#filing this one in the same place as that wrestling post

[riveracheron]

hey guys have my wild magnus protocol theory that stemmed from me just overanalyzing the little bits of content we have

i think lena is a homunculus.

(spoilers for the pilot and jonny + alex’s post pilot discussion under the cut)

basically this stems from. a lot of places w small amounts of information so some of this might be stretches. But

1. a lot of marketing around protocol mentions the theme of “what does it mean to be a person?” which. leads me to believe there’s gonna be a plot around a protag being Not Human but has the heart or whatever the fuck. standard pinnochio or wizard of oz story. sure youre not human but ur a person bc of xyz free will or whatever

2. lena’s behavior in the pilot is So odd and almost inhuman in its extremely dull corporate jargon way. she literally uses things like “you can file a complaint” or “here at the oiar we….” (advertiser shit) , in genuine conversation. she doesn’t leave the building, either and has a Generic office party.

im genuinely thinking bureaucracy and the weird eldritch stuff of the oiar is Literally all she knows, not that shes being manipulative and evil in the trailer like elias; she doesn’t or maybe cannot question the whole. asking sam about the eldritch trauma thing, something something cant understand human emotions and why that might be troubling.

also “people like chocolate cake.” that sounds weird and something someone with only base knowledge of humanity would say.

she’s described as “an odd one” by jonny and that we will “get her soon”. im under the full belief that shes the non-human character of the bunch thatll yknow. have the Real Boy plot

3. homunculus specifically comes from all the alchemy shit around protocol, and homunculi are some of the most famous alchemical creations in popular culture, and i think she’s not. an entity creation. lenas too much of an important character to just be like. tied to An Entity, as a main character extremely tied to the OIAR, that entity would have to be the basis of like the entire plot of protocol; which i doubt theyd do.

the eye is so important to archives because the themes of archives was the consequences of knowledge- the entire plot was engineered around the Eye as the Main Character Entity and the Eye was written to be that in turn, sorta similarly to how Griffindor is the Main Character House (TM) of HP with its themes of bravery. i doooont think the oiar is tied to the stranger or flesh or any other simulacrum creating entities.

all that to say i think lena is a different kind of artificial human, one that’s manmade rather than entity made yknow?

we get glances of the people above her in status, theres mentions of an ephemeral “he” in the pilot, so. heres what i think

the He in question is an alchemist whose in charge of the OIAR (and maybe other branches but lets focus w the oiar). He created Lena the homunculus to be the middle manager of the branch in his stead; “programming” her to be as dull and corporate as possible to keep the employees in line or whatever. something something shes got a plot wrestling with that and her inherent lack of persondom

EDIT: totally forgot this part

adding that the first statement’s plot was about an abomination of corpses given a humanlike shape and coming back wrong which is. exactly what frankenstein’s monster is, and frankenstein’s monster is considered a homunculus.

with the anglerfish’s importance to season 3 of archives i definitely think the Arthur monster will come up again in some form, but maybe instead of Actually being In Podcast maybe its a parallel to the main characters’ story in the same way that many s4 statements were used to give us more information on how jon is working through it all. the zombie statement when he just wakes up comes to mind especially. maybe it’s a hint and echo of what a Character in podcast (lena) is

[spindrifters]

2022 Fic Roundup

In the later half of this year, I came back to two foundational parts of myself. Writing fanfiction, and Harry Potter. I've built a career in creative writing, and somewhere along the line lost sight of the spark of joy that comes from writing transformative works. After a difficult summer, I rediscovered that spark. And for the longest time, in light of *all that*, I hadn't known what to do with Potter and its core place in my development as a conscientious person in the world. In the same dark moment I realized that, like all foundational sacred text, the series was meant to be grappled with. Wrestled. Read resistantly. And what better way to do that than with fic? I've only been back in the game since October, but I'm so happy to have made it back at all. More than anything, I appreciate the incredible community I've found along the way.

Huge shout-out to @soloorganaas for the inspiration!

October

marginalia (105k & counting, WIP, Wolfstar, E) - This story began a long time ago. That part is already written. Nothing can be done about it now. It began with two young men—barely more than boys—who upended the world, magical and mundane alike. Grindelwald and Dumbledore, glorious leaders of the revolution, who brought wizardkind out of hiding and into the light during those last, violent days of 1899. But a winter's night seventy-seven years later is where things really kick off. Because Remus Lupin knows what to expect when you’ve been sold somewhere new. He knows it better than he ever thought he'd have to by this point. He knows how to survive. And Sirius Black is doing his best to just graduate Hogwarts and get himself and his brother away from this goddamn house in one piece. He's got it figured out by now. He has a plan. Neither of them, however, had accounted for the other messing everything up by the sheer fact of just existing. The most AU.

There’s an exceptionally long moment of silence between them, and Sirius would look away if he could. Would put the burning shame simmering at the pit of his gut somewhere else, only Remus’ hand is still clasped tight around his own bleeding nailbeds, holding fast, and isn’t that a wonder? His hands are just as strong, just as calloused and scarred and warm as he remembers. Only this is the first time Remus has ever touched him willingly. With purpose. Not because he thinks he has to, or because Sirius touched him first.

love has teeth (444, microfic, gen, T) - Hope Lupin loves her husband, she really does, but she’s a child of the war and the political passions that came with it and on the whole she really hasn’t got the time nor patience for the astounding ignorance and stupidity of Wizarding Britain. (Or how, somewhere along the way, Hope Lupin became the pack mum.)

Hope teaches James to cook, and gives Peter advice on girls, and becomes single-handedly responsible for Sirius’ obsession with motorbikes after letting him ride on the back of hers. She introduces the lot of them to jazz and skiffle and tells them stories of growing up with Communist parents in post-war London.

civilian (339, microfic, Tedromeda, T) - They figure it out at a café on a rainy Tuesday in April. (Or, the one where Ted and Andromeda elope.)

Theirs is a history of secrets, stolen kisses in old school corridors and excuses made to his family why she can never seem to come for dinner and trying not to flinch whenever words like purity and mudblood come out of her parents' mouths.

November

until our ribs get tough (4.8K, gen, M) - From the lost papers and mixed-up files of the marginalia universe. A day in the life of one Lily Evans, age eleven, takes an unexpected turn involving a twisted ankle, some contraband essence of murtlap, and a rumination on the nature of miracles. Same AU as marginalia.

They used to do this all the time when they were little. Hide amidst the mothballs and piled boxes stored beneath the metal springs, especially when the rain poured down like this. It was easier, then, to ignore the world outside in order to create their own. Imagined kingdoms where they were king and queen, or adventurers on the high seas searching out treasure galleys to attack. They’d known to keep quiet, even then. It’s been a minute since they were here last, but even Remus’ recent growth spurts aren’t enough to take away what’s really a sacred space.

December

the helper (1.3K, gen Wolfstar, T) - Remus is facing his first Hanuká away from home. Sirius would like to help. For Hanukkah Wolfstar Week 2022.

Sirius is, by this point, extremely lost. He understands about half of what his friend just said to him. What he understands perfectly well, however, is how to recognize that nonchalant sort of half-shrug, that casual way Remus then goes on to insist that it’s not actually a big deal and he’s fine, really, and it’s not that important a celebration, anyway. He knows what those things mean. They mean that Remus Lupin’s a bloody liar.

death by honey (1.7K, Wolfstar, T) - Stuck at St. Mungo's during Hanuká, Remus has resigned himself to spending the holidays alone. Sirius has other plans. For Hanukkah Wolfstar Week 2022.

So he’s resigned himself to missing all that. Resigned himself to maybe even missing his muggle relatives altogether if this lunar fever doesn’t clear up in time. Instead, he gets the sterile, broken-tiled lycanthropy ward, and tinny Christmas music filtering down from the floor above, and the pinch-faced, suspicious company of two trainee healers who must have done something truly unfortunate to end up banished down here over the holidays. What he doesn’t expect is to wake up from a nap to find Sirius Black sitting in the chair next to his bed.

forward motion (854, Wolfstar AU, M) - Mary brings over a present. None of the menfolk know what to do with it. Wolfstar raises Harry AU. For Hanukkah Wolfstar Week 2022.

So maybe it feels more personal than it should, but Sirius can’t shake that terror of mucking this all up and letting down not just Harry but James and Lily and Monty and Euphemia, too. And Remus — who still has two living parents who love him dearly — may never have had to depend on the Potters to pick the broken pieces of himself up off their doorway, but he still feels that same terror. That same responsibility. Harry deserves a childhood full of laughter and love and fun.

commercial allure (1K, Wolfstar, T) - On the second-to-last night of Hanuká, Remus decides that enough is enough. Sirius would beg to differ. For Hanukkah Wolfstar Week 2022.

“Pads,” he says at last, because he wasn’t going to say anything. Because this is his best mate of six years but somehow it’s become damn near impossible for Remus to even look at him lately without feeling flushed and awkward and like he’s just sprouted hands for the very first time and hasn’t got the first clue what to do with them. But he’s just found a very nice and very expensive-looking eagle-feather quill on his bedside table, wrapped up in silver paper, and that is altogether impossible to ignore.

a history of violence (1K, Wolfstar, E) - In the wake of the war's end, Remus and Sirius are learning how to trust each other again. Lily and James live AU. For Hanukkah Wolfstar Week 2022.

Sirius kisses the scar that slashes down his brow and lid, a gentle reminder to keep talking. This is what they do now, in the days since the end of October. Since the end of the war. This is what they have to do. Secrets, after all, nearly cost them everything.

pomegranates (2.5K, Wolfstar, M) - Sirius runs away from home over the winter holidays of fifth year. The problem is, James is in India and Moony kind of hates her right now. Genderfuck AU with transfem Sirius and cisfem Remus. For Hanukkah Wolfstar Week 2022.

Lyall Lupin opens the front door of the small Mayhill flat he shares with his wife and daughter to find Sirius Black, cold and dripping in the rainy Swansea night, shivering violently in nothing but a set of outrageously expensive silk dress robes. His first instinct is to slam the door in the girl’s face. His second — that of a father, who’s seen his child in pain too many times — wins out. Sirius is bleeding from somewhere just above her hairline and looks as though she’s been on the receiving end of a Confundus Charm. He lets her inside.

the story goes (1.5K, Wolfstar, M) - Remus knows all about survival. It's in his DNA. A study on lycanthropy, the Jewish diaspora, a blended family, and two boys in love. For Hanukkah Wolfstar Week 2022.

No one can know. Dad reminds him of that all the time, in the summer before he goes to school. He needn’t bother. Remus was raised on stories of refugee ancestors fleeing Valencia massacres for Moroccan shores, grew tall on days celebrating Esther and Yehudit’s necessary deceptions. He knows how to hide what others fear without making a single part of himself small.

yours if you want it (1K, Wolfstar, M) - Facing their first holiday season living together, Sirius and Remus stumble towards creating new traditions. For Hanukkah Wolfstar Week 2022.

“I���m trying to tell you you're allowed to have things, you knob. You get to make it mean what you like. You want a Christmas tree? Let’s get a bloody Christmas tree. I’ve never had one before but sod it, I want one if it makes you happy. We’re allowed to make our own traditions. And if you like any of the poncy Yule shite you grew up with instead, we can do that, too. Because that’s still yours, if you want it. Get me? Not theirs. Yours.”

[somnambulants]

like an open door

summary: Natasha falls asleep on your shoulder. Yelena is the younger sister she never got to be. word count: 900 warnings: some spoilers for black widow i guess?? 

If there is anything you can say about Natasha over the time you’ve known her, it’s that she’s always on alert. She’s always anticipating anything and everything and has plans and backup plans and backup plans for her backup plans.

And as a result, there have been very few times you’ve ever been able to surprise her or catch her off guard. Barr, maybe, the first time you’d managed to win in a fight against her, you don’t think you’ve ever caught her being off guard before.

It makes her the best and worst friend to have.

The best because she’s the hands down the most badass and impressive person you’ve ever met; the fact that she’d managed to do everything she’d done and come out of it alive is awe-inspiring to you.

It’s also the worst because you’re sure your super clear crush on her is painted all over your face every time you look at her in obvious hero worship.

There are times where you think your feelings are returned; you know Natasha is more open with you than almost anyone else and there are times where you swear she feels the same but nothing ever comes to fruition.

If nothing else, you know your own feelings are abundantly clear to her and everyone else when you follow her across the world to an almost certain death, after the avengers split up, all the way back to Russia and to the organisation she’d grown up in and subsequently dismantled twenty years later.

Shockingly, you survive everything that happens in Russia.

Even more shockingly, the avengers come back together. One by one. The team comes back together.

Which brings you to your predicament now. The thing about being an avenger is that yes, while most of it is about fighting the bad guys and doing some kickass stuff, you also spend a fair chunk of your time in meeting after meeting about things you can’t even muster the brain power to care about.

And as much as you respect Steve Rogers, he is possibly the most boring person on earth to listen to. 

Today especially. 

The three-hour and counting meeting you’re in could definitely have been condensed into ten minutes, you think – or a nice little email. Or post-it note, even.

So caught up in your own thoughts about how bored you are while trying to look as invested in the conversation as you probably should be, you don’t notice as Natasha shifts in the seat next to you, leaning on you more and more until all of a sudden, her head drops onto your shoulder.

You let out a little squeak when it happens, caught so off guard you don’t realise what’s happened at first. Then you realise you can feel her hair tickling your cheek and can feel her breathing gently and steadily next to you.

As the omniscient presence you’ve built her up to be in your head, it’s weird to see her not on edge and alert and ready for battle at the drop of a hat.  

You relax when you realise she’s fallen asleep. Then immediately freeze as it clicks in your head what’s happening because what the hell were you supposed to do? 

You’d been prepared for a lot of situations in your time as an avenger but this is new territory entirely.

Barely daring to breathe, you just sit there, stiff and trying not to move because you don’t want to wake her. As you do, you find yourself studying her sleep softened features, taking note of the circles under her eyes and wondering when the last time she’d slept.

No one else seems to have noticed you both so as Steve continues talking, you eventually find yourself closing your eyes too.

You must fall asleep because the next time you open them, the room is a lot darker and you can feel Natasha beginning to stir against you as well which must have been what woke you in the first place.

The room is empty; somehow between the last time you’d closed your eyes and now, everyone must have filed out.

Natasha groans, opening her eyes to peer at you. 

“God,” she says, yawning. Your heart jumps a little at her raspy sleep-filled voice. “I’ve always thought Steve was the most boring talker, but I never thought he’d put me to sleep.”

“He really is,” you agree. “I’m surprised anyone can stay awake.”

Still leaning against your shoulder, she smiles up at you. It’s soft and unguarded. It’s the look that makes you question whether she returns your feelings every-time she directs it your way.

“You’re quite a comfortable pillow, you know?”

You laugh nervously as she looks up at you, her eyes still bleary with sleep. You think you must imagine it but you swear her eyes drop to your lips. You must be imagining it, you –

She kisses you. 

It comes as such a shock to you that you don’t even kiss her back and by the time that your brain stops short-circuiting, she’s pulling away to look at you.

“Is this okay?” she asks, as her brows furrow a little in concern. 

Hurriedly, not even bothering to answer, you wrap a hand around the back of her neck and jerk her toward you, kissing her again, feeling her relax against you almost immediately.

You don’t know how much time passes but you both jerk apart as the door suddenly flies open, flooding the room with light and bathing you both in it.

Yelena strolls in. 

“Oh,” she says as soon as she lays eyes on you both. The gleeful look on her face disappears in favour of disappointment. “You’re both awake.”

This is when you notice the marker in her hands.The permanent marker. 

Suddenly, the look on her face now makes sense.

Natasha seems to come to the same conclusion as you because she stands and pulls away from you in one fluid movement. Your body mourns the loss. 

 “Give me the sharpie, Yelena” she says dangerously, following after her as Yelena bolts from the room.

She gives you a look over her shoulder as she does, mouthing the word: sorry

When you exit the room ten minutes later, needing the time to collect yourself, you find them both on the floor in the hallway, wrestling for the marker and a series of harsh black lines on both of their faces.

[today-only-happens-once]

retrospection

title: retrospection

summary: Virgil finds Roman in the Mind Palace Theater after the events of Putting Others First: SvSr. 

Word count: 1549

Warnings: spoilers (obviously), self-loathing is extremely heavy here, angst in droves, hurt/comfort, cursing. 

A/N:  I wasn’t planning to write anything in reaction to POF but then this idea caught me in a flying tackle and wrestled me to the ground until I wrote it. So here it is! Posted in the spirit of the “two cakes” theory. Unedited because I just don’t have the mental or emotional energy after writing this. Might be some of my angstiest stuff yet. I’m not sure. It’s up there, for sure. No taglist because it’s short and unedited but since @creativenostalgiastuff specifically asked me to, here ya go!

...

Virgil steps into the Mind Palace Theater as quietly as he can, listening to the echoes of Roman’s final sung note reverberate against the walls of the large room. When Patton had said he was worried because Roman hadn’t returned to his room after whatever conversation had occurred following the wedding reception, Virgil had told the Moral Side he’d try to find him. He’d had a feeling that perhaps Roman would go to one of his usual spots when he was upset. 

The theater is empty, Virgil realizes as he catches the door before it can slam. Usually, when Roman performed, the Creative Side filled the rows of seats with adoring fans. Then again, as far as Virgil knew, Roman hadn’t done much in the way of performing since sentencing Thomas to attend the wedding.

Virgil stays in the back of the theater and watches Roman catch his breath. The Creative Side’s head is bowed, his hair falling unchecked into his eyes, the stage lights casting long shadows across the angular planes of his face. It makes it impossible for Virgil to see Roman’s expression from this far away.

Then Roman’s shoulders jerk with an aborted sob, and Virgil sighs.

Roman sinks, slowly, to the stage floor and Virgil slips his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and starts to walk down the aisle towards the stage. Roman doesn’t seem to notice, pulling a knee up to his chest and burying his face in his arms perched on top of it.

Virgil sniffs as he gets closer in an effort to make his presence known without demanding a response. Roman doesn’t even look up, but the way he freezes for half of a beat is enough to let the Anxious Side know that Roman is aware he’s not alone. It’s something, at least.

Roman is sitting on the edge of the stage thrust, and Virgil jumps up onto it to sit beside him. There’s a long moment when neither of them says anything. Virgil’s hands fidget in his lap as he listens to the way Roman’s sniffles and shaky exhales fill the space around them. He doesn’t look at Roman—not much, anyway—in a perhaps flimsy attempt to let Roman feel that he still had an element of privacy.

But the quiet stretches on, and Virgil starts to feel that perhaps Roman is waiting for him to speak first. So he does.

“No adoring fanbase today?”

Roman sighs. “Best not, after that performance.” He lifts his head, and Virgil counts it as a small and fleeting victory. “How much of it did you hear?”

Roman doesn’t look at him when he asks, but Virgil looks at him when answers. “Not much,” he replies honestly. “The last note.”

Roman’s voice is almost as dull as his eyes, staring blankly at the rows and rows of vacant audience seats the stretch out before them. “I was sharp on the last note. My voice kept—” His voice wavers, then breaks off. Virgil glances over and sees the bob to his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Then he huffs a humorless breath. “Well. That.”

Virgil opens his mouth to reply but Roman cuts him off. “I’ve sung that song probably a million times but I guess now I can just add it to the long list of things I can’t seem to do right.”

Virgil feels something—like dread but sharper—ripple down his spine. His gaze flashes to Roman. “That’s not fair.”

There’s a twitch to Roman’s jaw. “Isn’t it?”

Virgil swallows. “Roman—”

“I was cruel to you. For years, Virgil.” Roman glances at him then, but he averts his gaze a moment later as if too ashamed to meet his eyes. “And then you left, and I eventually realized how badly I’d messed up, and I started doing better. Or, I thought I was. And then Thomas got broken up with, and my efforts to salvage what was left of his heart only led to more pain and I hurt you and I hurt Patton and by extension, I hurt Thomas. I write some song lyrics a few months later and nobody likes them. What’s worse is they’re right to not like them—some of them were like something Remus would have come up with.”

Virgil’s chest clenches at the disgust that drips from Roman’s voice as he speaks. “Roman—”

“I was the reason that Thomas missed the reading of Joan’s play, remember? Because one cute boy gave us the time of day, and I made Thomas choose him first over them. And then I let myself get manipulated into parading around this very same stage in an effort to appease my own sense of guilt over it all. I continued to be mean to Logan, calling him names and calling him stupid which couldn’t be further from the truth.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I was just… angry, and jealous, and I lashed out at an easy target because I’m just incapable of not hurting you all.” Roman’s hands curl around his biceps and grip.

“Roman,” Virgil repeats firmly, but Roman shakes his head and wipes a hand across his mouth and presses on.

“And-and then the callback comes around, and I think finally, y’know? Finally a sign that I could do something right. Finally my ambition is a good thing that helps Thomas rather than hurts him. But even that was wrong, because Thomas—because I—wanted so damn badly to go to that callback, he decided he wasn’t a good person. So I tried to make him do the right thing, because I can make that sacrifice if it means that for once I didn’t screw up.”

Virgil sees a sheen to Roman’s eyes, and the Creative Side quickly brushes at his eyes. He still won’t look at Virgil.

“And then today—“ and Roman’s voice breaks. Virgil watches as Roman’s grip on his own arms tightens even more and the Anxious Side worries that he’s going to leave bruises. Roman stops and takes a breath, his eyes screwing shut. “Today I learn that I couldn’t even get that right. I side with Janus, and I’m the bad guy.”

Virgil startles. He told them his name? He quickly shakes his head, filing away the information to deal with at a later time.

Roman doesn’t even seem to have noticed. “I side with Patton, and I’m still the bad guy. I just… I don’t know what it takes to be the good guy, Virgil. I thought… I thought—”

“Hey,” Virgil says, as softly as he can, reaching a hand out and covering Roman’s on his arm. Hoping to ease the death grip he has. “Roman, you are a good guy. You’re Thomas’s hero, after all.”

There’s a strange, choked noise in the back of Roman’s throat and he wrenches away from Virgil’s grip, scrambling to his feet. He stalks several steps away, his back to the Anxious Side, and Virgil feels suddenly… lost. That used to always be a comfort to Roman. Something he clung to in his darker moments.

But something anguished had flooded into the Prince’s eyes when Virgil had said that, and Virgil…

Virgil doesn’t understand why.

“Not anymore, Virgil,” he chokes out in a strained voice. “Thomas doesn’t—I’m not—”

Virgil blinks a few times, his brow furrowing. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet. “Roman, what are you saying?”

Roman whirls around, his fists clenching and his eyes red and watering. “Spare me the faux ignorance, Anxiety! Janus as much as confirmed that Thomas was lying to me about that. So I know. I know I failed him one too many times now. I know Thomas doesn’t… he doesn’t…” Roman clenches his jaw and averts his gaze again, his expression crumpling.

Virgil glances away, turning that over. That… didn’t make sense. Because Virgil knew—he knew—that Thomas did, in fact, see Roman as his hero. Virgil doesn’t know what Janus told him, or why (because when he thinks about it, even for a moment, he can’t understand why Janus would lie about something like that to Roman), but he knows that Roman is wrong.

Virgil takes a step towards Roman. “Bullshit,” he snaps. “You are his hero. Thomas loves you, Roman. We all do.”

“Shut up!” Roman snaps back. “Why—why do you all keep saying that?”

Virgil takes another step. “Because it’s the truth, Princey.”

Virgil watches as Roman blinks, and the tears that had been brimming in his eyes track down his cheeks. Roman doesn’t scrub them away, either, instead shaking his head.

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” Roman manages, his eyes searching with a desperation that only further tightens the clench in Virgil’s chest. “I’m not… I keep… I don’t deserve it. I—”

Virgil is close enough now to grab him, so he does. He grabs Roman by the arm and yanks him in. Roman stumbles, but Virgil catches him, holding him close with one arm wrapped around his back and the other threading up through his hair to keep him in place.

“Listen to me, Roman,” Virgil says in the Prince’s ear. “We—all of us—love you. We do. We have, we do, and we will. We will say it and we will show it in as many ways as you need until you can believe it yourself.”

He feels Roman’s grip against his own back fist in his sweatshirt. Something like a sob wracks through Roman’s chest, and it’s like a dam breaking open.

Virgil just holds on as tight as he can.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 2: Is This A Test?

Summary: Steve begins his life at Camp Lehigh, throwing himself into training alongside the other candidates for Operation Rebirth and is shocked when on his first day he comes face to face with someone he hadn’t been expecting to see again…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Some over the clothes making out (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  I might have taken a few liberties here with the way things worked in the Army in the 40s but, let’s face it, no more than the MCU did! Any mistakes are my own. I’ll probably spot them once posted but, whatever!

This series is my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

SSR Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

At Camp Lehigh the new recruits were met by their Sergeant, who escorted them to their quarters. There it was explained to them that as they were to form part of a programme run by the Strategic Science Reserve, a separate unit from the rest of the army training at the base, but more would become clear in an hour or so when they reported for exercise. They were then issued their standard uniform, which was awkward for Steve as even the smallest sizes felt like they drowned him but he shrugged it off reminding himself that he had finally done it. He was here, training to be a soldier.

He changed and then Sergeant Duffy appeared again, barking at them to fall in line and they followed him down to an exercise field at the rear of the barracks. Here they once more lined up, Steve taking his place in between teo men whose names he couldn’t remember and they stood, waiting.

“Recruits, attention!”  A female voice called and Steve felt his mouth drop open, because he knew the owner of said voice. “Gentlemen, I’m Agent Stark, this is Agent Carter.”  He turned to face Katie as she began walking down the line, dressed in a sharp army uniform with another woman at her side and a man behind them both who was clutching a box which contained clip files. As she reached Steve, Katie stopped and looked at him, giving him a bashful, almost apologetic smile as the other woman continued to walk.

And wait. Her surname was Stark? As in, Howard Stark? Was that her husband? Had he kissed a married woman? Fuck! Steve swallowed his worry down and averted his eyes as Katie passed down the line following Agent Carter, their eyes flicking to each man in turn.

“We supervise all operations for this division.” Agent Carter spoke in a strong British accent before she was interrupted.

“What’s with the accent, Queen Victoria?” A man further down the line stated rather obnoxiously, causing Agent Carter to stop. Katie drew up alongside her, and Steve watched as, Katie’s hands fell to her hips and she studied the man who’d spoken out of line. “Thought I was signing up for the U.S. Army!”

“What’s your name, soldier?” Agent Carter asked.

“Gilmore Hodge, your Majesty.”

At that the two women exchanged a glance and Agent Carter took a deep breath. “Step forward, Hodge.”

The man obliged, a smirk on his face as he looked around a little, no doubt to check everyone was watching.

“Put your right foot forward.” Agent Carter instructed.

“Mmm… we gonna wrestle? Cause I got a few moves I know you’ll like.” Hodge spoke, before puckering his lips up in a kissing gesture.

Then, there was a flurry of movement and in a flash Katie was behind him, jerking his arm up his back. She aimed a sharp kick to the back of his knee causing Hodge to stumble to the floor. She went with him, her knee planted firmly in the base of his spine, arm twisting even more and he gave out a yell, “Okay, okay I yield.”

Steve gave a little huff of laughter, as did the man to his right as Katie stood up, not a hair out of place and smoothed down her jacket and trousers as Hodge rose to his feet. No sooner had he done that Agent Carter punched him hard, straight in the face.

And Steve laughed a little more this time, hastily straightening his face when he noticed a man, a Colonel according to the pips on his shoulders, hopping out of jeep as he barked to the two agents.

“Agent Carter, Agent Stark.”

Both of them wheeled round, springing to attention, saluting.

“Colonel Phillips.”

“Sir.”

“I see you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good!” He nodded to the two women before he looked down at Hodge “Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in that line at attention 'til somebody comes and tells you what to do.”

“Yes, Sir.” Hodge scrambled to his feet and slotted back into the place he’d been stood previously, looking a little sheepish.

Steve watched as Colonel Phillips started to walk down the line, addressing the new army recruits.  “General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons but they are won by men. We are going to win this war because we have the best men…” He paused a little at that point as he looked at Steve. Steve kept his face straight, looking directly ahead. He knew full well what the Colonel was thinking, but he was here to prove him wrong. “And because they’re gonna get better. Much better. The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an Allied effort made up of the best minds in the free world. Our goal is to create the best army in history. But every army starts with one man. At the end of this week we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of super-soldiers. And they, will personally escort Adolf Hitler to the gates of Hell.”

Super-Soldiers? The end of the week? That was five days away! Steve could hear a few murmurs down the line as some of the recruits began to exchange glances.

“Did I ask any of you to talk?” Phillips barked and silence fell once more. “The man we select will go through a procedure,” he continued, “an experimental procedure that, if successful, will significantly enhance his physical stature, amplifying all his qualities and abilities. This is not something we take lightly. It is for this reason that you will be assessed not just on your current physical abilities but your mental capacity and it won’t be easy. So if any of you are having second thoughts,” he once more paused at Steve who, as before, ignored him, “speak now or forever hold your peace.”

No one made a sound.

***** Whilst Steve didn’t have much time to think about Katie for the rest of the day as most of his energy was taken by keeping up with the afternoon’s exercise, he found himself with plenty of time to think about her over dinner. He kept himself to himself, taking a seat at the end of a large table in the mess hall, unable to prevent the sullen mood he found himself in.

He knew it was stupid, as he hardly knew the dame, but he felt betrayed, and if truth be told a little confused. Betrayed at the fact she’d kept her true identity and vocation from him, confused as to why she’d kissed him, especially if she was married and knew they’d end up working together. It confounded his original opinion that she’d done it out of some kind of obligation, a thank you if you will for him stepping in that day on the street. Not that he needed to step in, it was perfectly clear now she’d been able to handle herself.

He looked down at the tasteless bully beef and dumplings, before he sighed and continued to eat. Whilst he wasn’t particularly hungry he knew that he had to keep his strength up, especially if he wanted to have any chance to complete the training that was in store tomorrow. When he’d had his fill, he took the tray over to the clear down area and headed outside into the warm New Jersey evening.

It was still light, the birds in the trees singing their melodic evening chorus as Steve headed over the camp towards the sleeping barracks he and the other Project Rebirth candidates had been assigned to. He trudged down the dirt path, hands in his baggy uniform pockets when he heard Katie shouting to him. Taking a deep breath, he stopped, and turned to face her, saluting.

“Agent Stark.”

“Woah, at ease, we ain’t on parade now!” She shook her head.

“Yes Ma’am.” He dropped his arm but kept it firmly by his side, still standing to attention, focussing on a spot slightly behind her.

“What’s with the Ma’am?” She frowned but Steve ignored her question. Her frown deepened and she cocked her head to one side. “Wait, are you angry at me?” Steve’s eyes flicked to hers for a second and he swallowed looking away causing her to sigh. “Steve, I…”

“You lied to me.” He blurted out, his eyes returning to hers and she frowned.

“No, I just didn’t tell you my full story.” She shrugged, lamely.

“Where I come from that’s called lying.”

“Oh come on, Steve, it’s not like you actually asked what I did for a living!”

“I asked if ya worked for Howard Stark.” He folded his arms. “And you said you did.”

“Well, I do, sorta…”

“Oh, is that as well as sorta being married to him?”

“Married?” Katie’s eyes narrowed before they widened again and she grinned. “What, you think…oh my God Steve!” She let out a laugh.

“You know, I’ve had my fill of people laughing at me today.” He rolled his eyes and turned to leave, an angry flush spreading up his neck.

“Howie’s my brother!”

“Your brother?” He stopped dead.

“Yes, you know, same mom, same dad.”

Steve groaned, feeling like a total, total idiot and after a moment or two of cursing himself he turned back to face her, his face bashfully tinged red. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were related? Or what it is that you actually do?”

“Because I didn’t know I was supposed to.” She looked at him. “Plus, I kinda liked not being Agent Katie Stark for a moment and just being, I dunno, some regular girl.”

Steve looked at her again before he glanced away, not quite sure what had come over him. He’d literally never had a conversation with a woman that lasted longer than a few minutes, if that, and here he was for the second time with her just rolling with it, and not just that, he was actually being a little rude. His ma would not be happy.

“I’m sorry.” He offered, his manner contrite. “That was rude. I guess, well, it was just a shock, that’s all.”

“Do you know how people usually react when I tell them what I actually do?” Katie sighed, shaking her head “Most guys run a mile.”

“Well, I’m not like most guys.” Steve instantly retorted, repeating the sentiment she had expressed to him mere days ago. She blinked a little, before she gave a huff of laughter and dropped her eyes to the floor.

“Touche, Rogers. Touche.”

“Can I ask you something?” Feeling emboldened Steve asked hastily, before he chickened out.

“Sure.” She nodded.

“Did you know? That I was gonna be here, I mean.”

“Not for certain.” Katie shook her head. “I had an idea when you told me it was a doctor from a Science Division that had recruited you but until I saw your name on the new-recruit roster this morning, I didn’t know for sure.”

“Right.” Steve nodded, licking his lips a little.

“Does it matter?” Katie frowned.

“Not especially.” He popped a shoulder. “Just kinda figured that if you knew you’d be seeing me each day, you wouldn’t have…you know…”

“Kissed you?”

“Yeah, that.” Steve felt the heat rise in his neck as he thought back to that moment. He ran his hand through his hair in a nervous fashion. “I mean I know you probably did it because you either felt kinda sorry for me or like you hadda thank me but this has gotta be awkward for you right? Seeing me every day as a reminder, but it’s not like I told anyone so-“

“Woah, woah, stop!” Katie shook her head, stepping towards him. “Steve, I don’t care who you told. I’m not embarrassed if that’s what you think.”

“You’re not?”

“No!” Katie looked at him like he was stupid. “And I didn’t kiss you because I felt sorry for you or because I felt I owed you, I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“You wanted to.” Steve looked at her, not quite sure if he believed her or not.

“Is that so hard to comprehend?”

“Frankly, yes!” He snorted. “I mean, look at ya. You’re…” he gestured with his hand towards her. “And I’m…”

“Well lucky for you I’m not a shallow bimbo then isn’t it?” She said, an air of annoyance in her tone. “I might be a Stark, and yes, I’m privileged which means I’m expected to act a certain way with a certain type of man from a certain type of background. Maybe I just wanna act how I wanna act, with who I choose. And your assumption right then? That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“Katie, I didn’t-” But even by the time he’d finished half his sentence, she’d turned on her heel and left “-mean it like that.” He finished a little lamely, watching her go. His hands dropped to his bony hips and he glanced at the floor, toeing the dirt slightly before he looked up and around.

He felt so out of place, the one thing he’d wanted to do and now he was here he felt as small and as insignificant as he had ever felt. And to top it off, he’d just upset probably the one person he could have relied upon for support. But it was more than that. He felt guilty, guilty that he’d upset her and made assumptions about her, when he actually in all fairness knew nothing about her. He’d judged a book by its cover, which was what he hated everyone doing to him. With a final groan he turned and headed back towards the sleeping quarters, to unpack the small chest of belongings he’d brought with him.

If today was anything to go by, it was going to be a long week.

***** Long was an understatement.

By Monday morning,  Steve had done five different physical assault courses, various runs loaded with equipment, taken part in a number of logic puzzles, had a one on one interview with Colonel Phillips, completed written, arithmetic and geography tests and been subject to another medical examination.  He was now on a fuck knows how many miles drill run, being barked at once more by Sergeant Duffy.

“Pick up the pace, ladies! Let’s go!”

Steve was running as fast as he could, but still lagged ten or fifteen yards behind the main formation of the group. His legs ached, his chest hurt but he was damned if he was giving up.

"Double time! Come on! Faster! Faster! Move! Move!”  Sergeant Duffy instructed as they rounded the corner of the dirt path, drawing up behind a jeep which was parked by a flag pole surrounded by white rocks on the ground. “Squad, halt!”

Finally, Steve could catch his breath. He bent over, hands on his knees as he inhaled deeply, watching the group of men as they gathered around their leader.

“That flag means we’re only at the halfway point.”

Half way? Great…just great.

“First man to bring it to me gets a ride back with Agent Carter. Move, move!”

Steve pushed his helmet back up his head, remaining where he was simply watching as the entire unit all tried to climb the pole. It was a free for all, men pushing each other out of the way, elbows flying, fists flailing. Steve however scanned the pole up and down, his brain logically thinking it through. There had to be a way to get that flag down without having to climb the pole, otherwise how did they put it up there in the first place?

“If that’s all you got, this army’s in trouble!” Duffy snapped “Get up there, Hodge! Come on! Get up there!”

Hodge, who had made it a few feet further than everyone else slid down to the ground and Duffy stood back, his arms folded, smirking a little. “Nobody’s got that flag in seventeen years!” He shook his head “Now fall back into line! Come on, fall in!”

That signalled the end of the little pole exercise, but not for Steve. As everyone cleared away he walked towards it, glancing first at the bottom of the pole, then up to the top, squinting slightly against the sun. If he was right…

“Rogers! I said fall in!” Duffy barked, but Steve ignored him as he bent down and pulled the pin out at the bottom of the pole causing it to fall with a loud crash to the ground in a cloud of dust. He tossed the pin to the floor with a clang as everyone fell silent, watching as he removed the flag from the rope which held it to the pole. He handed it to Sergeant Duffy on his way past.

“Thank you, sir.” He said gently as he climbed into the back of the jeep. Agent Carter turned to face him from her seat in the front and he shot her a smile which she returned, an amused look spreading across her features.

Steve was damned glad of that ride home as, following lunch, they were subjected to another physical activity, this one a seemingly endless circuit training involving star jumps, push up, sit ups you name it.

“Faster, ladies!” Agent Carter barked, as they were all busy doing push ups “Come on. My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul. Move it!”

A few more sets and she barked at them to get up, which they obeyed, springing to their feet just as Agent Stark arrived with Colonel Phillips and Dr Erskine. The three of them were clearly mid some debate, Katie looked a little annoyed and turned to Phillips snapping at him, her face flashing with anger. Erskine put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head gently and she rolled her eyes, turning away and looking over towards the group of men.  She locked eyes with Steve who watched her for a second, before Agent Carter’s voice hit his ears and he began the jumping jacks she had instructed them to partake in.

“Come on, girls.”

Steve had no idea how many he did, but he continued going, his arms and legs both spreading and then coming back together as he made jump after jump. He grit his teeth, powering through the burn he was feeling in his muscles, tossing his head out of the way slightly as his dog tags bounced off his chest after a particularly energetic leap, smacking him straight in the nose.

And then he heard it.

“GRENADE!”

All logic flew from Steve’s head and as the rest of the unit scattered he instinctively dived towards the explosive, covering it with his body, curling his knees into his chest in an attempt to minimise the impact to everyone round him.

“Get away!” He yelled, waving his arm as Agent Carter ran towards him, “get back!”

He remained curled in on himself, waiting and waiting but nothing happened. Eventually he looked up, to see everyone was slowly starting to go back to normal and he sat up, frowning a little, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“It was a dummy grenade. All clear. Back in formation.” Someone spoke as Steve glanced first at Agent Carter then over to Phillips and Erskine and finally Agent Stark. As his eyes met hers a smile crossed her face and a flash of something that looked suspiciously like pride filled her pretty features.

“Is this is a test?” He asked as he sat on the floor, completely bemused at what had just happened.

Katie tore her eyes from his to turn to Dr Erskine who was also smiling and they both simultaneously moved their attention to Colonel Phillips. He shot them both a withering look as he spoke before he turned to walk away. As he passed Katie he stopped, pointed to Steve who was now getting to his feet and she nodded, saluting.

Erskine beamed at Steve before he turned to follow Phillips away, once again patting Katie’s shoulder as he left. Steve dusted himself down and then simply watched as Katie walked over to Agent Carter, his eyes following her every move. She whispered something to the other woman who raised her eyebrows, a soft smile crossing her face. Both women then looked at him, before Peggy gave Katie a curt nod as she called the remaining soldiers back into line.

“Private Rogers,” Katie spoke, her eyes soft as she glanced at him, “with me.”

“Ma’am.” He scrambled after her, tripping over his feet slightly as he hurried to catch up with her, glancing back at the line of men who were now being addressed by Agent Carter before she dismissed them all.

“What…where are the rest of the guys goin’?” he began to ask and Katie turned to look at him as he fell into step besides her, to her left.

“They’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” Steve frowned.

“Yup.” Katie nodded as she led him across the training field and onto the gravel track. “They’ll be re-assigned to other units.”

“Other units?” Steve frowned, before her words finally registered “You mean…”

Katie stopped and turned to look at him, smiling as she brushed some of the dirt from his shoulder. “Congratulations. You’re gonna become our first Super Soldier.”

Steve blinked, swallowed and then shook his head. “Is this a joke?”

“No.” Katie shook her head. “I can assure you this is deadly serious.” She took a deep breath and turned to walk down the track to her right.

“Why me?” Steve blurted out as they rounded a row of military jeeps

Katie smiled at him “The fact you’re even asking that should tell you everything you need to know. But if you really want the detailed answer, you should ask Abe.”

“Who?”

“Dr Erskine.”

“Okay, I will, where is he?” Steve looked round almost as if he expected the Doctor to appear form behind the munitions store they were passing.

“I suspect on his way to Brooklyn to meet Howie at the lab.” Katie replied “He’ll be back later so you can talk to him then.”

“The lab’s in Brooklyn?” The surprise was evident in Steve’s voice as Katie led him to one of the large green dome like structures that housed the offices. “So that’s why you were there that day.”

Katie grinned. “Not just a pretty face, are ya?” She stood still, snapping to attention and saluted to the guard on the door who immediately saluted back.

“Agent Stark.” He greeted as he stepped to his right, opening the door for them both to step into. Steve followed behind her down a long corridor. They turned left at the end and Katie stopped outside a door to their right which held a name tag informing them that it was Colonel Phillips’ office.  She gave a sharp rap, and then without waiting for an answer opened the door and stepped in, Steve following.

The Colonel looked up as they entered the room, placing the pen he’d been writing with down on his desk.

“Shut the door.” Phillips barked and Steve scrambled to do as he was told before he drew himself up tall and saluted his superior. “At ease, Rogers.”

“Sir.” Steve nodded and relaxed as much as he could. At that point there was another knock on the door and he turned to see Agent Carter step inside.

“Ma’am.” Steve nodded to Peggy who smiled at him.

“So, I’m assuming Agent Stark has given you the low down?” Phillips spoke and Steve turned back to him, giving a nod.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, saves me a job.”

“When don’t I?” Katie quipped and Steve’s eyes widened at the fact she’d basically just sassed a superior officer. There was a moment’s pause before Phillips snorted.

“One of these days, Agent Stark, that mouth is gonna get you into trouble.”

“I look forward to it.”

Phillips shot her another look which she met with a smirk and he scoffed a little, turning his attention to Steve. “So, Rogers, Dr Erskine has chosen you as the candidate to become our first Super Soldier.”

“It’s an honor, Sir.”

“Do you have any questions?” Peggy looked at Steve.

Steve pondered for a second. Truth be told he had a lot of questions, but the biggest one, the why, that was going to have to wait for Dr Erskine himself. He took a deep breath and looked up at the Agent before his eyes flicked to Colonel Phillips, and back again.

“What does the procedure actually entail?”

“Agent Stark, you wanna take this?” Phillips looked at her and she nodded.

“You’ll be injected with Erskine’s formula.” Katie looked at Steve “This will cause immediate change to your cells, your DNA. Then to stimulate the change and growth, you’ll be subjected to an intense permeation of Vita-Rays, in a chamber that my brother and Erskine developed especially.”

“Is it safe?” Steve asked.

Katie took a deep breath and shrugged. “On the animal test subjects we’ve used, yeah but I’m not gonna lie to you Steve, other than a Nazi scientist named Johan Schmidt the serum hasn’t been tested on any human subject.”

“What happened to this Schmidt guy?” Steve asked and Katie looked at Phillips, then Peggy, and when she turned back to him he swallowed a little at the look of apprehension on her face.

“It didn’t go the way he planned, but that said the formula was incomplete. Erskine will be able to tell you more tomorrow.” She answered softly. Steve thought on her words for a moment, his eyes still locked onto hers as she licked her lips, offering him nothing but a shrug. “In simple terms, we don’t know if it’s gonna work or not. So you need to think carefully.”

“When is it gonna happen?”

“The procedure will take place tomorrow morning.” Agent Carter spoke. “So you have little over fourteen hours.”

“So despite what Agent Stark says,” Phillips spoke, shooting Katie a look which she met with an equally annoyed one of her own, “there’s little to no time for contemplation.”

“There’s fourteen hours…” Katie began to protest.

“Did I ask for your input?” Phillips snapped and she narrowed her eyes.

“No, you never do. Maybe if you did we-“

“If you want to remain part of this unit you’ll stop that sentence right there.” Phillips pointed at her. Katie’s mouth pressed into a thin line and she folded her arms, shaking her head as she looked away. Steve’s eyes turned back to Phillips who spoke. “If you want out, now is the time to speak up so we can find someone else. Are you in, Rogers? Because if you are, after this meeting and you leave this room, there’s no going back.”

“But I’ve only had like five days of basic training.” Steve frowned “Is that going to be enough?”

“We’re on a schedule.” Phillips shrugged, “It’s going to have to be.”

“Your basic training, or lack thereof, shouldn’t be a problem.” Peggy shook her head “Our intention is to continue to train you up fully so that you’re prepared to lead the others who we, well, who we convert.”

Steve took a deep breath and glanced once more at Katie, who was staring to her left, her jaw set. Was he in? He began to logically step through things in his head. Steve wasn’t an idiot, he knew full well that if he said no he’d be shipped off to another unit and likely sent home or shoved into some kind of non-combat role due to his current lack of physical abilities or strength. The serum might not work, but then what? He ended up deformed? Or dead? But if he was perfectly honest with himself, having had a taste of what it was like to do what he always wanted to, if the opportunity was taken away from him, he might as well be dead anyway.

It was a no brainer as far as he was concerned. He had to do this.

“I’m in.” Steve nodded, his voice loaded with conviction as he gave a firm nod.

To the side of him Katie took a deep breath, an action mimicked by Colonel Phillips, before the older man turned to Agent Carter who stepped to the side revealing a piece of paper on the desk.

“In that case then I need you to sign this.” Phillips said “It’s a form stating that you consent to the procedure. Just a formality that Stark is insisting on.”

“God forbid we do things properly.” Katie mumbled. Phillips shot her another withering glare before he waved a pen at Steve. Steve stepped forward, took the pen off him and glanced down at the form. His eyes scanned it and then, without further hesitation he scribbled his name on the space at the bottom.

“Congratulations Private Rogers.” Phillips nodded as Agent Carter moved to place the form in a filing cabinet at the back.

“So, now what do I do?” Steve asked.

“You can do what the hell you want, within reason.” Phillips shrugged “But you can’t leave base, can’t risk anything happening to you. Not now.”

“By the time you get back to your barracks, everyone else will have packed up and left so I suggest you make the most of the peace and quiet.” Agent Carter smiled. “Because you’re going to be pretty busy from Tomorrow onwards.”

Steve nodded to show he understood and then he was dismissed. Saluting to Phillips he turned to leave the room, followed by Katie who herself was leaving to see her brother.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat tonight?” She asked him as they left the building. “And I don’t mean any of the shit they serve in the mess.”

Steve looked up. “I suppose some of Mrs Tromley’s home made preserve is out of the question?”

“Leave it with me.” She smiled and Steve looked at her for a second before he took a deep breath.

“Look, Agent- Katie, I err, wanted to apologise for my outburst the other night. I was rude and…”

“It’s okay, I don’t hold a grudge.” She paused and turned to face him. “Alright that’s a lie, I do. But only against people who deserve it.”

“And I don’t?” Steve asked with a slight smile and she shrugged.

“For now, no. Plenty of time for me to change my mind though.” And with that, just as she had done at the expo she turned and left him standing there, tossing him a wink over her shoulder as she walked away.

 *****

Katie came through with the preserve, a small jar along with a crusty cob of bread was waiting in his bunk later that evening when he returned from the bathroom cabin. He ate sat on his bed, mulling everything over in his mind before he stood up and decided to go for a walk. He found a nice quiet spot hidden behind one of the munition sheds and sat to draw for a while, a particularly gnarled old tree the target of his attention. When the light diminished too much for him to see properly, he headed back and dropped his sketchbook into his rucksack before he settled down with a book open on his lap.

For the next few hours he tried to read but none of it was really sinking in. He had butterflies in his stomach, not nerves as such, but apprehension, definitely, at what he was letting himself in for. As he re-read the same sentence he’d been looking at for the last ten minutes, there was a knock at the door which made him jump slightly and he turned to look over his left shoulder as Dr Erskine stood in the doorway, a bottle and two glasses in his hand.

“May I?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, closing the book as Erskine walked over the floor, placing the glass on the trunk at the end of Steve’s bed.

“Can’t sleep?” Erskine asked as he moved towards the bed opposite Steve.

“I got the jitters, I guess.” Steve shrugged.

Erskine laughed “Me, too.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve dropped the book he had been reading down on the trunk next to the glass.

“Just one?” Erskine looked at Steve as he sat down facing him. Steve still had a lot of questions, but the one he wanted an answer to most was the one that flew out of his mouth.

“Why me?”

“I suppose that is the only question that matters.” Erskine said after a moment’s pause. He looked down at the bottle of schnapps he brought with him, turning the label so Steve could see it. “This is from Augsburg. My city. So many people forget that the first country that the Nazi’s invaded was their own.” He took a breath “You know, after the last war my people struggled. They felt weak. They felt small. And then Hitler comes along with the marching and the big show and the flags and the… and the… “ Erskine waved his hand as he took a deep breath, straightening his glasses “And he… he hears of me, my work and he finds me. And he says, ‘You’,” Erskine pointed to emphasise his point, “he says, ‘you will make us strong.’ Well, I am not interested.” Erskine shook his head as he placed the bottle on the floor between his feet, Steve’s eyes following his movements “So he sends the head of HYDRA, his research division. A brilliant scientist by the name of Johann Schmidt.”

That name Steve recognised from before, the one Katie told him about. He watched as Erskine continued talking, once more pushing his glasses up his nose. “Now, Schmidt is a member of the inner circle and he’s ambitious. He and Hitler share a passion for occult power and Teutonic myth. Hitler uses his fantasies to inspire his followers. But for Schmidt, it is not fantasy. For him, it is real. He has become convinced that there is a great power hidden in the Earth, left here by the Gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So when he hears about my formula and what it can do, he cannot resist.” Erskine paused as Steve looked at him, understanding immediately he was referring to Schmidt taking the formula. “Schmidt must become that superior man.”

Remembering what Katie had said, about it not going according to plan he looked at Erskine. “Did it make him stronger?”

“Yeah. But, there were other effects.” Erskine conceded, but didn’t elaborate further. “The serum was not ready. But more important, the man. The serum amplifies everything that is inside. So, good becomes great. Bad becomes worse.” He explained and Steve glanced down, taking all the information in “This is why you were chosen.”

At that Steve looked back up at him, his brow furrowing deeply as Erskine continued “Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, frowning slightly, “I think.” He glanced at Erskine who smiled at him, and then waved in the direction of the two glasses on the trunk at the foot of the bed. As Steve took the glasses, pulling the top one out with his right hand, Erskine uncorked the schnapps and began to pour the liquid.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing.” Erskine said, corking the bottle one more and setting it down on the floor “That you will stay who you are.” Erskine took a glass off Steve and stared straight into his eyes, almost as if he was trying to drive the message home. “Not a perfect soldier, but a good-“ he pointed at Steve’s chest “- man.”

Steve took a deep breath, holding his glass up and he allowed that fleeting warmth of pride spread across his chest, just for a second, as he smiled. “To the little guys.”

“Ha ha!” Erskine agreed, chinking his glass against Steve’s but just as Steve was about to take a drink Erskine suddenly spluttered. “No! No! Wait! Wait! What I am doing?” He reached out, taking Steve’s glass off him “No! You have a procedure tomorrow. No fluids.”

Seriously?

Steve watched as Erskine poured the contents of Steve’s glass into his own and sighed a little, he’d been looking forward to that.

“All right. We’ll drink it after.” He shrugged.

“No! I don’t have procedure tomorrow.” Erskine gestured towards himself. “Drink it after? I drink it now.”

Steve gave a small smile as the doctor knocked back the clear liquid in the glass and was just about to speak to tease him a little about making sure he had a clear head for the morning, when there was another knock on the door. Steve’s head turned to look as Katie stepped inside the dorm, smiling.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.” She looked at Erskine whose mouth curled up a little at one side in a knowing smirk.

“And that is my cue to leave.” He stood up. “I will see you in the morning, Steven.”

He squeezed Steve’s shoulder as he strode past, the bottle of schnapps in his hand as Katie moved to allow him through the doorway. He smiled once more before he shut the door behind him leaving the pair of them in the dim light of the bare sleeping room. Steve looked at Katie, inhaling deeply as even in the simple combat trousers and plain khaki t-shirt she was wearing she still looked effortlessly gorgeous. Her hair was pulled back off her face in a simple braid, and her skin was devoid of her usual make up, lips clear of their normal bright red paint. He realised with a slight swallow that this is what she’d look like at home, last thing at night and first thing in the morning…

He shifted a little on the side of his bed and watched as she walked over to take the spot Erskine had vacated.

“Are you supposed to be in here?” Steve finally spoke and she shrugged.

“Well, it probably wouldn’t be seen as appropriate if we were caught but…” She paused and gave a twitch of a smirk, “Steve, you’re gonna become a super soldier tomorrow, you can do what the hell you want!”

He inhaled a little sharply at her words as those inappropriate thoughts once more reared in his head and he felt his neck and cheeks grow warm.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered.” She smiled.

“Thanks?” he shook his head before he glanced up at her. “So why are you here?”

“I wanted to see how you were.” She shrugged.

“Why?” he frowned.

“Why?” She looked at him, as if he’d just asked her the dumbest question on the planet. “Because I care about you Steve.”

“You care about me?” He repeated, the disbelief evident in his tone.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Of course I do.”

Steve watched her for a moment, and for the first time he caught a glimpse of something a little less composed under her normally cool and confident exterior. She was biting her lip, her teeth worrying at her plump bottom one as her right hand gently pulled at the knuckles of her left.

“You’re nervous.” He spoke suddenly and her eyes locked onto his, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just, well, this is a huge thing, Steve. A culmination of years of work from not just the SSR but Stark Industries, and Erskine.” She looked at him and shook her head, giving a little snort. “God I know that sounds pathetic compared to what you must be feeling.”

“Well, I’m a little twitchy, that’s fo’ sure, but I’m not scared scared, does that make sense?” He asked and she looked at him, a smile twisting on her lips.

“That’s because you’re ridiculously brave.”

“Or stupid.” He shrugged and she laughed, shaking her head.

“That’s one word I really wouldn’t use to describe you. I heard about the flag.”

“Yeah?” Steve chuckled a little and she grinned.

“Peggy said it was the best thing she’d ever seen. No one’s rendered Sergeant Duffy speechless before but he was pretty impressed that night at briefing.”

“It was just logic.” Steve flushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m pretty good at using my head. You haff’ to be when you’re as small and as weak as I am.”

“Don’t.” Katie shook her head.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say that. You’re not weak.”

At that Steve gave a snort. “Come on Doll, physically I’m a wreck. That’s one of the reasons Erskine picked me.” no sooner had he spoke, he realised what he’d said and his eyes widen at the involuntary use of the pet term but Katie merely laughed, arching her brow.

“Doll?”

“Sorry Ma’am.” He winced “Just slipped out.”

“I’m flattered.” She chuckled, before giving a sigh. “But back to what you just said, about why Erskine picked you. It isn’t just because you’re physically weak. It’s because that serum amplifies everything about you Steve…”

“Yeah, good becomes great, bad becomes worse.” Steve repeated the words Erskine had spoken to him not five minutes ago.

“Exactly.” Katie looked at him. “Erskine could have chosen any one of the guys that were in here with you, but he didn’t. He saw something in you, something that none of the others had.” She bit her lip and grinned as she leaned back slightly on the bed. “You’re a lion disguised as a lamb, Rogers.” “Oh, jeez!” He snorted shaking his head as she laughed. “Now you sound like Bucky, that’s the kinda nonsense that jerk would come out with.”

At that Katie wrinkled her nose. “In that case I take it back.”

“Thank you, now I feel great.” Steve retorted sarcastically and she laughed loudly, snorting as she did so. Her eyes widened and she clamped her hand over her mouth as Steve chuckled at her very un-lady like manner, his head falling forward as his own laughs rang out around the barracks. Eventually, Katie managed to stop, wiping her eyes and she shook her head.

“Sometimes I think it’s a blessing my parents are no longer around. My mom especially would be horrified if they could see how uncouth I act at times.”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “If you were my daughter I’d be pretty proud of how you turned out.”

Katie smiled shyly at his compliment. “Thanks Stevie. I’m sure yours would feel the same.”

He didn’t ask how she knew his parents were both dead, it was fairly obvious she would have read his file. Instead he simply smiled and looked down at his hands “I like to think so. Although I’m pretty sure if my ma was still around and knew what I was doing tomorrow she’d have a coupla’ things to say about it. And a few slaps ready for the back ‘o ma head!”

“Tell me about it.” Katie chuckled, “If my dad could see me here, right now. Man, he’d be apoplectic. ‘The army is no place for a woman’!” She mimicked a deep voice before she shook her head. “Mind you, not like I’ve never heard it before.” She took a deep breath and looked at him. “You’ve never commented on it though.”

Steve blinked and then shook his head, shrugging. “That’s not how my ma brought me up. She was a single parent for all my life, anything a man could do in the house she did just as well. Besides, I know what it’s like to be told no because of what or who you are.”

“Ironically, who I am kinda got me through the door.” Katie shrugged, and when Steve looked at her pondering what she meant, she continued. “I was already working for the CIA when Howie told me that Colonel Phillips had approached him about working for the SSR. Naturally I wanted in but of course there were grumbles about it because I was a female. But my brother put his foot-down, said we came as a team, so they relented. Plus, Peggy, or Agent Thirteen was she was then, was already in deep cover working for Schmidt as a maid in his personal mansion.” She licked he lips and shrugged. “Colonel Phillips convinced the CIA to send me undercover as Peggy’s friend, a go-between if you will meaning there was less risk of her cover being blown.” She paused and glanced at him as Steve simply watched, rapt with attention. “Over the next few months we obtained details of Schmidt’s plan, what he was intending to do with Erskine’s serum and we knew we couldn’t possibly let the Nazi’s perfect it. Since we rescued Erskine, he and Howard have been working on finishing the formula, building the necessary equipment to ensure that it works. And Peggy and I were given our reward which was permission to serve in the allied army as SSR Agents.”

“Permission?” Steve deadpanned and Katie snorted.

“Yup.”

“Interesting reward.”

“I’d have taken whatever chance they gave to me.” She shrugged. “It’s all I ever wanted to do.”

Steve looked at her, the similarities in their stories were striking even despite their different backgrounds. But he still didn’t get it. She was beautiful, could have married well, just like most gals of her status, and his confusion must have shown as she cocked her head to one side and studied him for a moment before she spoke again.

“Don’t you think I was right to do so?”

“No, I mean, yes I do. I guess I’m just curious as to why you’d wanna join the army if you’re a beautiful dame.”

At that both her eyebrows raised and he cursed himself. He’d managed most of this conversation so far not to put his foot in his mouth and now, wham, kicked himself straight in the teeth. “Or a beautiful… a woman.” He floundered for words “An agent, not a dame! You are beautiful, but…”

“Why do you get so nervous when you speak to me?” Katie asked and Steve shook his head, giving a little huff as she called him out, groaning a little.

“Because up until the point I met you I think the longest conversation I ever had with a woman would have been with Mrs Barnes or Mrs Tomley.” he looked up at her, before he glanced back down at his hands. “Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on.”

“You must have danced?” Katie frowned, and she seemed genuinely surprised at what he was admitting.

“Well, asking a woman to dance always seems so terrifying.” Steve shrugged “And the past few years just didn’t seem to matter that much. Figured I’d wait.”

“For what?”

“The right partner.” He said, his eyes still focussed on his hands. He could feel Katie looking at him and eventually he raised his eyes to see her smiling softly at him.

“Well, I think all the girls in Brooklyn are dumbasses for not noticing you.”  With her words she stood up and crossed to the bed he was sat on, taking a spot besides him. Steve swallowed, his entire body going rigid at the fact she was so close to him and she turned her face to look into his eyes. “You’re sweet”

He chuckled “You know I hear that a lot…you’re really sweet and all but…“

“Like I said,” she bumped her shoulder against his slightly, “dumbasses”

Steve looked at her before he felt his cheeks once more growing warm and he looked away, hastily, focussing on nothing in particular as her words echoed around his head. He didn’t know how to respond to praise, not in the sense in which she was giving it to him anyway.

“But seriously, why does me complimenting you make you so awkward, Steve?” She asked, and despite himself Steve’s head shot up to look at her once more, his mouth falling open at the fact that she’d unwittingly just read his mind.

He took a deep breath. “I guess I’m not used to it, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry if it makes you feel awkward.” She bit her bottom lip and looked down at her hands for a moment before she glanced back at him, her features soft, eyes alive in the dim light. “But I just, well, I like you Steve,” she whispered, “I mean, really like you.”

Steve felt his mouth go dry as her eyes flicked down to his lips, the same way they had at the Expo and he swallowed, the lump thick in his throat.

“I err, I…” He took a deep breath, the palms of his hands feeling clammy, those green emeralds sparkling as he looked at her, his mind willing him to summon the courage to say what he wanted to. And before he could chicken out, he blurted the words. “I like you too.”

Her cheeks flushed pink and she gently moved towards him, closing the already small distance between them as Steve reached up, with a shaky right hand, his actions completely instinctual. He gently cupped her cheek as his lips found hers and he kissed her, tentatively at first before soon the kiss was as deep as it had been at the Expo. His spare hand balled into a fist by his side as he was unsure exactly what to do with it until he felt Katie’s fingers gently work his away from his palm and she pulled his left arm towards her. Following her lead, he tentatively pressed his palm onto her hip as she shifted her weight slightly, wrapping her arms round his neck. She pulled him closer, the kiss growing deeper and Steve couldn’t help the soft little whimper that rolled in his throat.

As the involuntary noise filed the air between them he felt Katie’s lips smile against his and then, he was pitching forward as she fell slowly backwards, pulling him down with her as she sank onto the bunk. The movement came as surprise but he didn’t resist. With a shaky breath he paused for a moment, realising he had absolutely no idea what to do next other than run with it. So, after a second or so more deliberation, he went once more with his gut and crawled over her, resting his weight on his palms which he placed either side of her head before he dropped his face to hers and kissed her again. Her lips felt so soft against his, something he wasn’t sure he’d taken the time to appreciate before, or maybe it was all simply heightened by the fact he was lay over her, he had no idea. But what he did know was that when Katie placed both hands on his face, the pads of her finger tips cupping his jaw, it sent a jolt of electricity tingling all the way down his spine. She was the one to break away this time, breathing deeply as her head rest on his hard, army issued pillow, her eyes bouncing across both of his.

“You okay?” She asked and Steve nodded.

“Yeah, I err…” He swallowed and gave a little huff of shy laughter as he hung his head a little, peeking up a her shyly “I don’t know what I’m doing, or even if we should be doing it at all.”

“What do you mean if we should be doing it at all?”

“Well, we’re not…” He licked his lips “I mean, I should be taking you out, on a date or…well, at least doing things properly, not just…”

“Steve, we’re in the middle of a damned war.” Katie looked at him, cutting his protests off dead. “Every day could be your last, to hell with rules and being prim and proper.”

Steve had to concede she had a point, and as he looked into her eyes he could feel that last thread of his self-control starting to fray. Every inch of his body was on fire for her, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her stupid and feel her underneath him.

“Don’t over think it.” She muttered, her lips ghosting over his. “Just run with it.”

So he did. He kissed her hard, dropping to his elbows and pressing a little more of his weight on top of her, totally lost in her warmth and softness. He let out another soft sigh as he felt her shift underneath him and pulled away, turning his head so that his lips were inches from her neck as he recalled a part of a film he’d seen. He glanced up at her as she watched him, her pupils blown with a combination of lust and anticipation.

“Can I kiss you here?” He whispered softly.

“God, yes.” Katie sighed and he obliged, pressing his mouth to her neck. As he did so, his arms and hands moved downwards slowly, his fingers timidly resting on her hips as they gave a little jerk of their own accord, pushing up against him as she groaned slightly at the contact.  Steve pulled back to stare at her again, her noise shocking him slightly, not sure what to do next but Katie wordlessly answered his silent question by tilting her hips up again, and this time it was him who moaned.

“Katie, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this or do anything-”

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice low and slightly breathy as she looked at him, her eyes, locking onto his. She pushed her head upwards, mouth seeking his out as her hands slid under his t- shirt. He twitched under her touch as the sensation of her gently dragging her nails across his flat, soft stomach sent a spike of desire, like a red hot poker through his entire body. Katie grasped the bottom of his T-shirt and he hesitated, not sure if he really wanted her to see him topless, but she gave an impatient yank, taking the decision away from him and he held his arms up so she could remove it. Once he was free he glanced down to see Katie looking at his chest. He swallowed, as her eyes roved his various pox marks and scars and shivered as she let her hands wander, tracing a path down towards the top of his khaki pants. Her eyes met his and she sat up slightly pushing him back a little to allow herself enough room to reach down and pull her own T-shirt over her head.

Steve’s mouth was dry again as he glanced down at her chest, her hair falling around her shoulders, breasts spilling over the tops of the simple, black balcony cups of her bra and his groin twitched, the crotch of his pants now painfully tight.

“You’re beautiful…” he whispered gently, and then he kissed her again. Her fingers gently took his hands and she guided them onto her, sliding them up her rib cage to her chest and he froze as he found himself once more unsure of his next move. Swallowing hard against the lump that felt like it was obstructing his entire throat he began to gently squeeze and knead the soft flesh and black lace, before he stopped again to consider his next move.

“It’s okay,” she encouraged and with a nod, his hands slid into the cups, teasing her taught nipples with his thumbs, acting completely on instinct, listening and watching her as she groaned gently, arching her back, her reaction telling him he was doing something right as all the time his groin automatically bumped against hers. Katie buried her fingers in his hair, pulling hard, forcing his head back sharply and as she tugged he let out another low growl. When she let go he stared down at her to see her smirking, her pupils blown so wide there was hardly any green left.

“Don’t stop,” her hands moved down to grab at his lower back, pulling him back against her as she moved her knees, bending them so that his pelvis was flush with her, his cock hard through the thin fabric of his trousers. Taking her lead, Steve ground against her again, and again, and as he continued his movements, he became aware that the rhythm of his hips was becoming more frantic and their kisses were growing more desperate.

“More,” Katie moaned into his mouth, and with movements that were completely and utterly automatic he gave her what she wanted, moving his hips even faster, rubbing against her in ways that had her clutching at his back like her life depended on it. Steve had never felt anything like this in his life. It was so good, so right, in a way nothing had ever felt so right before. It should have been wrong, rutting up against someone fully clothed, but God, his head was a whirl of lust, desire, and he didn’t give a fuck about anything else at that moment other than her as she lay underneath him

As he pressed up against her, the tightening across his lower stomach that he’d only felt before when bringing himself off warned him he was fast approaching his release. He let out another groan as he felt his movements beginning to lose rhythm and he moved his lips to her neck, pressing a kiss to her skin. Katie moaned brokenly and his mouth continued pressing kisses to the spot on her neck which seemed to drive her wild. She tipped her head back as he gently nipped beneath her ear with his teeth and a few more sloppy grinds against her she was done, fingers wrapped around his hair, her, hips bucking upwards, almost violently. Her voice was broken as she gasped out “Stevie…”and it was the single most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life as it tumbled from her lips. Seeing and feeling her fall apart in his arms sent him over the edge right behind her in a pure surge of ecstasy, his head dropping  to the crook of her shoulder and she gently ran her fingers through his hair.

There was no noise bar the sound of the crickets drifting in from the outside as they both lay, breathing deeply as they waited to regain control of their bodies, a light sheen of sweat beaded across Steve’s brow, wisps of his hair sticking to his skin. Finally mustering enough strength to move, he raised his head to look at her, to find her smiling as she pushed her head up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Wow,” she breathed and Steve let out a soft huff of laughter as he sat up to allow her the space to do the same, “you got game Soldier, I’ll give you that.”

Steve snorted and shook his head as he passed retrieved her t-shirt from the floor and passed it to her. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” He shrugged “I erm…”

“Let you into a secret.” She said gently, pulling her top over her head, flicking her hair back as she looked at him, her cheeks flushed with exertion. “Neither have I. Well, not to that extent anyway.”

“What?” Steve frowned “You’ve never…”

“You expecting me to be some kind of wild harlot or sumthin’ Stevie?” She teased as she stood up, Steve scrambling to his feet mimicking her.

“No I just, pretty girl like you, I thought…”

“What was it you said about waiting for the right partner?” She asked before she gently kissed him again. When she pulled away, her nose bumped his slightly and she pressed her forehead to his. “I best go. I don’t wanna but…” she glanced at the window and looked back at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the lab.”

“Sure.” Steve followed her a little before she stopped in the doorway and turned to smile at him once more.

“Whatever happens I want you to know that you’re already one of the bravest men I’ve ever met.” She took a deep breath. “You suddenly becoming all big and strong and…well, whatever, won’t change the fact that you already had the heart of a hero, certainly in my eyes anyway.”

And Steve could do nothing but smile as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

**** Chapter 3

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #8: under his loving gaze: Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

In which Steve discovers it’s possible to love two people to the bone and still be crushed by loneliness. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers (sort of) x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) VOYEURISM of the truest, you-don’t-know-you’re-being-watched kind. Vaginal sex. Male masturbation. Lots and lots of pining for not so many words. 

Notes: Another one for my Marvel friends today :) The prompt for day eight is ‘Voyeurism,’ and does he ever watch. Somehow this one turned angsty. I... don’t think I’m sorry, though. 

Kinktober Masterlist

Friday nights never used to be this pathetic.

Steve’s not completely sure when he got so boring. Even when he was a kid, Bucky always had one place or the other to drag him on the weekends. He’d stumble in from a backbreaking shift at the docks, c’mon Stevie, the city awaits, and Steve never really wanted to go, but it was Bucky’s sweat that paid for the roof over their heads, so he never felt good about saying no.

These days, though, his idea of fun is an evening pouring over his briefings. Letting the security footage from the compound flick idly across the monitor. He doesn’t need to watch it. Not when there’s an AI system more sophisticated than any on the planet monitoring their premises.

But Steve’s always been a little old-fashioned.

Tonight, there’s something else on his mind. It’s not something that should be plaguing his thoughts, but his brain doesn’t often listen when he decides he doesn’t want to think about something.

“Gonna be taking your post again tonight, Captain?” Tony’s voice, no matter how genuine, always felt edged with an air of mockery. Tonight’s dinner had been no different. Above the idle chatter surrounding plans for the weekend, he’d decided to speak up.

“Whaddaya mean?” Sam had asked, quirking an eyebrow in Steve’s direction with a bite of chicken-something (prepared by Vision) halfway to his mouth.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Steve remembers low dread curling in his gut at the snappy response from Tony, knowing he was setting up for a lethal blow. “Steve’s been watching all of you do the nasty.”

After his cheeks had gone an appropriate shade of maroon, Steve sputtered through the rest of dinner, insisting that there weren’t any security cameras installed in private areas of the compound.

Then again, based on the way that Tony’s eyes had sparkled once he let the subject drop, Steve isn’t so sure anymore.

The mystery of whether seems hell-bent on keeping Steve from getting any work done tonight. Any time he so much as lowers his eyes to the page, the question plagues intently at the corners of his thoughts, forcing him to re-read the same briefing line at least a dozen times before he gives up and pushes the papers aside.

He’s just going to have to figure it out. Once and for all. He slumps over the edge of the desk, taking the mouse in one oversized hand and navigating to the edge of the window that he’s got open- flicking through the normal course of security footage. Front door, hallways, kitchen, gym, garden, repeat.

Steve is not blessed with extensive computer knowledge. But he knows that the black bar at the top of the screen, scrawled with words like file, edit, preferences, refers to a list of possible commands. So he keeps clicking through them, scrolling through each option until he finds something that points him in the right direction.

Under the view tab there’s another series of options. After mousing over one called ‘cycle settings,’ he realizes that the current feeds cycling through the monitor are only one option of many.

His eyes find ‘quarters’ far more quickly than he would care to admit. For an honest moment he sits there, cursor highlighting the option. He chews hard at his lower lip.

It wouldn’t be right. It would be a violation of privacy. But it’s Friday night. Steve’s willing to bet that hardly anyone is even home at the moment. What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?

Oops, he thinks to himself as he clicks, curiosity getting the best of him. My hand slipped.

The feed that pops up before him is, as he expected, mostly empty. Some of the bedrooms are unused, showing bare rooms with bare mattresses and naked walls.  Even the ones that are designated to his teammates are mostly unoccupied right now, some beds neatly made, some haphazardly rumpled.

There’s a flicker of motion out the corner of his eye that draws Steve’s attention. His heart clenches. Hard.

It’s your room. And you’re there, but you’re not alone.

The relationship that you have with Bucky is no secret. You connected with one another right away, finding peace in one another and happiness. You’ve turned Bucky into a shred of the man he used to be- smiling, grabbing for you in the kitchen, holding you close when you gather in the common room to watch movies or binge Seinfeld.

Steve’s supposed to be happy for you. Both of you. The two most important people in the world to him have found happiness with one another.

But he can’t help the rush of greed that consumes him every time you’re in front of him. Every time you put that love so proudly on display.

He wants you both for himself.

He clicks on the feed and it quickly expands to fill the entire monitor. This way, it’s easier for him to see the way Bucky looks, laid out on top of your stretched body. His knees are between your thighs, and though his hair hides your faces in a sweep of chestnut, his body doesn’t hide the way his hands are currently working themselves under the edge of your tank top, crawling up your ribcage as he kisses you like a man starved.

Based on the angle of the feed, Steve can surmise that the camera is probably situated in the control panel by your door. He should have guessed. Tony’s a sneaky bastard at the best of times. And the concept of boundaries has always been a foreign one to anybody named ‘Stark.’

Bucky rucks your shirt up over your bare chest. Steve swallows hard. He glances over his shoulder to make sure the door to his study is closed, then turns his attention back to the screen. Bucky’s palming one of your breasts, but he’s already kissed his way down to your chest and sucks attentively at the other one.

He’s worshipping your body. God, he’s so in love with you. Steve’s not sure which one of you he wishes he could be. Both. Neither. He wants to be in the middle.

His cock is already beginning to twitch to life inside his stiff chinos, and he shifts a little to palm the growing swell of it down one thigh. His mind is working a mile a minute- wrestling between how badly he knows he shouldn’t be doing this and how badly he wants to anyway.

Bucky tugs your sweatpants down over your hips in one swift motion and Steve reaches for his fly. He can’t fucking take this anymore.

It’s not like you’re going to look over and see him there, peering at you from the other side of the camera.

He’s just thankful that there’s no sound, or he would have definitely lost it by now. He can see the way your lips are moving, though, and imagines what you might be saying to each other. Are you tender? Dirty? He wants to know it all.

Bucky’s got your pants off now, and he’s shimmying out of his shirt, too. Steve tries hard not to admire the graceful dip and swell of his best friend’s muscles. He’s loved Bucky since he was a chubby-cheeked kid, and he wished that neither of them had ever been touched by any of this. But Bucky’s beautiful now, gorgeous in a way that Steve will never be. He handles his new mass with elegance.

The dull silver glint of a dog tag dangles from Bucky’s throat as he crawls up your body again, shucking down his pants. Steve’s already digging through the fabric in his lap, pushing the folds of his pants aside and pulling out his cock. He can’t stop. It’s like his limbs are moving all their own.

You’re both naked now. To Steve, it’s like a trip to the Louvre. Priceless artwork laid out for him alone. Both your bodies are so perfect. He never knew that he could want two things, two people so badly, but to choose between you would be to choose between breath and heartbeat.

He grips the base of his cock and groans as he watches Bucky line up. He’s so careful with you, worshipping your body at every turn. He slips his metal hand beneath your thigh, intertwining his flesh fingers with yours. He leans down to kiss you, so slow and soft it makes Steve’s chest ache to watch.

He’s seen the two of you kiss before. But this is an intimate moment, meant to be shared by just the two of you. For an instant it hits Steve how intrusive this is, to be looking in on a ritual as tender and sacred as this one.

Bucky’s hips ease forward, clean lines of muscle sinking into the sides of his thighs. Steve’s hand gives an involuntary jerk. He needs this- no- deserves this- and what you never find out won’t hurt you.

For all the softness that Bucky’s shown you in the lead-up he settles into a brutal rhythm, pounding rhythmically into your body as your legs twine around his hips to pull him in. It’s even more beautiful to watch from afar, and Steve quickly matches the rhythm of your lovemaking with his fist, pumping his hips into a closed hand and slicking the fluid that leaks from his tip up and down the length of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he gasps, despite himself. “fuuuck.”

Bucky lasts longer than he does.

Steve can’t help himself. Bound by nothing but his own pleasure, he cums fast. His thighs hit the underside of his desk as he swears and jerks and tugs on his cock, bucking his hips into nothing and spurting quick bursts over his fingers and palm. The pleasure that rushes his system is little compared to what he’d feel if he were with you, but… it’s all he can bear to take for himself.

He stays to watch the two of you finish, transfixed by the way Bucky’s hand slips between your legs and your mouth pops open in a silent cry. Even without hearing you he can tell when you’ve hit your peak- your whole body shivers and he fucks you through it, calm and steady as the tide.

He doesn’t last much longer after that, though, and Steve watches in awe. Bucky draws up so tight before he cums it looks like he’s going to snap, all the tendons and muscles in his body stretched to the breaking point. And when it hits him, he collapses forward, thrusting madly into you before his knees go shaky and he just buries himself to the hilt and stops. He trembles against you. Trails kisses down your whole body. And when he pulls out, his softening cock is followed by a handful of fluid- so much- and Steve comes back to himself so quickly he closes the entire security program and unplugs the desktop.

The weight of what he’s just done settles over his shoulders. But, fuck, he loved it. The image of you and Bucky and your bodies moving as one is printed permanently into his mind.

As he cleans himself up and gets dressed again, he wishes there was a way for him to make you both see. If he could just show you how much he adores you, both of you, maybe you’d let him in. If you knew that he didn’t want to come between you, maybe things would be different.

For tonight, though, all he’ll have is stolen memories. And for now, it has to be enough.

[vicekings]

June 13th, 1993: the Disappearance of John Edward Graves

Content Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Child Abuse, Spousal Abuse, Violence, Attempted Strangulation, Murder.

Summary: On a stormy summer night, John Graves disappears.

Everyone in town knew that John Edward Graves was not a nice man. 

To call John mean would be an understatement. Everyone in town knew John was a cruel and vindictive drunkard with a hair-trigger temper, along with the strength to back that temper up. They saw his mountainous form lumber into town and instinctively stepped out of his way. People kept their heads down and their voices low. They were especially quiet when they found the courage to whisper out the rumours of how he treated his poor quiet wife. 

Everyone in town knew that John Graves was not a nice man, and no one knew it better than his poor quiet wife, Theodosia Walker. 

She’d fallen into the marriage when she was young and dumb and convinced that, even if the rumours about his rowdiness were true, she could most certainly fix him. After all, Theodosia could fix most anything she’d set her mind to fixing. She’d tend to him in the same way she tended to her pretty little garden: with care and love and plenty of singing. She’d read once that singing to plants was supposed to help them grow. She’d sung to her plants ever since. 

But singing to her husband, well, that had never really helped. As a result, Theodosia didn’t really sing much anymore. 

The simple truth of things was that there weren’t nothin’ in this world that could ever really fix a man like John Edward Graves, because he was the kind of fella that wasn’t willing to be fixed.

———

When John Graves went missing after the worst thunderstorm of the season, the other barflies assumed he’d never made it home. He’d been at Donovan’s Pub into the early hours of the night, only leaving when the owner forced him out. Any offer of a taxi ride made to him was thoroughly refused. John had climbed into his beat up old piece of shit of a truck and took off into the night, never once looking behind him. 

John’s truck was found on the side of the road the next morning. The sheriff had it towed on account of it obstructing traffic. Everyone assumed that John had gotten lost on his way home, what with how drunk he was when he left. He’d probably tried to take a short cut through the woods. He’d probably stumble his way out when he’d sobered up. 

After the mandatory 48 hours of waiting, Mrs Theodosia Walker-Graves went down to the station to file a missing person report. The sheriff bought his dogs out to the site where the truck had been found. From there, they followed the scent until it hit the brook that ran through the woods. The scent trail went cold in the water. The dogs couldn’t pick it up again after that. 

When the sheriff informed Mrs Theodosia that her husband had likely fallen into the brook in his drunken stupor, she tearfully accepted his condolences. They both knew well enough that the brook flowed down into the part of the woods where the bears made their dens. They’d be about as likely to find his body as they would a needle in a haystack. 

An empty casket was buried in a lonely plot at the old church, with the headstone bearing the words John Edward Graves, father & husband, 1955 - 1993. As far as the town knew, the storm and his own stupidity had gotten him. In some way, it really did. 

———

The truth of it was this:

That night, John’s truck had broken down on the road home, and he’d been forced to walk the rest of the way. He’d taken his shortcut through the woods, stumbled through the rushing brook, and made it safely to the other side. He’d come up to the house around 3 in the morning. He was drunk, angry, and soaking wet, and right when he stomped onto the front porch, the power went out. 

Dahlia’s screaming started immediately after. The girl, aged only 4, had been terrified of the dark for as long as she’d understood what the dark was. Her little nightlight died with the power, plunging her room into darkness. The following thunder boom woke her up. Fear seized upon her in an instant. 

She’d always screamed when the power went out, always cried and cried and cried until her mama came to calm her down. On that night, her daddy got there first. It was unfortunate for her that her daddy was who he was. 

John Edward Graves was not a man you could show weakness around. 

He had little Dolly by the collar of her nightshirt when Theodosia burst in, pulling her roaring husband off her wailing daughter. Even in the dark of the room, Theodosia could see the way the handprint burned red against her daughter’s pale cheek. She turned on John with all of the rage of a mama bear, and sharply demanded to know what the fuck he did to her girl. 

What John said in that moment was lost to history. It was remembered only in the mind of Theodosia, who still felt fury burn through her like a hot knife through butter when she thought back on it years later. Little Dolly was too young to truly understand what was going on, and her siblings were quite accustomed to blocking their father’s voice out, but Theodosia held on to every word. 

The ensuing fight travelled down the stairs and onto the porch. Most fights ended with John storming off to his truck to get drunk, leaving Theodosia crying silently out front. On that night, however, John was already drunk, and Theodosia was already crying, and the screaming only escalated. 

Theodosia was almost certain she was going to die. 

Somewhere between claps of thunder, John had gotten his hands around her throat. He’d shoved her hard against one of the porch’s oak posts. With each breath she tried to take, the pressure on her windpipe only increased. She struggled and kicked as hard as she could in a desperate attempt to break free. The lightning flashed, John’s grip tightened, and Theodosia was certain she was going to die. 

In the next clap of thunder, Theodosia found herself falling to her knees. Air rushed into her wheezing lungs, knocking her back. She struggled to adjust to her sudden drop. How in the hell had she gotten free?

The answer to her unspoken question came in the form of her son in her peripheral vision. His daddy’s shotgun was held tight in his shaking hands, aimed squarely at his daddy’s chest. John was clutching at his side and howling at her boy like a wounded beast. 

Every name in the book was thrown at the boy with a shotgun in his hands and fear in his eyes. Jack Douglas, JD, her little Dougey, had taken the gun from its mount above the fireplace and blasted his daddy off of his mama. That should have been it. 

That should have been it, but John was still moving. 

With one arm tight to his side, John lunged for JD. When his fist met JD’s face, Theodosia ran. Every instinct screamed for her to turn back and protect her boy. She ignored the urge, instead lunging for the wood chopping block. It was there that she found the hatchet. 

It was old, it was heavy, and it was wickedly sharp. The very hatchet that she’d brought with her from her family’s farm when the newlyweds first moved into their home now brought an end to that marital bliss. As John wrestled JD for the shotgun, Theodosia came up behind him and buried the hatchet in the back of his skull. 

The first strike brought John to his knees, but it did not kill him. The second, when Theodosia managed to wrench the hatchet from his skull and strike him with it again, also did not kill him. Whether or not the third killed him didn’t truly matter. It was far from the final blow. 

Strikes rained down on John’s body, as fast and hard as the pouring rain. Thirteen years of anger and pain rushed from Theodosia. Thirteen years of putting up with the drunk piece of shit she once thought she could fix. Thirteen fucking years, washed away in a stream of blood and rain. It seemed poetic, in retrospect, that JD stopped her on the thirteenth strike. 

“He’s dead, Mama.” JD whispered, coming to kneel next to her in the mud. 

Slowly, gently, he pulled the hatchet from her hands and set it aside. Slowly, gently, he pulled her into a hug. Theodosia buried her face against JD’s shoulder and cried the last of her tears. 

“We’ve gotta bury him.” JD murmured. 

Theodosia pulled away, wiping her eyes on the back of her fist and nodding. “Go make sure your sisters are okay, baby. I’ll handle him.” 

She could almost smile at that. How many times had she spoken that phrase in the last decade? 

“Dory’s got Dolly, they’ll be fine. I ain’t letting you do this alone.” JD replied, taking her hand and squeezing it in his. 

At 13 years old, JD had not yet grown into the strength he would someday come to know. It took a great deal of effort for him to drag the corpse of his father onto the wheelbarrow, and greater effort still to push it into the woods. His mother followed close behind him with two shovels in hand. When they found the best spot possible, she handed the second shovel to her boy and together they started digging. 

Theodosia couldn’t tell you how long they were out there for. Though both were exhausted, neither was willing to take any sort of break. They dug with the same fervour of the first miners in the mountains, pushing and pushing and pushing until the earth threatened to swallow them whole. 

When the grave was finally fully dug, they unceremoniously dumped the body into it. No prayers were said for John Edward. No real tears were shed. They simply started pushing the dirt back into the ground and buried the man who didn’t deserve any further amount of care with regards to his death. When the last mound was patted down, Theodosia dropped to her knees and pressed her palms against the earth.

“Dougey, baby, I need your help.” She murmured, though she didn’t need to. 

JD crouched beside her, placing his hand at the small of her back and letting his energy flow to her. Theodosia’s gifts reached out, drawing seeds to the freshly dug dirt. The grass rose up beneath her fingers, filling back in to match the rest around it. When she pulled away, it was as though the ground had not been disturbed at all. 

“It’s done.” JD whispered. 

“It’s done.” Theodosia echoed. 

By the time they walked home, the blood in the dirt had washed to the bottom of the gathering puddles. The only evidence of the gruesome scene from before was the bloody hatchet and abandoned shotgun, which they collected and brought into the house. The shotgun was returned to its mount above the fireplace, the hatchet was washed and brought back outside, and the exhaustion was finally allowed by the Walkers to set in. 

Before they could return to bed, Theodosia cracked open the pantry and retrieved what was once John Graves’ good whiskey. She poured two small glasses, sliding on across the table and keeping one for herself. 

“You sure, Mama?” JD asked hesitantly. 

Theodosia nodded. “You’re gonna want it, darlin’. It’ll help you go back to sleep. Besides, it ain’t like your daddy can call it his anymore.” 

She raised her glass, clinking it against his. The two didn’t toast to anything in particular. They drank it down quickly before setting the glasses aside and letting themselves breathe. 

“I’m proud of you, baby.” Theodosia whispered, letting her eyes fall shut. 

She felt JD’s hand come to rest over one of hers. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. Not anymore.” 

Theodosia smiled, in spite of everything that had gone down on that night. When she opened her eyes, JD was smiling back at her. 

“Let’s go make sure your sisters are okay.”

“Sure thing, Mama.” 

[softbiker]

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader (not Stucky)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: maybe a couple curse words? I don’t remember. Lots of coffee

Summary: Steve is fond of a particular barista. Bucky has a favorite customer. Let’s see where this goes! 

A/N: Somewhat inspired by real life events, this is (hopefully) going to turn into a new series! No idea where I’m going with it or how often it will update, but let’s have fun and see where it goes! As always, let me know what you think and thanks for reading <3

It’s July - early morning and already hot - and the door squeaks loudly somewhere over her shoulder as she preps a fresh batch of coffee to brew. She doesn’t look up or turn around, intent on her task, but she calls a distracted “good morning”, along with her coworkers. The humid morning air has left a sticky fog on the windows and doors, on skin and clothes, and it follows them inside, in spite of the air conditioning. She’s already regretting the long-sleeved shirt she plucked from her laundry pile, though it was the only passable shirt she could find and still be in dress code.

“Hey, you got front?” Bea, her supervisor, pipes up over the headset. Her head bobs over the open door of her bar fridge, where she’s counting milk.

With a nod, she turns back around from the brewing machine, putting on her customer service smile as she sees-

“Oh, morning, Steve,” she laughs, her smile blooming genuine. “I barely heard you come in, sorry.”

“No worries,” Steve smiles. His eyes look tired, but she knows hers are as well - it’s 6:30 in the morning and they’re already into their work day. He ducks his head, leaning a hip against the front counter. “I’m quiet, I guess.”

“What can I get for you?” she asks, tapping away at the screen to open her till. “Just the americano with stevia and almond milk?”

Steve chuckles and blushes under the dark stubble on his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. It strains the seams of his plain white t-shirt, stretched too tight already across his broad shoulders.

“I’m predictable, huh?” his nose scrunches as he asks, and she drops her eyes back down to the screen in front of her, displaying his order as she rings it up.

“Nothing wrong with that,” she shrugs, pursing her lips in an effort to contain her smile. “Anything else for you?”

“Uh, yeah actually, can I get an iced coffee, too? With a little bit of cream?”

“Sure thing,” with a couple of swipes at the screen she’s got the order rung up. She pushes it through, prompts him to swipe his card, and glances down towards the bar, wondering where her coworkers have suddenly disappeared to.

“Well - I guess I’ll get those ready for you,” she quirks an eyebrow at him as she makes her way down towards the espresso machines, with Steve following along, separated by the counter between them. He watches, her head down, labeling a cup and pulling espresso shots, turning for a stevia packet.

“So,” he clears his throat. “How you been?”

“Oh, you know,” she shrugs. “I’m here - and it’s 6:30. And hot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs. “Tell me about it. I’m already sweating.”

“Same here!” Her face disappears as she bends down to dig in the fridge for a tetra of almond milk. “I mean, I really played myself today - wearing long sleeves. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Wow, rookie mistake,” Steve shakes his head.

She slides the americano out at the end of the bar, after adding a cardboard sleeve to protect against the scalding heat of the water. Their eyes meet over the drink, his fingers just slightly brushing hers even as she spins away and grabs the cup for his iced coffee. Conversation lulls; he clears his throat, takes a small sip of the drink and enjoys the slight burn on the tip of his tongue. She’s fast and smooth, never quite looking at him but never turning completely away from him; he’s in the corner of her vision and she’s the center of his. The cream swirls downward into the iced coffee, softening the color and the taste - though Steve has never been a fan of cold coffees, but he knows how Sam takes it.

“Here you go,” she holds out the iced coffee with a polite smile, plucking a straw from the caddy next to her and extending it in her other hand.

“Thank you-” he trips over whether or not to say her name; he wants to say it, and it’s written right there on her apron, offered on the tip of his tongue. He’d like to taste it. But the leap of familiarity scares him, as it has the last two months he’s been coming in here, and he swallows down the letters. Settles for an answering smile.

“Guess I’ll see ya tomorrow?” he half-jokes, coffees in hand, backing towards the door one step at a time. He watches her head bob as she ducks down to grab a rag out of her sanitizing bucket; she wrings it out and wipes down the counter, sparing him a lifted eyebrow, a sly sideways glance.

“Maybe-” she smirks, swiping an already clean spot on the counter before dropping her rag back in the bucket. “I might be off tomorrow.”

“Might be?” Steve’s head quirks to one side. “You don’t know?”

“Well…I asked someone to trade shifts with me so I could have the weekend off…” she sighs and crosses her arms. “But I haven’t heard back from her, so it’s probably not happening.” Her wry smile is accompanied by a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s just as well, though. This place would probably fall apart without me.”

“Oh, definitely,” he chuckles. “So I guess, maybe I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Have a good one, Steve!” she waves as he ducks out the door, bell jingling overhead at his departure. It really is hot today - her cheeks feel warm. Her whole body does, actually; but the cafe is quiet and empty now, the sun just rising over the buildings outside, and she gets a sip of water from the cup she keeps stashed under the front register.

“So how’s your man today?” Bea jokes over the headset. Looking over, she can see Bea’s mirthful expression peeking around the corner from the back of house where she’d been washing whip canisters.

“Yeah, when are you and Steve gonna go out?” Ally’s voice joins in the teasing, innocently sarcastic in her trademark way.

“Come on, guys,” she huffs, glad that neither of them is out front on the floor, where she was unable to hide her smile. “Steve is just a customer. He’s just another nice regular, that’s all.”

“Uh huh. That’s why you giggle every time we bring him up?”

“I do not!”

“Well, you just keep telling yourself that,” Bea smirks, banging through the back of house door with an armload of milk. “But you should know that store is taking bets on when he’ll finally ask you out.”

She chooses not to answer, just rolls her eyes and heads out the front door to set up the patio umbrellas. It’s July, early morning and already hot, but at least there’s a breeze out here - enough to cool the blazing in her cheeks even as she wrestles the umbrellas open to shade the outdoor tables. Her mind drifts away, to Steve’s easy smile and Steve’s breathtaking eyes, and the way he always dropped a dollar or two in the tip jar. Not to mention, the stretch of his white tees across those ridiculous shoulders.

Well, anyway. He is a nice regular. That’s why she enjoys him coming in every day, that’s all.

**********

“She there today?” Sam smirks as he eagerly plunges the straw into his iced coffee, swirling the cream into its depths. He waggles his eyebrows at Steve’s flushed cheeks while he takes the first satisfying sip.

“Yes.” Steve clears his throat, keeping his eyes down on his own drink. They’re sitting in Steve’s office - well, Steve is sitting, safely behind his desk. Sam posts himself in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his feet crossed. He watches his friend’s flustered fluttering behind the desk - Steve shuffles papers, taps on the keyboard of his computer to open his email, moves his coffee to one side of the laptop and then the other.

“Well?” Sam prompts, gleefully swirling his iced coffee, listening to the ice rattle before taking another loud slurp. “You ask her out yet? Give her your number at least?”

Steve scowls up at his buddy over his laptop screen.

“Sam you don’t get it-” he huffs. “This girl…she’s - God, she’s so beautiful, Sam. You know how many guys must hit on her every day? In a town like this?” He shakes his head. “I’d just be another asshole to her; she’d file my number away with all the other guys she’s not gonna call.”

“Whatever, dude,” Sam rolls his eyes. “That’s just an excuse for you to not take a chance on it. You just gonna keep going in there early in the morning and wasting money on coffee you used to brew at home?”

Steve doesn’t dignify that particular dig with a response, instead choosing to take a large swig from his coffee - he had to admit, she made a damn good cup. Simple as it was. But he knew, as many excuses as he made, he was addicted to more than just the espresso; her sweet smile perked him up in the mornings the way caffeine just couldn’t quite cut it.

He’d been going into the cafe at the crack of dawn for at least a month now. Sam practically begged him once to go out for an iced coffee, an early morning at the end of May, and with a sigh he’d agreed, though he complained loudly about wasting money on expensive coffee shop brews when he preferred to make his own in the coffee pot sitting three feet away from his desk.

The bell dinged over the door, the sun already streaming through the windows at the early hour, summer flushing full and bright. Familiar coffee shop sounds and smells carried across the empty cafe as he strolled in, hands in his pockets, taking in the quaint tables and mismatched chairs, an overstuffed sofa invitingly empty in one corner. Cute. He shuffled towards the counter, not really looking, till he heard a voice welcoming him in and-

She turned around from the brewing machine behind her, smiling soft and brilliant, her eyes a 6 am combination of sleepy brightness, caffeine buzzing in her own veins already.

One hit. That’s all it took to get him hooked.

*********

Her shift couldn’t have ended soon enough. The bright sun and gorgeous summer weather had her itching under her apron, aching to get outdoors in spite of the heat. Every few minutes it seemed she turned to the register to check the time, or slipped her phone from her pocket. Never quite time, never quite close enough. Until-

“Okay, if you’ll just wipe down the bar, you’re good to go,” Nat sighs as she ties her apron, looping the strings around her waist and knotting it in the front. Nat usually takes afternoon and evening shifts, so they haven’t gotten to know each other well, but there’s something about the redhead that she both likes and fears.

With a little whoop of joy, she whirls around to her bucket and grabs the rag for the last time (today at least) and wipes away the splashes of syrup, coffee, and milk that have accumulated over the course of her shift. The counter is a little sticky, but a little elbow grease dissolves the tacky syrup puddle, and with a flourish she stows her carton of coconut milk in the fridge under the counter, tosses her rag back in the bucket, and flashes a peace sign to the other baristas on the floor.

“Alright, I’m out you guys!” she calls, already tugging her apron over her head. Her tote bag hangs on a hook in the back of house, and she rolls the apron up into it before stepping over to the computer to clock out.

“Whatcha doin’ this afternoon?” Bea is off now as well, having handed off the keys to Nat, and was tucking her own apron into her backpack, her Juul sticking out of one corner of her mouth.

“Mm. It’s such a beautiful day…” she sighs. “I think I’m going to go read at that new place I like, get a cold brew, maybe sit outside.”

“Leaving this coffee shop and going to another one?” Bea laughs, taking a hit off her vape, a little cloud puffing in front of her face. She’s not supposed to have it inside the building, definitely not supposed to use it inside at least, but the current manager hasn’t quite worked up the nerve to tell her to stop, so she carries on as she pleases.

“Gotta support local business.” She swings her tote bag up on her shoulder, regretting her habit of stuffing it so full that it’s uncomfortably heavy, and then she’s on her way out the door. “See ya later!”

Besides being a proud supporter of local businesses, she’s also totally addicted to the Garage - the other café and pub she frequents whenever she gets the chance. Their cold brew? Smooth and chocolatey. Their patio? Perfectly shaded and comfortable. Their vibe? Grunge-y without being dirty, hipster without being pretentious. She’d loved it from the first moment she stepped inside on her afternoon off, looking for an iced drink and a cozy spot that wasn’t her own home. What she found? A near-perfect coffee shop with amazing sweet potato fries.

“Oh, hey welcome in!”

Well. And there’s that, too.

“Hi, Bucky - how’s it going?” she smiles at the barista and bartender behind the counter, who is currently stocking the pastry case with an assortment of mouthwatering scones. His hair is swept up in its usual bun, and his mechanic’s shirt is tucked into a pair of black jeans, the short sleeves rolled over his biceps to reveal one flesh arm bearing a full sleeve of tattoos, and one gleaming polished prosthetic.

“Oh, it’s going,” he shrugs, a little bashful. He wills his eyes back down the the pastries at hand, though it’s hard with the way she smiles, hands in the back pockets of her shorts as she approaches the counter.

“Been busy today?” she asks, giving the menu a customary glance, though she’s too far gone on their cold brew to ever order anything else.

“Not too bad, no,” he shakes his head, sliding the glass panel behind the pastry case shut and tossing paper box from the bakery in the trash bin. “Little bit of a rush earlier around lunch, but nothing like what you guys get in the mornings.”

“Oof, for your sake I hope not,” she shudders. “The morning rush is wild, you’ve got no idea.”

“Oh, I’ve got some idea, I’ve seen that drive thru line,” he smirks, leaning his elbows on the counter. Unconsciously she takes a step closer, leaning against the other side of the wood, a mere couple of feet between them.

“I’m literally triggered by the words ‘drive thru’,” she says, with an exaggerated eye twitch that makes him laugh.

“Alright, alright, I won’t bring it up again, my bad,” he raises his hands in supplication, an almost prayer, watching her nose wrinkle and rearrange the pattern of the freckles there.

“Well, anyways, can I get a cold brew, please?” she sighs, looking at him under her lashes.

“You got it,” he nods, tapping the counter. “Perfect day for it, too.” They both glance out the wide front windows of the café, where the patio furniture is arranged under a well-shaded awning strung with criss-crossed globe lights. In the midsummer afternoon, it’s a perfect place to be lazy in public, to sip a drink and read, to pretend to be the sort of person who gets to do those things in the middle of the day.

“It is,” she sighs, looking wistfully at the patio.

“You can go on and get a seat,” he lowers his voice as a couple new customers shuffle into the café. “I’ll bring it out to you.”

“Oh, you sure?” She glances around, noticing that he seems to be the only staff member here. Their shop is laughably less busy than hers, able to survive on a single barista for any length of time during the day, but she still doesn’t want to make more work for him. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“Nah, it’s no problem,” he smiles, dimpling his scruffy cheeks. “I’ll have it out in a minute.”

She’s back out the door and at her favorite table; he can see her from his place behind the bar, with her feet tucked up on the sturdy outdoor ottoman, her bag stuffed under her chair and book already cracked open in her lap. She’s not looking at the page, though - the beautiful day seems to distract her, as she lifts her face into the breeze and stretches her legs out further across the ottoman, spreading out to catch even more of the sunlight.

Wanda hip checks him as she breezes through from the kitchen, having come in through the back door.

“Your girl here today?” she teases, raising one brow suggestively. Bucky scowls at her, embarrassed and flustered and a little guilty.

“She’s not my girl, Wanda,” he corrects her. “She’s just a customer.”

“Pretty regular customer,” Wanda shrugs.

“Doesn’t mean anything. We’ve got plenty of regulars.”

“No other regulars that you look at like that.”

He doesn’t respond. Turning his back on her, he takes a straw from the condiment bar and grabs the cup of cold brew he just poured, and stalks around the counter towards the door.

Wanda stands in the kitchen door, a bin full of dirty dishes under her arm, and watches as he crosses the patio, tucking one hair behind his ear and smiling at the sweet girl with the book in her lap. The girl smiles back, squinting in the bright summer sun, and laughs at something Bucky says, while Buck ducks his head and shoves his hands in his front pockets. He lingers, lingers far longer than required for delivering a single cup of cold brew.

Yeah, sure. She’s just a regular, alright.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 2: Is This A Test?

Summary: Steve begins his life at Camp Lehigh, throwing himself into training alongside the other candidates for Operation Rebirth and is shocked when on his first day he comes face to face with someone he hadn’t been expecting to see again…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Some over the clothes making out (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  I might have taken a few liberties here with the way things worked in the Army in the 40s but, let’s face it, no more than the MCU did! Once again, huge thanks to my beta readers @southerngracela​ and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ 

Any mistakes are my own. I’ll probably spot them once posted but, whatever!

SSR Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist 

 At Camp Lehigh the new recruits were met by their Sergeant, who escorted them to their quarters. There it was explained to them that as they were part of the Strategic Science Reserve, this was a separate unit from the rest of the army training at the base, but more would become clear in an hour or so when they reported for exercise. They were then issued their standard uniform, which was awkward for Steve as even the smallest sizes felt like they drowned him but he shrugged it off reminding himself that he had finally done it. He was here, training to be a soldier.

He changed and then Sergeant Duffy appeared again, barking at them to fall in line and they followed him down to an exercise field at the rear of the barracks. Here they once more lined up, Steve taking his place in between 2 men whose names he couldn’t remember and they stood, waiting.

“Recruits, attention!”  A voice called and Steve felt his mouth drop open, because he knew the owner of said voice. “Gentlemen, I’m Agent Stark, this is Agent Carter.”  He turned to face Katie as she began walking down the line, dressed in a sharp army uniform with another woman at her side and a man behind them both clutching a box which contained clip files. As she reached Steve, Katie stopped and looked at him, giving him a bashful, almost apologetic smile as the other woman continued to walk.

And wait. Her surname was Stark? As in, Howard Stark? Was that her husband? Had he kissed a married woman? Fuck… he swallowed his worry down and averted his eyes as Katie passed down the line following Agent Carter, their eyes flicking to each man in turn.

“We supervise all operations for this division.” Agent Carter spoke in a strong British accent before she was interrupted.

“What’s with the accent, Queen Victoria?” a man down the line stated rather obnoxiously, causing Agent Carter to stop. Katie drew up alongside her, and Steve watched as, Katie’s hands fell to her hips and she studied the man who’d spoken out of line. “Thought I was signing up for the U.S. Army!”

“What’s your name, soldier?” Agent Carter asked.

“Gilmore Hodge, your Majesty.”

At that the two women exchanged a glance and Agent Carter took a deep breath. “Step forward, Hodge.”

The man obliged, a smirk on his face as he looked around a little, no doubt to check everyone was watching.

“Put your right foot forward.” Agent Carter instructed.

“Mmm… we gonna wrestle? Cause I got a few moves I know you’ll like.” Hodge spoke, before puckering his lips up in a kissing gesture.

Then, there was a flurry of movement and in a flash Katie was behind him, jerking his arm up his back. She aimed a sharp kick to the back of his knee causing Hodge to stumble to the floor. She went with him, her knee planted firmly in the base of his spine, arm twisting even more and he gave out a yell, “Okay, okay I yield.”

Steve gave a little huff of laughter, as did the man to his right as Katie stood up, not a hair out of place and smoothed down her jacket and skirt as Hodge rose to his feet. No sooner had he done that Agent Carter punched him hard, straight in the face.

And Steve laughed a little more this time, hastily straightening his face when he noticed a man, a Colonel according to the pips on his shoulders,  hopping out of jeep as he barked to the two agents.

“Agent Carter, Agent Stark.”

Both of them wheeled round, springing to attention, saluting.

“Colonel Phillips.”

“Sir.”

“I see you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good!” he nodded to the two women before he looked down at Hodge “Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in that line at attention 'til somebody comes and tells you what to do.”

“Yes, Sir.” Hodge scrambled to his feet and slotted back into the place he’d been stood previously, looking a little sheepish.

Steve watched as Colonel Phillips started to walk down the line, addressing the new army recruits.  “General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons but they are won by men. We are going to win this war because we have the best men…” he paused a little at that point as he looked at Steve. Steve kept his face straight, looking directly ahead. He knew full well what the Colonel was thinking, but he was here to prove him wrong. “And because they’re gonna get better. Much better. The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an Allied effort made up of the best minds in the free world. Our goal is to create the best army in history. But every army starts with one man. At the end of this week we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of super-soldiers…”

Super-Soldiers? The end of the week? That was…5 days away!

“And they, will personally escort Adolf Hitler to the gates of Hell.”

Steve could hear a few murmurs down the line as some of the recruits began to exchange glances.

“Did I ask any of you to talk?” Phillips barked and silence fell once more. “The man we select will go through a procedure.” He continued “An experimental procedure that, if successful, will significantly enhance his physical stature, amplifying all his qualities and abilities. This is not something we take lightly. It is for this reason that you will be assessed not just on your current physical abilities but your mental capacity and it won’t be easy. So if any of you are having second thoughts…” he once more paused at Steve who, as before, ignored him “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

No one made a sound.

Whilst Steve didn’t have much time to think about Katie for the rest of the day as most of his energy was taken by keeping up with the afternoon’s exercise, he found himself with plenty of time to think about her over dinner. He kept himself to himself, taking a seat at the end of a large table in the mess hall, unable to prevent the sullen mood he found himself in.

He knew it was stupid, as he hardly knew the dame, but he felt betrayed, and if truth be told a little confused. Betrayed at the fact she’d kept her true identity and vocation from him, confused as to why she’d kissed him, especially if she was married and knew they’d end up working together. It confounded his original opinion that she’d done it out of some kind of obligation, a thank you if you will for him stepping in that day on the street. Not that he needed to step in, it was perfectly clear now she’d been able to handle herself.

He looked down at the tasteless bully beef and dumplings, before he sighed and continued to eat. Whilst he wasn’t particularly hungry he knew that he had to keep his strength up, especially if he wanted to have any chance to complete the training that was in store tomorrow. When he’d had his fill, he took the tray over to the clear down area and headed outside into the warm New Jersey evening.

It was still light, the birds in the trees singing their melodic evening chorus as Steve headed over the camp towards the sleeping barracks he and the other Project Rebirth candidates had been assigned to. He headed down the dirt path, hands in his baggy uniform pockets when he heard Katie shouting to him. Taking a deep breath, he stopped, and turned to face her, saluting.

“Agent Stark…”

“Woah, at ease, we ain’t on parade now!” she shook her head.

“Yes Ma’am” he dropped his arm but kept it firmly by his side, still standing to attention, focussing on a spot slightly behind her.”

“What’s with the Ma’am?” she frowned but Steve ignored her question. She frowned a little, cocking her head to one side “Are you angry at me?” Steve’s eyes flicked to hers for a second and he swallowed looking away causing her to sigh “Steve, look…”

“You lied to me.” He blurted out, his eyes returning to hers and she frowned.

“No, I just didn’t tell you my full story.” She shrugged, lamely.

“Where I come from that’s called lying.”

“Oh come on Steve, it’s not like you actually asked what I did for a living!”

“I asked if ya worked for Howard Stark.” He folded his arms “And you said you did.”

“Well, I do, sorta…”

“Oh, is that as well as sorta being married to him?”

“Married?” Katie’s eyes narrowed before they widened again and she grinned “What, you think…oh my God Steve!” she let out a laugh.

“You know, I’ve had my fill of people laughing at me today.” He rolled his eyes and turned to leave, an angry flush spreading up his neck.

“Howie’s my brother!”

“Your brother?” he stopped dead.  

“Yes, you know, same mom, same dad.”

Steve groaned, feeling like a total, total idiot and after a moment or two of cursing himself he turned back to face her, his face bashfully tinged red.

“Sorry, I didn’t know.” He spoke quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were related? Or what it is that you actually do.”

“Because I didn’t know I was supposed to.” she looked at him “Plus, I kinda liked not being Agent Katie Stark for a moment and just being, I dunno, some regular girl.”

Steve looked at her again before he glanced away, not quite sure what had come over him. He’d literally never had a conversation with a woman that lasted longer than a few minutes, if that, and here he was for the second time with her just rolling with it, and not just that, he was actually being a little rude. His ma would not be happy.

“I’m sorry.” He offered, his manner contrite “I guess it was just a shock, that’s all.”

“Do you know how people usually react when I tell them what I actually do?” Katie sighed, shaking her head “Most guys run a mile.”

“Well, I’m not like most guys.” Steve instantly retorted, repeating the sentiment she had expressed to him mere days ago. She blinked a little, before she gave a huff of laughter and dropped her eyes to the floor.

“Touche, Rogers. Touche.”

“Can I ask you something?” feeling emboldened he asked his question hastily, before he chickened out.

“Sure.” She nodded.

“Did you know? That I was gonna be here, I mean.”

“Not for certain.” Katie shook her head. “I had an idea when you told me it was a doctor from a Science Division that had recruited you but until I saw your name on the new-recruit roster this morning, I didn’t know for sure.”

“Right.” Steve nodded, licking his lips a little.

“Does it matter?” Katie frowned.

“Not especially.” He popped a shoulder “Just kinda figured that if you knew you’d be seeing me each day, you wouldn’t have…you know…”

“Kissed you?”

“Yeah, that.” Steve felt the heat rise in his neck as he thought back to that moment. He ran his hand through his hair in a nervous fashion “I mean I know you probably did it because you either felt kinda sorry for me or like you hadda thank me but this has gotta be awkward for you right? Seeing me every day as a reminder, but it’s not like I told anyone so-“

“Woah, woah, stop!” Katie shook her head, stepping towards him “Steve, I don’t care who you told. I’m not embarrassed if that’s what you think.”

“You’re not?”

“No!” Katie looked at him like he was stupid “I didn’t kiss you because I felt sorry for you or because I felt I owed you, I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“You wanted to.” Steve looked at her, not quite sure if he believed her or not.

“Is that so hard to comprehend?”

“Frankly, yes!” he snorted “I mean, look at ya. You’re…” he gestured with his hand towards her “And I’m…”

“Well lucky for you I’m not a shallow bimbo then isn’t it?” She said, an air of annoyance in her tone. “I might be a Stark, and yes, I’m privileged but that means I’m expected to act a certain way with a certain type of man from a certain type of background. Maybe I just wanna act how I wanna act, with who I choose. And your assumption right then? That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“Katie, I didn’t-” But even by the time he’d finished half his sentence, she’d turned on her heel and left “-mean it like that.” He finished a little lamely, watching her go. His hands dropped to his bony hips and he glanced at the floor, toeing the dirt slightly before he looked up and around. God he felt so out of place, the one thing he’d wanted to do and now he was here he felt as small and as insignificant as he had ever felt. And to top it off, he’d just upset probably the one person he could have relied upon for support. But it was more than that. He felt guilty, guilty that he’d upset her and made assumptions about her, when he actually in all fairness knew nothing about her. He’d judged a book by its cover, which was what he hated everyone doing to him. With a final groan he turned and headed back towards the sleeping quarters, to unpack the small chest of belongings he’d brought with him.

If today was anything to go by, it was going to be a long week.

Long was an understatement.

By Monday morning,  Steve had done 5 different physical assault courses, various runs loaded with equipment, taken part in a number of logic puzzles, had a one on one interview with Colonel Phillips, completed written, arithmetic and geography tests and been subject to another medical examination.  He was now on a fuck knows how many miles drill run, being barked at once more by Sergeant Duffy.

“Pick up the pace, ladies! Let’s go!” The drill Sergeant barked. Steve was running as fast as he could, but still lagged 10 or 15 yards behind the main formation of the group. His legs ached, his chest hurt but he was damned if he was giving up.

"Double time! Come on! Faster! Faster! Move! Move!”  Sergeant Duffy instructed as they rounded the corner of the dirt path, drawing up behind a jeep which was parked by a flag pole surrounded by white rocks on the ground. “Squad, halt!”

Finally Steve could catch his breath. He bent over, hands on his knees as he inhaled deeply, watching the group of men as they gathered around their leader.

“That flag means we’re only at the halfway point.”

Half way? Great…just great.

“First man to bring it to me gets a ride back with Agent Carter. Move, move!”

Steve pushed his helmet back up his head, remaining where he was simply watching as the entire unit all tried to climb the pole. It was a free for all, men pushing each other out of the way, elbows flying, fists flailing. Steve however scanned the pole up and down, his brain logically thinking it through. There had to be a way to get that flag down without having to climb the pole, otherwise how did they put it up there in the first place?

“If that’s all you got, this army’s in trouble!” Duffy snapped “Get up there, Hodge! Come on! Get up there!”

Hodge, who had made it a few feet further than everyone else slid down to the ground and Duffy stood back, his arms folded, smirking a little. “Nobody’s got that flag in 17 years!” he shook his head “Now fall back into line! Come on, fall in!”

That signalled the end of the little pole exercise, but not for Steve. As everyone cleared away he walked towards it, glancing first at the bottom of the pole, then up to the top, squinting slightly against the sun. If he was right…

“Rogers! I said fall in!” Duffy barked, but Steve ignored him as he bent down and pulled the pin out at the bottom of the pole causing it to fall with a loud crash to the ground in a cloud of dust. He tossed the pin to the floor with a clang as everyone fell silent, watching as he removed the flag from the rope which held it to the pole. He handed it to Sergeant Duffy on his way past.

“Thank you, sir.” He said gently as he climbed into the back of the jeep. Agent Carter turned to face him from her seat in the front and he shot her a smile which she returned, an amused look spreading across her features.

Steve was damned glad of that ride home as, following lunch, they were subjected to another physical activity, this one a seemingly endless circuit training involving star jumps, push up, sit ups you name it.

“Faster, ladies!” Agent Carter barked, as they were all busy doing push ups “Come on. My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul. Move it!”

A few more sets and she barked at them to get up, which they obeyed, springing to their feet just as Agent Stark arrived with Colonel Phillips and Dr Erskine. The three of them were clearly mid some debate, Katie looked a little annoyed and turned to Phillips snapping at him, her face flashing with anger. Erskine put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head gently and she rolled her eyes, turning away and looking in his direction. She locked eyes with Steve who watched her for a second, before Agent Carter’s voice hit his ears and he began the jumping jacks she had instructed them to partake in.

“Come on, girls.”

Steve had no idea how many he did, but he continued going, his arms and legs both spreading and then coming back together as he made jump after jump. He grit his teeth, powering through the burn he was feeling in his muscles, tossing his head out of the way slightly as his dog tags bounced off his chest after a particularly energetic leap, smacking him straight in the nose.

And then he heard it.

“GRENADE!”

All logic flew from Steve’s head and as the rest of the unit scattered he instinctively dived towards the explosive, covering it with his body, curling his knees into his chest in an attempt to minimise the impact to everyone round him.

“Get away!” he yelled, waving his arm as Agent Carter ran towards him “Get back!”

He remained curled in on himself, waiting and waiting but nothing happened. Eventually he looked up, to see everyone was slowly starting to go back to normal and he sat up, frowning a little, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“It was a dummy grenade. All clear. Back in formation.” someone said as Steve glanced first at Agent Carter then over to Phillips and Erskine and finally Agent Stark. As his eyes met hers a smile crossed her face and a flash of something that looked suspiciously like pride filled her pretty features.

“Is this is a test?” he asked as he sat on the floor, completely bemused at what had just happened.

Katie tore her eyes from his to turn to Dr Erskine who was also smiling and they both simultaneously moved their attention to Colonel Phillips. He shot them both a withering look as he spoke before he turned to walk away. As he passed Katie he stopped, pointed to Steve who was now getting to his feet and she nodded, saluting.

Erskine beamed at Steve before he turned to follow Phillips away, patting Katie’s shoulder as he left. Steve dusted himself down and then simply watched as Katie walked over to Agent Carter, his eyes following her every move. She whispered something to the other woman who raised her eyebrows, a soft smile crossing her face. Both women then looked at him, before Peggy gave Katie a curt nod as she called the remaining soldiers back into line.

“Private Rogers…” Katie spoke, her eyes soft as she glanced at him. “With me.”

“Ma’am.” He scrambled after her, tripping over his feet slightly as he hurried to catch up with her, glancing back at the line of men who were now being addressed by Agent Carter before she dismissed them all.

“What…where are the rest of the guys goin’?” he began to ask and Katie turned to look at him as he fell into step besides her, to her left.

“They’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” Steve frowned.

“Yup.” Katie nodded as she led him across the training field and onto the gravel track. “They’ll be re-assigned to other units.”

“Other units?” Steve frowned, before her words finally registered “You mean…”

Katie stopped and turned to look at him, smiling as she brushed some of the dirt from his shoulder. “Congratulations Steve… you’re gonna become our first Super Soldier.”

Steve blinked, swallowed and then shook his head “Is this a joke?”

“No.” Katie shook her head “I can assure you this is deadly serious.” She took a deep breath and turned to walk down the track to her right.

“Why me?” Steve blurted out as they rounded a row of military jeeps

Katie smiled at him “The fact you’re even asking that should tell you everything you need to know. But if you really want the detailed answer, you should ask Abe.”

“Who?”

“Dr Erskine.”

“Okay, I will, where is he?” Steve looked round almost as if he expected the Doctor to appear form behind the munitions store they were passing.

“I suspect on his way to Brooklyn to meet Howie at the SSR lab.” Katie replied “He’ll be back later so you can talk to him then.”

“The lab’s in Brooklyn?” the surprise evident in Steve’s voice as Katie led him to one of the large green dome like structures that housed the offices “So that’s why you were there.”

Katie grinned “Not just a pretty face, are ya?” She stood still, snapping to attention and saluted to the guard on the door who immediately saluted back.

“Agent Stark” he greeted as he stepped to his right, opening the door for them both to step into. Steve followed behind her down a long corridor. They turned left at the end and Katie stopped outside a door to their right which held a name tag informing them that it was Colonel Phillips’ office.  She gave a sharp rap, and then without waiting for an answer opened the door and stepped in, Steve following.

The Colonel looked up as they entered the room, placing the pen he’d been writing with down on his desk.

“Shut the door.” Phillips barked and Steve scrambled to do as he was told before he drew himself up tall and saluted his superior “At ease Rogers.”

“Sir.” Steve nodded and relaxed as much as he could. At that point there was another knock on the door and he turned to see Agent Carter step inside.

“Ma’am.” Steve nodded to Peggy who smiled at him.

“So, I’m assuming Agent Stark has given you the low down?” Phillips spoke and Steve turned back to him, giving a nod.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, saves me a job.”

“When don’t I?” Katie quipped and Steve’s eyes widened at the fact she’d basically just sassed a superior officer. There was a moment’s pause before Phillips snorted.

“One of these days Agent Stark, that mouth is gonna get you into trouble.”

“I look forward to it.” She replied.

Phillips shot her another look which she met with a smirk and he scoffed a little, turning his attention to Steve. “So, Rogers, Dr Erskine has chosen you as the candidate to become our first Super Soldier.”

“It’s an honor, Sir.”

“Do you have any questions?” Peggy looked at Steve.

Steve pondered for a second. Truth be told he had a lot of questions, but the biggest one, the why, that was going to have to wait for Dr Erskine himself. He took a deep breath and looked up at the Agent before his eyes flicked to Colonel Phillips, and back again.

“What does the procedure actually entail?”

“Agent Stark, you wanna take this?” Phillips looked at her and she nodded.

“You’ll be injected with Erskine’s formula.” Katie looked at Steve “This will cause immediate change to your cells, your DNA. Then to stimulate the change and growth, you’ll be subjected to an intense permeation of Vita-Rays, in a chamber that my brother and Erskine developed especially.”

“Is it safe?” Steve asked.

Katie took a deep breath and shrugged “On the animal test subjects we’ve used, yeah but I’m not gonna lie to you Steve, other than a Nazi scientist named Johan Schmidt the serum hasn’t been tested on any human subject.”

“What happened to this Schmidt guy?” Steve asked and Katie looked at Phillips, then Peggy, and when she turned back to him he swallowed a little at the look of apprehension on her face.

“It didn’t go the way he planned, but that said the formula was incomplete. Erskine will be able to tell you more tomorrow.” She answered softly. Steve thought on her words for a moment, his eyes still locked onto hers as she licked her lips, offering him nothing but a shrug “In simple terms, we don’t know if it’s gonna work or not. So you need to think carefully.”

“When is it gonna happen?”

“The procedure will take place tomorrow morning.” Agent Carter spoke. “So you have little over 14 hours.”

“So despite what Agent Stark says…”  Phillips spoke, shooting Katie a look which she met with an equally annoyed one of her own, “There’s no time for contemplation.”

“There’s 14 hours…” Katie began to protest.

“Did I ask for your input?” Phillips snapped and she narrowed her eyes.

“No, you never do. Maybe if you did we-“

“If you want to remain part of this unit you’ll stop that sentence right there.” Phillips pointed at her. Katie’s mouth pressed into a thin line and she folded her arms, shaking her head as she looked away. Steve’s eyes turned back to Phillips who spoke “If you want out, now is the time to speak up so we can find someone else. Are you in, Rogers, because if you are, after this meeting and you leave this room, there’s no going back.”

“But I’ve only had like 5 days of basic training.” Steve frowned “Is that going to be enough?”

“We’re on a schedule.” Phillips shrugged, “It’s going to have to be.”

“Your basic training, or lack thereof, shouldn’t be a problem.” Peggy shook her head “Our intention is to continue to train you up fully so that you’re prepared to lead the others who we…convert.”

Steve took a deep breath and glanced once more at Katie, who was staring to her left, her jaw set. Was he in? He began to logically step through things in his head. Steve wasn’t an idiot, he knew full well that if he said no he’d be shipped off to another unit and likely sent home or shoved into some kind of non-combat role due to his current lack of physical abilities or strength. The serum might not work, but then what? He ended up deformed? Or dead? But if he was perfectly honest with himself, having had a taste of what it was like to do what he always wanted to, if the opportunity was taken away from him, he might as well be dead anyway.

It was a no brainer as far as he was concerned. He had to do this.

“I’m in.” Steve nodded, his voice loaded with conviction as he gave a firm nod.

To the side of him Katie took a deep breath, an action mimicked by Colonel Phillips, before the older man turned to Agent Carter who stepped to the side revealing a piece of paper on the desk.

“In that case then I need you to sign this.” Phillips said “It’s a form stating that you consent to the procedure. Just a formality that Stark is insisting on.”

“God forbid we do things properly.” Katie mumbled. Phillips shot her another withering glare before he waved a pen at Steve. Steve stepped forward, took the pen off him and glanced down at the form. His eyes scanned it and then, without further hesitation he scribbled his name on the space at the bottom.

“Congratulations Private Rogers.” Phillips nodded as Agent Carter moved to place the form in a filing cabinet at the back.

“So, now what do I do?” Steve asked.

“You can do what the hell you want within reason.” Phillips shrugged “But you can’t leave base, can’t risk anything happening to you. Not now.”

“By the time you get back to your barracks, everyone else will have packed up and left so I suggest you make the most of the peace and quiet.” Agent Carter smiled “Because you’re going to be pretty busy from Tomorrow onwards.”

Steve nodded to show he understood and then he was dismissed. Saluting to Phillips he turned to leave the room, followed by Katie who herself was leaving to see her brother.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat tonight?” she asked him as they left the building “And I don’t mean any of the shit they serve in the mess.”

Steve looked up “I suppose some of Mrs Tromley’s home made preserve is out of the question?”

“Leave it with me.” She smiled and Steve looked at her for a second before he took a deep breath.

“Look, Agent- Katie, I err, wanted to apologise for my outburst the other night. I was rude and…”

“It’s okay, I don’t hold a grudge.” She paused and turned to face him “Alright that’s a lie, I do. But only against people who deserve it.”

“And I don’t?” Steve asked with a slight smile and she shrugged.

“For now, no. Plenty of time for me to change my mind though.” And with that, just as she had done at the expo she turned and left him standing there, tossing him a wink over her shoulder as she walked away.

Katie came through with the preserve, a small jar along with a crusty cob of bread was waiting in his bunk later that evening when he returned from the bathroom cabin. He ate sat on his bed, mulling everything over in his mind before he stood up and decided to go for a walk. He found a nice quiet spot hidden behind one of the munition sheds and sat to draw a while, a particularly gnarled old tree the target of his attention. When the light diminished too much for him to see properly, he headed back and dropped his sketchbook into his rucksack before he settled down with a book open on his lap.

For the next few hours he tried to read but none of it was really sinking in. He had butterflies in his stomach, not nerves as such, but apprehension, definitely, at what he was letting himself in for. As he re-read the same sentence he’d been looking at for the last 10 minutes, there was a knock at the door which made him jump slightly and he turned to look over his left shoulder as Dr Erskine stood in the doorway, a bottle and two glasses in his hand.

“May I?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, closing the book as Erskine walked over the floor, placing the glass on the trunk at the end of Steve’s bed.

“Can’t sleep?” Erskine asked as he moved towards the bed opposite Steve.

“I got the jitters, I guess.” Steve shrugged.

Erskine laughed “Me, too.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve dropped the book he had been reading down on the trunk next to the glass.

“Just one?” Erskine looked at Steve as he sat down facing him. Steve still had a lot of questions, but the one he wanted an answer to most was the one that flew out of his mouth.

“Why me?”

“I suppose that is the only question that matters.” Erskine said after a moment’s pause. He looked down at the bottle of schnapps he brought with him, turning the label so Steve could see it. “This is from Augsburg. My city. So many people forget that the first country that the Nazi’s invaded was their own.” He took a breath “You know, after the last war my people struggled. They felt weak. They felt small. And then Hitler comes along with the marching and the big show and the flags and the… and the… “ Erskine waved his hand as he took a deep breath, straightening his glasses “And he… he hears of me, my work and he finds me. And he says, ‘You’” Erskine pointed to emphasise his point “He says, ‘You will make us strong.’ Well, I am not interested.” Erskine shook his head as he placed the bottle on the floor between his feet, Steve’s eyes following his movements “So he sends the head of HYDRA, his research division. A brilliant scientist by the name of Johann Schmidt.”

That name Steve recognised from before, the one Katie told him about. He watched as Erskine continued talking, once more pushing his glasses up his nose. “Now, Schmidt is a member of the inner circle and he’s ambitious. He and Hitler share a passion for occult power and Teutonic myth. Hitler uses his fantasies to inspire his followers. But for Schmidt, it is not fantasy. For him, it is real. He has become convinced that there is a great power hidden in the Earth, left here by the Gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So when he hears about my formula and what it can do, he cannot resist.” Erskine paused as Steve looked at him, understanding immediately he was referring to Schmidt taking the formula. “Schmidt must become that superior man.”

Remembering what Katie had said, about it not going according to plan he looked at Erskine. “Did it make him stronger?”

“Yeah. But, there were other effects.” Erskine conceded, but didn’t elaborate further. “The serum was not ready. But more important, the man. The serum amplifies everything that is inside. So, good becomes great. Bad becomes worse.” He explained and Steve glanced down, taking all the information in “This is why you were chosen.”

At that Steve looked back up at him, his brow furrowing deeply as Erskine continued “Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion.”

“Thanks.” Steve said, frowning slightly “I think.” He glanced at Erskine who smiled at him, and then waved in the direction of the two glasses on the trunk at the foot of the bed. As Steve took the glasses, pulling the top one out with his right hand, Erskine uncorked the schnapps and began to pour the liquid.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing.” Erskine said, corking the bottle one more and setting it down on the floor “That you will stay who you are.” Erskine took a glass off Steve and stared straight into his eyes, almost as if he was trying to drive the message home. “Not a perfect soldier, but a good-“ he pointed at Steve’s chest “- man.”

Steve took a deep breath, holding his glass up and he allowed that fleeting warmth of pride spread across his chest, just for a second, as he smiled “To the little guys.”

“Ha ha!” Erskine agreed, chinking his glass against Steve’s but just as Steve was about to take a drink Erskine suddenly spluttered.

“No! No! Wait! Wait! What I am doing?” he reached out, taking Steve’s glass off him “No! You have a procedure tomorrow. No fluids.”

Seriously?

Steve watched as Erskine poured the contents of Steve’s glass into his own and sighed a little, he’d been looking forward to that.

“All right. We’ll drink it after.” He shrugged.

“No! I don’t have procedure tomorrow.” Erskine gestured towards himself “Drink it after? I drink it now.”

Steve gave a small smile as the doctor knocked back the clear liquid in the glass and was just about to speak to tease him a little about making sure he had a clear head for the morning, when there was another knock on the door. Steve’s head turned to look as Katie stepped inside the dorm, smiling.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.” She looked at Erskine whose mouth curled up a little at one side in a knowing smirk.

“And that is my cue to leave.” He stood up. “I will see you in the morning Steven.”

He squeezed Steve’s shoulder as he strode past, the bottle of schnapps in his hand as Katie moved to allow him through the doorway. He smiled once more before he shut the door behind him leaving the pair of them in the dim light of the bare sleeping room. Steve looked at Katie, inhaling deeply as even in the simple combat trousers and plain khaki t-shirt she was wearing she still looked effortlessly gorgeous. Her hair was pulled back off her face in a simple braid, and her skin was devoid of her usual make up, lips clear of their normal bright red paint. He realised with a slight swallow that this is what she’d look like at home, last thing at night and first thing in the morning…

He shifted a little on the side of his bed and watched as she walked over to take the spot Erskine had vacated.

“Are you supposed to be in here?” Steve finally spoke and she shrugged.

“Well, it probably wouldn’t be seen as appropriate if we were caught but…” She paused and gave a twitch of a smirk. “Steve, you’re gonna become a super soldier tomorrow, you can do what the hell you want!”

He inhaled a little sharply at her words as those inappropriate thoughts once more reared in his head and he felt his neck and cheeks grow warm.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered.” She smiled.

“Thanks?” he shook his head before he glanced up at her “So why are you here?”

“I wanted to see how you were.” She shrugged.

“Why?” he frowned.

“Why?” she looked at him, as if he’d just asked her the dumbest question on the planet. “Because I care about you Steve.”

“You care about me?” he repeated, the disbelief evident in his tone.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Of course I do.” Steve watched her for a moment, and for the first time he caught a glimpse of something a little less composed under her normally cool and confident exterior. She was biting her lip, her teeth worrying at her plump bottom one as her right hand gently pulled at the knuckles of her left.

“You’re nervous.” He spoke suddenly and her eyes locked onto his, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just…well, this is a huge thing, Steve. A culmination of years of work from not just the SSR but Stark Industries, and Erskine.” She looked at him and shook her head, giving a little snort. “God I know that sounds pathetic compared to what you must be feeling.”

“Well, I’m a little twitchy, that’s fo’ sure, but I’m not scared scared, does that make sense?” he asked and she looked at him, a smile twisting on her lips.

“That’s because you’re ridiculously brave.”

“Or stupid.” He shrugged and she laughed, shaking her head.

“That’s one word I really wouldn’t use to describe you. I heard about the flag.”

“Yeah?” Steve chuckled a little and she grinned.

“Peggy said it was the best thing she’d ever seen. No one’s rendered Sergeant Duffy speechless before but he was pretty impressed that night at briefing.”

“It was just logic” Steve flushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m pretty good at using my head. You haff’ to be when you’re as small and as weak as I am.”

“Don’t.” Katie shook her head.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say that. You’re not weak.”

At that Steve gave a snort. “Come on Doll, physically I’m a wreck. That’s one of the reasons Erskine picked me.” no sooner had he spoke, he realised what he’d said and his eyes widen at the involuntary use of the pet term but Katie merely laughed, arching her brow.

“Doll?”

“Sorry Ma’am.” He winced “Just slipped out.”

“I’m flattered.” She chuckled, before giving a sigh “But back to what you just said, about why Erskine picked you. It isn’t just because you’re physically weak. It’s because that serum amplifies everything about you Steve…”

“Yeah, good becomes great, bad becomes worse.” Steve repeated the words Erskine had spoken to him not five minutes ago.

“Exactly.” Katie looked at him. “Erskine could have chosen any one of the guys that were in here with you, but he didn’t. He saw something in you, something that none of the others had.” She bit her lip and grinned as she leaned back slightly on the bed “You’re a lion disguised as a lamb, Rogers.” “Oh, jeez…” he snorted shaking his head as she laughed “Now you sound like Bucky, that’s the kinda nonsense that jerk would come out with.”

At that Katie wrinkled her nose “In that case I take it back.”

“Thank you, now I feel great.” Steve retorted sarcastically and she laughed loudly, snorting as she did so. Her eyes widened and she clamped her hand over her mouth as Steve chuckled at her very un-lady like manner, his head falling forward as his own laughs rang out around the barracks. Eventually, Katie managed to stop, wiping her eyes and she shook her head.

“Sometimes I think it’s a blessing my parents are no longer around. My mom especially would be horrified if they could see how uncouth I act at times.”

“I dunno.” He shrugged “If you were my daughter I’d be pretty proud of how you turned out.”

Katie smiled shyly at his compliment “Thanks Stevie. I’m sure yours would feel the same.”

He didn’t ask how she knew his parents were both dead, it was fairly obvious she would have read his file. Instead he simply smiled and looked down at his hands “I like to think so. Although I’m pretty sure if my ma was still around and knew what I was doing tomorrow she’d have a coupla’ things to say about it. And a few slaps ready for the back ‘o ma head!”

“Tell me about it.” Katie chuckled, “If my dad could see me here, right now. Man, he’d be apoplectic. ‘The army is no place for a woman’” she mimicked a deep voice before she shook her head “Mind you, not like I’ve never heard it before.” She took a deep breath and looked at him “You’ve never commented on it though.”

Steve blinked and then shook his head, shrugging “That’s not how my ma brought me up. She was a single parent for all my life, anything a man could do in the house she did just as well. Besides, I know what it’s like to be told no because of what or who you are.”

“Ironically who I am kinda got me through the door.” She said, and when Steve looked at her pondering what she meant, she continued “I was already working for the CIA when Howie told me that Colonel Phillips had approached him about working for the SSR. Naturally I wanted in but of course there were grumbles about it because I was a female. But my brother put his foot-down, said we came as a team, so they relented. Plus, Peggy, or Agent 13 was she was then, was already in deep cover working for Schmidt as a maid in his personal mansion.” She licked he lips and shrugged “Colonel Phillips convinced the CIA to send me undercover as Peggy’s friend, a go-between if you will meaning there was less risk of her cover being blown.” She paused and glanced at him as Steve simply watched, rapt with attention. “Over the next few months we obtained details of Schmidt’s plan, what he was intending to do with Erskine’s serum and we knew we couldn’t possibly let the Nazi’s perfect it. Since we rescued Erskine, he and Howard have been working on finishing the formula, building the necessary equipment to ensure that it works. And Peggy and I were given our reward which was permission to serve in the allied army as SSR Agents.”

“Permission?” Steve deadpanned and Katie snorted.

“Yup.”

“Interesting reward.”

“I’d have taken whatever chance they gave to me.” She shrugged “It’s all I ever wanted to do.”

Steve looked at her, the similarities in their stories were striking even despite their different backgrounds. But he still didn’t get it. She was beautiful, could have married well, just like most gals of her status…and his confusion must have shown as she cocked her head to one side and studied him for a moment before she spoke again.

“Don’t you think I was right to do so?”

“No, I mean, yes I do. I guess I’m just curious as to why you’d wanna join the army if you’re a beautiful dame.”

At that both her eyebrows raised and he cursed himself. He’d managed most of this conversation so far not to put his foot in his mouth and now, wham, kicked himself straight in the teeth. “Or a beautiful… a woman.” He floundered for words “An agent, not a dame! You are beautiful, but…”

“Why do you get so nervous when you speak to me?” Katie asked and Steve shook his head, giving a little huff as she called him out, groaning a little.

“Because up until the point I met you I think the longest conversation I ever had with a woman would have been with Mrs Barnes or Mrs Tomley.” he looked up at her, before he glanced back down at his hands. “Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on.”

“You must have danced?” Katie frowned, and she seemed genuinely surprised at what he was admitting.

“Well, asking a woman to dance always seems so terrifying.” Steve shrugged “And the past few years just didn’t seem to matter that much. Figured I’d wait.”

“For what?”

“The right partner.” He said, his eyes still focussed on his hands. He could feel Katie looking at him and eventually he raised his eyes to see her smiling softly at him.

“Well, I think all the girls in Brooklyn are dumbasses for not noticing you.”  With her words she stood up and crossed to the bed he was sat on, taking a spot besides him. Steve swallowed, his entire body going rigid at the fact she was so close to him and she turned her face to look into his eyes. “You’re sweet”

He chuckled “You know I hear that a lot…you’re really sweet and all but…“

“Like I said…”she bumped her shoulder against his slightly, “Dumbasses”

Steve looked at her before he felt his cheeks once more growing warm and he looked away, hastily, focussing on nothing in particular as her words echoed around his head. He didn’t know how to respond to praise, not in the sense in which she was giving it to him anyway.

“But seriously, why does me complimenting you make you so awkward Steve?” she asked, and despite himself Steve’s head shot up to look at her once more, his mouth falling open at the fact that she’d unwittingly just read his mind.

He took a deep breath “I guess I’m not used to it, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry if it makes you feel awkward.” She bit her bottom lip and looked down at her hands for a moment before she glanced back at him, her features soft, eyes alive in the dim light. “But I just, well, I like you Steve.” she whispered, “I mean, really like you.”

Steve felt his mouth go dry as her eyes flicked down to his lips, the same way they had at the Expo and he swallowed, the lump thick in his throat.

“I err, I…” he took a deep breath, the palms of his hands feeling clammy, those green emeralds sparkling as he looked at her, his mind willing him to summon the courage to say what he wanted to. And before he could chicken out, he blurted the words. “I like you too.”

Her cheeks flushed pink and she gently moved towards him, closing the already small distance between them as Steve reached up, with a shaky right hand, his actions completely instinctual. He gently cupped her cheek as his lips found hers and he kissed her, tentatively at first before soon the kiss was as deep as it had been at the Expo. His spare hand balled into a fist by his side as he was unsure exactly what to do with it until he felt Katie’s fingers gently work his away from his palm and she pulled his left arm towards her. Following her lead, he tentatively pressed his palm onto her hip as she shifted her weight slightly, wrapping her arms round his neck. She pulled him closer, the kiss growing deeper and Steve couldn’t help the soft little whimper that rolled in his throat. As the involuntary noise filed the air between them he felt Katie’s lips smile against his and then, he was pitching forward as she fell slowly backwards, pulling him down with her as she sank onto the bunk. The movement came as a not-entirely unwelcome surprise to Steve and he didn’t resist. With a shaky breath he paused for a moment, realising he had absolutely no idea what to do next other than run with it. So, after a second or so more deliberation, he went once more with his gut and crawled over her, resting his weight on his palms which he placed either side of her head before he dropped his face to hers and kissed her again. Her lips felt so soft against his, something he wasn’t sure he’d taken the time to appreciate before, or maybe it was all simply heightened by the fact he was lay over her, he had no idea. But what he did know was that when Katie placed both hands on his face, the pads of her finger tips cupping his jaw, it sent a jolt of electricity tingling all the way down his spine. She was the one to break away this time, breathing deeply as her head rest on his hard, army issued pillow, her eyes bouncing across both of his.

“You okay?” she asked and Steve nodded.

“Yeah, I err…” he swallowed and gave a little huff of shy laughter as he hung his head a little, peeking up a her shyly “I don’t know what I’m doing, or even if we should be doing it at all.”

“What do you mean if we should be doing it at all?”

“Well, we’re not…” he licked his lips “I mean, I should be taking you out, on a date or…well, at least doing things properly, not just…”

“Steve, we’re in the middle of a damned war.” Katie looked at him, cutting his protests off dead. “Every day could be your last, to hell with rules and being prim and proper.”

Steve had to concede she had a point, and as he looked into her eyes he could feel that last thread of his self-control starting to fray. Every inch of his body was on fire for her, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her stupid and feel her underneath him.

“Don’t over think it.” She muttered, her lips ghosting over his “Just run with it.”

So he did. He kissed her hard, dropping to his elbows and pressing a little more of his weight on top of her, totally lost in her warmth and softness. He let out another soft sigh as he felt her shift underneath him and pulled away, turning his head so that his lips were inches from her neck as he recalled a part of a film he’d seen. He glanced up at her as she watched him, her pupils blown with a combination of lust and anticipation.

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispered softly.

“God, yes.” Katie sighed and he obliged, pressing his mouth to her neck. As he did so, his arms and hands moved downwards slowly, his fingers timidly resting on her hips as they gave a little jerk of their own accord, pushing up against him as she groaned slightly at the contact.  Steve pulled back to stare at her again, her noise shocking him slightly, not sure what to do next but Katie wordlessly answered his silent question by tilting her hips up again, and this time it was him who moaned.

“Doll, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this or do anything-”

“It’s okay Steve,” she said, her voice low and slightly breathy as she looked at him, her eyes, locking onto his. She pushed her head upwards, mouth seeking his out as her hands slid under his t- shirt. He twitched under her touch as the sensation of her gently dragging her nails across his flat, soft stomach sent a spike of desire, like a red hot poker through his entire body. Katie grasped the bottom of his T-shirt and he hesitated, not sure if he really wanted her to see him topless, but she gave an impatient yank, taking the decision away from him and he held his arms up so she could remove it. Once he was free he glanced down to see Katie looking at his chest. He swallowed, as her eyes roved his various pox marks and scars and shivered as she let her hands wander, tracing a path down towards the top of his khaki pants. Her eyes met his and she sat up slightly pushing him back a little to allow herself enough room to reach down and pull her own T-shirt over her head.

Steve’s mouth was dry again as he glanced down at her chest, her hair falling around her shoulders, breasts spilling over the tops of the simple, black balcony cups of her bra and his groin twitched, the crotch of his pants now painfully tight.

“You’re beautiful…” he whispered gently, and then he kissed her again. Her fingers gently took his hands and she guided them onto her, sliding them up her rib cage to her chest and he froze as he found himself once more unsure of his next move. Swallowing hard against the lump that felt like it was obstructing his entire throat he began to gently squeeze and knead the soft flesh and black lace, before he stopped again to consider his next move.

“It’s okay…” she encouraged and with a nod, his hands slid into the cups, teasing her taught nipples with his thumbs, acting completely on instinct, listening and watching her as she groaned gently, arching her back, her reaction telling him he was doing something right as all the time his groin automatically bumped against hers. Katie buried her fingers in his hair, pulling hard, forcing his head back sharply and as she tugged he let out another low growl. When she let go he stared down at her to see her smirking, her pupils blown so wide there was hardly any green left.

“Don’t stop…” her hands moved down to grab at his lower back, pulling him back against her as she moved her knees, bending them so that his pelvis was flush with her, his cock hard through the thin fabric of his trousers. Taking her lead, Steve ground against her again, and again, and as he continued his movements be became aware that the rhythm of his hips was becoming more frantic and their kisses were growing more desperate.

“More,” Katie moaned into his mouth, and with movements that were completely and utterly automatic he gave her what she wanted, moving his hips even faster, rubbing against her in ways that had her clutching at his back like her life depended on it. Steve had never felt anything like this in his life. It was so good, so right, in a way nothing had ever felt so right before. It should have been wrong, rutting up against someone fully clothed, but God, his head was a whirl of lust, desire, and he didn’t give a fuck about anything else at that moment other than her as she lay underneath him

As he pressed up against her, the tightening across his lower stomach that he’d only felt before when bringing himself off warned him he was fast approaching his release. He let out another groan as he felt his movements beginning to lose rhythm and he moved his lips to her neck, pressing a kiss to her skin as he spoke into her ear. “Katie, I’m close.” He breathed out “You almost there? Tell me your close Doll, please?”

He needn’t have worried, at his words Katie moaned brokenly and nodded and his mouth fell to that spot on her neck which seemed to drive her wild. She tipped her head back as he gently nipped beneath her ear with his teeth and a few more sloppy grinds against her she was done, fingers wrapped around his hair, her, hips bucking upwards, almost violently. Her voice was broken as she gasped out “Stevie…”and it was the single most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life as it tumbled from her lips. Seeing and feeling her fall apart in his arms sent him over the edge right behind her in a pure surge of ecstasy, his head dropping  to the crook of her shoulder and she gently ran her fingers through his hair.

There was no noise bar the sound of the crickets drifting in from the outside as they both lay, breathing deeply as they waited to regain control of their bodies, a light sheen of sweat beaded across Steve’s brow, wisps of his hair sticking to his skin. Finally mustering enough strength to move, he raised his head to look at her, to find her smiling as she pushed her head up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Wow…” she breathed and Steve let out a soft huff of laughter as he sat up to allow her the space to do the same. “You got game Soldier, I’ll give you that.”

Steve snorted and shook his head as he passed retrieved her t-shirt from the floor and passed it to her. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” He shrugged “I erm…”

“Let you into a secret.” She said gently, pulling her top over her head, flicking her hair back as she looked at him, her cheeks flushed with exertion. “Neither have I.”

“What?” Steve frowned “You’ve never…”

“You expecting me to be some kind of wild harlot or sumthin’ Stevie?” She teased as she stood up, Steve scrambling to his feet mimicking her.

“No I just, pretty girl like you, I thought…”

“What was it you said about waiting for the right partner?” she asked before she gently kissed him again. When she pulled away, her nose bumped his slightly and she pressed her forehead to his. “I best go. I don’t wanna but…” she glanced at the window and looked back at him “I’ll see you tomorrow at the lab.”

“Sure.” Steve followed her a little before she stopped in the doorway and turned to smile at him once more.

“Whatever happens I want you to know that you’re already one of the bravest men I’ve ever met.” She took a deep breath “You suddenly becoming all big and strong and…well, whatever, won’t change the fact that you already had the heart of a hero, certainly in my eyes anyway.”

And Steve could do nothing but smile as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

[kisskissbanggang]

Hello Stranger

[14K Words/1Hr. Read - Teacher!Bang Chan x Admin!Female Reader - Fake Relationships, Guest Appearances, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, New Teachers, Vanilla, Office Sex, Allusions To Troubling Subjects]

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You should’ve expected a phone call when you read the email. At least then you would be somewhat prepared for the verbal lashing you were currently receiving from one of your greatest teachers. 

“I’m sorry, but — wait, you know what? No I’m not, I’m not sorry — but I am not staying here with this dumpster fire waiting to happen! He’s wrecking the department — Johnny, let me talk — and I didn’t even want him here to begin with. Congratulations, ma’am, you torpedoed my program I worked so hard to build.”

Doyoung paused, waiting for you to call his bluff, to appeal to his good side as usual. He was right. He’d done so much for his school — for the district, really, and this was getting out of hand. Johnny could be heard behind him, the poor principal having apparently had his desk phone wrestled away from him to begin with. 

“Mr. Kim,” you spoke into the phone, mustering all the confidence you had in you, “what do you want me to do? I mean it. Tell me what you want.”

“He goes or I go,” Doyoung dramatically laid out into your ear. Johnny could be heard trying to console the raving teacher before Doyoung apparently ducked him every few seconds. “I’m losing my mind. I have 150 students becoming fucking hypnotized and they’re influencing their peers like the plague.”

“Besides losing either of you,” you carefully negotiated, “what do you want me to do? I value your input; I always have. Dig into the meat with me here, please.”

“I will not teach beside some noble renegade who wears hoodies to class and asks his students to call him by his first name. I won’t teach in the same building, nor in the same school. This is dangerous, and you know it is. For all the money you’re throwing at PR this year you could be putting it in your students.”

You hated that Doyoung was right. This was not a great start to the year. A sigh escaped that you had not meant for, and Doyoung audibly steeled himself on the other end of the receiver. He was waiting now. 

“I’m coming down there,” you announced. Apparently Johnny heard you, a god fucking dammit being heard behind Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, however, was sated. 

“Fine,” he replied, but he didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was surprised he got anywhere. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”

And like that, Doyoung hung up. You slumped down in your chair, having been pacing your otherwise pristine office for the past 15 minutes which had felt more like 15 hours. You were fussily rearranging your desk, trying to calm yourself back down when your assistant finally felt it was safe enough to poke her head into your office. 

“Ma’am—” Yeji greeted before you held up a hand to stop her. You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. 

“How many more calls this week?”

“Only four,” she replied. A relieved sigh softened your tense shoulders as she set the personnel file you requested on your desk. 

You felt so old now, run ragged by all the mayhem, but it wasn’t so long ago that you were young yourself. Even then, you still were according to most standards. You were the youngest assistant superintendent to ever serve the district, a set of magnet schools within the city comprised of one private Montessori primary school, one public STEM-focused junior high, and one private-public hybrid high school of the arts. You pined for the ultimate position, but that chair was long occupied by Mr. Simmons, a token favorite of the school board. He called you dear and was always acting like some big man pitying a little girl. However, this didn’t mean you hadn’t tried like hell to make an impression. 

Your first three years had been a terrific uphill trajectory. In year one, you brought on Doyoung to replace the retiring choir teacher and head of the music department at the high school. To date, he’d brought in more accolades than his predecessor did in twice the time. For your second year, you collaborated with your junior high on an agricultural enrichment program that offset food costs district wide to the point you could improve offerings in all three cafeterias. This year, you re-established the district PTA. Doyoung’s rabid Booster Club and the parents of the junior high’s robotics team made up the first meeting, and more and more parents had joined since. 

So it only seemed fair that this year was your first true hurdle. It had been such an innocent decision: you took a proposed program from the junior high and adapted it for your high school students. A music production and distribution program was a clean, sleek idea that was sure to impress the PTA and enrich the lives of your students in their already affluent music department and work as a dual credit with the business side of the class. What you hadn’t betted on, however, was what exactly a young teacher could get into in a high school setting. 

Chris Bang wasn’t naive — you were sure of it, looking at his portfolio. He’d cut his teeth independently producing from a young age and gathering a loyal following online. This was a concept you understood well enough, but had a time and a half explaining to anyone older than you, it seemed. Anyone older than you, but also especially Doyoung, who was very fiercely proud of his hard work to get his double Masters in Choral Conducting and Music Theory at 21 and didn’t have the patience for homegrown prodigies. You couldn’t blame Doyoung, really, even with his dramatics. His competition choir was a force to be reckoned with — surprisingly disciplined, endlessly talented, and ravenously competitive — and now two of his students were wrapped up in all this, too, and that was just the extent you were aware of. 

You tapped out an IM to Yeji from your desktop, asking her to come back into your office, and she dutifully popped in a few seconds later. She pulled up a chair in front of your desk as you rested your head in your hands for a moment. “Tell me, Yeji,” you sighed, “what’s your read on this?”

“Well, ma’am,” she mulled it over, “it’s not great. It’s awful, really. But it’s hard to tell by now what’s real, what’s a cry for attention, or what feels real but is actually just the zeitgeist. You know how this is, what it can turn into.”

You did. You’d remembered your own whirlwind feelings at a similar age, even just out of high school. Strangers and dissenters had a hard time believing it, but before you had assumed the role of meticulously poised and proper, you were frustratingly belligerent and stubborn like many of your peers when you were younger. It was easy to recall how real, how present every moment was at the time, but you didn’t even remember the whole story now. In fact, you hadn’t thought of that story in ages, but you were suddenly reminded of the smell of pine trees and sugar, the cool electricity of being out past midnight. It was quite possibly the most excited you’d ever felt, but now you couldn’t remember the fine details, the corners sanded down to curves over time. To your students, these letters were the most exciting and dramatic thing to ever happen to them, and if they would remember the details later on would depend on how you handled the situation. 

The first letter surfaced just a week before, and online of all places. A full declaration of this girl’s undying love for Chris and all of the very, very, very inappropriate things she wanted to do with him, found in an envelope on the keyboard outside his office and posted online before he could ever see it. The next letter was eventually found two days later, apparently picked up from where it had missed the trash can: a 17 year old boy, feeling emboldened enough to finally profess who he was — gay, madly in love with Chris, and willing to risk it all. A third was stolen from a girl’s backpack from some bullies and she had been a wreck, so sure that Chris had picked one of the other two and she’d missed her chance. That girl hadn’t returned to school yet. Who knew what else was going on in the hallways, in the cafeteria and bathrooms, in the parking lot after school? 

Four more parents contacted your office, according to Yeji. Four more letters. And now Doyoung was threatening to quit, for added reasons you hadn’t even been aware of. You flipped through Chris’ personnel file, hoping not to find any red flags, but hopefully find any reason this spiraled out of control, anything other than tumultuous teenage life wreaking havoc on your students. 

Your sigh renewed in spades as you glanced at your assistant again. “Who do you remember most from high school?”

Yeji’s eyes were cast downward as she thought about it. “Other than my friends? Probably the student teacher in my auto class,” she blissfully reminisced. “The teacher would sleep half the time and the student teacher would just teach us whatever we wanted to know and what we needed to know for tests. I remember I had the biggest crush because of that.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Yeji gave an apologetic smile. “What about you?”

Her question knocked you off your feet for a moment. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting it, but you immediately had an answer. “Aside from friends? Weirdly enough,” you began, “someone I didn’t meet until graduation.”

As sickly sentimental as the thought of it was, it was true. You didn’t even remember that boy’s name anymore, but you’d met exactly three times before you left for college. He had been hanging out by the bonfire on the beach at a grad party no one had expected to get so crazy. You couldn’t remember your conversation, but you could remember his bleached hair tucked under a beanie catching your eye as he sat by himself, his friends apparently wreaking havoc on their own somewhere. His lip ring was crooked, and in a fit of beer-buzzed confidence you’d fixed it for him while you talked about the phony gravitas of graduation. You’d almost kissed him, too, connecting over things that seemed way more kismet than they probably were when your friends finally made you walk home with them. 

You gathered up the rest of your patience and courage as you bid Yeji goodbye until your return and headed out to your car in the lot, making the tedious journey to the high school. The handsomely vintage architecture was charmingly modern inside the gates and within its walls, but not overly so. However, this also meant the school was a hike and a maze to navigate through to find the music department. You were distracted, though, missing a turn here or there and having to turn back a couple times now that you were suddenly remembering your clandestine romance from years ago. What was his name? It wasn’t even that long ago. Had so much really happened since then? You wracked your brain. He had a reasonably fresh and nice scratcher tattoo on his bicep, you remembered, but you couldn’t remember what it was for some reason, just like his name. He had to have said it in one of these memory bites. 

The second time you’d met, he’d been handing out flyers on the boardwalk for his own show at a rave in a warehouse on the other side of town, out where the beach met the woods. He’d seen you before you’d seen him, and he had popped up with a greeting of Hello, stranger. He had made you promise to be there, which is where you met the third and final time later that night. He greeted you again the same way. Hello, stranger. You’d thought it was cute then, and still did, which must be why you still remembered that detail, at least. He liked your shoes, your worn work boots you’d picked up at a thrift store and refused to get rid of despite all the times your parents asked. 

Those warehouse shows were always nuts, all sorts of vendors arriving who were willing to shack up with any event that passed through. He had bought you cotton candy from one of these vendors when you met him after his set and you chatted as you walked along the tree line, talking about his dreams of becoming rich and famous on his own terms. He kissed you, once, and you tasted his lip ring and spun sugar for weeks. You found yourself wondering now if he ever did become rich and famous. 

Doyoung gave you a passing glance in the hall as you stalked towards Chris’s classroom: he looked impatient but thrilled and, sure enough, well dressed in his usual suit and tie. You wondered if this new staff member was exactly what Doyoung was fear mongering. Maybe it was simply a difference in values. This was Chris’ first year teaching professionally, you remembered, and now you felt miserably guilty. What a horrible way to start a career. You hadn’t even visited your new teacher since he began, but just the door outside his room was a mess. Doyoung’s fretting made more sense now. Even though you’d only gotten four phone calls, Chris’s classroom door was plastered in letters. 

The door creaked and fluttered as you opened it and peeked your head inside. The room was devoid of any human presence. For a space that needed to serve multiple purposes, it was sparsely filled except for classroom materials and equipment. Regular desks and chairs filled the floor as opposed to risers or music stands like in the other department classrooms, but there was still a soundproof practice room in the back of the room, and only the recording equipment stored around the room gave any hint to the classroom’s purpose. To deal with the mess after the third letter, a sub was leading Chris’s classes in the library, but you at least expected to find him here himself, or at least some posters or framed photos. You peeked inside the small office at the head of the classroom, finding it just as empty as well, but with some more personality. A few extra milk crates of visibly nicer vinyl records for sampling and listening were stacked beside the desk along with a nicer record player than what was by his desk out in the classroom. Some books sat on a shelf with a modest cactus in the corner, and finally some photos: Chris shaking hands and smiling with tons of industry players and friends, and occasionally appearing in one of those hoodies Doyoung had been warning of. He did own suits, apparently. Multiple. And he looked good in them. 

A polite cough surprised you at the door of the office. 

You whirled around, the sun outside silhouetting Chris as he stared at you in his dimly lit office. “My office hours are cancelled this week. May I help you?”

It was your turn to cough, clearing your throat. He was certainly young. He was certainly handsome, his grimace pronouncing the charming dimples in his cheeks. He certainly didn’t dress like a teacher. Chris stood in the doorway of his own office, looking at you curiously in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He even had a backpack hung on his shoulder and a bag of greasy fast food in his hands. He suddenly looked down at it, embarrassed. 

“I, er, wore out my welcome in the teacher’s lounge, it seems,” he sighed out a sullen laugh. “And I needed some fresh air.”

“Mr. Bang, I—“

“Call me Chris,” he insisted with a tired grin. Your heart shamefully thumped at how friendly and cute he was. It was easier to pretend you didn’t hear him. He stepped around you and dropped down into his desk chair. He silently gestured at his food, appearing to ask if you were alright if he ate while you talked. You nodded. He dug into the bag and cheekily offered you a fry. You coolly shook your head. 

“I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but as assistant superintendent—“

Chris sputtered, standing up from his chair as he choked down the fry he’d just put in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he gasped finally, “I didn’t—“

“I know,” you nodded again. You waved up a hand in understanding. “Please, sit back down. I wanted to come by and see how you’re doing, considering the current state of affairs.”

Chris stayed standing, uneasy and fidgeting. “Alright, what do you want? Is this it? Please don’t suggest I need an attorney, I don’t think I can handle it.”

“What?” You asked, surprised. 

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Chris lamented, “but I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages through the school portal from parents and students asking me if I did anything, and it’s doing my head in.”

“They’re what?!” You hadn’t even considered anyone actually thought the teacher was guilty of anything. He nodded gravely. 

“Read the letters outside!” His demand came out brokenly as he pointed behind you. “They’re begging me and taunting me to do all sorts of shit. Confess, quit, fuck them — all sorts of awful trash that I never even imagined. I just wanted to teach. I don’t know why the hell this is happening to me.”

You had no idea about any harassment. This looked bad. It looked bad to your students, their parents, the staff — everyone. You pulled out your phone from your purse and brought up the PR rep’s number, now on your speed dial. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Of course I didn’t—“ he sputtered before you cut him off. 

“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Bang. You didn’t do anything and I believe you. A good superintendent would support good staff. Your first few months brought nothing but praise past my office.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris quietly said. He finally sat down as you dialed the rep. She would be by shortly. You found another chair hiding under a pile of books and cds and moved them so you could sit. Chris was looking at you oddly now as you hung up, sitting closer than you’d normally like in the small office. You shifted uncomfortably. Chris offered you a fry again before you stiffly refused once more. He shrugged and began inhaling his food in earnest. 

“Hungry?” You asked sarcastically, instantly regretting it. There was no sense in kicking him while he was down. 

“Emotional eater,” he clarified around a mouthful, equally sarcastic in your resumed awkward silence. You considered the young teacher in front of you. If you recalled the personnel file, he wasn’t just a brand new teacher, he was new to the area as well. A rumor apparently spread among the students and even some of your staff that he had been running away from something, but you never paid that any attention until you were actually in the same room with him. He caught you zoning out in his direction, an eyebrow raised as he paused on his mouthful of food, and you sheepishly pulled out your phone and checked your agenda until your rep finally found you hiding out together in the tiny office. 

Ryujin had become your go-to girl since the school year started but even more so over the past week. Public relations for a school district should never have to become very high-maintenance work, but Ryujin was quickly proving herself over-qualified for the job. She stood in the doorway, tall and cool in her confidence despite her short stature as she looked over the situation. 

“Stand up,” she simply directed Chris. 

He gave you a quick glance, not moving until you nodded. Chris set his food down and stood, hands in his hoodie pockets as Ryujin circled him. He warily shied away from her prodding as she pinched and pulled at his clothes, looking at tags and labels. She fiddled with the cute studs in his ears, tugged on the strings of his hoodie to draw him more to her level, and ruffled his dark, fluffy hair to look for showing roots or product. Ryujin looked at you now. “This isn’t so bad,” she told you decidedly. 

Chris was confused, left about ten miles behind the conversation. “Why—“

“What do we do?” You asked. Chris looked wildly between both of you as you decided his fate without him. “We’re dealing with harassment now.”

“Of course we are,” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, look at him.”

“Hey!” Chris rightfully looked offended, even as you held up a calming hand to settle him down. Ryujin impatiently waited for you to let her continue. 

“He doesn’t look like a teacher, he doesn’t act like a teacher, he’s under 30, and— I’m sorry— he’s cute. He was bound to get eaten alive when his students are only a few years younger than him and he has no experience.”

“So,” you reiterated, “what do we do?”

“He can go back to teaching,” Ryujin ruled, “but he has to look and act the part. No more first-name basis, no more street clothes.”

“This is so ridiculous!” Chris laughed in disbelief. 

Both you and Ryujin glared at him now before she continued. “He’ll have to make a statement first. I’ll write it, of course. He can speak at the next PTA meeting. But —“ she turned to face him for once, “you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have a spouse? A partner? Some boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Now you shared Chris’ confused look. “Why does that matter?”

Ryujin folded her arms. “I don’t mince words. Sympathy, mostly. For anyone worrying, he’ll clearly appear to have support. For anyone who is doubting him, he clearly appears to have a loyal and loving presence in his life that can attest to Mr. Bang never having any nefarious predilection for his students and never intending to inspire any regrettable actions. It’s ultimately a similar reason to why I suggested you should wear a wedding ring.”

Your face heated up once again at being outed in front of your staff member. Ryujin had suggested a fake wedding ring ages ago when you first hired her. The moment you were appointed, parents instantly began doubting you. Even Superintendent Simmons, a parent himself, questioned you at your third interview. How could you — a young woman with no spouse and no children of your own — ever deign to understand what it’s like to raise and nurture one? The sheer stubbornness that you felt in response to that sentiment made you refuse such a placating notion as a fake wedding ring. Chris seemed to notice your embarrassment before he piped up himself, almost seeming to want to change the subject back for your sake. 

“No,” Chris said simply, “I’m single and fine with it.”

“Look,” Ryujin rolled her eyes, “that is fine. Find a fake, then. It just needs to look real. It’s not fair, but these parents will assume you’re a better person if you’re not single in this situation. They need to see that you’re a loving and committed professional who just wants to teach and nurture young minds. The next PTA meeting is this Thursday night. Today is Tuesday, so you have a little time, but not much. Consider it, and I’ll have an optional line in your statement for whatever you decide. Do you have a suit?”

“For funerals and weddings,” Chris grumbled. 

“A sweater is fine then,” Ryujin shrugged. She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “This is going to be fine. Let me know if you need anything.”

“You’re leaving?” You realized with thorough embarrassment that you sounded distressed. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed, “the Superintendent wants a meeting about his son or something. You will be fine. Keep me updated.”

Ryujin ghosted out the door as fast as she’d come, and Chris reeled. “The nerve! I can’t believe her, can you?”

“Yes,” you nodded seriously, “I can. She’s right.”

“Oh, come on!” Chris blustered. You stood back up now, gathering your bag in the crook of your arm and straightening the carefully pressed collar of your suit jacket. 

“I don’t want to see you have to end your career so soon, Mr. Bang,” you sympathized as you pulled out a business card from your purse and handed it to him. “Again, I’ve only heard good things about you until all this. Call me if you need anything. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Things settled for one day. And then Thursday morning happened. Yeji was pale as you entered the office in the morning. 

“John called from his cell.” 

You checked your watch. First period was just starting at the high school. 

God dammit. 

You jogged into your office, grabbed the phone, and dialed him back. Johnny was out of breath. “I have a situation,” he panted into the phone. You could hear shouting behind him. Specifically, you could hear Doyoung shouting behind him. God dammit. 

The tires on your car screeched as you peeled out of the parking lot of the admin building, tearing across town and barely breathing until you passed through Johnny’s office on your way into the building. He was icing his cheek with a cold pack from the nurse, his tie loose and slack around his neck and his suit jacket haphazardly slung over the back of his chair. Before you could say anything, he just shook his head with a disappointed laugh before returning to work at his computer. You walked quickly through the hallway, students watching you from their first period classrooms until you reached the music department. Taeil, the band teacher, closed Doyoung’s door behind him as he saw you in the hall. 

“Ma’am,” the teacher greeted, thoroughly exhausted, “I wouldn’t go in there. We already called a sub for the rest of the day and I took Doyoung’s kids to the library for independent study.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” you thanked him graciously, “do you have any idea what happened?” Taeil shrugged helplessly. His tie was crooked as well, his rolled sleeves uneven. You looked over at Chris’ room, open to the hall. Letters had shuffled off the door and onto the hallway floor. “Take care of Doyoung,” you instructed Taeil, “make sure he’s okay and that he gets home alright.”

Taeil nodded and let himself back into Doyoung’s classroom as you carefully approached Chris’. The room was dark, books and papers strewn across the floor. You cautiously switched on the light, only to find the teacher slumped in his chair at the head of the room, icing his own face with a metal water bottle. He silently glanced at you and sighed as you rushed over to check on him. You set your purse on his desk and gingerly pulled the water bottle away, sharing Chris’ sigh as you saw the bruise on his cheek. It felt a bit gross to still find him so frustratingly handsome in this moment. 

“What happened?” You softly asked him. Chris sank into the chair and gave a dejected shrug, helpless to recollect. And he didn’t get much of a chance to even try, as a commotion erupted in the empty hallway. Doyoung stood fuming in the doorway with Taeil futilely attempting to pull him away. 

“So you are here,” Doyoung grimaced at you before he shot a glare at Taeil, “why are you lying for her? Everyone is treating me like I’m insane and I’ve had it.” He stormed over, only stopped as you turned to press a confrontational hand to his chest. Doyoung had quite the busted lip. 

“Mr. Kim, I know tensions are high—” you began staunchly before Doyoung steamrolled you. 

“Do you?! Do you even know what happened?” He leaned to the side, staring daggers into Chris. “Tell her, you sorry excuse of a—“

“I’m telling you, Kim, just like I have been telling you,” Chris glowered, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about! You’re the one who came in here looking to start a fight.”

“You’re a goddamn liar!” Doyoung shouted. You put your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you. 

“Tell me, then, Mr. Kim.”

Doyoung shiftily looked back and forth between the two of you. “Tell you what, ma’am?” he grumbled. “Tell you that I had the joy of overhearing one of my brightest students talking with her friends during zero period, bragging about fucking in his practice room? Tell you that she’s just a freshman? Tell you that I caught her and her friends giggling as she wrote her own fucking letter?” 

Doyoung pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of his suit jacket and shoved it into your hands. You looked back at Chris, his shaking eyes horrified as he was apparently hearing this all for the first time. 

“I admit, I took matters into my own hands. I flew off the handle. Why, though, would I come to you with all this first, ma’am?” Doyoung pleaded. You recognized the helpless heartache in his eyes, hating how much he was losing his students. “You wouldn’t come to me first if I asked for your help. You’d go straight to him.”

You glanced down at the notebook paper in your hands, catching glimpses of curly, naive confessions, and you looked back at Chris again. He didn’t look guilty. You didn’t want him to be. You wanted this all resolved, as cleanly as possible before you possibly wrecked the year before winter break. You thought fast. 

“I did go to him first, Mr. Kim,” you conceded, quiet yet confident, “and I apologize if my actions come across as selfish, but this ordeal has caused quite the strain on mine and Chris’ relationship, even more so since it’s still fairly new.”

Doyoung backed up, aghast as his eyes flicked between the two of you again. His normally soft gaze was pure hellfire. “You’re kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. He had no interest in waiting for a confirmation before he turned to storm off, herding Taeil along with him. 

Chris was staring at you when you turned back to face him, shocked as he was at your sudden plan. “Why the hell did you do that?” 

You pulled out your phone to dial Ryujin, but before you actually sent the call through, you bored your eyes into Chris, who was still wincing past the bruise on his face. “You still didn’t do anything?”

“Never,” he adamantly shook his head. 

“Good,” you nodded. “We will need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. My assistant will call you with details.” You plucked your purse up from his desk and shouldered it. Chris watched, still stunned as you made for the door. His continued stare made you pause, a hand on the door frame as you turned back to face him. “You’re innocent,” you explained, “but if you quit you’ll be proving everyone who’s doubting you right. It seems like no one is on your side except me, so if no one will do anything then I will. You’ll be fine, Mr. Bang.” With that, you regained your confidence once more to walk down the hall. You caught your breath before you tapped out a message for Ryujin on your phone. Somehow, you didn’t expect her to call you right away. 

“I’m sorry, but you what?!” Ryujin exclaimed, stooping you in your tracks from wherever she was. 

“You said he needs to find someone and make it look real!” You hissed, trying to keep your composure the best you could in the quiet hallway. 

“I didn’t mean you!”

You grumbled out a curse under your breath. “Well, it’s a bit too late for that clarification,” you bit out, “so what do I do now?”

Ryujin could be heard tapping on her cell phone as she spoke to you. “I’m on it,” she assured you, “and I’m sure you already figured you need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. We need to make sure you’re on the same page. I’m forwarding you the statement I wrote. Hang tight, I’m going to meet you at your place.”

Chris frowned at the suit laid out on top of your couch after you’d extracted it from its garment bag. Ryujin had brought it, on loan from some unnamed resource, complete with notecards of her prepared statement in the breast pocket. “Why does this also feel like proving everyone right for some reason,” he said uncomfortably. 

“What exactly is wrong?” You sighed. Chris fidgeted. He looked out of place in your apartment, his soft black hoodie and worn jeans contrasting starkly with your minimalist and meticulously organized sanctuary. His brows were furrowed with impending panic, but he looked determined. 

“I’m nervous,” he bemoaned, “tell it to me again.”

“We met over the summer at a cafe downtown,” you explained impatiently. 

“That’s so soon for someone like you to be backing up a pariah like me,” Chris laughed, almost on the verge of breakdown, apparently. He was choking down a milkshake. He’d brought you one too, of course, but when you politely refused he took it as a consolation prize. It was incredible to you that he seemed to be in such good shape for how much food he put down. Or, you realized, maybe a catastrophe of this caliber wasn’t very common for him. 

“Put on the suit, Mr. Bang,” you urged, “please?”

“Oh my god, you need to stop calling me that if we’re dating!” Chan nervously laughed again.

“Look, I’ll be just fine, I’ll be able to fix it when we’re in front of people,” you insisted, “but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? I’m having an entire escape plan thrust upon me and I’m trying to adjust.”

“Well,” you huffed as you found yourself meeting his level, “maybe you wouldn’t need this escape plan if you didn’t take such a lax approach to teaching.”

“Excuse me?” Chris asked, blindsided by your outburst. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what people are saying!” You doubled down in defense, squaring up against him as you impatiently folded your arms. 

“Why don’t you tell me, ma’am, what exactly people are saying about me?” Chris stood defiantly, toe to toe with you and daring you to follow through. You took the bait. 

“You know exactly what people are saying,” you challenged him, “that you refuse to take the role seriously because it’s easier that way. You give these students too much freedom, and you’re encouraging them to act out. Who needs homework? Who needs textbooks? Who needs seating charts? They call you by your first name and think you’re their best friend, that you’re one of them, only older, just like they wish they were! They live and die by your approval because you seem so cool and you don’t seem like a teacher.”

“Oh, so I don’t seem like a teacher now?” Chris scoffed. 

“They certainly don’t respect you like one,” you snapped. A deep pause coursed through you both like a cold breeze before he burst. 

“Well you sure as hell don’t respect me like one, so why the hell are you helping me?!” Chris shouted. 

“Well,” you mocked, quickly losing grip, “here I was thinking it was the right thing to do!” You heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands in the air and finally turning away as you couldn’t stand to look at him. 

However, you may have glossed over the in-progress milkshake that had been in his hands, now currently all over his hoodie and on the spotless hardwood floor of your apartment. 

“Oh, great!” Chris laughed incredulously. “I sure look like I could use the help now, Miss Assistant Superintendent. Guess I’ll put on the stupid suit so I don’t make a bigger fool out of myself at my public execution tonight.”

Your face regrettably heated up as Chris frustratedly tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt following right after as he fished the pressed white shirt out from within the suit jacket. He had an admittedly nice figure, his toned torso never being hinted at through his comfy wardrobe. A set of tattooed compass roses on his upper arm caught your attention, and you wished you didn’t find it attractively endearing. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he ranted, “no one would ever believe I’d date a stuck-up, uptight, tyrant like you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you fumed as you turned away, not wanting to get distracted, “except no one would believe I’d ever date an arrogant ingrate like you.”

Chris could be heard pacing behind you as he buttoned the shirt, apparently pausing at your mantle over the fireplace. “I bet you were a nightmare as a student, a real grade-grubber and brown-noser,” he grumbled, now seeming to have found your framed photos of you and your friends at graduation, first from high school and then from undergrad. “I’m going to hang myself with this godawful tie— is this you?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over and snatched his tie out of his fingers to do it yourself. He’d already deftly changed his pants while you weren’t watching. “Sure, that’s me,” you muttered, “and no, I wasn’t a nightmare, thank you very much.” You paused as you felt a shift in his silence and glanced up at him. For the first time you noticed a subtle cologne on him, a gentle musk that was miserably attractive on him and you just wanted to get this over with even faster. Chris was giving you that indecipherable look again as you fiddled with the stupid necktie. From this close, you could see a cute little dot just under his lip, a telltale spacer that more than likely usually held a lip ring and—

Oh. 

Hello, stranger. 

Chris was gravely silent as he parked in front of your apartment later that night. The PTA meeting had been a disaster, starting the moment you left to travel back to the high school, where the meetings were held in the main theater. A loaded silence had staked itself between you the whole drive, and neither of you had reviewed Ryujin’s statement whatsoever. Nonetheless, you sat and stood close enough to each other during the meeting to be clear but not obscene in what you both were implying with your proximity, and you were faithfully beside him as he approached the podium. It was difficult to ignore the hushed whispers resounding through the audience. Chris’ brazen confidence was all but gone by now, fully broken as multiple hands immediately shot up to get a word in. Chris had forged ahead, though, even as his hands tried not to tremble around his notes. Ryujin’s statement didn’t mince words, just like her. He read out how his inexperience wrongly led him to take a more casual approach to teaching, how he’d recklessly and misguidedly inspired his students to put too much trust in him. He read out what a struggle this presented for both of you, being faced with accusations of such severity, and wishing to regain the trust of the assembled teachers and parents. The hands stayed in the air, and Johnny moderated question after question and Chris adamantly confirmed again and again and again that he had done nothing except naively neglect to put a firmer stop to all this. He was the one, and not Ryujin, to say that he should have brought the letters to Johnny’s attention and not simply ignored them, hoping the situation would stop on its own. More hands kept raising. Seemingly every parent belonging to a letter on Chris’ door was here wanting personal reassurance and, subsequently, a reason from him that their children were acting out. It felt like a never ending ordeal, a constant string of hurt and confused parents needing comfort. Johnny had no words for Chris when he finally ended the meeting, putting him out of his misery. Nothing else got done on the agenda that night. He only clapped a sympathetic hand to his teacher’s shoulder. 

You tapped out what happened in a text message to Ryujin. Her diagnosis was optimistic but tough, and in your continued silence in the car, you suddenly realized you were stopped in front of your apartment. Chris was quiet, zoning out at the wheel until you nudged him.

“Ryujin says we can still do this,” you encouraged him. “Enough of the parents should believe you. We just need to make sure the students and staff do, too…. as well as the board.”

Chris leaned forward, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. “I wish they didn’t have to believe me. They’re probably stressed as hell over this. This whole thing is such shit,” he muttered. “We don’t even like each other.”

“We don’t?”

“What?” Chris sullenly chuckled. “Just because we did ages ago?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I remembered that pretty fondly. I thought of that kiss all summer.”

“We kissed?”

Ouch. 

You sighed. “Fine then. You’re right. We don’t like each other. You’re cocky and naive and I’m…”

“Uptight?” Chris smirked, but he shut his mouth when you clearly didn’t appreciate the jab. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you’re doing, you know. I just… I’m going through it.”

“I know,” you commiserated. 

“What do we do now?” 

“There’s a board meeting next Wednesday night,” you explained. “You can accompany me to that, and that’ll take care of them. Until then, we keep up appearances at school, now that we’re exposed.”

“How are we doing that?”

“I’ll figure something out,” you reassured him. “What’ll you do now?”

“Oh, you know,” Chris laughed tiredly, “probably go pick up a taco box and try not to ruin this suit.”

You nodded in understanding as you unbuckled your seatbelt and dug around in your bag for your keys. “No hoodies, okay?”

Chris nodded, watching as you stepped out of the car and fussily smoothed your skirt back down. “Do you need me to walk you up?”

“I can manage,” you grinned softly as you pulled something out of your bag. You handed him the offending note from that morning. “I didn’t do this just because I thought you didn’t do anything. This letter is addressed to a Chris but it appears to actually be a student named Christian S.”

“Oh,” Chris grimaced, “isn’t he Superintendent Simmons’ son? I have him in fourth period. He’s one of the first chairs in Taeil’s concert band. He’s sort of… gross, sometimes, about girls. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still disappointed.”

“You alright?”

“I should’ve done something,” he muttered as he sank back into his seat, still staring at the letter. 

“Don’t start with that,” you lightly admonished, “it’s not always easy to know when to interfere.”

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly. 

“Of course,” you said with a small smile. “Goodnight.”

Johnny and Doyoung did a double-take as you walked into the music department the following day at lunchtime. It only made sense to you that if Chris was trying to dress up more, you’d match him by dressing down more. Your requisite suit and heels were switched out for a simple blouse with some tailored jeans and flats. That alone was a huge step for you, considering you even refused to dress down for the annual Welcome Back picnic for the district staff every year. You felt uncomfortable despite still looking clean and poised, but leagues more approachable apparently, proven as students’ passing glances lingered on their way to the cafeteria. Johnny’s look was simply one of surprise, but Doyoung’s was nothing but bitterness. Even Chris, as he happened to prop open his classroom door when you walked down the hall, was curious to see you looking so casual and chipper as you strutted up to him with a bundle in your arms. He was surprisingly handsome, wearing a blazer over a simple t-shirt with some slim jeans and sneakers — better, but not quite there. He couldn’t help a small smile as you theatrically revealed what you had brought: his cleaned hoodie and shirt folded and draped over a bag of takeout to split. 

“Hungry?” You asked sweetly, but hopefully not overdone. A couple of students walked past, their eyes boring into you. Chris looked unfazed, took the hoodie and shirt from your hands and, with a quick look down the hall at Doyoung and Johnny, beckoned you into the classroom with a nod.

“Starving,” he answered with a grin, and even gave Johnny a cheery wave as he promptly shut the door again behind you. “What are you doing here?” He quietly asked you, the dazzling facade of confidence instantly crumbling. His panicked surprise wasn’t lost on you. 

“We need to keep up appearances like I said. It’s Friday, you’re going through a hard time, and you’re eating like you grew another stomach. I brought us something to eat,” you explained, pushing the bag into his hands. 

“You—“ Chris looked dumbfounded, eyes darting between you and the food in his hands, “— brought me lunch?”

“Yes? What else was this supposed to be? I’m your girlfriend, for all intents and purposes.” You led Chris back into his own office and helped yourself to a seat. “We also need to brush up on our relationship in case anyone asks.”

“Fine,” Chris nodded as he dug into his food. “Let’s study, then. I’m guessing you went to college right after we met, and I’m sure you taught at least a little before this.”

“Grade schoolers,” you nodded, “it was good but not for me. I never asked about your accent.”

“You did, actually. That first time, so that’s probably why you don’t remember. I grew up in Sydney, moved here before junior year in high school. Do you live by yourself? I didn’t see a roommate or any cats.”

“I live by myself,” you confirmed, “I gave up on roommates around the time I took this job. No time for pets, either. I guess I’m too uptight.” Chris winced as you continued. “Yes, I’m aware of it; I guess I’m just sensitive. Did you find a good place in the area?”

“Yeah,” Chris said thoughtfully, “cute little house. You should probably see it sometime.”

“You bought a house?!”

Chris’ ears reddened. “Yes? Again, it’s little. A couple bedrooms, a couple bathrooms. Lots of work to be done on it, but it’s all mine. Here, look.” You watched, momentarily stunned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked it open. He pulled up a surprisingly adorable photo of Chris in front of a humble little house, holding what you could only assume was his dog you didn’t know he had. “Cute, right? Her name is Berry. You should meet her.”

“I’m so sorry,” you shook your head in advance, “but you could afford a house? What brought you to teaching anyway?”

“Producing was good, but not for me,” Chris meekly bit at his lip, “I always wanted to try teaching what I know, and thankfully your team brought me on while I’m still earning my degree.”

“So one day you just decided to be an educator?” You asked dubiously. 

“Didn’t you?” Chris seemed more cagey now, more defensive. 

“Sure, but maybe this explains your approach to teaching.”

Chris sighed hard and set his food down. “You know what? I knew you were bringing it back to that. Here I was thinking we were on a little better footing after last night. My approach to teaching came from thinking of what I wanted when I was these kids’ age. I wanted someone to treat me with respect and value my opinion and talk to me like an adult.”

“Right,” you nodded, “but that acceptance clearly looks like an invitation to some students.”

“An invitation to what? The other staff are always saying how closed off their students are, but they’re not like that with me. They’re proactive, they’re independent, they’re thoughtful, they’re excited to be here.”

“What about students who aren’t yours?” You challenged him with your stare. It would’ve looked better in a suit. “Your students are in love with you — some of them literally — and it makes them act out with their other teachers, even students who aren’t yours are citing you as their inspiration. Terrific and capable teachers are being defied simply because they’re not you. Admit this is easier for you than establishing and upholding boundaries.”

Chris listened, but he scoffed nonetheless. “Fine. It’s easier. I’m terrified of these kids but I want them to like me and trust me. But even if I assign them homework and treat them like they’re children, that still won’t solve how the teachers don’t trust me.”

“They will,” you impatiently assured him. 

“Even Doyoung?”

“Why do you care?!” You gave a stunned chuckle. 

“I mean he punched me in the fucking face yesterday,” Chris shrugged. “Is it true you two dated?”

You gaped at him, stunned. “Why do you care?” You repeated. Chris nonchalantly shrugged. “Are you jealous?” You were provoking him on purpose, but there was no use in pretending you weren’t disgusted with this line of questioning. 

“No! We don’t even like each other.” Chris was floundering, now facing his desk more than you. “I’m a naive and arrogant asshole and you’re an uptight ballbuster who sold out, remember?”

“Sold out?” You guffawed, standing up now. “Who the hell do you think you are?! I grew up.”

“Right, well—“ Chris barked as he got up to square off against you. “Did you grow into a stuck-up busybody who is more worried about how she looks than how she’s doing?”

Chris’ ears were burning scarlet as you bristled at his words, but he still walked you to the door as you stormed away. “That was too much. I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly before he opened the classroom door into the hall. 

“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Bang,” you quietly gritted out, despite your saccharine smile in case anyone was watching. “I’m helping you and then I’m never speaking to you again.”

You were right back in your suit jacket and skirt on Monday, having stewed all weekend over how much more you hated doing this with Chris now. Worse, you hated feeling like he was right. He was shamefully attractive and smart and funny and charming and as much as you hated it — he was right. Somewhere between getting your teaching degree and getting offered your job, you’d become incredibly jaded by the people around you, but not without reason. Even now, the only people who went out of their way to make sure you didn’t feel like you were some child were Ryujin and Yeji… and Chris. Doyoung had, too, which was why you had dated briefly, but now he had joined everyone else in babying you like you were bound to fail. That wasn’t even mentioning the board, made up of all men from old money who mostly seemed to hire you for humor and bragging rights. Even still, this wasn’t even mentioning Superintendent Simmons, who talked to you like he was a lion with a mouse in its paws. 

So, sure, you had reasons to be aloof around the people surrounding you, but Chris’s nagging was starting to bother you. Yes, you were leagues more organized and fastidious than you had been growing up, and you even took some solace in sprucing up your space, but you also had to recognize you were quick to do that instead of facing problems at times. It was easy to organize the kitchen for the fourth time or clean out your closet, but it wasn’t always easy to deal with adult problems. You took great pride in your appearances, because looking capable helped you feel capable, but did that mean you were? It was difficult to say, almost as difficult as deciphering Yeji’s bemused look on your way into the office on Monday. 

A gorgeous bouquet of flowers was sitting on your desk. You curiously walked over, plucking the small envelope from within the buds and gently prying it open. 

Hello Stranger,

1. Are these still your favorite color? You mentioned it years ago so I could be wrong. 

2. I’m sorry about Friday again. I know I’m a hot-head and what I did was terrible. You’re not stuck-up, and you’re not a tyrant. When I think back to that summer, I thought we were on the same page, and now you make it look so easy while I feel like I’m completely lost and failing the whole time. I appreciate you helping me. Thank you. 

A stiff sigh fell from your lips as you looked at the note in your hands, with Chris’ dumb, nice handwriting giving you a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You quickly paged Ryujin and Yeji into your office. Once both girls were sat waiting for you, it was time for the dreaded question.

“What do people think of me?” 

Both girls looked like they’d seen their lives flash before their eyes as you sat at your desk and did some quick typing. When you showed them your screen, they both gasped. There was you, all acne and unfortunate appearance choices at your high school graduation. “It’s not a loaded question,” you promised, “think of it more as a confirmation. I think I’m trying too hard to hide this person.” You gave the girl in the photo a sympathetic look. She was bright, funny, and brimming with potential — even you could see that. 

Yeji surprisingly sighed out her answer first. “The other office staff were still whispering about you when you hired me. They said you just wanted to hire other young women to look progressive.”

All three of you rolled your eyes at the sentiment before Ryujin piped up. “The board does like you… because they think you’ll do their bidding. They think you’re ruthless. The teachers think you have an iron fist. The Superintendent? Well, you know how he feels.”

A sour grimace pulled at your lips. “Why don’t I like any of that?”

“Is it because it’s not what she would want?” Yeji thoughtfully asked you as she nodded in the direction of the photo on your computer screen. You thought back to what Chris had said, about wanting to be the person he wanted around at that age. It was such a trip, thinking of what that girl would do if she saw you now. She’d give you a belligerent sneer and close herself off from you because you were a cold witch and you knew it. The girls watched as your shoulders softened, sinking into your chair as you pulled out your phone and found Chris’ number that Yeji had fetched for you. 

>>Thanks for the flowers. I’ll be by tomorrow so we can try this all again before the board meeting dinner on Wednesday. 

There were decidedly less stares as you walked down the halls of the high school again the next day when the lunch period began. You saw Johnny try to catch your attention out of the corner of your eye, but you simply waved as you passed his office. You had a sneaking suspicion it was about your outfit. As opposed to Friday’s jeans, you felt much more comfortable being more comfortable as opposed to someone you thought you should be. The pencil skirt remained, only now in a cozier dark pallet and much comfier material. The biggest changes were pairing the skirt with a soft flannel shirt and a smart pair of suede oxfords. You felt exposed in how dressed down you were again, but Chris’ surprised smile as you stood in the doorway of his classroom reassured you. He looked good, his hair moderately styled back and wearing another smart blazer over another old band tee. You could see he was even wearing chinos today, still managing to coordinate them with some worn boots not unlike the pair you used to own all those years ago. It was a good look, one that made you a bit more bashful than you had been already. 

“Hello, stranger,” you cheekily greeted from the doorway. 

“Hey,” he smiled back, motioning for you to come in. 

“Hungry?” You asked, fishing a bag out of your purse and placing it in his hands. He peered inside as you set your purse on his desk. 

“Are these—?”

“I felt so awful this weekend,” you sighed as you leaned against his desk, still unable to keep from straightening stacks of his papers, “and especially after yesterday. I couldn’t think straight so I cleaned my apartment and made you some cookies.”

“You made me cookies?” He asked incredulously before taking a bite. You could’ve sworn his eyes actually sparkled for a moment. “Alright, these are so good there’s no way you still can’t think straight.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “Just like you were already right, about almost everything. But you left one detail out.”

“What’s that?” Chris grinned around a mouthful of cookie.

“You make it look pretty easy yourself,” you smiled softly. Chris raised an eyebrow. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I know you do,” you laughed, “but it’s true! You’ve already done just fine in an industry of your choosing and impulsively decided to become an educator? And you just happen to be financially smart enough to have a house already? It’s reckless but it’s admirable.”

Chris choked on the last of his cookie, his dark hair falling out of place as he composed himself. “I, er, should be up front about that.”

“About what?”

“About deciding to change directions,” Chris sighed. “I had a giant proposal on my hands. I could have had my own company and my own team, but it was a huge investment entirely depending on me and my success. I froze up. I had enough. It felt way too big. I got rid of my fancy apartment, I got rid of my suits and watches, and I just moved.” A sigh fell from Chris’ lips as he folded his arms. He couldn’t meet your imploring stare. “I wish I could do what you do,” he continued. “I want to march headfirst into every single thing no matter what people think of me.”

A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You covered your mouth as your face heated up. “I’m terrified,” you explained. “Just like you were scared to take that chance, just like you and most of us are reasonably scared of these kids — I’m terrified. I’ve worn suits to attend sports events and picnics with the staff from how terrified I am of them.”

“Well, you look really good today,” Chris beamed at you, but the distracted nuance of his gaze didn’t let it last long. You playfully sat back on his desk, trying to keep his mood up. 

“I feel good today.”

“I lied, by the way,” Chris sheepishly blurted. “I know we kissed that night. I thought about it all the time. I didn’t go out with anyone for almost a whole year, I thought about it so much. If you knew I still remembered, I would be too tempted to get distracted. But I’m getting distracted anyway, so I thought you should know. You look really good today.”

A flattered smile pulled at your lips as you reached for Chris’ hand where it rested on the desk. His hand was warm and gentle in yours and he looked up at you, silently gauging your look to see if it was alright to lean up more into your space… when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Johnny. 

>I was trying to get your attention when you came in. Simmons is here TOURING THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT. Get that time bomb out of there NOW.

But it was far too late. Superintendent Simmons could be heard talking to Doyoung in the hallway. Chris watched curiously as you whirled around just in time to catch them appearing in the open doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Kim, I’d love to hear your plans for the year but— ah, hello, dear!”

You winced at the use of the word “dear” but fought it back. “Superintendent,” you nodded cordially, “what’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to take a stroll through the department,” the older man coolly insisted, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I also thought I could finally meet young Christopher here since I wasn’t sure if he was accompanying you to the meeting tomorrow.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Your question was stated friendly enough, even as you subtly waved a calming hand back to Chris to keep him back. 

The Superintendent shrugged. “You know how it is, dear. My son takes his class but I haven’t even met the man before. We’re certainly not exempt from being aware of current goings-on and I wanted to see who all the fuss was about.”

“Do I live up to your expectation?” Chris suddenly asked, unmistakably indignant as he came forward. 

“Seeing as my expectations were of a naive, insubordinate, carpe-diem-prescribing kid,” Simmons smirked, “then yes.”

“Excuse me, Superintendent,” you huffed sharply, “but I do not appreciate you speaking to Mr. Bang that way, first as one of my staff members and second as my partner.”

“Oh-ho!” Mr. Simmons threw his head back with a laugh. “Your partner? How unbecoming of you, dear. Now, I would normally do the professional courtesy of discussing this in private, but as you always deem it appropriate to throw a fit, I’ll do it here— you know we need to terminate Mr. Bang. Too much liability.”

A wildfire ignited behind your eyes before you quickly jumped into action. If you had a moment to spare, you would’ve considered the possible consequences. “Mr. Simmons,” you spat, “you know for a fact there are liabilities just as big, if not bigger, right under your nose, just like I know for a fact Mr. Bang is in possession of a confiscated note containing quite the insinuation that your son Christian is having a very close and troubling relationship with one of Mr. Kim’s most promising freshmen.”

You hazarded a look behind you and Chris returned it, petrified. It was a low, risky blow, but an apparently fair one as Mr. Simmons’ eyes grew wide. He stubbornly shook his head. “Christian is a smart boy who is studying hard and has no time—“

“—Christian turned 18 over the summer and wants to have as much fun as he can in high school before he goes to college,” Chris finally spoke up. “He’s said as much in class, and if I recall correctly, that girl is 14. I can show you the letter. He met her at a party that she doesn’t remember but all she knows is she is woefully in love with him. As your son’s teacher I’m a mandated reporter if I think this is an unsafe situation for either of them.”

“You want to play executioner with a man you admitted you just met? Fine,” you warned. “But just like your gossip, you’re not exempt from this, either.”

At that moment, Doyoung sheepishly poked his head into the open doorway, politely coughing to get the attention of Mr. Simmons, who was now sputtering until his face had turned red. “Mr. Superintendent,” Doyoung timidly spoke up, “perhaps you would like to come discuss those plans—“

“Fine time for you to decide to act like a teacher,” Simmons growled towards Chris, before he thrust a fat finger into your chest. “This isn’t done, dear. He’s on thin ice, and now you are, too. Let’s see how long it can hold both of you.” Superintendent Simmons turned on his heel, marching out the door past Doyoung and towards his classroom. Doyoung leaned into the room, giving you both a look that remarkably appeared to be sympathetic support. “Are you alright?” He quietly asked. 

You nodded shallowly, still a bit stunned. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kim.” Chris was seemingly dazed as you turned to face him. “Mr. Bang, can I see you in your office?” 

Chris barely nodded himself, having gone pale during your confrontation, and Doyoung silently wished you well before closing the door behind him and trotting down the hall after the older man. You clutched onto Chris’ sleeve and pulled him into his office, guiding him in before you quietly closed the door. 

You realized you were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling hard with adrenaline as you looked behind you to check on Chris. He was staring back at you, almost shocked, even as you gently took his hand again to make sure he was alright. His fingers had turned clammy where they squeezed yours, and you shared a brief silence, recovering and staring at each other until he finally spoke up. 

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Yes, Mr. Bang,” you nodded, leaning back against the door and pulling him a little closer. You felt a bit lightheaded. “I wanted you to finish your thought from before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully, now cutting right to it as he followed your hand in his to press against you where you leaned against the door. His lips hesitated a mere breath away before he finally kissed you, deep and seemingly driven by every kiss he’d wanted to give you since that night years ago. You could’ve sworn you tasted cotton candy and his lip ring again, maybe even smell evergreen trees if you weren’t mistaken by his cologne. It was electric, re-energizing enough that Chris seemed to finally realize what just happened outside in his classroom. 

“Holy shit,” Chris gasped like he just came up for air. “Did I just threaten the—“

Chris’ frantic recollection persisted even as you continued to kiss him. “Did you just warn the superintendent that he is better off tending to matters closer to home in more need of his attention? Yes.”

“Holy shit, I’m going to be fired,” Chris lamented, but even still he let his lips run over your jaw, falling into you and pressing you into the door. 

“No, you’re not,” you shook your head as you cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you for a moment. “He would’ve said so. He knows this is bad and it’s going to be a pain to deal with.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to—“

“Report? You just said you should. Honestly, Mr. Kim probably would’ve already if he read the letter more closely in the first place.” You held his gaze as you led his hands around your waist and he quickly got the hint, wrapping around you and diving back into you. “Am I still a ballbuster?” You breathlessly chuckled. 

He nodded heartily as he nibbled and kissed your neck. “I love it.” Chris hesitated as he pulled away from your throat, almost asking permission as he kissed you hard against the door, his tongue hot and needy against yours as he almost knocked the breath out of you. 

“Mr. Bang—“ you gasped, and you felt him shiver in the cutest way. He seemed emboldened to let his hands get a little braver, following your hint when you led them to the waistband of your skirt, and he fumbled with your shirt as he untucked it and began unbuttoning it. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling so vulnerable to someone you hadn’t known long but had been thinking of for years, and maybe you weren’t the only one. Chris’ breath seemed to catch in his throat as he leaned back enough to see, his hungry eyes falling on you as he pulled open your shirt and became impatient for more. You gasped again as he pushed you back against the door, his strong hands now tenderly roaming down your chest and groping your breasts as he kissed you before he came back to the waist of your skirt again. His confidence seemed to be returning in full now as his hands firmly ran down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, his lips trailing down your chest and nuzzling your cleavage as he gingerly lifted it. Another gasp caught in your lungs as his fingertips wandered up your legs and paused, his trepidation even spreading to the extent that he seemed hesitant to kiss you again. You reached up to gently cup his face, his cheek warm against your palm as you tried to see what could possibly be wrong in this moment. Out there, sure, that was all understandable, but in this tiny office there was no reason for anything to be wrong. 

“Mr.—“ you began softly, instantly cutting yourself off as you realized. Oh. “Chris,” you began, more confidently now, “are you alright?”

He sighed out a small laugh before he finally kissed you again. “I am. I just missed you, is all. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening, so Mr. Bang is going to be fine for my students but I’d much prefer it if you and I are more personal than that.”

“I can do that,” you grinned, that stunted gasp from earlier finally coming back and completing as Chris finally let himself caress you under your skirt, getting as personal as you both were yearning for. His fingertips were firm but slow, purposeful as they teased the hem of your panties but continued over them to feel you between your legs, making you so aware of your heat against his hand. He smirked as you shivered at his touch, and you felt your face heat up. “Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly, “it’s been a while.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Chris assured you, finally gasping himself as you regained your mental footing and let your hand drop, trailing down his chest to get an exploratory grip on his growing erection in his pants before you brought him back to kiss you again. His muffled sighs and moans grew feverish as you teased him through his clothes, up to the moment he pressed your hips back against the closed door. You watched curiously as Chris’ lips ghosted down your chest and stomach until he was on his knees for you, dangerously close to nuzzling your damp heat until you let yourself subtly roll your hips towards his mouth. He took the cue to instantly pull the thin fabric aside, just enough that he could dip his tongue into your folds. 

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off you as he lapped you up, one hand holding your panties aside and the other clutching onto your bared thigh as you squirmed and mewled for him. Your fingers stroked back through his hair as he held you tight and hungrily licked until he just happened to hit the perfect spot. That, of course, was when he stopped, leaning away and his shiny lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. “I need you so bad,” he drawled, “I’m getting impatient.”

“You?” You giggled sarcastically. “Impatient? Impossible.”

Nevertheless, Chris rocked back onto his feet and pulled you over to his desk before he sat you on top of it, gently pulling your knees apart to step between them. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” you nodded. “Do it.” 

Chris grinned shyly as he unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down enough to reveal his hard cock, groaning as you brazenly grabbed his length and pumped it a few times in your hand before guiding him into you. You both gasped in tandem now as you were stretched open, and your legs quickly found purchase around his hips as he kissed you again, the faintest taste and scent of your wetness still on his lips. He filled you out unexpectedly, prodding deep into you in this angle and his girth just wide enough at the base to make you whimper each time he bottomed out. 

“God, this is so good,” Chris groaned against your lips, “you’re so good. I’ve thought of this so many times.” His groans and whispered curses were hot in your ear as he fucked you on the desk, and you were both lost in this endless moment while you both sounded like you were steadily climbing your respective peaks until you noticed his prolonged smirk. 

“What’s so funny?” You jokingly accused. 

“Nothing,” Chris shook his head with a breathless smile, “I’m just surprised. I honestly expected you to be a little more in charge.”

“Oh, am I not as dominant as you thought?” You pouted for effect, seeming to only convince him for a second before you kicked him back into his chair anyhow and willingly taking his bait. He watched, his hands clutching the armrests with intrepid excitement as you dropped onto his lap. “Is this more what you had in mind?”

“Actually, yeah,” Chris nodded hungrily as you raised your hips, just enough to pull your panties to the side and grind your soaked pussy against the head of his cock. You both sighed in pleasure at the sensation as you took your sweet time dipping his length into you just the slightest bit, your lips parted to barely kiss him the whole time you teased yourself against him. He actually waited patiently as you barely rolled your hips lower into him, even as he began to get impatient again. “Heh, hey,” Chris laughed under his breath, “aren’t you gonna—“

“Whatever happened to your lip ring?” You asked him, teasingly oblivious to his question. 

“My wha— oh, that?” Chris was almost delirious trying to rock his hips up into you. “Don’t laugh, but I didn’t think it looked very professional when I first interviewed. I already wasn’t wearing it out to events and meetings, so not wearing it to school made sense.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” you smirked as you playfully pretended you were about to kiss him over and over, your lips ghosting over his own time and time again as his cock surreptitiously tried to work deeper into you, “but that’s ridiculously funny. You’re literally still wearing your earrings, and don’t try telling me that’s different. Weren’t you waiting for something, by the way?”

“Was I waiting—? Come on, aren’t you going to…?”

“Aren’t I going to what?” You asked innocently. Chris’ head lolled back against the head of his chair in exasperation. 

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” His question was quiet, almost as if he were shy to be saying it out loud, but he asked it nevertheless. 

“Sure,” you shrugged casually, “are you going to wear that lip ring for me sometime? I want to see if it has the same effect.”

“Anything, if you’re that easy,” Chris quipped, even as he was unable to hide the excited tremble in his voice. 

“I’m easy?” You asked, eyebrows raised as you finally sank deep onto Chris’ erection and kissed him again. His muffled groan was thick, laced with satisfaction as you began to ride him in earnest. The hot moans falling from his lips echoed your own impassioned whimpers, only growing more feverish as you angled your hips down, enabling yourself to grind your clit down against his lap. By now you were so lost in it that were thoroughly soaked through your panties you were still wearing.

“Are you sure you’re not easy?” Chris chuckled exhaustedly, even as he nuzzled against your heaving cleavage and gripped tight onto your hips. It was his turn to whimper as you desperately ran your fingers through his hair to clutch onto him as you felt your peak coming fast. Chris must’ve not been far behind, considering the way he sweetly groaned your name against your skin, as if to personally coax out your orgasm. 

The air between you was hot, static, and the way Chris held you was surprisingly affectionate. Despite how much ire and sarcasm had been slung between you previously, now you were both rendered speechless, your staccato breaths falling heavy in the spaces between your sighs and moans. Giving in to Chris didn’t feel like giving up like you had been afraid of for some reason. Reality seemed to be that he may even be quite fond of you, maybe even more than you’d previously imagined, despite how much you did or didn’t change. He obviously wanted to do more than kiss you, and now it seemed he wanted to do more than just fuck you. Chris’ fingertips dug into your hips as he thrust up against you, and you suddenly caught yourself meeting his gaze. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the blown out arousal in his eyes probably echoing your own impending orgasm slowly rising up your spine and making your head spin. He seemed to catch this as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and pressing his lips to your throat as he pistoned his hard length deep inside you, the head dragging along your sensitive walls and daring you to cum.

So you finally did. It hit you hard, giving you barely a moment’s notice for you to grab onto Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck as your core shuddered, radiating out to your quaking thighs and trembling fingers as your heightened moans hit a fever pitch. This, of course, was the final straw for Chris, his orgasm not far behind yours as he tensed up, palms pushing flat against the small of your back as he rutted into you with a broken groan. He uttered a sharp curse under his breath, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his own climax spilling into you as you finished riding out your own on his lap. 

It felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulders as you both fought for breath and you finally realized how cramped it was straddling Chris in his desk chair, the armrests uncomfortably digging into your legs. As if to mitigate this silent complaint you had, Chris gently began to ease you off of him as he simultaneously pulled you to him for a tiredly satisfied kiss. The bright lights in your eyes finally dulled and the imaginary cotton in your ears finally fell out, letting the sound return to normal. You could hear the low drone of the air conditioner, the muted hum of the hard drive in Chris’ laptop, the clatter of the classroom doorknob outside turning open—

Chris heard it, too, with how he bolted upright with you in his lap. You both stared at the door of his office in terror; this was no way for the assistant superintendent to be found, in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs wrapped around a teacher who was still in a heap of trouble, and you had no chance of escape. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Chris quickly pushed at your retreating knees, apparently on the same page as you when he helped you slide off his lap and under his desk. You scrambled forward to grab at his chair and wheel him close as he desperately stuffed himself back in his pants and tried to make himself presentable. A knock came at the door and Chris quickly wiped the accumulated perspiration off his brow. 

“Come in—!“ he coughed, trying to sound chipper and casual, and as if he didn’t just orgasm with you barely two minutes prior. He gave you one crazed look to make sure you were alright shoved under the desk before the door to his office gingerly opened.

“Hey—“ 

Doyoung?

“Mr. Kim!” Chris sat up a little straighter, inadvertently kicking you in your shin in the process and nearly making you curse out loud. You reflexively punched him in the knee, making him jump as he tried to appear natural. “Is everything alright?”

“What, with me? I’m fine. It’s just...” Doyoung sighed, apparently not moving from where he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the tiny office. “Was it true, what you said about the superintendent’s son?”

“It was,” Chris said solemnly. “Would you like to see the letter again?” His question was genuine, any ill feelings towards the other teacher seeming to have dissipated by now. Your ears perked up as Chris leaned forward. You could hear papers shuffled overhead. He still had it? You could hear a piece of paper being handed to Doyoung, whose sigh only multiplied. 

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, “that’s so…”

“I know,” Chris commiserated. “Will Samantha—“

“I’ll talk to Sam,” Doyoung resolved, “but first, about the other day, I’m sorry about—“

“Mr. Kim, you don’t have to apologize,” Chris insisted, “tensions were high, you were upset, and you were protecting your student. If you’d like to help me report this I’d appreciate that. You’re a good teacher.”

“So are you, Mr. Bang,” Doyoung conceded sheepishly. “Maybe you can join me in the teacher’s lounge for lunch tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

You could hear the smooth heel of Doyoung’s oxford turn to leave and Chris backed up from the desk. The sigh of relief you both let out revealed that you had apparently been holding your breath. He slumped back in the chair before leaning forward to offer you an assisting hand. 

“Oh, one more thing—“

Chris snapped upright in his chair, accidentally kicking you again before his knees knocked into the top of his desk. He grinned through it as he attempted to look nonchalant again. “Yeah?”

“So,” Doyoung began stiffly, “you and her are, like… a thing?”

“Er,” Chris floundered for a second. “Yes. Why?”

“Why? Oh, I mean, it’s nothing,” Doyoung fumbled, “I meant, I guess, is it serious?”

Chris’ Adam’s apple could barely be seen bobbing with his sudden gulp from your vantage point, and you didn’t blame him. Serious? It wasn’t a stretch to imagine his ears turning beet red again. Your thighs were beginning to get sore where you were folded under the desk. “No! I mean, not yet,” Chris said, his stammer matching Doyoung’s now. “I want it to be, though. I really like her. Why?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You felt like such a sucker, but why did you also feel so smitten? 

“No reason,” Doyoung laughed politely. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. She looks different with you, you know? You look good together. See you later.”

The door finally clicked closed and you both waited for the classroom door to do the same before it was Chris’ turn to let out the breath he’d been holding. He sighed heavily, melting into his chair before sliding back. His gentle hand reached down to help you out from under the desk. You held his hand, his fingers warm in yours as he met your gaze. “Hello, stranger,” he grinned, “did you have fun under the desk?” Chris fussed with your clothes, helping smooth your skirt back out and buttoning your blouse back up before he realized you were staring at him. He suddenly looked concerned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of your expression.  “What? Is everything alright?”

“You want this to be serious?”

Chris almost flinched as he defensively tried to figure out your tone. He settled for getting back up from his chair and squaring up against you once again, arms folded matter-of-factly like he anticipated a confrontation. “You know what? I do.”

“This isn’t even real, Chris,” you smirked, flattered by his sincerity. “We don’t even like each other, remember?”

He let out an exasperated laugh. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Go ahead, then, tell me how we aren’t real.”

“Well,” you smiled, “you haven’t asked me out, for one thing.” 

It seemed Chris finally caught up to your game. “Fine,” he sarcastically scoffed. “Would you like to go out with me some time?” 

“Sure,” you playfully shrugged with a smile. “How about now? Are you hungry?”

Chris was amused as he pulled you close into his arms. “You know what? I’m actually not.”

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 4

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623116614605357056/the-long-way-around-chapter-3

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2092

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

The next three weeks pass in a now predictable sequence. I spend the majority of my time getting to know my new roommates, for lack of a better word. Esme, who is quickly becoming my favorite, does whatever I want with me. We read books, watch movies, go for runs in the woods. The doctor, Carlisle, isn’t home very often. He and Edward spend a lot of time in town making sure the Cullens are not suspect in my disappearance. They decided it would be best to continue ‘business as usual’ to avoid suspicion, but also so they don’t have to give up the advantageous location in the woods and risk moving with me. Bella tends to keep to herself, though she does occasionally join Esme and I in our book club. Alice and Arthur are quite friendly, and I enjoy spending time with them, even if Alice does treat me like a Barbie doll. I swear, I’ve never owned more clothes in my life! Rosalie is slowly warming up to me. She’s not rude, exactly, but I can tell my presence is hard on her. Her husband, Emmett, is a whole lot of fun. He invites me for races and arm wrestling matches which, obviously, I win. I suspect that won’t continue forever, though. Once my newborn strength fades, he will likely be the strongest in the house. 

Then, of course, there’s my shadow. Jasper doesn't say much, but he is a constant presence. I can tell he doesn’t trust me. The minute I get frustrated or upset he invades my personal space and uses his ability to calm me down. I do resent it slightly, but I understand the need. It’s as he says: I’m dangerous. It amuses me though to know that, as Jasper has taken the task upon himself to never leave my side, he has to do everything I do. So he watches sappy movies with Esme and I, he sits quietly while Emmett and I play board games, he sulks in the corner while I ask Alice endless questions about her psychic ability, and, of course, he hunts with me about four times a week. 

My bloodlust is insatiable. This newfound life and the thirst that accompanies it keeps me in a near constant state of pain. My throat burns badly, and, even when I am drinking animal blood, the burn remains. I have a feeling that, at this stage of life, not even human blood would satisfy my thirst. 

At the thought of human blood, a delicacy so far denied to me, venom pools in my mouth. From across the room, Jasper shifts uncomfortably, feeling my desire. I imagine it must be harder for him than the others, because he not only has to fight his own bloodlust, but everyone else’s. 

He eyes me evenly. “Do you want to hunt?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. We just went yesterday, and I feel like a burden asking people to go with me constantly. I usually have an entourage of three minimum when I hunt, and I can tell it interrupts the daily flow of things. 

Jasper’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Taking you hunting isn’t a burden. Trust me, we would much rather go with you twenty times a day than have you get too thirsty and lose control.” 

I purse my lips at his uncanny ability to know what I’m thinking. I know his emotional radar detector must help, but seriously, sometimes he rivals Edward. 

“It would probably be a good idea,” I acquiesce. “I’ll go see if anyone else wants to go.” I push myself off the kitchen floor-I had been busy reading through one of Esme’s architecture journals-and walk into the living room where Emmett, Rosalie, Carlisle, Esme, and Arthur are gathered around the TV. 

“Hey does anyone wanna-” My words die as I register the news anchor’s words. 

“The search continues for local Y/n, Y/l/n, who was reported missing over three weeks ago.”

It feels like the breath has been knocked out of me. I grip the back of the couch, grief ripping through me. Five vampires turn their wary gazes at me.

“Turn it off.” Jasper’s command comes from behind my shoulder. 

“No,” I breathe, deeply hurt but desperate to know what my friends and family could be seeing.

The anchor continues. “Authorities say they have a man in custody who confessed to stabbing the woman, though claims he can’t remember what he did with the body. Witnesses to the crime seem to suffer the same memory loss. Police have refused to offer further comments, though locals speculate a conspiracy or the presence of illegal drugs. While the two witnesses to the crime, Kaitlyn Myers and Blake Hannigan, have faced backlash surrounding their involvement in the case, police have cleared them as suspects at this time.”

The couch snaps under my grip. I take two quick steps back, shocked by what I just heard and the jarring display of my physical power. 

“Oh, sweetie.” Esme is in front of me instantly, reaching out to envelop me in a hug. Before I can even blink, Jasper is standing between us, acting as a barrier to Esme. 

Hurt pierces through my gut. He only sees me as a threat.

“I’m not going to hurt Esme, Jasper. Back off!” I wish my words didn’t waver. 

His voice is hard when he responds. “You don’t know what you’ll do. Newborns are governed by their emotions more than anyone else. I’m not taking any risks.”

“Well how about getting to know me instead of just generalizing?” I throw my hands up, properly yelling now. “I’m sick of feeling like I’m a prisoner with you. Everyone else is giving me a chance, so why can’t you?” I spit the words out, my hurt growing by the second. 

“We’re hoping it’s all a terrible dream, that we’ll wake up soon and everything will be alright.” 

They hadn’t turned off the TV. On the screen is a video of my parents. Hearing my mom’s tearful voice is like a kick to the stomach. I sink to the floor, gasping for air I don’t need. 

“I just want our little girl to come home.” Mom’s voice breaks, and she stares into the camera. It’s like she’s staring right at me. 

“Jasper, it’s alright, really. I appreciate your concern very much but I promise, it’s alright.” Esme’s soft voice vaguely reaches me through my sobs. 

A pair of arms-Esme’s, likely-envelopes me, but I barely take notice. I only feel the pain. It’s so much worse than the burn in my throat. It almost has me wishing for the fiery torture I felt while becoming a vampire. But wishing very seldom equates to reality, so I’m left to allow the gaping hole in my chest to consume me.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, only that it’s dark when I finally regain control of myself. Esme never left my side, and even Rosalie had come to join us at some point. She says nothing, only rests her head on my shoulder and holds my hand. 

Jasper is noticeably absent. 

“I think I scared him off,” I mumble, guilty. 

“He’ll recover,” Rosalie replies, sounding unconcerned. 

“He’s coming from the right place,” Esme assures. “Jasper is a very passionate person who gives his all in everything. This is no different. I think he sees keeping you and us safe as a chance to redeem himself for his past indiscretions, though those are long-ago forgiven. He’s trying to keep you from making the same mistakes he did.” 

I look at the floor, mulling Esme’s words over. I don’t really know what to say to that.

Thankfully, Rosalie saves me from having to craft a response. “Do you still want to hunt? I can go with you.” 

I smile and shake my head, exhausted from the recent emotional turmoil. “No, it’s okay. I think I’ll just go to bed.” I say the word lightly, knowing I’ll probably just spend the next eight hours reading or something to keep my mind busy. 

I stand, intending to exit the room. On the way out I see the poor couch, broken in two. I grimace. “Sorry about the couch.”

Esme smiles sweetly, waving it off. “Don’t worry about it. It just gives me an excuse to go shopping.” 

I give her a quick hug, grateful for her endless kindness and patience. 

Once upstairs in the room Alice and Esme courteously set up for me, I flop on the bed, grabbing the nearest book. I do my best to let my mind go blank and focus only on the words in front of me. About two hours into this exercise, I hear a soft knock on the door. 

Jasper stands in the frame, looking repentant. “I’m sorry. You were right. I haven’t tried to know you. But I’ve got some time now if you’re free.” It’s then that I realize he means to do this now. Not wanting to smile because I really am still upset with him, I bite it back. 

I decide to play coy instead. “I suppose I could clear my schedule. Though, a little more groveling might help…”

He smiles softly, almost hesitantly. With exaggerated movements, he gets on his knees and clasps his hands together in an excellent show of desperation. “Please do me the magnificent honor...of telling me your favorite color.” 

Now I can’t help but crack a smile. “You may approach, peasant, but remember that my good grace can easily change.” I pat the foot of my bed, and he sits, facing me. “It’s green. Like trees and moss and emeralds.” 

“What’s your favorite thing about this new life?”

“The running. I had asthma as a human but now I can run for as long as I want and be completely fine.” 

He nods, filing the information away. “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”

I answer without hesitation. “London. The culture, the history, the accents.” He chuckles, teasingly exasperated. “I bet it’s amazing.” 

He smiles, a faraway look in his eyes. “Oh it’s great. I was there back in the ‘90s...I bet it hasn’t changed too much though.” He grins. “Maybe in a couple of years we’ll all be able to take a trip.”

I look down at my fingers. “Maybe a few more years than a ‘couple’. I can’t even think of human blood without…” Venom floods my mouth. I offer a humorless chuckle. “See?”

Jasper shakes his head emphatically. “No, you’re really doing good.” I try to protest, but he shakes it off. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. You are doing remarkably well for three weeks in.” 

I sigh, ready to tease him a bit. “Well I couldn’t do so well without my shadow micromanaging my every move.” 

He smiles sheepishly and looks at his lap. “I’m sorry I seem a bit…,” he sighs deeply, “intense. I will try to ease off.”

I grin, pulling my knees up to my chest. “Thank you. I’ll try to be a little less emotionally hectic. It’s gotta be hard on you.” 

Too quickly, he shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. You’re going through a lot, it’s okay.” 

I chuckle, feeling much lighter now, either thanks to his ability or the natural resolution of tension between us, I don’t know. “Yeah well I could stay away from the movies that make me feel all the things.” Now he grins, raising his eyebrows. “Next time we’ll try something bland, like High Noon.”

“Hey now.” Jasper raises a hand, a comically disbelieving look on his face. “High Noon is a masterpiece, don’t knock it.” 

I grin broadly, smacking him on the shoulder with a pillow. “I knew you were a Western guy! Gosh, that’s gotta be like, what, forty percent of your personality?”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking the pillow from me. “Mhm, somewhere around there.” 

I like this Jasper, I decide firmly. This new, witty, freer Jasper is so much more fun to be around. I could stand to have this Jasper follow me around all day. 

As if he has come to the same agreement, that Jasper stays at the foot of my bed well past the time the sun rises, talking and joking. We get to know each other. 

And, for a while, I forget about how sad I am and the near constant burning in the back of my throat.

A/n Thanks for reading! I’m having so much fun with this story and I’m glad you guys are enjoying it, too! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx, 

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623283543296049154/the-long-way-around-chapter-5

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life

[writer-k-pop]

The Bookseller (j.w.w) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.8k / Ending B - 4.7k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"And there's a problem with one of the elevators." Jiwoo says sheepishly and I close my eyes in frustration, a scowl growing on my face.

Stopping in the middle of the hall, I look up at the ceiling and pucker my lips together. "What's next? The front doors break?" I say up to the Gods, not caring if they are actually listening or not.

Jiwoo raises his eyebrows at me, "You wanna be challenging them like that?"

I lower my gaze to him and narrow my eyes, "I will do as I please."

Jiwoo holds up his hands in surrender.

Taking a deep breath, I compose myself again, "Add it to the maintenance list and I'll wrestle with it tomorrow." I instruct him.

"Will do." Jiwoo nods and we continue on our way.

"Is he still with Soon Bok?" I ask him, getting tired of hearing only the sounds of our shoes hitting the flooring.

"Yes, she should be finishing the tour and should be heading to his room." Jiwoo answers just before we hit a more open area and guests mill past us.

"What room?" I ask, ignoring most of the guests even though they offer polite smiles.

"Number 177." Jiwoo informs me. "The one with the huge book shelf wall."

I smile, already knowing the answer to my thought, "Well, let's hope he enjoyed books in his ..." I look at him to finish my sentence.

"Oh," Jiwoo quickly realizes what information I'm searching for, "6 lives."

I nod, "Pretty average. But let's hope he enjoyed books in at least some of his 6 lives."

Jiwoo shrugs, "If not, it's a nice aesthetic wall."

I pat him on the shoulder, "I'm glad you think it's good for staring at. Because I definitely spent hours picking each book so that it could be just a good photo opportunity." I finish sarcastically.

"Not everyone's a reader." Jiwoo rolls his eyes.

"They should be." I retort.

"Anyway..." Jiwoo changes the subject as we reach the edge of the lobby, "Will you be joining the us for the celebration this weekend?”

I open my mouth to give my regular 'no' answer but two males cut me off. They barrel through the front office doors, a brunette following a few steps behind a blonde one. Both seem angry and on edge.

"I saw you with my girl!" The brunette shouts.

"I don't what you saw, man, but I was never WITH your girl." The blonde one responds and flicks a certain unpleasant finger behind him, "So leave me the fuck alone."

The lobby slowly gets quiet and not a soul moves, not even me or Jiwoo. Jiwoo out of fear and me cause I kind of want to see where this leads.

The brunette jogs ahead of the blonde and forces him to stop, "Just tell me why you were with my girl and then I'll leave you the fuck alone." The brunette seethes.

"Dude." The blonde holds out his hands, "We're best friends. Why would you think I'd be with your girl? Do you really think that low of me?"

"You know, after the stunt you pulled with Henry, I wouldn't put it past you." The brunette spits.

The blonde gets right up in the brunette's face and presses finger into his chest, "None of that was my fault. I was the one who got played and yet everyone seems to believe otherwise."

"The evidence is pretty clear." The brunette grits his teeth.

Jiwoo slowly leans over as if any faster and the men's radar would latch onto him. "Shouldn't you do something?" He whispers.

I shrug and look at him, "They're only yelling right now. I don't have to do anything until the-"

The sound of someone crashing against a column cuts me off. I look over and find the brunette pushing off of the pillar, anger steaming off of him. The blonde drops into a fighting stance.

Sighing, I uncross my arms, "Now I do something." I mumble, quite annoyed that they would cause such a scene when they're dead. It's not like they could kill each other here.

I stalk closer to the brawling men who now have a fistful of each other's shirts. When I'm a few steps away, I clear my throat loudly to get their attention.

They both glance at me for a second before returning to staring at each other.

"Leave us alone, sweetheart." The blonde says lowly.

"This is none of your business." The brunette adds.

I scoff, "Actually, this is entirely my business seeing as you are acting ridiculous in my hotel."

The men land a few punches on each other but remain close.

"You want to kill each other?" I wonder but the men don't answer, "You're already dead so there's no point in trying."

Both men pause, look at me, then back at each other. And a new kind of fury is awoken in them.

"YOU GOT ME KILLED?" They both scream just as I was thinking they were going to back down.

They begin going at each other again but this time with more anger and all I can do is groan. After giving them a couple seconds, I walk towards them to pull them apart. I grab both of their arms and before I can 'magically' send them flying away from each other, the men swing the arms I'm grabbing. With their combined force aimed at my stomach, I'm sent skidding backwards on my side across the floor.

When I finally stop sliding, I jump to my feet, ready to kick both of their asses. But when I look up, Mun Hee is restraining the blonde one while the brunette is being shoved backwards by a guest.

"Hey, cool down man. Cool down." The guest says and my ears instantly recognize his voice: Wonwoo's.

"(y/n), you okay?" Jiwoo jogs over to my side, worried.

I swat at my pants, "I'm fine." I answer him without taking my eyes off of Wonwoo as he stands in front of the brunette male.

"You probably shouldn't have told them they were dead." Jiwoo states and I shoot him a glare. He frowns and nervously glances around the lobby.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" I clasp my hands behind my back and look at the brunette then the blonde with cold eyes. They both instantly realize they may have screwed up and lower their defenses.

"If you would've actually stopped to look at where you were, you would've stopped at the front desk and understood what was going on." I explain as they step closer, Wonwoo and Mun Hee not far behind. "And what is going on is that you both have died. Congrats." I give them a sarcastic smile. "And unfortunately, your souls don't have another life lined up so." I gesture to the hotel, "You have come here to greet your past lives once more before heading to the place where your soul will rest peacefully.... Hopefully." I say, mumbling the last word in disgust.

The men look at each other in a bit of shame and embarrassment.

"From my understanding," I continue, "You both died because you were fighting over some bitch-"

"She's not a bitch." Both males cut me off with the same sentence before sharing a menacing look which has Mun Hee and Wonwoo on alert for another fight.

"And you walked right into the street, where, well you know." I finish, ignoring their intrusion. My words sink in and they both soon realize that I'm being serious and am not joking, which turns them somewhat somber.

"So what do we do?" The blonde asks.

"You go get assigned a room, stay here for the duration of your lives, and then get the hell out of my hotel." I snarl. "Oh, and stay out of my sight. I'm already annoyed with you two."

"Oh, actually." Mun Hee chuckles and raises a hand, "He's supposed to go to Hotel Blue Moon." He points to the blonde male who's eyes widen.

"What is that?" The blonde asks, afraid it might be somewhere along the lines of hell. And man do I wish that is true.

I glower at the lobby wall, "It's the place where souls go before living another life." I say, ready to have a very strong word with the Gods.

"What about me?" The brunette wonders, glancing at me like he’s afraid to be left here in my hotel.

"Can I see your palm?" Mun Hee steps forward and examines the man's palm. "Hmm... You too. You're not supposed to be here."

With my annoyance nearing my tolerance levels, I turn away from the small group but before I walk away, I tell them, "Get out of my hotel."

Without waiting for them to respond, I walk away hoping for silence so I can mentally scream profanities at the Gods and Hotel Blue Moon. But instead of silence, I hear footsteps following me.

I run a hand through my hair and turn to face the idiot following me.

And by idiot, I mean the man who let me sit in his book store for hours and the man I loved.

"Hi, sorry." Wonwoo nervously rubs the back of his neck, "Uh, I was just headed to the library." He makes up an excuse.

I press my lips together then point back the way we had come, "The library is back that way." I inform him.

He turns around and I use the chance to slip down an unknown hallway, hidden by a tapestry.

"Actually, I was..." I hear Wonwoo turn back around, "Going to ask if you were okay." He finishes before sighing.

I turn my head to the side and look down at the floor, listening to his footsteps retreat back towards the lobby. Part of me feels kind of bad for ditching him like that but another part of me doesn't want to get close to him until he's the soul I knew.

Which is going to take 6 days.

~The Sixth Day~

"What's wrong with you?" I ask Mun Hee who is laying on my couch, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"The Wonwoo guy asked me to bring him a bunch of supplies last night." He groans and I walk to my desk to add some more files to my growing stack.

"What kind of supplies?" I question and lean back against my desk.

"Books, paper, glue, binding, and some book covers if we had them." Mun Hee says and I chuckle because of course Wonwoo would want those supplies.

He was a bookseller when I knew him but he cared for books just as much and found a lot of joy in fixing old books.

"Ugh. My shoulders are killing me." Mun Hee rolls his shoulders backwards.

"You're already dead." I remind him.

"Way to shoot a man while he's down." Mun Hee sasses.

I shrug. "Eh."

"So much love." Mun Hee mutters.

I chuckle and move to sit in my desk. But before I can, the door opens and Yong pops just her head in.

"Hey, Wonwoo's in the garden." She informs me and I nod with a smile, "And have you seen Mun Hee? He disappeared a while ago and I haven't seen him anywhere."

I point to the couch and Yong steps into my office to look, "Right there."

"Mun Hee!" Yong raises her voice a touch, "Get back to work. Goodness, I am not your mother."

Mun Hee rises to his feet, "Feels like it sometimes." He grumbles and then follows Yong out of my office.

When I step into the hall, I hear their echos of laughter floating farther away. After securely closing my office doors, I turn down the hallway and head for the elevators. I rock back and forth in my heels anxiously while the elevator slowly approaches my floor. The elevator finally arrives and opens its doors. I quickly rush inside and furiously press the lobby floor button.

"Come on." I encourage it to go faster but hey, like everything else about this hotel, it doesn't listen to me.

Eons later, the elevator reaches the lobby and releases me from its squared hold. I rush out and nearly run into Jiwoo.

"Woah, hey, where's the fire?" He wonders as I continue past him.

"Can't keep my man waiting." I throw a wave at him over my head and his only response is laughter.

About halfway down the hall, I pause to control my breathing and straighten out my dress. After I'm satisfied with the way I look, at least the way I think I look, I walk the last little bit to the garden.

Peeking in, the midnight moonlight illuminates the area with a crisp, clean look. The bare tree somehow looks less dead but only very slightly. The usually hidden bench is out in front of the tree and its subsequent chrysanthemums. And sitting on the bench, with his nose buried in a book as per usual, is Wonwoo. A simple broad striped sweater hugs his shoulders and his glasses sit prominently on his nose. With one leg bent over the other and the book in his hands, he looks like the perfect gentleman.

"Took you long enough." Wonwoo comments and turns to the next page of his book, "I nearly finished three chapters while waiting for you."

I roll my eyes and walk around the bench, "I had things to do, Mr. I-can-read-500-pages-in-5-hours."

"That's a bit exaggerated." He closes one eye in thought but then breaks out into a smile. "Come here." Wonwoo grabs my hand, pulls me down, and securely wraps me in a hug. He doesn't care that his place in the book is lost as the front cover closes shut.

I chuckle and snuggle close into him.

"I missed you." He breathes out after a bit of silence.

"I did too." I mumble into his chest. "I'm sorry for leaving."

Wonwoo shrugs and I readjust to be sitting properly. "It was what it was. I'm just glad to know that you weren't dead."

"Well, I can't exactly die." I give him a silly smile and nod towards the tree.

"I know that now." Wonwoo says a smile on his own lips. The smile that knocked me off my feet every day.

"What were you reading?" I ask, glancing at the book now in his lap.

Wonwoo picks it up and holds it out in front of us. "The one I've read a million times."

I squint my eyes in thought, "You've read a lot of books a million times, so which one is it?"

Wonwoo chuckles and knowing that I can still make him laugh with my mundaneness makes me very happy. "Sherlock Holmes." He says, setting the book aside.

"Is it still fun to read after the first time?" I wonder.

"Of course it is." Wonwoo answers as if I lost my marbles. "You get to go back and pick up on details that you missed during the first read."

"Yeah, but you have to read it all again." I give a small, shy smile.

"But you would rather spend all your time staring at me while I read." Wonwoo stretches out his arms arrogantly.

I hit his chest playfully and he retracts his arms while laughing.

"I heard you're the reason Mun Hee was in my office complaining about his back." I say following a groove in the tree with my eyes.

"Am I? Oh, is it from all the stuff I asked him for?" Wonwoo wonders then clicks his tongue, "I told him I could help if it was a lot. But he said he was fine so I just sat in my room."

"Sounds like something Mun Hee would do." I nod my head, "How did you like your room by the way?"

Wonwoo smiles contently, "I loved it. The wall of books was beautiful. You had all my favorites in there." He nudges my shoulder with his shoulder.

"Took me ages to find all of them. Some of them were quite old." I say with a slightly apologetic look.

But Wonwoo shakes his head, "Don't worry. I fixed them all."

I look at him in wonder, "You fixed all of them?" I ask.

He nods, "Yeah, most of them just needed some binding repairs and the rest weren't that hard to repair."

"So that's why you asked for the supplies and broke Mun Hee's back." I realize though I should've realized sooner.

Wonwoo laughs and my heart flutters happily at the sound. "That's why I needed the supplies."

"You didn't read all of them in that time, did you?" I double check and give him a questioning look.

He boops my nose and scrunches his face at me, "No I didn't. It took me a whole lifetime to read all those books."

"A whole lifetime." I repeat his words.

"How did you even find all those?" Wonwoo asks, playing with my hand, "I read most of those after you left."

I smile bashfully, "I kind of guessed."

'You guessed?" Now Wonwoo gives me the questioning look.

"After I left, I just kind of kept an ear open in the book world and sometimes I would come across a book that just felt like you would really enjoy. So I brought it back and started a collection in that room."

"But other guests use that room." Wonwoo pouts, feeling kind of jealous that other people would've read those books before him.

"Nah, only the right touch can get certain books off the shelf." I tell him with a knowing smile, "I made sure that no one but you or I would be able to read the special ones. To every other guest, it's just a really aesthetic wall."

"Well, look at my girl go." Wonwoo says smugly.

"So." I say, wanting to change the topic.

"So?" Wonwoo responds, turning his body slightly to face more towards me.

"I wanna know..." I pause.

"Mmhm?" He nods once, encouraging me to keep speaking.

"Did you end up married to your books or did some lucky girl come and steal your heart?" I ask with a genuine smile of curiosity.

Wonwoo chuckles but I notice the light behind his eyes dims ever so slightly. His chuckle dies down but he doesn't say anything. Instead he just looks at the tree, contemplating.

"You know I'm not mad if you did move on." I clarify, "I honestly wanted nothing more than for you to be happy and I wanted you to find it after I left. You deserved that happiness."

I know Wonwoo hears me because he chews on the inside of his cheek but he still doesn't say anything.

"What you didn't deserve was falling into the pain of me and my punishment." I say apologetically, "It happened to twelve others and I never for a moment thought any of you deserved that pain."

Wonwoo wraps an arm around me and pulls me close again, "Oh, it's not your fault. It's that damn demon's and trust me if I ever get the chance to meet it, I will get revenge for what it did to you." He presses a kiss to my temple before whispering. "I did marry."

I smile and ignore the slight pain slicing through my heart. Even though my words about wanting his happiness are true, it still stings.

"I met her like 5 or 6 years after you left." Wonwoo recalls and the memories sparkle in his eyes, "She first started coming in and reading her own books. Then she'd come in and read the books I had on the shelves. Then she started to watch me while I repaired books."

"That must've been awkward." I giggle.

"It was at first." Wonwoo agrees, "But then she did something and I knew she was supposed to be in my life."

"What'd she do?" I ask, intrigued.

"Remember the first edition book you and I repaired together?" He wonders.

I nod, "How could I forget that? I was finding glue in random places for weeks."

Wonwoo chuckles at the memory, "You're the one knocked over the glue can."

"You're the one who put it on the edge of the table." I banter back.

"Anyway." Wonwoo squeezes my arm, "I kept it in a showcase box near the back of the store. Hardly anyone asked about it and those who did only wondered if it was for sale. But she, she inspected it and then asked if I had put it together."

"And what did you tell her?" I probed.

"I told her that I had repaired with someone special. I think she could see or hear the bit of sadness in my voice cause she didn't dig deeper." Wonwoo explains, "So then I asked her what made her think that we'd done it by hand. And she," He laughs, "She said cause the back cover was crooked and on the part that poked out, she could see some writing. Somehow made out my name."

I chuckle and think back to the night we stayed up for hours trying to decide what to write there. Like it was our will that would go down in history as the most important document ever. The warm tea cup in my hands and the burning candles that painted the room in rustic comfort.

"And then that was that really. We dated for a while, got married. and then we raised three kids." Wonwoo continues his story.

"Three kids?" I inquire.

Wonwoo nods proudly, "Three. Changkyun was my oldest then came the twins, Soyou and Lisa. Changkyun protected the girls well and the girls grew up tough all thanks to him."

"Nah, I'm sure you had a large part in that too." I reassure him. "You were always tougher than I. Even in future lives." I reference the first day of his stay.

"Oh, I totally was going to ask you if you were okay that day, but you just disappeared." Wonwoo remembers and pouts that he didn't get the chance to ask then. "Part of the punishment I'm guessing."

"Actually I don't know. I never really tried so I don't know if it's against the rules or not." I admit. "But I, uh, I didn't want to find out."

Wonwoo gives me an understanding look, "Totally understand. It couldn't have been easy being stuck here for all those years."

"For the first hundred years, it was awful." I tell him, "But after that, I grew numb to the passing of time. It just kind of happened like that."

"So while you were numb to time, I was terribly sensitive to the passing of time." Wonwoo ponders the thought.

"Kids grow up too fast?" I guess.

Wonwoo looks at me with confusion cause how am I supposed to know what it's like to have kids.

"I overhear guests chatting with each other and a big part of the conversations are kids and how they just grow up so fast." I explain pointing a thumb behind us towards the hotel.

"Ah, I see." Wonwoo murmurs, "But yeah. They just kept growing and then all of a sudden, my wife and I were empty nesters and then a second later, we had grey hairs on our heads and grand babies in our arms. Completely crazy."

I giggle at his amazement, "So what did your kids end up doing?" I ask and he dives into the stories of his children and his life with them.

I sit and listen to his low voice tell the tales of the bookstore, how some years the store would be overrun with teens and then next year it would be filled with fresh out of college adults. He immerses himself in the ocean of stories from his life while I float along the with the waves and let his voice take me through the stories.

All too soon, though, the setting sun freezes the ocean and my tree's crooked branches set me back in reality.

"The setting sun always represented an end with another beginning." Wonwoo stares at the western windows where the last rays of sunlight are slowly being swallowed up by the night. "But this one is just an end."

I stare at his face, hoping to memorize all the pieces I missed before. Like he does during a second or third read of a book.

"For your worldly soul, it's an end." I say, "But for your true soul, it's the start of an eternity of peace."

"What do you think happens on the other side?" He asks, looking back at me.

I give a small shrug, "I don't know, but you'll find out today and someday I'll find out too."

"Could it be like the books?" Wonwoo wonders.

"Depends on which book." I tell him with a tender smile.

"Touché." He tilts his head. "You know," He leans closer to me, "I know I have to go, but I really don't want to." Wonwoo giggles.

I laugh before pressing a kiss to his cheek, "But we do." I remind him, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice.

Wonwoo sighs, "We do." He repeats and stands up before helping me up. "Were you always this fashionable?" He asks after looking me up and down.

I raise my eyebrows, "Uh, yes, and fashion has changed since we were together."

Wonwoo grabs my hand and swings it between us as we walk, "Well, the change looks absolutely stunning on you."

The lobby is quiet as the hotel's opening hours are just around the corner. We quickly make it to the back door and like a gentleman, Wonwoo opens the door for me.

The cool night air rushes by us and we both stand on the landing just taking in the scene.

"Remember the night by the river?" Wonwoo wonders when he starts walking towards the forest, Shin, and the car that will take him.

"The night when you said you loved me?" I ask and he nods, "The air feels the same, doesn't it?"

"Exactly the same. " Wonwoo nods, gripping my hand tighter. "Do you think the Gods are doing this on purpose?"

I look up at the dark sky that's littered with tiny little lights from thousands of miles away. "At this point, I'm certain everything that happens to me is because they," I point upwards, "Want it to happen."

"Well then, I guess I'll have to thank them for letting me happen to you." Wonwoo smiles and I feel his eyes on me.

Lowering my gaze, I meet his gaze, "But I caused you pain. Like freakishly awful pain."

Wonwoo shrugs, "Still don't regret meeting you." He says as we reach the car.

Shin has the door open and is waiting patiently.

"This is the end of my worldly journey then." Wonwoo comments, glancing at the forest and its fog.

"Now you can rest. Forever." I place my hands on his cheeks and he rests one of his on top of mine.

"You know, hearing it now, it isn't as scary as I initially thought." He says a placid smile on his lips.

I kiss him through a smile, "Says the man who would be willing to jump from the highest heights just for the thrill." I mumble against his lips.

"Answer me this, will you?" He asks and rests his forehead against mine. I nod and he asks, "If you were to have met me without a punishment, would you have stayed with me?"

I stare into his eyes and move to rest my arms on his shoulders, "Till the very end." I say with honesty rallying behind me.

"That's all I need to hear." Wonwoo says then presses another kiss to my lips. When he pulls away, his eyes are glossy but I know he won't cry. "I love you, (y/n)." He whispers.

"I love you too." I tell him, feeling my own eyes fill with tears.

Wonwoo pulls away and lowers himself into the car. After Shin shuts the door behind him, the car drives into the fog.

The tires crunch over the gravel road and Shin stops next to me.

"That was the bookseller?" He asks.

I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek.

"He was a good man. He shall be very comfortable." Shin reassures me and walks back into the hotel.

With Shin gone, I let the tears fall freely. Letting the tears fill with the sadness and pain of being left then let them fall and land wherever they please. My heart cracks into a million pieces and it takes everything within me to keep it from exploding into more pieces. It is then that a white chrysanthemum withers away in my garden.

After a while, the moon has risen high into the sky and my tears have dry though my heart hasn't stopped aching. But even now, I have a hotel to run and others to wait for. So I run my hands through my hair, detangling it, and wipe away the left over tears. Just as Wonwoo always told me, I straighten out my shoulders, hold my head level, and walk back into the hotel with purpose.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"Did you ever think today would come?" Wonwoo wonders.

"I knew it would come but I just could never definitively say when it would come." I tell him, "Like when an author has a story and a perfect plot in their mind but putting it on paper is harder than imagined and they’re not sure if the story will ever leave their mind."

“Good analogy.” Wonwoo chuckles, “Come on. Your story has left the author's mind." We stand up together and I instantly grab his hand. Like a child latching onto their favorite toy.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"Hey, Mun Hee." Wonwoo calls out, "I would've helped you with the supplies. You didn't have to carry them by yourself and hurt your back."

Mun Hee vigorously shakes his head, "No, no. I didn't hurt myself, I'm just sore. I haven't worked my body like that in ages." He gives excuses.

"Well, you should start again. Who knows what other guests will request." Wonwoo advises and Mun Hee gives him a thumbs up.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks and looks at me with tears appearing in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears and I hear Wonwoo chuckle behind me.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Wonwoo grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Wonwoo and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Wonwoo softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Wonwoo securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

[wecantseeyou]

a word on color - how line of duty series 6 uses wardrobe color to frame narrative (pt 3)

Author’s note: this is Part 3 of this essay. For Part 1, read here, and for Part 2, read here. I apologize for the mad low-quality screen grabs in these posts, but the streams I have access to are not good, and the BBC makes it damn hard to use a VPN to access content. This part covers episode 4, because it’s already clocking in at 3k words (and the whole thing is over 10k). Will do my level best to have an analysis of 5 and 6 done by tonight’s episode, but timezones are a bitch. Again, American here and therefore likely missing cultural context. Also again, fully unedited.

Thank you for so many kind words on the other posts. Anticipate a conclusion of sorts to this essay on Monday (if I can get my hands on a stream quickly).

EPISODE 4

Episode 4 opens in the middle of our favorite type of scene - an MIT briefing. With Buckells’ arrest, Jo has been made acting DSI, and she makes her debut in a navy suit with a green sweater over a grey shirt. She notes that they have to consider evidence trails that have been overlooked, and as she says they have to look at a potential burglary, note the cut to Ryan. Jo then invites Kate, wearing her now classic orange and navy striped sweater and navy suit, up to go over the information recovered from the missing files regarding the robbery. After the briefing, Kate asks to look more at the firearms used in the robbery that derailed the Banks arrest, which Jo agrees to and offers to file the correct paperwork. 

Jo’s outfit in this scene is indicative of the truth behind her actions. The score and framing of the shots in this scene are intentionally made to make the viewer suspicious of Jo, but in reality the suspicion should fall on Ryan. Despite the danger to herself, Jo is encouraging the transition of the inquiry toward the robbery because she knows there is a thread of truth there. One could assume she has no choice but to continue down this path because of AC-12’s investigation into Buckells, but given her position of authority she could have continued to stonewall the investigation and didn’t. While she may be forced to interfere later, she’s setting the MIT investigator’s on the right path.

Kate’s outfit, per usual, plays into her combined desire for justice and her allegiance to Jo. She’s a good detective - she knows there’s a connection between the botched robbery and Gail’s murder, and she knows it’s the firearms. Jo also demonstrates that she’s on the straight and narrow by generating the action, further confirming to Kate that she was right about her boss. 

Next, we see Ryan the Bent Bastard Pilkington watching Jo walk into work, a mirror of the multiple instances in previous episodes when Jo was watching Kate. The audience is supposed to make this connection, of course, to play into suspicions against Jo, but there is a key difference here. Jo actually sees Ryan watching her - he wants her to see it. When Jo was watching Kate, she always made sure to look away, even when Kate had clearly seen her. Those looks weren’t a threat - they were Jo wrestling with something, which we begin to see more clearly in this episode. 

Donned in her best blue coat and a blue scarf, Kate meets Hastings to discuss Pilkington. Ted wants to bring him in immediately, but Kate doesn’t think it’s time yet and convinces him not to. They briefly discuss her move to MIT and how his behavior affected her decision to transfer, which she admits is true. Up to series 5, Kate tends to have a fairly black and white morality with a very strong sense of justice. It’s what makes her such a good undercover operative. It’s why she can have the moral high ground in her conversation with Ted and he agrees with her - she’s often right.

AC-12 interviews Buckells, and because Jo has expertly taken advantage of his vices, ambition, and stupidity, the former DSI is arrested for perverting the course of justice. (By the by, this is an incredible legal term, much better than obstruction of justice, the US term.) Steve, as always, pushes him hard, but doesn’t seem to fully buy into everything he’s being accused of. This is actually shown in his outfit, a grey suit with white shirt and green tie. The green tie, while a cool color, shows that he is not fully aligned with AC-12 in this moment. 

We see this disagreement spelled out in the narrative text immediately afterward. Kate and Steve meet at night in a car park, and Steve shares his belief that Buckells isn’t the man they're after. Kate disagrees, believing that Buckells plays the stupid card on purpose. Steve also floats his suspicions about Jo again, which Kate quickly shoots down. Steve thinks Jo is manipulating Kate and pulling the wool over her eyes, but Kate thinks it’s Steve who might be reading too much into things. Steve is in the same outfit he wore during the Buckells interview, and Kate is in her navy coat. In this case, Steve’s outfit represents his disagreement both with AC-12’s view of Buckells and with Kate’s view of Jo. Meanwhile Kate’s outfit represents her surety that Buckells is bent and Jo is anything but. 

Later, Kate and Lomax go over the firearms reports between the robbery and Gail's murder. They believe the guns were workshopped, and are therefore untraceable, but Kate has an idea: talk to one of the robbers about their guns. Kate’s genius is on full display, putting her on the path toward the truth, and her outfit reflects that: a navy suit with a blue shirt buttoned all the way up.

Kate, still in her all blue ensemble, and Lomax interview one of the suspects from the armed robbery at the bookie about the firearms they used, and discover the boys were offered a set of workshopped guns that they refused. To Kate, this confirms an OCG connection between Gail Vella’s murder and the armed robbery. Jo, dressed in a grey suit and black turtleneck, watches the interview from another room, anxiety plain on her face.

That anxiety stays on Jo’s face all the way through to when she’s peering through the bushes by Farida’s house, where Steve rolls up to chat with Chloe in a navy suit. Chloe shares that forensics have picked up many DNA samples from Farida’s home and are sure to have results soon. I genuinely can’t make out what Jo is wearing in this scene, so I won’t jump to conclusions and analyze further.

After visiting the crime scene at Farida’s, Jo returns to her home in a grey coat, yellow sweatshirt, and red shirt. As she sits at her table, she removes a blue scarf from around her neck. She checks the OCG messaging service from her last message, and is worried by the lack of response. Her desperation gets the better of her - she wants out. She angrily says so, and when there’s no response throws the laptop to the floor.

The choice to put a blue scarf on Jo that she removes is a very deliberate act. As she shits down at the computer, Jo must put away her true nature and her good heart to engage with the OCG. She is literally removing her sense of justice, leaving only her corrupt actions - the yellow sweatshirt and the red shirt. But there she sits, in her blue-draped home. Trying to push her true self away is not enough - her heart wins in the end. She can’t keep betraying herself and the people she cares about anymore.

But she knows it isn’t that easy.

Meanwhile, AC-12 calls Kate in to update her on surveillance placed on Ryan Pilkington, who is following Jo. This startles Kate, and tells them she was with Jo at the time Ryan was following her. This piques Steve's interest, but he doesn’t immediately comment on it. He does however suggest Ryan is actually meeting with Jo, not spying on her, but Kate shoots him down again. "You got evidence of that?" she asks. This hostility toward her former partner catches Ted's interest. Kate thinks they should warn Jo about it, but Hastings disagrees because they lack information and doesn’t want to risk tipping off Jo if she and Ryan are working together. 

The clothes in these AC-12 team meetings are interesting, because they place both Kate and Steve on the side of truth. Kate in her blue jacket and grey shirt, Steve in his navy suit and grey shirt. They’re wearing mirroring costumes in part to highlight their disagreement - visually connecting them in the face of their growing tension about Jo’s loyalties. But their coordinated looks also serve another purpose: they’re both right. Yes, Jo is working with Ryan in the sense that Ryan is present at MIT to intimidate Jo into continuing to do the OCG’s bidding. And no, Jo isn’t bent, at least not intentionally - there is goodness in her heart despite the ways in which her actions have gone against that, and Ryan is a threat to her well-being. Our favorite detectives may be at odds, but at the end of the day they’re on the same page.

There are a number of Steve scenes here, but all you really need to know is that he’s going to save the world via waistcoat.

Kate following Hastings’ instructions last about as long as it talks the gaffer to say ‘I’m in the business of nicking bent coppers.’ She and Lomax inform Jo about the results of the interview with the armed robbery suspect, who described seeing weapons like the one that killed Gail Vella at the workshop. Kate dismisses Chris, and speaks to Jo on her own, and interestingly specifies that it isn't personal, it's work. She mentions her apprehension about Ryan, and warns Jo that Ryan has been spying on her. Jo asks how she knows, and Kate, the good UCO she is, lies and tells her she saw him at the pub herself. Kate implores Jo to be careful and heed her warning about Ryan, saying, "look Jo, I don't want to worry you, but it's a trust issue." Cue Jo putting her hand on Kate's arm in a callback to the handhold (which Kate reciprocated). Before we can really see Kate's reaction, she pulls back as officers approach where they’re standing.

Despite Kate directly contradicting AC-12’s orders concerning warning Jo, her navy suit and blue shirt tell us that she’s doing what she believes is right. As we’ve seen time and again, Kate doesn’t believe that Jo is bent and that Ryan is a threat to her safety, and as I’ve discussed before, she is right. Her decision to tell Jo also gives her an out - one which Jo attempts to use later, with sadly no success. Jo’s black turtleneck and grey jacket both shows how Kate has misinterpreted Jo’s relation to Ryan (though not his threat), and the conniving part of her personality. Jo is an incredibly calculating individual, and she knows Kate has just given her an excuse to get rid of Ryan, both helping herself and keeping up appearances that she isn’t associated with the OCG. 

A quick word on the arm touch here - Jo is again doing two things here. Jo is walking doublespeak. Her words have two meanings, her clothes have two meanings, her actions have two meanings. The arm touch is a nonverbal thank you to Kate for telling her. It’s also the first act of intimacy between the two women since Jo began to pull away after the reservoir incident. This is Jo offering an olive branch for a problem Kate isn’t even fully aware exists. 

Immediately after Jo and Kate’s conversation, we see Jo sitting in her office, watching Ryan. She calls him in, and lets him know that she's going to have to let him go due to budgetary constraints, though she'll keep his commendation originally from Buckells. As I mentioned before, Jo saw Kate's information about Ryan to be a way to get rid of him, both protecting herself and validating her in Kate’s eyes. But of course, nothing is that simple. He gives the most chilling look back at her, calm as can be, and thanks her. 

Kate looks on, and reassures Jo with a nod that she's done the right thing, which the boss tentatively returns. Kate is pleased because Jo listened to her warnings, but Jo is terrified because whatever she knows she’s made a mistake.

Back in AC-12 land, Chloe and Steve interview Jimmy Lakewell, who agrees to be an informant. Cue the OCG ambush and Steve sniping someone from several stories up with just a handgun while laying down (I don’t usually have to suspend my disbelief quite so much for this show…). There isn’t much to say about this part beyond Steve wearing the traditional AC-12 cool tones.

Later, Jo returns home for the night, still dressed in a grey suit jacket and black turtleneck, and just as she’s about to walk in, the Bent Bastard puts a gun to the back of her head. “It’s that easy, Jo.” This is the first time the audience directly sees the threat to life that Jo is under from the OCG. Before this, we’ve mostly just seen the consequences to her personal life, through Farida, and her clear discomfort with her own actions. Now we see what actually makes her so fearful, the reason for car park panic attacks and 5 locks on the door - if she doesn’t do the OCG’s bidding, she will die. 

It’s the confirmation the show has been teasing all through this point, in Jo’s clothes and apartment, but intentionally obfuscating through tense music cues and intimidating camera angles. Jo is not bent because she’s a bad person - she’s doing bent things to save her own life.

Back at the Hill, Jo is waiting outside for Kate to come in. She’s standing above Kate on the stairs wearing a grey coat, navy suit, and grey turtleneck. Kate approaches wearing a cream sweater and her navy coat She asks for an update on the armed robbery inquiry, which hasn’t progressed particularly far. Kate takes the opportunity to ask about Ryan, and Jo tries to tell her he's fine and that there aren’t any OCG links. When Kate pushes, Jo threatens the DI by mentioning her own suspicious behavior when it came to the incident at the reservoir. "Drop it, Kate. That's an order."

This scene is notable in a few ways. First, this is the second time where Kate and Jo have disagreed and Jo has pulled rank to end the discussion. The first time was after the Terry Boyle interview where he nearly revealed who the real killer of Gail Vella was. In both instances, Jo knows Kate was on the right track but uses her position as the boss to stop her. This is quite different from the Jo who wants to see Kate at the weekend. Second, I want to comment on the camera work here. When the two meet on the stairs and discuss the firearms tracking, they remain in the same shot walking together. Once Kate brings up Ryan, they stop walking and move into over the shoulder framing. This serves to visually represent the way tension is increasing in Jo and Kate’s relationship. When we first met them, they moved together, often in sync (“great minds”). Now, we more frequently see the shots separating the two women, showing the growing distance resulting from Jo’s actions and Kate’s instincts. (COVID-19 shooting protocols probably also add to this, but we can’t theorize otherwise because we don’t know how the look of the show would’ve been under different circumstances.)

The other thing to note here is, of course, the wardrobe choice. Now, one would expect that as the tension grows between the two women and Jo continues to put walls up to distance herself from Kate, their wardrobes would reflect that. And in some smaller moments, they do. But for the most part their wardrobes when together remain much the same. In fact, this scene puts Jo in a very similar turtleneck to the one she wears in her first scene with Kate, and Kate is wearing the exact same yellowish sweater. Jo, dressed in cool tones again, is playing the part of the bent cop, keeping Ryan in MIT and threatening Kate. But as we know, there’s more to this than meets the eye. She’s keeping Ryan around after he threatened to kill her, and she’s threatening Kate to keep her away from Ryan - to protect her, in Jo’s own twisted way. Meanwhile, Kate is concerned for Jo’s safety, clearly evident in her just barely warm toned sweater, but she’s confused because she knows for a fact that Ryan is bent - why would Jo keep the man who’s been following her around? What is she missing? This detective’s instinct in Kate, the one that tells her Jo is good and not bent but something is wrong, is encapsulated in that navy coat, the uniform of AC-12.

We then see another piece of the puzzle that the show has been hinting at for some time, though is still not revealed in this episode. Chloe comes to Steve with the DNA results from Farida Jatri’s house and she’s confused. Steve, dressed in his level best navy suit, light blue shirt, and red tie, reads on and a look of shock comes over his face. Going slightly out of order in what is the final scene of the episode, Steve and Chloe bring this news to Hastings and it’s revealed that Jo’s DNA was a partial match for another DNA sample, one of a known criminal. Thus it’s revealed that Jo Davidson is in it a little deeper than anyone could have suspected.

The preceding scene is at the Hill, where we see Jo standing outside looking off into the middle distance with a blank stare. She’s wearing an outfit we’ve seen her in numerous times so far, perhaps most notably with Kate for the first ‘date’ at Frederico’s - a navy suit with an orangish brown sweater. She seems lost in thought when the door opens and Pilkington walks out to her. He asks if he’s heard the news about the dead inmate at Blackthorn prison - James Lakewell. A look of recognition passes her face as she asks, “What was the cause of death?" And in a truly terrifying callback to episode 2, Ryan responds, "Being a rat, ma'am." 

Now, this threat from Ryan is interesting. It’s the second threat in as many scenes between the two, and it’s quite a bit different from a gun to the head. Obviously, Ryan is playing the role of the dutiful OCG plant, an ever-present eye on Jo’s actions, but the fact that he’s warning Jo against being a rat specifically raises an eyebrow. Though we don’t have immediate textual evidence here, and neither does Jo, I actually think this is a warning about her relationship with Kate. We see this fairly clearly in the next episode with the OCG’s fear of AC-12’s investigation and Kate’s role in it, and I think Jo suspects much the same. In the next episode, Jo is not merely distant with Kate, she’s openly hostile to her more than once. She isn’t just stepping away from Kate, she’s full on pushing her away. I believe that has to do with this warning from Ryan - she can’t let her relationship with Kate put her life in danger, and she can’t let Kate fall into the same fate.

This explains many of her actions in episode 5, and the central dilemma that leads to the fateful lorry park.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Hello if you don't mind could I ask you to do something with Alfie (I love all your Alfie pieces) I was looking at the prompt lists you posted recently and I was thinking that they are not together but obviously like each other she is working for him. And one day Alfie starts joking around with her and she says something thing about the beard and he starts kinda play wrestling her and tickling her with the beard on her neck or whatever which ends up leading to their first kiss. Hope you like the idea.

//I hope this is kind of what you were looking for! Enjoy!

            To the outside world, Alfie was a cold-hearted, sarcastic, violent man. But those who worked in the bakery knew that this wasn’t all true. Of course, he had a penchant for doling out punishments when he saw fit and the sound of him yelling was a common occurrence. Yet a new side to him began to show when he took on a secretary. She was the niece of a family friend. A girl he grew up with on the streets of Camden. Someone he used to know so well but lost contact with after he began working and especially after he left for war.

            Initially, Alfie was hesitant to bring on a woman. He lived in a man’s world, not just by running rum but in a traditional community of Orthodox Jews. But apparently, some of the Camden women were taken by the new age of the ‘20s and wanted to venture out of the home.

            Including Theresa who Alfie hired after meeting her for the first time. He didn’t consider him to be very shallow, but he appreciated beauty.

            And she was beautiful. Alfie wasn’t sure he ever realized how beautiful she was. There were times when they passed each other on the street and gave one another a brief hello. But she truly had grown into herself

            Alfie chalked it up to being a sinner. He was a sinner so he would want a beautiful woman around. What he didn’t realize was that he wanted Theresa around because she was a bright light in an otherwise dreary spot of London. She had always been a cheery person. Alfie couldn’t ever remember her being in a foul mood when they were children. She always seemed to be content even if they were poor.

            She made it very apparent on her first day that she hadn’t changed much. She brought in a little bouquet of flowers to liven up her desk outside of Alfie’s office.

            Alfie sighed, watching her set the vase down with care. “She’s gonna be eaten alive here.” He muttered under his breath.

            But later that day, he passed by her as she was trying to work a hole punch.

            “For fuck’s sake.” She hissed at the contraption.

            Alfie snorted.

            Theresa’s head shot up with a look of embarrassment. “Oh, Alfie, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were standing there.”

            He chuckled. “Love, there ain’t nothing you could say that would make me blush.” He informed her. “Just didn’t expect that from you.”

            “Me?” She raised an eyebrow. “We were raised the same way. I’m sure we were both swearing before our mums could do anything about it.”

            That put a smile on his face. “I remember the first time you swore in front of your mum. She was convinced the devil had gotten a hold of you.”

            Theresa giggled. “That poor woman.”

            Alfie paused for a moment. It wasn’t completely rare that he would strike up a conversation with his employees. He chatted with Ollie and some of the others who had been working for him for a while. He knew their families well, so he respected them for their hard work. But Theresa was much more and he felt stupid that he hadn’t realized that before. This was the girl he was raised with.

            He wasn’t sure whether to be at ease or nervous about the sort of feelings bubbling up inside him. So, he quickly excused himself.

~~~

            As time went on, the longer Theresa worked there, Alfie realized he couldn’t walk away from those feelings. There was a clear playfulness to their relationship. Alfie felt like a kid again around her and Theresa certainly wasn’t afraid of him like most people were.

            But he couldn’t help but feel a little foolish. Theresa was still the bright, uplifting person she had been since childhood. Alfie was now just a grumpy bag of bones who made God extremely angry with every breath he took. At least, that’s what he thought. He didn’t think there were any remnants of the young man he once was. Well, aside from being a troublemaker. He had been one since birth.

            But none of this seemed to bother Theresa. In fact, she was making it very difficult to stay away. She had a habit of making him laugh like no one else ever could. Not to mention when she noticed he wasn’t happy, she tried to ease his burden a bit.

            Despite Alfie’s reluctance, the relationship blossomed very naturally as the year progressed.

~~~ 

            Come springtime, Theresa was in Alfie’s office helping him with his ledger.

            Not too long after they began, Alfie noticed she was catching glances much more frequently than she usually did.

            “Something wrong?” He asked.

            “Oh, no.” She shook her head, not really embarrassed that he was calling her out. “I just was thinking about how it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you without a beard. You never had one before the war.” She remembered.

            “Yeah.” He consciously ran a hand over his right cheek. “Covers up the worst of me scar, don’t it?”

            “No, I didn’t mean I didn’t like it.” She clarified. “It was just something I was thinking about.” She shrugged.

             “Yeah?”

            “Do the women you’re with complain about it being scratchy?” She asked coyly.

            He gave her a funny look. “Do you see me frolicking about with women? You’ve worked here long enough to know I barely have time to breathe.”

            She smiled. There was no use in denying that Theresa enjoyed toying with him a bit. It made her day a bit more fun knowing she could flirt with him and he would either get flustered or send it right back her way. Even though she wanted something more with him, she figured the most she would get was harmless flirting.

            “Or maybe it’s the beard.” She replied casually.

            He narrowed his eyes at her. It was clear she was playing with him. “You’re in a feisty mood today, aye?”

            She didn’t answer. “I suppose it makes you appear older. More manly maybe.”

            “Oh,” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his desk chair as he eyed her. Almost as if he was trying to figure out her strategy, find out what her game plan was, or what she wanted out of the interaction. “So, I weren’t manly ‘til I grew a fucking beard.”

            “When you didn’t have the beard, I could still beat you up.”

            “Now that, yeah, is utter horseshit. There weren’t ever a time you could beat me up.”

            She laughed. “Oh please, I could pin you to the ground better than your own brother could.”

            “Well, that’s just rich.” He shook his head. “I’ll let you believe what you want, love.”

~~~           

            But Theresa wasn’t done. She waited until most of the men in the bakery had gone home. Since Alfie worked late most nights, it would be perfect. She came into his office and shut the door behind her.

            He was at his filing cabinet and nodded at her.

            She didn’t say anything, just came up beside him and poked him right under his ribs where she knew he was ticklish. Just as when they were children, Alfie nearly doubled over and stifled a snorting laugh.

            “Oi!” He caught her hand before she could get him again. “Little minx, you tryna give me a heart attack?”

            She giggled. “Still the same boy, aren’t you?”

            Alfie could argue that he wasn’t. He could list off all the things he had done. The horrible deeds he’d been up to ever since the war. But there was a sparkle in Theresa’s eyes that made his knees weak.

            So, he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder. “Yeah, same boy that you used to wrestle, aye? You’d tear your stockings and your mum would chew us all out. Saying we were leading you astray.”          

            “Alfie!” Theresa laughed as he plopped her down on top of his desk.

            “Told her that it weren’t us. Nah, it was you the whole time. Always stirring the pot.” He stood in front of him with his hands on his hips but a faint smirk on his face.

            “You never complained.” She replied cheekily.

            He shook his head. “No one could find a single thing to complain ‘bout you.”

            Theresa chewed on her lip, thinking for a moment before she made up her mind. She stood up and stepped toward Alfie.

            For a moment, he thought she was going to make another go at him, but then she touched his cheek gently. She searched his eyes, waiting for him to push her away. But instead, he nodded and kissed her.

            Everything sank away. Theresa wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss with a soft sigh.

            Alfie’s brain was going haywire. A million different reasons for abandoning her flooded his mind. She would be better off, he was a terrible person, nothing good would come to her, everyone would think ill of her, he would be using her.

            But there was one good reason to keep her near. He loved her.

            He placed a hand on the small of her back to bring her flush against him. Never again did he want her to be so far. Having her close felt far too good to give it up.

            When Theresa drew away, she looked happier than he’d ever seen her before. “I don’t think I mind kissing you with the beard.” She said playfully. “In fact, I kind of like it.”

            He chuckled and pecked her lips again. “So that’s that, then?”

            “I suppose so.” She lightly ran her fingers through his unruly hair. “Although, I never expected you to, well I just thought that you would never want to be with me.”

            “Yeah? What gave you that idea?” He asked.

            “I don’t know. I just thought maybe you would want a woman who’s more…dangerous. Not some silly girl like me.”

            Alfie smoothed a thumb over her cheek, taking in how soft her skin was compared to his calloused hands. “You are a silly girl for ever thinking that’s the case.” He murmured. “This is a job, love. Why would I want to come home to someone who’s just like work, aye? I want to come home to someone loving and warm. Thoughtful and funny and…” He felt like he was losing himself in her yearning gaze. “What I mean is, I want someone like you. I want you. Just didn’t think you would ever want someone like me.”

            “Then you are a silly man for ever thinking that’s the case.” She replied. “I want every part of you, Alfie.”

[neo-culture-mafia]

IV. Sorry, My Dear

⚠️⚠️TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️⚠️

The following story contains themes of suicidal thoughts and addiction. Please do not read if you find these themes triggering in any way. Read this post before reading this piece of FICTION

Have you heard the story of the guy,

Who decided not to die?

"Another day at the office...another day in hell." Jae mumbled to himself. The black lettering seemed never ending as he moved page after page.

Everyone was long gone and he was left with his thoughts that reflected the current state of his desk: scattered and full on unwanted words.

"Come on, Jae. Let's go get drinks with Boss." Jae had mimicked the voices of the other associates that worked in the office today. "No. I'm good. Got to finish this work. Beep-boop-boop." He moved his arms in a robot-like fashion.

"Look at me. Working me life away. Jaehyun. That's my name." He moved the papers in random places. This would be Jae's 4th breakdown this week where he needed to tell himself to hold on until tomorrow.

Johnnny looked on in concern from behind the entrance wall. "No good, Jaehyun. Don't wear it out." Jae's hands waves over his head in a dramatic fashion as he pushed himself around in his wheeled office chair.

It wasn't until Johnny saw Jae's hands form into a gun shape that he intervened in the middle of his best friend's scary emotional outburst.

"Jae! There you are!" He rushed over and punched his friend's arm. The look in Jaehyun's eyes made Johnny uneasy. It looked like he had been caught which made him break more. "You almost finished? I wanted to catch a movie with you and maybe have a hangout night," Jae was taken aback by the energy outburst at 2 am.

He could only look at Johnny's excited face from where he sat in his chair, strands of hair obstructing only pieces of his vision. "I got the new Call of Duty and PubG for the console." Johnny's hands rummaged in his pockets till he pulled out his phone, his eyebrows wiggling fiercely. "It's only...2:17. We got all the time in the world."

Johnny picked up Jae's suit jacket that was thrown over the cubicle wall and the younger boy's heavy bag. "I'll drive." Johnny pulled Jae up and turned off his lamp.

They were in the darkness of the office and Jae was still shocked that he was caught before he got worse.

"What do you wanna eat? Steak? McDonald's? Junk food?" Johnny's rambling was tuned out of Jae's mind. He followed the taller man willingly down and out of the office building and to his familiar car.

"Uh...doesn't matter." Was the first thing that came out of Jaehyun's mouth. "Then we'll get everything." Johnny's laugh made Jae's heart swell with hope for the first time in weeks.

'Maybe next time,' he thought, 'I'll hang out with Johnny one last time.'

The car ride was filled with laughter and being in the cold air surrounding the both of them.

Johnny still wonders to this day what would've happened if he didn't walk in the time he did. He had been called to pick up the paperwork from Jae's desk but was met with a sad reality.

Jaehyun wanted to escape reality.

Just kill me in my sleep,

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

This was it...this was the day. He's written the letters and found a place to go calmly. He was in a euphoric sense that nothing really mattered anymore.

He had been on cloud 9 all week as he's happily been overworked and no one ever asked how he had been doing.

Right now, he was just driving. Driving to take in his home city one last time.

The sun was setting when he came to Han River Park. The clusters of happy people congregated in small bursts of happiness and 'its okay' and 'everything will be alright's.

He parked and stood at the grass's edge. He took deep breaths as the air swept across his body calmly. "Everything is so beautiful." He whispered to himself as he watched the birds dance across the water with such grace.

The lump in his throat that made it home was beginning to ache. Yet, he swallowed his pride and continued looking over the people who would continue their own story's even after his had reached the end. The credits would roll and everyone would walk away from the theater without a second thought.

"I mean. I get that's it's pretty. But I haven't seen someone cry at the scenery since my last romance movie." He was snapped out of reality to see a girl standing next to him.

"Excuse me?" Was all he could manage to get out.

You chuckled, sticking your hand out. "Y/n." You introduced yourself and he was trying to not shake your hand, look the other way, and leave without another word being exchanged.

"Jaehyun." His actions spoke for him as he reached his hand out to meet yours. Your hand was soft and warm in his. A warmness and calm he hasn't felt in a while.

"I'm gonna go get some ice cream. Wanna come?" You barely knew him and we're asking him to accompany you to a sweet treat. "You don't know me." Jae got defensive, his arms crossing over his chest.

"I could be a murderer and you invited me for ice cream?" His questions had your face turn up. "Well I'm sure that murderers like ice cream too. So let's go." You grabbed his arm and pulled him down the long stretch of concrete. You walked and tried to match your steps with his long strides. Your arm cutely wrapped around his as you walked.

"So tell me about yourself, Mr. Jaehyun."

He figured living was just easier than falling really high

"We need to clean." You whined while rolling around in the vast bed full of messed up sheets and a relaxing Jaehyun. "Not now. I just wanna cuddle." He grabbed your body and held you close.

"No. We've been cuddling all day. We need to clean." You got up and pulling at his hands. "You can clean the closet and I can clean the rest of the room. Then cuddles." You reasoned and he groaned as he got up, giving into your wishes.

"Fine." He automatically sat on the ground and opened your shared closet doors.

"I'll be tidying up around here." You ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head sweetly. "If you need anything just shout." He called as you exited the room to probably start on the kitchen.

Box after box of paperwork and more paperwork from the last 10 years of working in his like of work.

Your singing could be heard through your house as you comedically sang some of the greatest hits. His laughter broke through the apartment when your own voice shook with laughs.

He came upon some photo books with Polaroids of you and him. The last 2 years had been lived in a heaven like state. He hadn't touched alcohol and drugs like he was earlier in his life...before you changed him.

His physical and mental growth were apparent in the pictures as he flipped through the pages. Your hand drawn hearts and small journal entries under some photos had his heart beating rapidly with joy.

He put the book next to his side to look at later with you. His hand came across an unmarked cardboard photo box that had a thin layer of dust on it.

He jiggled the lid off and was met with envelopes. The letters. His notes to his bosses and his friends apologizing for what he was about to do.

Apologizing for the mess they were going to have to clean up in his apartment and in the office where his files would never be filed. Apologizing for giving up so easily and not serving out the rest of his life like he had sworn. Apologizing for not being strong enough to ask for help when he really tried to make it obvious. Apologizing to whoever had to find him after it was all said and done.

Apologizing for not saying goodbye.

"Hey. Do we have any tile cle- oooo letters. Who are they to?" Your voice had made Jae jump like when Johnny caught him that dark night in the office. Like he was caught doing and thinking stuff he shouldn't be.

"No one. Me. In 50 years. Y'know," he shrugged, tossing them back in the box and throwing them in the closet and standing up quickly, "time capsule thing me and the guys did." He shrugged it off and you could only nod.

"Well that's cool. Can't wait to see how you've grown." Your smile had his own lips mimicking in want. Wanting to have your blissful ignorance of what those letters really were.

"Oh yeah. Do we have any more tile cleaner?" You asked and he lead you out to the closet where he scowered the top shelves in search for the cleaning supply.

"You can have it. For a kiss." He held it above his head. You waste no time in kissing his cheek and pulling on his arm till you grabbed the cleaner and ran. His laughs chased your own as you both wrestled for a while.

Both of you laid on the living room carpet, just enjoying the close presence.

His heart was at peace.

I'm okay,

I'm okay,

I feel a little bit sick

You had began to notice how Jae had been getting more dull. A year had passed since the night you pointed out the letters. It began to go all down hill from there.

He gave you the same love and affection he usually did, but his eyes held no emotion to big events outside. Alcohol had started to replace meals and sleep.

"Jae you need to eat." You laid a hand on his shoulder softly. "I'm actually going to go grab a drink with some of the boys." And like that. He was out of the apartment. Yet, everytime he came stumbling in the front door with a stench that could repel nuclear waste, you nurses him into bed. Setting an aspirin and water next to his head. Most nights didn't wrap up until 4 am when you knew he was home safe.

You slept with your arms wrapped strongly around his body, afraid he would try to get up and leave to drink again without you noticing.

Mornings would be a rough time as you awoke to a sick Jaehyun who couldn't tell left from right. You were there were comforting words and endless services if bet only asked.

His guilt ate at his chest till there was a free falling feeling that would cease when he took his first shot.

He knew he was getting bad again. He knew he needed to get help but everytime he woke up to face an aspirin and a cool glass of water, the guilt made him drink even more the next night.

He sometimes wished you would leave him to make this easier on you. He wished you would fall out of love and go to bed before he got home.

He wished you didn't introduce yourself in the first place.

But have you heard,

The story of the guy who decided not to die?

Jaehyun got clean again. He started being more present in reality and eventually returned to normal. Sometimes he did get carried away with the alcohol but you were there to help him put down the bottle.

He started openly hanging out with his friends in large gatherings where he didn't mind starting the conversation. He got addicted on life again.

You were all out on a big dinner. You and the other women of the mafia men gathered in the social room while Jae and his closest friends talked and joked around in the parlor.

"Want another drink?" Mark asked as he nudged Jae's elbow. "No I'm okay. I hit my limit for the night."

His friends were the most supportive people that he originally thought wouldn't be. Once be reached his limit, they all switched to fruity drinks followed by water. "So I need your guys' help with something." Jae smiled, taking the blue chalk and rubbing it on the worn end of the billiard's stick.

"What's up, dude?" Johnny asked and all the boys tuned into Jaehyun and his request. "I want to propose to y/n." He said and the room automatically erupted in shouts and cheers. "Sssshhhh." He tried to shush everyone. They remembered the presence of the women in the building and quickly shut up.

"Y/n said she wanted a wedding in the flower fields about.." Jae recalled the previous conversation he had with you. "2 hours from here?" He said and Hyuck automatically knew which ones he was talking about. "It's going to have to be a spring wedding!" He said excitedly and grabbing a pad of paper and a pen from his pocket.

"Alright, lover boy, spill." He said knocking all of the pool balls out of the way, "hey we were playing!" Doyoung protested and Hyuck could only write down the location of the fields, "I'm helping our brother get a wife. Go play with your balls somewhere else." He back handed which caused the room to erupt in laughter.

"Okay. Now. I'm going to need time to get the catering. I'm thinking pork," Hyuck rambled writing down the possible ideas, "or is she more of a chicken person?" he continued which caused some of the boys to chuckle at the wedding-excited nature no one knew Hyuck possessed in himself.

"Also I need to find a cake. I would make it myself but we all know that these beautiful hands would be wrinkly by the time I'm done icing cake for 500 people-" "500?!" Jae said loudly which caused Johnny to slap a hand over his younger friends mouth. "Well duh. That's a minimum." Donghyuck shook his head, drawing a picture of what the cake needed to look like. "amateur."

"I need to get the ring first." Jae said quietly and Taeyong piped in. "Don't even worry about it. I'll take you in the morning to the jewler's to pick out the bands and diamonds. Maybe you could get an engagement ring with her birth stone then the real ring with yours and your wedding band could have hers." Taeyong started rambling ideas, Hyuck writing lightning speed on the pad of paper.

"I call doing the gifts!" Mark and Jungwoo said at the same time. "I'm nominating myself as the planner." Hyuck said writing the roles down. "I'll get the tuxes for us." Taeil nominated himself for the job with a smile. "We need to get Yuta and the rest of the boys up here!" Doyoung brought up a good point.

"Yuta will just bring baby supplies. We're not telling him until a day before the ceremony." Hyuck pointed at the boys but was met with a hit upside the head from Johnny.

"I have to find out the color palette. I'll go to Renjun and then I'll go to Jaemin for the fireworks- Jisung will be the flower girl." Donghyuck kept rattling off things he needed to get done.

"Thank you for giving me this job. I won't let you down." He finally said, laying a hand on Jaehyun's shoulder.

"Better not. It need to be perfect for her. Perfection deserves perfection." Jae said and some gagged while other coo'd at his unwithering love you for you.

The chatty hustle didn't cease as Johnny patted on Jaehyun's shoulder. "You okay?" Johnny asked with a smile on his face. Jaehyun couldn't keep the smile off of his own face. "Never better. On cloud 9." He said and Johnny's heart eased from the constant fear of Jae not being here the next day. But he didn't need to worry anymore.

"I actually need to ask you." Jae said finally putting the polished stick down on the table. "Will you be my best man?" Johnny's eyes lit up like fireworks as he brought Jae in for a manly yet friendly hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Jaehyun."

I'm enamored with the thought of seeing angels in the sky singing,

Singing, "Everything's alright."

Jaehyun proposed the next week. You both went out to an amazing and fancy moonlit dinner where you both danced and decided to start this new journey together.

Then two days after the proposal, he relapsed the worst he has ever had. Johnny found him in your guys' apartment and immediately called you and everyone who he thought he could help.

It's now present day and you can only look at Jaehyun with guilt in your eyes.

The funeral was held in the flower fields you both planned to get married in. The day was cold and dark but he had never looked so happy in his final resting place. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the happiness you craved." You kissed his cheek before the lid was finally closed.

Now the marble had been set in place and you were alone again.

"I'm not mad. I'm jus-just so...so sorry." You wept, reaching out for him.

"I read the letter and can only ask. Why?"

The only things he had left was a damn note with the words, 'Sorry, My Dear' signing off the page as if he deemed it enough. As if his love had a capacity limit.

"I'm sorry you-you thought I was going to leave you if you told me you were so un-unhappy with life." Your stuttering didn't come to a stop as you could only imagine tears streaming down his own cheeks wherever he was in the universe. The feeling of being ashamed sent you reeling down where you had to support yourself on your knees.

The silent sobs hurt your chest as you had this free falling feeling in your chest getting more deeper. It was as if someone was pounding your chest with a drum mallot. Your heart was breaking as you felt a hand on your shoulder. Yet, you knew no one was there.

"You promised me forever." Your voice was shaky as you brushed the stray pieces of grass away from the marble in the ground.

'Jaehyun. Found happiness in where ours couldn't reach.'

"And I promise, Jae. I will love you...forever."

"And I'm so proud of you for making it this far." You whispered, fingers tracing his name on the polished marble for what felt like the millionth time.

You laid on the ground next to his resting place and looked into the vast blue sky where you imagined him reaching down to you; his soft voice that he used to sing you to sleep with carrying you with him to where you both could live happily ever after. You lifted your hands up as the tears came down.

"You did well."

[locatingself]

Colin McCahon

‘To Colin McCahon the essence of Christian Art appeared to lie in its absolute honesty. It seemed that a work of Christian Art could be produced by a man not living a Christian life and that such a work need not necessarily be good art or its subject matter be religious. McCahon came moreover to the opinion that Christian Art needed to manifest the suppression of the artist’s personality in his work, that is, an utter humility before the spirit of the work. The work hadto be honest and not “declaiming anything about the artist himself”.’30

L. Beiringa. (1975). Colin McCahon: ‘Religious’ Works 1946–52. 

https://www.mccahon.co.nz/sites/all/files/Q_of_F-Part1.pdf

Artist. C. McCahon. (1950) Easter Morning. [Painting]. Auckland Art Gallery. https://www.aucklandartgallery.com/explore-art-and-ideas/artwork/5308

‘From the end of 1946 until the early 1950s McCahon’s drawings and paintings reflected his interest in religious art. Selecting his subject matter from popularly-known biblical events and stories, he reinterpreted them in settings of contemporary New Zealand landscapes, putting emphasis on the spiritual and human values implicit in each scene.Towards the end of 1946 McCahon completed I Paul to you at Ngatimote 1946 (page 67), the first painting in which he placed a cast of biblical characters in the New Zealand countryside. 

Although the landscape itself is not paramount in the painting, the titling of the work specifically situates the biblical disciple Paul in a particular New Zealand locale, a farming community on the east bank of the Motueka River near Nelson. By choosing Ngatimote – the correct spelling of which is actually Ngatimoti, and which translates as ‘belonging to’ or ‘place of’ Timothy in Maori – McCahon alludes to Paul’s Letters to Timothy in the New Testament.In this year Gordon Tovey, with whom McCahon had studied in Dunedin, was appointed National Supervisor of Arts and Crafts. A significant feature of Tovey’s directorship was his promotion of the idea that Maori art was on a par with art produced by New Zealanders of European ancestry. This recognition contributed to an already growing interest in Maori culture.

Several of the images were based on McCahon’s memory of Renaissance paintings he had seen in books and chosen for their existential human meaning. Equally, people, places and incidents observed in McCahon’s daily life functioned as triggers. To use but one example, a power-line repairman observed climbing a telegraph pole became a figure climbing a ladder leaned against the Cross in Crucifixion (For Rodney Kennedy) 1947 (page 70).’

Artist. C. McCahon. (1947) Entombment (after Titian). [Painting]. Te Papa. https://collections.tepapa.govt.nz/object/44138

‘Colin McCahon’s interpretation of the execution of Jesus Christ on the cross borrows as much from a vernacular New Zealand setting and European Renaissance art as it does from the Bible’s high-tempo Gospel of Mark. McCahon’s plasticine-coloured hills and sky sing with primary school vibrancy. In the background, Jerusalem’s Temple curtain – which tore in two at the moment of Jesus’ death – is flung high from a simple country church. The speech balloons of Christ and those mocking him below, meanwhile, gain their sense of immediacy from the visual language of comic strips and small-town grocery store signage and packaging.’ 

Christchurch Art Gallery. (2020). As Time Unfolds. https://christchurchartgallery.org.nz/collection/82-50/colin-mccahon/crucifixion-according-to-st-mark

‘While I was at Rodney’s this weekend I saw your Crucifixion painting. It struck me greatly. Not that I am a competent critic of style; but this I found very moving. A Presbyterian rather than a Catholic occurrence. I mean – rawness, Christ suffering, not Christ triumphantly Son of God. The tags of speech are surprisingly successful, recalling (a) cartoon strips and (b) stained glass windows, though there one usually sees only the names of saints.’ James K Baxter in letter 

In McCahon’s work, Christianity is contextualised in NZ. This is really interesting because we are so used to seeing Christianity in Greek and Roman settings. But What I love about this is that Christianity is for every nation and is intended for all people, and so it should be linked to people, contextualised to their way of life. McCahon does this by bringing in the vernacular to these scenes . I love this because Jesus was God incarnate, and he lived a total human life - with eating, and being tired, and working for a living. Jesus lived the vernacular life, as well as the spiritual! They entertwine! One informs the other. Coming back to that spiritual linking to the physical world. 

It’s also interesting to note that McCahon was influenced by poet James K Baxter, who after sobering up and becoming a Christian, felt God calling him to serve a small Maori community ‘Jerusalem’ - a Maori settlement on the Whanganui River. Baxter went there to serve the marginalised people of the region. These artists also serving people... linking to the marginalised people. showing the relevance of Christ in relationship to us in every day, and to the marginalised in society.

‘In late 1968, as a result of a dream in which he heard the call ‘Go to Jerusalem’, Baxter travelled to a Maori settlement of the same name on the Whanganui River. Here he founded a community based on a fusion of Christian and Maori spiritual values. It provided a base for marginalised people – the drug-addicts, alcoholics, unemployed and homeless whom Baxter called, in Maori, his nga mokai (‘fatherless ones’) – and a place for sanctuary and healing. Here, in 1970, he wrote what is perhaps his best-known and acclaimed poem cycle, Jerusalem Sonnets.’

The pilgrimage of these artists McCahon and Baxter from art to faith, struggles with alcoholism, to serving the marginalised - particularly Maori people in NZ is really interesting to me personally because I am increasingly having dreams that head more this direction... eventually want to live up north with my partner to serve his iwi, having recently gotten involved with some volunteering work in conjunction with Auckland city Mission we have interest in serving marginalised people. And I keep trying to think how this all fits in with being an artist/designer. It’s very cool to know that people have travelled a similar path as creatives.

C. McCahon. (1979). May His Light shine. [Painting] Cornwall Park. https://www.mccahon.co.nz/cm001517

Also interestingly, McCahon’s work - particularly this religious period of work, got absolutely shredded for being ugly and a pretentious attempt at being religious. While quite honestly some of the depictions of Jesus scare me a bit because they are rather ’plasticine’ I think McCahon had a genuine heart that wanted to link these Biblical stories to vernacular Kiwi life, and did not want to avoid suffering. Even thinking about his context - NZ in a time that was filled with poverty Post war and the hard work of the land... these subjects have a deep relevance that in our modern western comfort we think we do not need.

C. McCahon. (1970). Scared. [Painting]. Te Papa. https://collections.tepapa.govt.nz/object/763435

‘A stark, blackboard-like image, Scared contains a brief text scrawled in white: ‘I am scared / I STAND UP’. These two phrases go to the heart of McCahon’s preoccupations: a confession of existential anxiety, couched in the most direct language, followed by a resounding declaration of courage and faith. The sense of urgency is reinforced by the script, which is hastily applied, spattering dots of white paint against the dark background.’

I love this so much. The rawness in McCahon’s work is the communication of a real faith. A wrestling that chooses to trust God regardless. the way faith infiltrates and touches all aspects of life. Someone who had failed and had doubts and struggled and chose faith regardless, and honest as every Christian should be, revealed his need for the grace of God. I also love the way McCahon uses text, this ‘typographical’ work makes me think about the link to design and the use of type to communicate.

M. Bloem, M. Browne. (2002). Colin McCahon: A Question of Faith. Craig Potton Publishing. https://www.mccahon.co.nz/questionoffaith