#Agent curt mega

[peanutsmixedwithjuice]

HESCOS CUTE IM CRYJGC HE LOVESHIS MOME SO MCUH

[smytherines]

[xylophxn]

[kairithemang0]

“You’re serving Curt, love”

[starrytanks]

Curtwen (Agent Curt Mega x Owen Carvour) from Spies are Forever moodboard with warehouse, casino, and gun inspo for: @python-nebula !

[hwntinguuu]

i miss them (owen carvour and curt mega)

[hatchet-tweets]

[cowardlykrow]

A conversation between my mother and sister

[toringo]

Gays are forever

[ricky-mortis]

I had to do it- it was just too silly not to

Original under the cut :)

[szollibisz]

it's like he's still here

which stage of grief is buying your dead boyfriend's cologne drinking his favourite drink chainsmoking like he used to and lying down in his jacket he gave to you? all after you shot him point blank ofc

[highlighter-goblin]

Oops I dropped this

[dyingnerdyprude]

cross-posted on insta. spies drawing!! enjoy

[belas-undead]

may i present.... this:

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[kairithemang0]

I like thinking about Curt lying on the grass. It's raining. It's raining hard. The droplets grace his cheeks, his eyelids, fluttering eye lashes. He's never been a fan of rain, it felt weird on his skin. It's itchy and uncomfortable and it makes him feel like his body isn't his. It hasn't been for a long time.

Owen was gone. He had been for a few months now. It had become almost easy to laugh at, the same way he'd joke about how his dad left he and his mother who knows how many years ago. Humor was easy, it was easier than crying, than facing the terror of loneliness with his head held towards the dreary dark sky.

His dreams had gotten worse, beginning to seep into his state of being awake. He'd see him, Owen, everywhere. Every bar, every picture in his apartment, across every busy street before disappearing before Curt could reach his hand. He'd run towards him, towards the figure he knew. He'd sometimes get close, get to see his face, bruised, tarnished, destroyed.

They never found his body. Curt didn't know if they even tried. He begged Cynthia, begged her to attempt to. He could almost hear a bit of regret in his voice as they spoke on the phone, as if it hurt her to even talk to him. And yet, all Curt wanted to do was to go back to that facility and find him, even if he had to break through every bit of rubble with his own hands, if he had to lift a thousand stones to find Owen, he would, even if it was to find a dead body, he would.

Maybe seeing Owen dead would give him closure. The real Owen, able to take his hand and hold him, whisper things to him he never dared say aloud, words he wished he did while he had time.

Curt's hair is soaked by the muddy grass of his mother's backyard. He and Owen sat out there once, they watched the stars. Curt found his hand, made it his own, grasped it so tight his nail left marks on the back of it, every vein and bone like a map to find him, the only real treasure this world or any other had to offer.

Maybe Curt was going crazy, but he swore he could hear gentle footsteps coming his way. He heard someone sit beside him. He opened his eyes, not seeing anything, only feeling, hearing, but not truly there. He was nearly able to grasp the face that kissed his forehead, the hand that ran through his muddy hair. He was so close to hearing soft gentle words in his ear.

"I love you."

Curt bolted upwards, the feeling never there. His body began to shake and suddenly everything was gone. Everything but the rain. The rain remained. No matter how much he wished it would go, for the sun to peak through those clouds once again, to maybe even leave a sign of hope for the future, it never came.

Looking towards the sky, he heard a rumble of thunder, a laugh from the god he didn't believe in. His hands were muddy, hair a mess, body still shaking, he never stopped shaking. It was cold, Owen's old jacket around his shoulders, across his arms, his old friend's scent barely there anymore, now only left with petrichor and the leather sticking to his skin, pressed against him so hard it almost reminded Curt of the way Owen's hands would rise against his arms, would grab him so hard and leave marks from his nails on his already scarred skin.

The rain soaked into his skin, and his eyes closed again, rain drops hitting his fluttering eyelashes, as he shivered. A memory washed over him like a wave, one long forgotten, one buried so deep in his mind, under the rubble that Owen was trapped under from his fall.

"I love you."

Sorry chat i wrote a fanfic my bad will probably edit this and make it a full fic or something. idfk

[smytherines]

let him cook goddamnit