too!” You snipe and thrash against the bed when he nears you once more. “Hank knows where I am, Pine! And once backup comes, you’ll be sorry you ever—”

“Backup?” The mirth in his voice takes you aback, trepidation lacing your nerves as the grin on his face broadens. “You think backup is coming?” He emits a sinister laugh, something you didn’t expect. In an instant, a thought clicks into your head, that something has gone terribly wrong and you’re to receive the brunt of it.

His shadow leaves you as he strides back to the table he previously occupied, a patch of light illuminating his face in the darkness that shrouds him. The smile is ever-present on his face, a sickening sight and you hear him punch through the plastic keys of the device. A beep interrupts the silence, tension thickening in the air, and once more, he walks back to you, your eyes following his hand, staring down at the flip phone that he places on top of your chest.

“We got the drive, Pine.” Your blood turns cold when you hear Hank’s voice in the recording. And you don’t understand why he’s calling a fugitive. “We sent her alone so you don’t have to worry about running into trouble. Though we do expect you to uphold your end of the bargain and we will keep ours.” Your ears pique at the words your boss utters. What bargain? What does he mean by all this? “Both your files will be eradicated from the system and you shall never be bothered again.”

That can’t be! This is all a lie! It has to be!

“Oh but it isn’t a lie.” Jonathan chuckles, plucking the burner phone from your sternum, his response making you realize that you’ve voiced your thoughts out loud. “What you just heard is the cold hard truth. This whole,” he pauses, waving his hand animatedly in the air before he continues. “..operation of yours was a setup. You weren’t sent to capture me. You were simply sent as a means to an end.”

“What are you saying?! That the British Intelligence sold me for your cooperation?!” You spit, gritting your teeth in rage and disbelief, tears welling in your eyes. “They’d be fucking stupid to trust you!”

“Oh, I know. That’s why it was so easy to manipulate them.” The snap of the phone catches you by surprise, seeing the device drop to the floor, broken in half. “But it’ll be too late once they realize that they’ve made a grave mistake.” His cockiness bleeds into his words and you feel even more afraid of what he’s truly capable of. “In the end, they think they got what they wanted and I got mine.”

“Me?” You ask in disbelief and he simply laughs. “Why me?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, your body going rigid when he comes closer. “I have wanted to break you since you walked that ass of yours into the briefing room.” The bed dips from his weight when he climbs atop it. You kick your legs when he grabs them, wince when his fingers dig painfully into your flesh, your legs going slack and easily allowing him to wrap them around his waist.

Your body shivers when he presses a hand against your abdomen, fingers tickling your skin as he trails them up your torso and cups the underside of your breast. You cringe at the sight of his face, how his teeth catch his bottom lip and his sapphire eyes turn a shade darker when he gives your tit a rough squeeze.

You turn your head away when he leans closer, whimpering at how he buries his nose in the crook of your neck and deeply inhales your scent.

Tears slowly fall down your face as you gravity of the situation finally sinks in. You were sold, like a slave by the man you trusted with your life. You don’t understand why they would do this to you, why they would throw you in abandon. You did your best in every mission thrown at you, abiding by the rules and following the law, always giving your all. Even if that meant you had to exchange your life for the safety of masses.

But now, with how everything is crumbling right before your eyes, you start to think if everything you once believed in, about Hank, the organization, was a lie.

Your breath hitches when Jonathan bucks his hips against yours, the tent growing in his pants pressing roughly against your bare cunt. You cringe, disgust rolling deep in your belly, that he would have such lascivious desires towards you. He growls, his clothed pelvis rubbing further against your clit that you bite your tongue to fight a moan from escaping, cursing your anatomy and how it responds despite your internal protests.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, sweetheart.” He drawls, pulling away from your neck while his hand runs down to your side, stopping at your hip only to grab it and press you down against his erection. “See what you do to me? I had to hold myself back every time when we would wrestle around.” A salacious hum spills from his lips, a smirk forming on his face that is only inches away.

You scowl at him, eyes burning with rage. You push your head back as he attempts to close the distance, but before he could even succeed, you gather up that saliva in your mouth and spit at his face, your nostrils flaring and a smile kissing your face when he wipes his face and looks back at you with equal fury.

“You shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart.” He sneers, anger evident on his face yet you don’t let it deter you from your plans to escape. You just have to catch him off guard and you’ll have the upper hand, his training slowly filling your head.

He moves to sit up from the bed but you stop him from doing so, locking your legs around his waist tight and groaning loudly as you lean all your weight to the side to topple him over. The loud thud has you grinning in glee, making you pull your leg back to prepare for your next attack. Yet, before you could even launch your foot to kick him, a hand grabs you by the ankle, Jonathan towering over you once again and you freeze on the bed, eyes wide as your breath catching in your throat when the muzzle of a gun is pressed between your eyes.

“After years of working together, I’d expected you to know me better.” He tuts, cheek twitching when he pulls his thumb back and releases the safety. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you.”

“You and me both, asshole.” You hiss.

“You know, I could simply kill you and no one will ever care that you’re dead.”

“Then do it!” The wrath in you bursts in flames and you lean forward, having the metal cylinder press harder against your forehead. “Fucking kill me, you coward!”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I will.” He chuckles darkly. “But not now. Not when I haven’t even had my fun.”

It’s as if the anger in him dissipates as a sinister smile forms on his face. You shiver when he slowly slides the gun down your cheek, digging it on your chin before running it down the valley of your breasts. He stops at your stomach when he kneels back on the bed, your eyes following the movement of the firearm. You inhale sharply, feeling your heart pound against your chest when he rests the gun against your cunt, rolling the muzzle slowly around your clit.

You whimper when your body sings in fear, Jonathan adding pressure on your clit as he keeps his torturous act. Then he pulls the gun away, a soft sigh of relief leaving your lips but is soon replaced by a strangled cry when he angles it against your core and pushes the barrel past your folds.

Your thighs squirm at the sudden intrusion, your pussy walls clamping down on the dangerous weapon on instinct. You try to kick him away but he only pushes the barrel deeper into you, making you halt all your limbs go stiff in fear that he would pull the trigger.

“Good girl. Stay still.” He mocks praise, pulling back the gun from your cunt only to push it once again, whimpering in horror as he fucks you with it. “I wouldn’t want to ruin this beautiful pussy. At least—not yet.”

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