#he loves jet setting w me around the world

[lalunanymph]

♡ a glimpse into the world of dawn x rin

♫ Lykke Li · U Got It Bad - Recorded at Spotify Studios Stockholm

@ rin.itoshi: i thought we swore to never post abt that night we both drank too much......

if u see this u needddd to share ur selfship board and lore (no pressure) <3

[mimasroom2]

Hot tub time ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Ellie x reader modern au/slice of life

I have a hot tub but we need to get it fixed. I’m literally so eager so I wrote this LMAO. I LOVE SLICE OF LIFE ELLIE X READER SM!! Expect a bunch more, I have so many ideas written down😚 Im so sappy grrrr,,, I already wrote kinky ass sex so here’s soft sex for u guys😋

C/w: smut lol. Ellie + reader have their own house YAHOO! A bit of fluff in this one >•<. Au but Joel is still dead 😞. He’s mentioned like once. Cunnilingus😝 (r! Receiving) I feel so awkward using y/n like seriously and unironically ahhhh.

W/c: 2.4k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

“I’m actually so fucking bored I’m gonna gouge my eyes out.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. Ellie is always so damn dramatic. You glance over and she’s pretending to pull her hair out, large fistfuls in each hand.

You playfully shove her, “Okay, shut up Ellie.” And you both laugh. It was winter, and she was right… sadly. There was nothing to do during this time of year. Well, besides stay in and cuddle. The only problem was.. you’ve already done that. You two were both off work for the holidays, and you’ve already spent the wholeeeee vacation laying in bed together, so you guessed that Ellie wanted to do something a little more active.

“Wanna play Mario kart? I think the switch is in the bedroom.” You try suggesting, absentmindedly rubbing her leg.

“Nah,” she stretches her arms out on the couch, “Somethin’ more like physical yknow. Gotta keep these pretty muscles toned.” She winks at you, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re actually such a gym rat, you should just live there at this point.” You smirk to yourself, examining your nails.

“Maybe if I did I wouldn’t constantly trip on all the shit you leave around here.” Ellie remarks back, lightly kicking you on the knee.

“Hey, I keep it pretty clean considering we both share a room, thank you very much.” You cross your arms and huff.

Ellie gasps and starts kicking you more, so you yelp and start shoving her away. Suddenly she stops, holding out both her hands. “Holy fuck, babe. Yknow what I forgot about?”

“Huh.”

“Hot tub.”

You sit up at lighting speed, “OH DAMN YOURE RIGHT!” You actually can’t believe you forgot about that thing. You try to remember the last time you even used it.. must have been last summer. The hot tub was one of things that you’re OBSESSED with at first, but then you use it one too many times and you forget about it for a couple months. And then the cycle continues.

Ellie leaps off the couch and bolts down the hall. “GET YOUR SWIMSUIT ON WE ARE GOING IN!!”

~

You come outside and see Ellie lifting up the top of the hot tub. The whole things underneath a roof outside, so there’s not much snow in the porch where you two are standing, but it’s still really cold. You look up at the sky. The sun is starting to set, it’s been a little over an hour since you two had dinner. Delicious deer soup that Ellie made from when she went hunting a couple days ago. You always said that if Ellie was stuck in a post apocalyptic world, she would survive.

You suddenly remember the cold air hitting you, breaking you out of your thoughts of your girlfriend. You shiver, and pull the robe you’re wearing tighter around your body. You glance over at Ellie still messing with the top of the hot tub. All Ellie’s wearing is her classic swimsuit: plain black top and swim shorts. Her tattoo flexes as she finally pops the top off and turns the hot tub on.

You jump up and down in your slippers, trying to move to stay warm. “Ellieeee how much longer?”

She reaches down into the water and starts poking around at the buttons and jets. “Hold your horses, y/n, I gotta check all the filters n shit. Haven’t used this in a hot minute.”

“Mmmm I know but it’s cold.” You groan in protest. You know damn well you’re being a brat, but you swear you’re not built for any weather too hot or too cold.

“Well you wanna shut up and help me? Make it go by faster..” She looks up at you and you shake your head vigorously. “Yeah thas’ what I thought.” She smirks at you.

After what felt like foreverrrrr in the cold, Ellie turns the jets on and says you can hop in. There’s steam coming off the water as it hits the cold air. You can barley wait, you’re hyping the hot tub up in your mind. It’s something that feels like a luxury to you. The only thing that can make you stop thinking about your precious hot tub is your precious Ellie. You look up at her and get butterflies, even though you two have been dating for about 2 years now. She looks soooo beautiful, just standing there, folding up the tarp from the tub. You shake your head, thinking it’s so damn stupid to be drooling over your girlfriend who’s literally just standing there, doing the most mundane possible thing.

Some snow falls on top of your head so you brush it off. It’s getting too cold for you. You lick your lips, turning around to shed your rob, you’re still slightly shy undressing in front of Ellie, even though you’re still in a swimsuit. You hang your cute pink robe up on the hook where the towels you brought out are.

Turning back around to head into the tub, you see Ellie with her back towards you, messing around with the water guns from last summer. You check her out unapologetically, looking at her ass before you snap into reality again and take your slippers off to step into the hot tub. The hot water feels like it burns your skin, compared to the cold winter air. You take a couple minutes slowly sliding more of your body deeper into the water.

Ellie turns around, with one water gun still in her hand. “Feel alright, babe? Not too hot?”

You sink in deeper, up to your neck, “Mm feels good.” And then rise up again slowly, “Come in, Els. I’m gettin’ bored in here.”

“Oh yeah?” She closes one eye and lifts up the gun, suddenly shooting a short stream of cold ass water at you. “Not so bored now, huh?” She laughs and walks closer to you.

Your jaw drops and you scream when the water hits you, “ELLIEEEEE WHAT THE FUCKKKK!”

“What?” She fakes a pout, lowering the water gun. “I told you I gotta keep these muscles in good shape, right?”

Before you can retort, she’s already getting in the hot tub. “God, shove over. I’m freezing.” She accidentally splashes you as she’s hastily getting in.

“Ellieeeee! Don’t splash me! >~<“ you whine, but she just laughs, and this time splashes you on purpose. You sigh dramatically at all her antics.

She doesn’t reply, and just sinks in deeper, and you take no shame in watching her stretch her body out. Ellie groans slightly at the hot water enveloping her body. You sigh and blink at her, watching her eyebrows furrow. She slowly leans her head back against the headrest of the hot tub. You swear she’s egging you on, because she moans softly, giving you the perfect view of her neck, which she knows is your favorite place to kiss her. Suddenly, Ellie opens her eyes and says something that breaks you out of the trance you’ve had all day, “You keep lookin’ at me. What’s goin’ on?”

You let yourself float away from her in the water ever so slightly, “Nothing. I’m not looking at you.”

“Yknow I can like,,, feel your eyes burning into my back whenever you stare at me.”

You cover your face with your hands and

face away from her. She laughs to herself. She finds it so cute you still get flustered around her even after all this time you’ve been together.

“That’s too bad because I’m reallyyyy not looking at you.”

Instead of a snarky remark back, Ellie’s abnormally silent. You slowly bring your hands down to face her again, and she’s just looking at you with this look in her eyes. You think it’s somewhere in between concern and contemplation. “You trust me, right?” She says softly, after a few moments. You’re surprised, this is probably the quietest Ellie’s ever been with you.

“Of course I do. What’s wrong, Ellie?” Her tone is completely different than what you’re used to. This only happens on the rare occasion you guys have a disagreement. Or when you talk about something serious.

“Jus’ don’t want you thinking I’m gonna leave you.” She says, almost ashamed. She’s fidgeting with her fingers like how she always does, and avoiding your gaze.

You laugh softly. “Were you….. going to?” You can feel your heart rate speeding up.

Ellie’s eyes widen, “No. no no no.” She sighs, slowly, taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. “I get scared thinking about the future.” She mutters.

You look up at her. You knew Ellie gets scared. Of course she does. When she told you about Joel dying on what, your second date, you knew she’s not as… sturdy.. as she pretends to be sometimes. But that was in the past, and to hear Ellie admit she is worried about her own life ahead of her.. honestly made you surprised.

“Like.. I just want you to know that I’m always gonna be here for you.” She looks so concerned, like she might cry if you guys talk about this for any longer. She’s still looking down, trying to make herself smaller.

“Oh, Ellie.” You raise your hand up and softly tilt her chin to look at you. “I know. Okay? And nothing bad is gonna happen to you. Or me. Or us.”

She looks into your eyes for a second, before she gently tucks your hair behind your ear, leans in, and kisses you.

The kiss is as soft as she’s been talking - all emotion and thought as her lips move slowly against yours. She puts her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. You sigh into the kiss. She was so tender with you right now. You were so used to fervent and desperate make out sessions with her. Not that that was bad, at all, but you didn’t realize how nice of a change this was until it was happening. You grab her waist, pulling her in closer to you. All of her is so soft and warm against you: her lips, tattooed arm, thighs.. and not just because you two were in the hot tub.

She pulls away to look at you, and you want to melt from the look on her face. She looks like she’s actually in heaven.

“I really love you.”

You smile softly at her, tracing over her tattoo lightly with your finger. “I love you too.” You pull her back into a kiss. After a couple more minutes, she’s more intent with her movements, like how she usually is. She’s not afraid to run her hands over your thighs and squeeze you nipple under your swimsuit.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and moan a little into her mouth.

She pulls away, “Cmon, baby. Need more of that.” and kisses you again, almost immediately licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance. She’s not as soft anymore, back to her usual self wanting to make you moan in pleasure as she works your body. You don’t even try fighting for dominance, just letting her tongue dance around yours as she pleases.

“Ellie…” is all you have to say, and she understands, shifting her position to let you have more of her. You want to press yourself down onto her, and please you both at the same time. You lift your legs up, trying to hook them around her, but you start floating away in the water. You’re not even going fast, it’s so comical how slow the jets are pushing you. You snort and reach out to grab Ellie’s hand.

“Ohmygod!” Ellie starts laughing and she grabs your hand, “Can’t exactly scissor in the water, I guess.” You blush and scoff at how forward she can be.

“Cmere. Let’s get ya propped up.”

You untie the knots on you bikini bottoms to take them off, tossing them somewhere you’ll pick up later. She grabs your hand and gently guides you to sit on the edge of the hot tub, on one of the corners so you don’t lean back and fall off. She brings your arm down to her face, and kisses you on the back of the hand. You smile and giggle. You swear you feel like a little girl again. You’re a princess and Ellie is your prince. You glance up at the sky - the sun is setting. An array of orange and pinks.

Ellie’s below you, turning down the jets of the tub a little, and getting into her favorite position: right between your thighs. You really couldn’t ask for a more perfect fantasy if you tried.

“This okay?” She asks, lightly rubbing your thigh with her thumb.

“Yes,” you breathe out, “please, Ellie.”

From where she is, you’re practically a goddess towering above her. You feel powerful and confident, and fucking desperate, wanting Ellie to just devour you already.

Ellie only hums in response before kissing your clit. You gasp sharply, you swear no matter how many times she eats you out you could never get used to the heavenly feeling. Her tongue starts lapping you up, and you moan loudly. You silently thank the neighbors for never being outside late during the winter, and that the hot tub is reasonably private, so no one can see you.

Maybe it’s just the cold frigid night air in comparison to Ellie’s warm, wet mouth, but you swear this is some of the best head she’s ever given you. Ellie never stopped licking and kissing at your clit - eventually she didn’t know if you were shaking from the sex or shivering because of the cold, but either way, she could tell from the volume of your moans that you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Mmmmmm- gonna cum soon..”

Ellie just nods, her face still buried into you. You can feel her cute little nose bumping up against you, and both her hands are up on your knees, spreading your thighs open for her.

She knows you’re close when you start whimpering and gasping for air.

“Ohmygod ohmygod Ellie,, fuck- you’re gonna make me cum..”

As soon as you warn her you’re throwing your head back, and your hips snap up as your orgasm takes over you. She keeps licking you clean until your breathing slows and you let yourself sink back down into the hot water.

You can’t even think of anything to say, so you grab Ellie’s arm and wrap it around you, as a way to ask her to cuddle you.

“Always such a cuddle bug after you cum..” Ellie mutters, mostly to herself, as she rests her head on yours.

You just chuckle and look up into the sky as the sun finally sets. You sigh in and out the cold winter air. Ellie kisses the top of your head, whispering one more ‘I love you’ as she pulls you closer into her arms.

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[ohtobeleah]

The Marksman // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: When Bradley Bradshaw, the most senior chief sniper with the NCIS, is called out to a hostage situation, he comes face to face with his greatest fear in life. His fiancée is on the hostage list.

Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw NCIS au. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Gun violence. Hostage situation. Injuries inflicted on reader due to gun violence. Heavy themes.

Word Count: 8.6k

Author Note: This has been this fanfic’s third rewrite for its third fandom and I will take it with me to every fandom I end up in. This is also not to be confused with my NCIS series. And you don’t have to have seen NCIS to read this. xxx ~ Leah

Bradley Bradshaw or “Rooster” As most of the world knew him better as— (He himself had always prepared the casual nickname over anything else) had a unique skill set. 

He simply. Never. Missed. 

His ability was unparalleled. He was undoubtedly the most skilled and above all the highest-ranking Marksman in the NCIS - The Naval. Criminal. Investigative. Service. Beside Rooster, there was Jake Seresin. His best friend, his partner. His annoying voice of reason and brother in arms. 

Wherever Bradley Bradshaw went Jake Seresin wasn’t far behind. Gone were the days where they’d dick around in pre-flight checks, gone were the days where they’d spend hours pulling G’s and soaring high as jet fuel burned up in the atmosphere. A dynamic duo that served to be more humbling than most, had an incredibly intense and demanding job title. 

Bradley though, well he always made time to enjoy the little things in life in and amongst the highly stressful and sometimes dangerous situations he found himself in. 

It was something new, something he didn’t really see the point in for a long time. To stop and smell the roses from time to time. Life was seemingly precious and beautiful, although Bradley more than most people knew that in the blink of an eye things could change. That worlds could be turned inside and on their head and shaken to their very foundations. 

He’d lost his father at a young age. So young he barely remembered the figment of his father that still remained in his memory—the only faces he could picture now were those he saw in photographs his mother used to have scattered around his childhood home. He kept those photographs and now proudly displayed them above the fireplace in his home, his mother and father had weaved themselves in and out of medallions and awards that over the years Rooster had accumulated. 

His mother, Carole, had unexpectedly passed a few years before he joined the Naval Academy, leaving him hollow. Bradley droned on through life on autopilot, just doing what he had to do in order to get where he wanted to go. 

But how could Rooster not enjoy the life he’d built for himself, how could he not bask in the glory of the success he’d had in two highly demanding job titles. How could Bradley not love every second of every day that passed him by, how could he not? When he had the most beautiful and intelligent woman by his side. You. Y/n Y/l/n, or soon to be Y/n Y/l/n-Bradshaw. A stunning white gold engagement ring wrapped around your delicately manicured finger most days of the week if not all the days that ended in, well, day. A symbol of love and commitment, a physical reminder of the love Rooster had for you. He wanted you in his life forever. He’d love you forever and a day and you him.

Rooster just adored his soon to be wife, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world to have your perfect self by his side. Every morning before Rooster went to work you would make him a coffee and a slice of avocado toast. It was just a part of your love language—acts of service. Making sure your soon to be husband was always well fed and maintained a balanced diet was just a small step in that process. 

You were his backbone, without you? Rooster was pretty sure he’d implode. He’d be stuck with Jake and although he loved him dearly, Rooster had already decided that wasn’t an option he was willing to take. 

Life was hard—challenging at times and sometimes Rooster was the taker of that challenging life. That fact could weigh heavily on even the toughest of men. It was something Bradley was plagued with, nightmares riddled his memory, and stole energy from him on taxing days. It made him question almost daily what type of man he was, who he was protecting, why he was the way he was. What was the reason behind the path his life had led? But with you by his side, life could be a little good, life could be just a little great, life could be somewhat perfect for even just a moment......until it wasn’t.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about this particular morning. Rooster groaned as his alarm went off at a crisp 4am, the smell of his fiancée freshly cleaned hair a soothing note in the air around him. Hints of juniper and raspberries danced across the pillows you’d fallen asleep on. 

His back stung—marks from last night and nights prior still prominent and deep. Your cat claws had scratched at his muscles when he’d hit deep—hit hard. Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist, his tight hold and bulging muscles held you tight in his grip. The gentle touch of warm flesh was strikingly different to the cool of the morning air that threatened to take you hostage, that threatened to steal you away from the warmth of your soon to be husband and comfortable bed. 

“Mornin.” Rooster grumbled into your soft and supple neck. Small and delicate goosebumps soon littered your skin as you smiled softly and moaned in response, snuggling into the covers a little more as Bradley’s hands groped at your breast from under the shirt you’d stolen from him. “Mornin honey.” 

“No, not mornin, stay in bed—“ You incoherently mumbled back, eyes still closed. Face pressed heavily into your pillows. “Stay in bed just for five more minutes.” It was a plea that fell on deaf ears as Bradley leaned in to kiss your cheek and shoulder lovingly. 

“Can’t.” He chuckled softly. “Gotta have a shower.” Untangling himself from his semi-naked fiancée, Bradley took a second to admire your beauty. Bradley really was in love, oh so in love. He thought he’d never find this kind of love until he met you. 

While Rooster showered—revelling in the steam that opened his pores as he sat on the built-in step, you trudged your tired self into the kitchen with fuzzy slippers adorning your feet and began your morning ritual. Two coffees, two pieces of avocado toast and a face mask. Time? 4:15am 

Sitting at the dining table with your laptop open, you slowly sipped at your coffee as you began paying the monthly bills. You were always smart with numbers, with maths in general. Specifically financial statements and savings. 

As a banker, you were always in your own head dealing with other people’s financial positions. So much so you sometimes disregarded your own health and well-being, you’d only just noticed that the smell of the freshly smashed avocado made you want to vomit as you raised it closer to your mouth. Gagging as you placed it back onto the plate. 

 It smelt like rotting flesh.

Without thinking too much into it you pressed finalise payments for yours and Rooster ’s monthly bills. Forgetting you hadn’t added the phone bill yet. A pretty substantial payment in all honesty. 

“Oh god—“ You held a hand across your mouth as you gagged and rushed over to the sink to spill your guts. Coughing and spewing the content of your stomach which technically wasn’t much being so early in the morning—but that didn’t change the fact you genuinely loved avocados.

As you washed your hands and mouth out— you sighed leaning on the bench. Wiping the evidence of your sudden throw up from the corner of your chin as your soon to be husband rounded the corner, fixing his casual button-down. Hair still wet like an ungroomed labrodour. Mustache perfectly combed as you lost sight of the tufted of chest hair Bradley covered up as he finished doing his shirt up. 

“You good mama?” That nickname sent shivers down your spine. A true shock to the system—you and Rooster hadn’t been actively trying. You both wanted to wait until after the wedding. But then again, you hadnt been actively trying to prevent things either. 

You stood there biting your lip in a trance-like state for a few seconds. Having an existential crisis as to whether or not you should tell Rooster you just chucked at the smell of avocados, ultimately you opted to keep quiet. You didn’t want to get his hopes up, you knew he wanted to be a father more than anything else in life. 

“I’m fine— just a little off this morning? I might actually go back to bed when you leave.” You weren’t lying per se, you really were feeling sick.

“Maybe you should call in sick? Can someone take your shift?” Rooster asked, sipping the coffee you’d ever so nicely made him. Toast in his other hand dropping crumbs all over his shirt as you reached to dust them off for him. “Want my girl always feeling fine.” You couldn’t help but let out a soft scoff at the term of endearment that fell effortlessly from Bradley Bradshaw's lips ever so gently. You had always been and would always be his girl. 

“Despite want you want, Bradshaw, sometimes life isn’t always the fairest and we get stuck with unforeseen sickness.” You were smart—always had a comeback that left Rooster speechless with your ability to communicate. “Guess my number was up.” 

“You know–” Rooster reached down to place a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I wish I could stay and play nurse with you honey.” Rooster teased as he took a bite of his avocado toast. “But I’m already running late.” Your soon to be husband moved away as he smiled, glancing at the laptop as he did so. “You paid the bills already?” He asked, a frown apparent on his face at the total figure at the bottom of the screen. 

“Yeah it’s lower than I thought it wou—“

“Where’s the phone bill, did we already pay it separate this month or--” Rooster quickly glanced over the total amount breakdown. The penny dropped in your head as you felt another bout of sickness threatening to blow. 

“Oh shit, I must’ve missed it, here I’ve got time I’ll fix it up now—“ With a mouthful of food Rooster sighed in slight frustration.

“Yeah, that would be great bub.” Bradley finished his coffee in a hurry. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s more of an Inconvenience really—I’m definitely looking forward to that late fee.” Rooster scoffed back a little groan as he picked his jacket up from the coat rack by the front door. “I gotta go, I’m already late—bye beautiful!” Before shutting the door. The sound of his keys rattled through your head as you stood in the kitchen frazzled with what had just happened.

Rooster never left without saying ‘I love you’ Rooster never left without a goodbye kiss. And he just had. Why now? Did he see through your white lie? Did he already know somehow before you did? You hadn’t even taken a test! Was Rooster running away from you? Did he not want a child with you? What happened to wanting to be a father? Did he change his mind all of a sudden? All the possibilities that could have triggered Rooster’s sudden departure rushed through your sensitive head. But all it was was he was running late. 

Rooster hit his hands on the steering wheel of his car when he realised what he’d done. He’d blatantly forgotten to tell his soon to be wife he loved you wholeheartedly. Forgot in a flurry to get out the door and off to work to kiss your soft and supple lips goodbye. Rooster swore he’d buy you flowers on his way home. That would make you smile. Surely that would make it up to you. A gentle reminder of how much he loved you.

Because he did love you endlessly—without you? Bradley Bradshaw would be well, nothing. 

***~***~***~***~***~

“Dude? You’re fucking late?” Jake mumbled from his desk as he saw the elevator open to reveal his MIA partner. Bradley had given Jake Seresin his callsign way back in their days at the naval academy, before they could tolerate one another. As it turned out the callsign transferred quite seamlessly as they transitioned into a new chapter of their lives. Together and apart. 

Jake was always late—especially while his wife was away. No one was around to keep him in check. Hangman always left Rooster hanging. Unintentionally and without malice. He just never got the timing right on traffic. 

“You’re never late!” 

“Good thing I’m here now huh.” Rooster sassed as he walked past Jake at his desk and dropped to his. Despite being a senior in his own department, Rooster still liked working in the field with Jake. It was their thing. A dynamic duo of utter mayhem and chaos. “What’s in the stack today?” Rooster sighed and kicked his feet up onto his deck. Jake couldn’t help but let out an exaggerated groan as he picked up the three case files and did the same. Mimicking Rooster from across the little hall that separated their decks. 

“We got a domestic on the naval base—according to the report her husband came back from deployment and was acting strange, she questioned him, he spazzed out and now she’s filing charges.”

“Fair call.” Rooster responded, nodding in solidarity with Mrs Rogers. 

“Then we have a body that turned up in an old naval cemetery. We think it’s something unrelated and that’s just where he ended up so we might turn that over to the FBI.” Jake chucked the files down onto his desk. “And finally I think I found missing Seamen Lang.”

“No fucking way!” Rooster couldn’t help but laugh. Semen lang has been missing for four months. He was meant to be on deployment but on a goodwill shore visit in Indonesia he vanished.

“Yeah, shaking up with his mistress in Mexico of all places.” Jake scoffed. “So he’s being brought back as we speak.”

“Jesus Jake when Spiders away you really do throw yourself into work huh?” Rooster asked almost rhetorically—he already knew the answer.

Annabella Webb, or Annabella Seresin. Jake's beautiful chef of a wife. The most amazing cook according to Jake who lived off ready meals and takeaway while she was on deployment–which was this very second. With her maiden name being Webb— the navy calls all Webb’s by the nickname spider. Get it? Spider Web.

“Anna” Jake emphasised, “Will get nothing but my undivided attention when she gets home.” Jake sighed, rubbing his temples and leaning on his desk. “Bro I miss her so much uugghhh— I can’t believe she’s gone for another four months!”

“You should come around more? I’m sure Y/n wouldn’t mind?” Rooster asked as he watched Jake wipe a soft tear from his eye. Shaking off his emotions.

“I don’t wanna intrude—“

“Jake? Shut the fuck up and get your ass over for a few drinks tonight? I’ll text Y/n when she goes on her break at twelve.”

“You sure?” Jake replied, he was getting pretty lonely on the naval base. Having a home on the confines of the Navy’s barracks.

“I’m positive— look I’m gonna go say morning to Angelo down in the armoury but I’ll be back soon.” Rooster stood up from his desk and tapped Jake on the shoulder on his way past. A teasing smirk plastered on his face.

“I bet your right arms fucking jacked up though?” Rooster laughed as he walked away. Jake swatted at the semi-stable six foot man just a little too late as he walked down the hall.” 

“Fuck off Bradshaw.”

***~***~***~***~***~

The first few hours of your shift were as normal and routine as they could possibly have been. Dealing with clients, setting up loans and repayments, laughing with co-workers, you really did love your job. Dealing with numbers and helping people with their financial problems and situations was a passion, it never really felt like just a nine to five to get by. 

But there was this one guy. This guy you had noticed probably half an hour prior, sitting in the same spot he’d been sitting in the first time you had seen him. With his bag beside him—he looked all kinds of nervous.

You were just about to go on your break, about to fix yours and Rooster ’s phone bill up. You should’ve walked straight out the door. But you didn’t.

“Are you being served, sir?” You asked politely with a smile. The same smile you’d give Rooster when he kissed your cheek. Almost a second nature tick. “If not, would I be happy to assist you? Sorry about the inconvenience if you’ve been waiting an awful while.” 

“No, no one ever listens to me.” He scoffed. It wasn’t a response you were really prepared for.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir? We’re you looking for a consultation or a financial advisor or—“

“I SAID—“ The man got up, startling you as he towered over you—so close you had to back up. The bank stopped as if time stood still. “NO ONE FUCKING LISTENS!!” The man pulled out a gun he’d had concealed from his back pocket as he tangled his fingers into your hair. Pulling you close to him. 

“Owww—s-stop oh my god—“ You were panicking, your eyes instantly welled with fear as he threw you down to the ground. You could hear people screaming and running as the disgruntled man fired three direct shots into the roof. 

“But they’ll FUCKING LISTEN NOW!!”

***~***~***~***~***~

Jake was still at his desk when he was called to the debriefing room, his initial thought was ‘great, another case’ Not understanding that in a few short minutes his life and the life his best friend had known was about to change. Forever.

“Director Gordon.” Jake greeted the masculine man who looked as if he was about to give a debriefing that was as serious as it gets. Jake walked down the stairs cautiously and stood next to Rooster who was already waiting with Angelo.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Jake asked—crossing his arms across his chest in confusion.

“No idea seems serious though, while I was shooting targets I saw the guys pulling up in the vans. Next thing I knew—“

“Okay ladies,” Director Gordon clapped his hands together as he fixed his microphone, making sure his deep baritone voice could be heard from the front all the way to the back of the amphitheatre-style room. “We have a major situation, unfortunately, unfolding as we speak, so to get out as quickly as possible I need your undivided attention.” Director Gordon sighed. Hands on either side on the podium he stood behind.

“Ex-Navy lieutenant Jonathan Walker has, at 12:05 today, started a hostage like situation in the Bank on the corner of Wilson Road and Downmary Avenue.” Rooster wasn’t a pro at geography, but it didn’t take an expert geographer to know where his fiancée worked—he felt as if his heart stopped beating in his chest and threatened to explode all at once.  He forgot how to breathe. Suddenly Rooster heard this high-pitched ringing in his ears as he felt his heart race. Rooster was panicking.

“We can neither confirm or deny at this point in time if his actions are related to his recent dismissal on the basis of physical abuse onboard his last deployment, nor can we say at this moment in time if his actions are directly related to his recent attempt, and rejection, in relation to a job he tried to procure at this very bank. What we can confirm is that the NCIS is actively partaking and in charge of operations to defuse the situation in cooperation with the FBI.” Director Gordon stated. “This is the official media report I’d like you all to memorise in case of media interference.”

Rooster went pale, he stumbled a bit and crashed into Jake's shoulder. His vision had gone blurry with tears that threatened to spill over from his water line. 

“Bradshaw, you good? Why do you look as if you’re about to pass out—?” Jake asked quietly and with concern.

“Y/n—she, she works there.” It clicked instantly for Jake—but he didn’t want to worry his partner. Didn’t want him to spiral. Especially not in a debriefing.

“I’m sure she’s fine? 12:05? She’s on break, right? She’s probably out of the building?” Jakes words soothed Rooster for a second. His heartbeat regulated as calm washed over his body. You had to be fine. Fate wouldn’t do that to him. To his darling fiancée. To them. Not after losing his parents. Whatever god was watching over him wouldn’t do this to him again would he? 

“We’ll have snipers set up in the surrounding building including senior chief Bradshaw, we request your expert skills on the ground this time around instead of giving orders to your team from headquarters.” Director Gordon explained. “We want men surrounding the entire building— Special agent Bradshaw will lead ground unit A in addition to special agent Homes with ground unit B.” Rooster felt as if he wasn’t in his own body. He was looking in on himself from the outside.

When everybody was dismissed and sent on their way to gear up, Rooster was distant. In his own head, hoping, praying his girl wasn’t, hadn’t been in the building at the time Walker decided to have his breakdown.

“Yo Rooster!” Jake cried out, trying to get his wingman’s attention. “Rooster !” He called again.

“Hmm?” Rooster responded when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Director wants you— said it was of importance.” Jake softened his voice, knowing that the reality of the situation was his what felt like a sister in law quite possibly could be on the list of hostages. Rooster nodded softly as he stepped aside—director Gordon approached the van Rooster and Jake found themselves nearest to.

“Bradley” Gordon sighed. “Your fiancées' name please?” It came out more of an order than anything else.

“Y/n sir, Y/n Y/l/n,” Rooster responded softly, but like a soldier, shakingly.

“I thought so—unfortunately son your fiancée's name has shown up on the list of people being held inside the bank no—“

“Jesus,” Jake swore under his breath even though he had a gut feeling deep down.

“No—no, no no no no she can’t be sir, no I—“ Rooster ’s eyes watered when director Gordon placed his hand on his shoulder trying his best to comfort the man who needed to keep his shit together.

“Bradley, I need you to focus on your job, yeah? You gotta get your girl and me taking you off this case isn’t what will help her now is it?” Gordon raised his brows as Rooster looked to the roof and let out a sigh - stopping himself from crying out in utter heartache. “I will relay any and all information that comes through to you alright? I promise.” Rooster nodded. “We’ll get her back, Bradshaw.” Gordon poked Rooster ’s chest. “You’ll get your girl.”

***~***~***~***~***~

You sat curled up in the corner—shivering from fear. Terrified beyond belief as this man you knew for not even a millisecond of time now held the power to save lives and take them away. A modern-day grim reaper.

“You’ll all be lucky if you leave here alive,” He spat as he trudged through the lobby - scared souls spread out in littered groups. Huddling together in fears of being alone in their final moments. You, however? You were alone. Separated from her co-workers.

“You all know NOTHING of betrayal!!“ Walker hissed as he cocked his rifle. “Pain, Hurt, Sorrow. God, I’ll blow this place to FUCKING smithereens before I ever feel rejection again! DO YOU HEAR ME!” Walker shouted caused you to jump, whimpering in the corner as you cried your eyes out.

“Ohhh— do I scare you, sweetheart, do I? Huh?” Walker laughed as he sauntered over to where you had hidden. Dragging you out into the centre of the lobby by your hair. A frightening moment. Flailing – you screamed and cried in so much fear, consuming your entire being.

“Stop! No—no no no p-please let go!”

“I’m gonna hurt you,” Walker chuckled. “Hurt you so bad, make an example out of you that the fucking higher-ups can’t boss us the fuck around and not feel the consequences.”

“Whatever you’re going through you don’t have to do this— you don’t, don’t have to—“. It didn’t hurt at first, the sound ringing in your ear was honestly the thing that got you the most in the first few seconds. Then came the pain. The excruciating, stinging, wet pain that radiated through your shoulder. You could only assume you’d been shot— in shock you were silent. Your hand came up to cover over the wound that leaked dark oozing blood. Your hand was covered in seconds.

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do or I’ll shoot you right between your fucking eyes— WHOS NEXT!? huh? You!” Walker pointed to one of your co-workers. The barrel of his gun in her face.

“Get me a fucking phone.”

***~***~***~***~***~

Rooster trembled as he walked up the stairs in the Westpack building, adjacent to where his beautiful soon to be wife and 15 of your co-workers were being held hostage. At this moment in time, there had been no reports of hostages injured. The first of many unreported events to happen that day. Rooster was at this moment in time - oblivious to the injury you had been subjected to. If he knew? He’d lose it.

Rooster set himself up, his sniper rifle-armed and loaded, directly facing the bank. Laying on his stomach— Rooster adjusted his earpiece, looking through his magnifier with one eye closed. Manoeuvring his rifle slowly to identify possible hostages, trying to find his beloved fiancée, while also looking for his target.

“Foxtrot in position.” Rooster stated. “Loaded and waiting for further instruction— over.”

“Yeah Roos, it's Jake man, cut the lingo for a second, will you?” Jake groaned from the ground. “Reports have just come in that he’s wearing a dead man’s switch.” Rooster’s heart froze—Walker wearing a bomb meant if Rooster took the shot he’d for sure kill every single person in the building.

“It’s gotta be a bluff” Rooster responded strong. “He wouldn’t be?” He was in total and utter denial.

“Rooster, we can’t take that fucking risk bro stand down!” Jake ordered. Although Rooster was chief in his specific unit—Jake had all eyes and ears on the ground. Rooster himself? Was isolated in the building across the street.

“Director Gordon, do you read?” Rooster sighed as he switched channels from his walkie.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, you have eyes on Walker?” Gordon asked as he watched news reports play on the enormous screen before him. It was a tactic the director didn’t use all too often but referring to Rooster as Lieutenant Bradshaw kept him grounded. Taking him back to when life and death decisions were paper thin. When G forces and jet fuel were his life. 

“No sir not yet, however—“

“You are to only observe if the target walks into frame, that man is wearing an explosive device according to his threats and intent.” Rooster wasn’t going to argue then and there on the spot —he’d wait till later. His heart was racing as he searched each available window for any sign of life.

“I need an update Director,” Rooster growled.

“Walker has made demands we can’t possibly fulfil, we have a standoff situation taking place but until we can confirm or deny the presence of an explosive device I ask you to remain in an observatory state marksman Bradshaw .”

Time stood still for Rooster as a soft tear rolled down his cheek, he let out a sigh of pain and despair as Rooster nodded in response. Knowing his silence was a good enough response. 

“Yes sir.” He whimpered as his lip quivered. His beautiful fiancée so desperately needed him and all he could do was watch—not knowing your current state. Rooster wouldn’t even come close to knowing for another five painstaking hours.

***~***~***~***~***~

“Rebecca.” You whispered as you leaned your head on her co-workers shoulder. “Becca you gotta get out of here— see the side door behind us?” You asked as Rebecca slowly and shakingly turned—nodding as she saw it was slightly ajar. “I’m gonna distract him and-“ You couldn’t help but cough a little as pain radiated through your bloodied and mangled shoulder as you did so. “And you’re gonna run, tell the police he doesn’t have a bomb, tell them everything he’s done, okay? You have to.” You knew that the police outside would be trying to confirm if there was a threat of a bomb.

“Y/n, you’re injured—“

“I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try.” You slowly pulled a positive pregnancy test from your pocket. You’d taken it in the bathroom before you started work. Zipping it in your skirt pocket to show Rooster later that day. “You have to help me by getting out of here, get as many girls to follow you? Understand?” Rebecca nodded as she softly whimpered. Walker was over on the other side of the lobby making one of the cashiers empty any and all of the tills at the foreign exchange units.

“Go, hurry!” You whisper-shouted as you slowly stood. Rebecca shuffled on her ass across the floor away from you as you whimpered in pain. Walker wasted no time in pointing his gun directly at you as you dropped the test you held in your hand to the ground as you raised her hands above your head. An agonising scream left your throat as your shoulder popped. The sound of your pain was loud enough to cover the sound of Rebecca fleeing through the side door—along with two others.

“I—I need something to stop m-myself f-from bleeding out?” You whimpered as you walked slowly but ultimately closer to the man. You were beyond terrified. Nothing about this made sense, why you? Why these people at this mundane time. Why was any of this happening? 

“Get the FUCK back against the wall before— hey wait a minute where?” Oh no you thought. He’d noticed. “Where the FUCK did the rest of those girls go!! YOU SNEAKY LITTLE BITCH” Walker yelled as he pointed his gun and fired a bullet into your thigh only to turn around and fire two direct rounds into the skull of your co-worker John who was emptying the tills.

“AAAHH—!” You screamed as you dropped to the floor—another one of your co-workers Andrea rushed to your side.

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god,” She repeated in panic as she held you in her lap. She knew it was bad— seeing the positive pregnancy test on the ground before Walker picked it up and chucked it at the nearest wall. Andrea was a good person, she put her own life on the line so you wouldn’t be alone in your final moments if the god she so desperately prayed to took another young life too soon. “I’m here Y/n I’m here.” 

It would inevitably be Homes who started a chain reaction of misplaced information that fateful day. As Rebecca rounded the corner into the street she ran with her hands above her head and tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a bittersweet moment. On one hand, she was safe, on the other her co-workers, including a just revealed to be pregnant you, were still trapped in a life threatening situation.

“Ma’am,” Homes gasped. “Ma’am you’re safe now I’m—“

“He doesn’t hav-have a bomb, do wh-whatever you need to d-do with that information to get my friends the fuck out of there!” Rebecca cried before she fell into the arms of David Homes.

But Homes never passed the message on, a hostage who had just fled the clutches of a captor had given grade A evidence to an agent she trusted—for some reason or another, Homes didn’t find that message to be of importance. Which meant when Rooster locked eyes on his target from across the street when he had him in his sight. A perfect shot. Rooster was denied his shot.

“DIRECTOR!”

“There has been no threat of life Chief Sargent Bradshaw , STAND DOWN!” Director Gordon hissed. “We don’t have confirmation as to whether or not he is wearing—“

“No threat of life? Sir! He has my fiancée held fucking hostage and you’re going to sit behind a screen and tell ME there’s no threat of life!!?”

“Stand down Bradshaw ! That is an ORDER!!” Rooster hovered—his finger grazed the trigger. You could see the little red dot lighting up Walker’s head. It was him. You knew it. It was your Rooster. You noticed the small naval badges on Walker's backpack a few hours prior. You knew Rooster would be near. A painfully peaceful moment. Comforting. 

As time lingered you wounded why Rooster didn’t take his shot. It was perfect. Dead centre in fact—you smiled because he was your marksman. But all of a sudden, the little red dot disappeared. A soft “no” escaped your lips in utter disbelief. 

Did Rooster truly not want your baby that much he was willing to allow some crazed guy to take your life. Maybe you were delusional? The same hormones which made you spew your guts up this morning making you think such horrible thoughts. Maybe you were right though? Maybe Rooster wasn’t coming for you? Maybe he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t say he loved you this morning. Didn’t kiss you goodbye. Maybe that was your sign? That nobody was coming to rescue you.

Maybe you’d die alone? Maybe you’d die at the hands of evil. Maybe your number truly had been up. 

***~***~***~***~***~

Five hours. Five hours Rooster was told to wait for new information. He was losing his mind not knowing. The thought of never seeing the woman he wanted to marry ever again haunted him. His girl. He’d known you since he was your next-door neighbour. At first? Things didn’t work out—you know, the typical new neighbour who doesn’t exactly get off on the right foot situation. Who seemed to not give a shit? But when Rooster actually started trying, you knew he was your end game. Rooster was adamant since the first time he’d laid eyes on you that he wanted you forever. He’d never felt love like this before. He had one shot at love, and you were it.

Being in the unknown petrified Rooster, for all his training was worth he wanted to throw it all out the window if it meant he could have you back safe in his arms— to see you smile, to hear you laugh, to tell you he loved you endlessly and wholeheartedly because he didn’t this morning. He didn’t tell you he loved you and now he may not ever see you again. How cruel was the world? Rooster was no stranger to death—sometimes he himself played the same grim reaper who threatened you as he laid looking through a magnifier for a target he can’t shoot. Contemplating leaving his post, leaving it all behind to save his girl his way.

“Director Gordon? Sir, I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us on the ground?” Rooster heard Jake talk through his ear piece.

“Well Seresin, after five hours of practically twiddling my thumbs and playing yes sir no sir with a very frustrated Marksman I’ve come to the conclusion something just doesn’t seem right.” The Director huffed. “Where’s Homes and his team?”

“Observing the side section of the building—they’re still working on evacuating the west side of the building in case of an explosion.” Jake replied. The director sighed.

“Follow me, son, I fear I’ve made a great flaw in my judgement entrusting special agent Homes with such a responsibility—man can’t even tie a damn tie.” Jake chuckled slightly at Director Gordon as they walked. The old man still had humour riddled through his sixty five year old bones after all. He was old for his job but in tip-top shape. Not a day over 40 he looked.

Rooster laid listening, his skin crawled with anticipation. Jake might have known he was online or not— but Rooster was glad to be a part of something. He felt so isolated up in his nest.

“Homes! What I’m earth is going on?” Director Gordon screeched when he rounded the corner to see those who looked like former hostages sitting with blankets around them.

“Jesus!” Jake gasped. “Why the fuck would you not radio in!”

“We’ve been evacuating the surrounding buildings in case of an explosion! I couldn’t do two things at once?” It was truly a poor excuse. “You try pulling your thumb out of a day Seresin instead of playing desk jockey.” 

“If—if you had listened, I said he—he didn’t have a bomb and If you had wanted to help us you would have listened when I said there are people hurt and dead inside!!” Rebecca hissed—her eyes not trained on anything but the ground. She’d suffer from ongoing PTSD like symptoms for her entire life going onwards. “My friend, Y/n” Rooster’s heart stung at the sound of your name. “She was already bleeding to death when she told me to get out and her efforts to get help have gone unnoticed by your poor knowledge of how to operate a functional team.”

Rooster screamed in pain into his microphone, altering Jake to the fact he was online and on Rooster’s channel.

“Bradshaw knows.” Jake looked at his director as he held his earwig—Jake didn’t ask, he already knew the orders which needed to be given. “Rooster, listen, can you see walker?”

Rooster didn’t answer, his heart hurt, he himself felt as if he was dying. The pain of losing his girl was too much to handle. Jake could hear him crying out for you. It broke his heart to hear. 

“Rooster, do you copy? Do you see Walker?” Jake yelled still holding his earpiece into his ear.

“NO!” Rooster yelled back through a croaky voice. “I had him, Hangman, I could have fucking shot him five hours ago! She’s dead, isn’t she? SHE’S GONE!?”

“Rooster you gotta get yourself together and find him and the second you do? Put as many fucking rounds as possible in this son of a bitch, Do you copy senior chief Bradshaw.” Only Jake, his best friend, his partner, his wingman and brother, could pull Rooster from the edge of despair and remind Rooster who he was. He was the love of your life. “She needs you, no do you fucking copy!?” 

“I c-copy” Rooster cried as he repositioned himself. Moving his gun slowly in hopes of seeing Walker again. “I copy Hangman—“ 

***~***~***~***~***~

“Why do people do the things they do agent Seresin?” Rebecca asked Jake as he helped her over to the nearest awaiting ambulance.

“I think people do the things they do out of fear—Walkers scared of the unknown, but it doesn’t make it right.” Jake replied.

“You know Y/n?” Rebecca asked as Jake gestured for her to sit on the stretcher—a medic immediately attending to her split eyebrow.

“She’s my soon to be sister in law actually.” Jake softly smiled, he’d known you for as long as Rooster himself did. Having helped Rooster move into his new apartment and having a conversation with you in the lobby when he dropped a box of his clothes.

“She was your soon-to-be sister-in-law agent Wilson” Rebecca sighed as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Was.”

As Jake walked back towards the bank he could hear his name being called what sounded like a thousand times over, getting closer and closer with every single second.

“Jake! Hey Jake! Hangman—Seresin!!” Rooster shouted as he ran as fast as he could—sweat dripped from his forehead.

“What the fuck Rooster!? What are you—?”

“I couldn’t stay up there for another fucking second knowing she needs me, give me a fucking gun before I lose my god damn mind!” Rooster pleaded. Jake only just then realised just how red and blotchy Rooster’s face truly was. He was a mess. Had been since the moment he heard the name of the location nearly seven hours ago.

Jake saw Director Gordon as Rooster heard him load his own handgun gun. Handing it to Rooster as he turned around.

“Son if you truly wanna play the game you gotta learn how to be clever.” Gordon sighed as Rooster took the gun. “But if you really wanna get your girl you gotta break the rules—your best bet is this side door, it’s still ajar slightly.”

“Rush him?” Jake asked.

“I gotta get her outta there Jake she needs me.” Rooster cocked the gun he’s recently been given. “be on my left.”

***~***~***~***~***~

“This is the NSIS Walker disengage your weapons, or we will shoot to kill!” Rooster yelled as he prepared himself to raid the bank, full-body armour on – Jake too along with twenty other agents, including the FBI. “Walker!!?” Rooster wasn’t a killer, if he could fire a shot to injure and disarm, he would take it 99.9999% of the time. However, this was personal.

You knew your fiancé’s voice – your heart swooned when you heard Bradley Bradshaw’s voice echo through the lobby. 

“He’s here.” You smiled to yourself. You felt cold. You were so incredibly tired. Andrea held you close—she was covered in your blood. It was pure carnage within the lobby. It looked like a war zone, dark and filled with death.

“Oh, you only listen now huh?” Walker laughed maniacally. “Too FUCKING late!! You!” Walked hissed as he pointed to you, grabbing you by your hair. It felt too normal at this point.

“Leave her alone!” Andrea cried. “Haven’t you done enou—“ Walker didn’t give her a chance to cry. He knew he was done for - taking as many hostages as possible with him along the way. You cried out as walker's arm wrapped around your throat as your feet slipped along the floor, your body was giving out on life from pure and utter exhaustion. Choking as the cold metal of the end of Walker’s gun pressed harshly against your temple.

“Shoot me! Fucking shoot me I dare you, your bastards! I’ll take her FUCKING with me!!” Walker screamed hysterically. Enough was enough for Rooster as he burst the door open as Jake rushes in. Rooster fired straight past him—over Jake's shoulder. 

Roosters had a unique skill set. He never missed. His ability was unparalleled. A clean shot directly between the eyes of the name who hurt his girl so badly. Turns out Walker was never good at counting his rounds.

As Rooster rushed towards you, you couldn’t stand another second, falling to your knees.

“Brad—“ You whispered as he slid on his knees and held you so tight Rooster thought you were going to pop. Crying aloud in nothing but heartbreak seeing his beautiful fiancée in so much pain. So hurt.

“I love you.” It was the first thing that came to mind when Rooster cupped your cheeks. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Rooster moved your hair from your face—the same face usually so full of happiness and love, cold to the touch and smeared with blood. Your lips were tinted a blue like colour. “I love you so much Y/n do you hear me? I love you, okay you gotta stay with me alright? You can do that for me, you won’t honey?” Rooster sobbed as tears ran down your cheek. Your eyes closed as you fell completely limp in your soon to be husband’s arms. 

Rooster came for you. Your marksman. He loved you. 

All your questions were answered as you slipped away— Rooster’s gut-wrenching pleas for you to stay were the last thing you heard.

“Don’t you do this to me baby don’t you fucking leave me here!! No—-!”

***~***~***~***~***~

It was like time stood still for Rooster as he rode in the ambulances alongside his girl. Jake had booked it to the nearest car he could find with sirens blasting as he followed.

You were a fighter, you still had your whole life ahead of you. You weren’t going so easily– you’d miss Rooster too much. You were fighting hard to stay on earth and live your life to the fullest. So was your darling baby.

“Rooster?” Jake whispered, trying not to startle Bradley too much. “She’s gonna be alright.”

“She died in my arms Jake, don’t give me falsified hope.” Rooster was tired, he was drained from all emotion and energy. He’s lost you, his girl, holding your white gold engagement ring between his fingers. The ambulance officer had asked him to remove your jewellery. Caked in blood it looked more like copper than white gold.

To say they rushed you into emergency surgery straight away was an understatement. Rooster had no chance to ask if he could say goodbye.

Unbeknownst to Rooster as he sat waiting covered in blood with Jake in the waiting room, you needed a lot of blood transfusions, you needed the bullets removed, and roughly one hundred and fifty stitches, a combination of internal dissolvable and external stitches. The bullet from your shoulder managed to hit at just the right angle—causing minimal damage. The team of doctors who worked around the clock to save your life popped it back in.

The bullet in your thigh missed your artery by 3mm, it took doctors and nurses about twenty minutes to pull the bullet out due to the fact they didn't want to graze it against your femur. It’s a routine check for pregnancy in women which made it extremely complicated and even more of a high-risk surgery and highly complicated when your heart started to fail.

Practising CPR wasn't an option when it came to saving your life due to your shoulder wound, in between doctors stitching you up and connecting you to life support there were nurses using a defibrillator on you just trying to keep your failing heart into a rhythm again. Soon enough though? After a slight panic thinking they might actually lose you? they got you stable, stitched up—doctors took the calm to ramp up the blood transfusions. Pumping you with much needed red blood cells your body so desperately craved. 

As your heart steadied towards the end of surgery —doctors were able to eliminate the use of life support. A paediatric nurse stepping in to review your file to check the baby's health once you found yourself out of surgery.

Meanwhile, back in the waiting room, Jake sat on the ground next to Rooster. On a particularly busy night, both boys got up to let a pregnant woman sit down. Rooster went completely numb seeing her, feeling like he was never going to get that life with his beautiful girl—his darling fiancée.

“Mr Bradshaw? Would you like to follow me please?” A lady cooed,  both Rooster and Jake following her into a private room.

“How’s my fiancée?” Rooster asked softly, drained from waiting.

“There were complications during surgery from the blood loss, they put her on life support to finish up the stitches, a little tricky, but both of them are fightin strong.” she smiled.

Both Rooster and Jake went into shock, staring at her back as she walked out like she'd grown another head before turning to look at each other still just as confused.

“D-did... did she just say both?' Rooster stuttered.

“I think so.” Jake replied in the same confused, dazed and exhausted tone.

“But that means... no I’m sure I heard her wrong.” Rooster mumbled- the nurse returned again to say you were stable and would be out of surgery soon, Rooster was overcome with relief- deep down he knew you wouldn’t leave him in this cruel world alone - too relieved Rooster honestly forget to ask about her 'both' comment until a different nurse walked in - her scrubs were pink with tiny white flowers scattered across the fabric, unlike the plain blue scrubs of everyone else Rooster had seen that night.

“Hi. Bradley Bradshaw is it?' She asked the two of them, Rooster nodding his head frantically in response.

“Uh, Rooster.” The nurse only smiled in response. “Just Roosters fine.”

“I'm sure you've had a very long day, just thought I'd pop in to let you know your fiancée is going to be out of surgery in about ten minutes, and then she'll be in ICU recovery, we expect you'll be able to go in to be with her in about an hour or two after that, after three or four hours she'll be moved into here in the ICU ward, and I’ll be popping in a few times a day for check-ups until she's discharged from the hospital, and then she'll need to come in once or twice a week for probably one or two months, sound good?” The nurse in pink scrubs rambled on about the important update—but all Rooster could think about was her scrubs, and how he'd seen a nurse going to help the pregnant woman from the waiting area wearing the same ones.

“C-can I ask you why your scrubs aren’t blue?' Rooster asked, his heart racing with anticipation. He couldn’t be? Could he? You couldn’t be? Could you?

“Part of being a paediatric nurse, it’s meant to be a little less clinical for the kids, and for parents.” The nurse smiled brightly in response. It was clear she enjoyed her job position as she walked out of the room.

Within a millisecond though? Rooster once again broke down full-on sobbing, joy, sadness, happiness. Pride, excitement, anger, hurt, all the emotions of the rainbow flooding his exhausted and overwhelmed body because his girl, his beautiful darling fiancée who needed him so much was being held together by a thread in surgery, not only fighting for yourself but your baby too.

***~***~***~***~***~

From the moment Rooster was allowed to be by your bedside, he didn’t leave for a second. He couldn’t take his eyes off your stomach, watching it rise and fall with every breath you took. The only other time he looked away was to check your face– watching your eyelids flutter as you slept. You deserved to rest.

Rooster held your hand tight, afraid if he let go it would all be a dream—slipping your cleaned engaged ring back on your finger, being ever so careful not to move your arm as your shoulder was still tender. Stitched and patched.

“You and I are gonna have a series talk about when you should be taking your lunch breaks bub—“ Rooster joked to himself trying to find a little humour in such a morbid and dark situation. “But dammit Y/n I thought I lost you, god I feel like I’ve been to hell and back today but to see you safe I’d do it again, so just please come back to me.” Rooster whispered. He was talking to himself more than anything.

But you twitched softly—your eyes slowly opening as you tried to say a groggy “hi”

“Hi, my beautiful girl, I’m right here, don’t move too much, okay you’ll be in a lot of pain.” Rooster cooed - watching your eyes land on your flowers by your bedside. Rooster promised he’d buy you flowers.

“Am I alive?” You asked softly, confused as to your whereabouts as Rooster cried softly as he squeezed your hand.

“You sure are honey—I got you, I got him, he won’t ever hurt you again— won’t hurt you both ever again.”

“My marksman huh? You never seem to miss.” You couldn’t help but tease as you left out a soft groan. Your shoulder throbbed as you went to rest your hand above Rooster’s, his hand resting gently on top of your stomach.

“Yeah, clearly mama, I never miss my target.”

[suddencolds]

Foreign Home | [1/1]

hello!! I am back after 8 months of not-really-writing with an 8k word fic (which I cut down from 9k words). this is another OC fic w/ Vincent and Yves, who were introduced here!

anyways, this is very character-centric and establishes some things I wanted to establish about them / their world... I hope the little detour into character-development territory is okay.

Summary: Yves has told all of his friends that he's dating Vincent, so it's going to look increasingly suspicious if Vincent never shows up. Good thing Vincent is compellingly good at lying. Anyways, what could go wrong at a housewarming party? (ft. banter, fake dating, cat allergies)

—

Yves spends three weeks turning down invitations.

It’s lucky, he thinks, that he’s been able to stay in contact with so many friends from university—that so many of them have settled here, in New York. It’s less lucky considering his current circumstances:

Out of the people who made it to Margot’s New Year’s party, almost all of them remember Vincent. And—even more inconveniently—many of them seem set on inviting Yves and Vincent places.

Yves thinks up a dozen excuses. No, Vincent can’t join on our coffee outing—he’s got an important, un-reschedulable meeting with a client that Saturday. Sunday? His Sunday’s booked through until 5pm. I know, busy season is the worst to plan around. Or, I think Vincent’s going to be out for a business conference that weekend. The 22nd? I can check with him, but he’s taking a redeye flight the night before—I think he’ll be jet lagged.

The number of excuses he is capable of coming up with is unfortunately finite. Perhaps sorry, I think Vincent has an optometrist’s appointment that afternoon isn’t Yves’s best work, but he has to say something.

Really, it’s just more work to invite Vincent elsewhere—to explain that they’ve played their role as a couple a little too convincingly. That his friends all want to meet Vincent, now.

Back during his days of rowing crew, Yves has given out his fair share of relationship advice to the underclassmen, which has unfortunately—according to Margot—“cultivated an air of mystery about his personal love life.” It was always him and Erika, until it wasn’t. (Ex-matchmaker Yves and his mysterious, highly coveted new boyfriend, Leon says, when Yves complains, which is how Yves decides he will no longer be consulting Leon on the matter.)

“My friends really like you,” Yves says to Vincent, offhandedly, when he runs into him on the way back from lunch.

Vincent blinks at him. 

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“They really like you,” Yves says. “They want to meet you. They think we’re an interesting couple, and they keep pestering me for double dates and inviting you out to a whole bunch of events. I’m running out of excuses as to why you can’t come.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, deadpan, but there’s a slight twitch to his lips, as if he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m dead serious,” Yves says. “I told Nora that you couldn’t make it to dinner because of an eye appointment. Now if I want to keep this up I’ll need to photoshop you with new glasses.”

“I am a little overdue for new glasses,” Vincent says.

“Not the point. Regardless, I need to keep this up until we stage a breakup.”

“A breakup?”

“A fake breakup. To our fake relationship.”

“Is there someone else you’re interested in?”

“No,” Yves says. “But I’m preemptively saving you the stress.”

“The stress of playing your boyfriend?” Vincent says. “Last time, that just entailed going to a well-organized New Year’s party. I wouldn’t consider that exceptionally stressful.”

“That’s just the beginning. Don’t tell me you want to be dragged along to every dinner party and every downtown outing and every birthday I go to in the foreseeable future,” Yves says. “On top of working 60 hours a week, you’ll have to say goodbye to your weekends.”

“So that’s why you’re plotting our breakup.”

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’d need to explain to everyone how I dropped the ball.”

“I’m sure those new glasses must’ve been the dealbreaker.”

Yves laughs. Truthfully, Vincent could wear the most terrible, unflattering glasses in the world and still manage to look like someone whom Yves wouldn’t bat an eye at upon spotting at a photoshoot. The fact that his current glasses actually complement him very well, and the fact that he knows how to dress himself is just salt to the wound. “Yes, that’s the entire reason why I dated you in the first place. The glasses.”

“If you wanted to keep our false relationship up for a couple months,” Vincent says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Yves—who, until now, has been walking in the opposite direction of the floor on which he works—stops walking. “Pardon?”

“I like your friends,” Vincent says. “And more importantly, I don’t think it proves a point to Erika if you’ve just gotten into a relationship you couldn’t keep. So if you wanted to keep this arrangement for a little longer, I would be fine with it.”

Yves considers this.

He’s asked more than enough of Vincent already. But Vincent is right. He’s sure Erika must have her fair share of doubts about all of this—about Vincent, about their fake relationship, about its longevity. She seemed skeptical, when he’d last seen her, that Yves could’ve moved on so quickly. The worst thing about it is that he can’t blame her for that doubt. The worst thing about it is that he’d spent so much time accounting for his future with Erika that he hadn’t seen her start to slip away, hadn’t noticed the first sign of inadequacy, the first time her gaze lingered on someone else, the first time he ceased to be all that she wanted. He hadn’t steeled himself for a future without her, and now, half the time, it feels like he’s still playing catch-up.

If he wants to commit to this fake relationship, he’ll need more than one outing to show for it.

And, despite all odds, Vincent is offering just that.

“Okay,” Yves says, before he can think about how bad of an idea this is. It is really, really inadvisable. He’s sure if he weighs his options for more than a few seconds, he will come to the conclusion that he should be shutting his mouth. “If you’re sure—and only if you’re actually sure—what are your plans after work next Tuesday evening?”

“Nothing as of now,” Vincent says. 

“Great. If you can make it, there’s a potluck. Joel’s hosting. He recently finished moving into a new apartment, so I think it’s something of a housewarming party. He lives a little North, past the stadium, so I think I’ll head there right after work—I can drive you.” 

“That works,” Vincent says. “What kind of food does he like?”

“I’m not actually too sure,” Yves says. “I think he’s a fan of spicy food. But honestly, I think he’ll be grateful if you bring anything at all—which you don’t have to, by the way. You’re the esteemed guest, here.”

“I’m sure Joel’s new apartment is technically the esteemed guest,” Vincent says. “But I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Yves says. “It’s a date. I’ll make it up to you in any way you want, by the way—if there’s ever an instance where you need me to lie for you, I’ll do it.”

“Duly noted,” Vincent says. For what Vincent would ever have to lie about, Yves can’t guess.

More importantly, he has a date for next Tuesday. Something about it is more exciting, even in its dishonesty, than it has any right to be.

—

It’s only a few moments after Yves presses the doorbell that Vincent emerges, holding a couple plates covered meticulously with aluminum foil.

“I haven’t cooked for anyone in awhile,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I hope this doesn’t make a bad impression on your friends.” “Are you kidding? It smells really good,” Yves says, and it does—from the doorway, he can make out the scent of sesame oil, roasted garlic, ginger. “They’ll definitely like it.”

Vincent looks off to the side. “We’ll see.” It takes a moment for Yves to properly parse his expression for what it is.

It never occurred to Yves that Vincent might actually be nervous. At work, it’s rare to see Vincent even remotely out of his element—he always volunteers to take on their more difficult clients, and even on the rare occasion that something falls out of his expertise, he picks things up quickly. Yves has seen him give presentations at conferences without a sweat, articulate as ever. 

If Vincent had been nervous, those times—over prestigious conferences, over negotiations with major clients, over other difficult points of contention—it hadn’t shown. Either he wasn’t nervous at all, or he was just good at hiding it. But he’s nervous now, Yves realizes, which means— 

Vincent wants to make a good impression on his friends. It won’t be his first time meeting Joel, but it’ll be his first time talking to Cherie, Joel’s fiancé, or Giselle, one of Cherie’s friends from work. Mikhail and Nora will be there too. All in all, it’s a decently sized group, but Vincent has talked to larger groups of people before without so much as a shaky voice.

Something about it—about the seriousness with which Vincent regards this whole arrangement—is strangely endearing.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Yves says, and means it in more ways than one.

—

Joel’s new apartment, as it turns out, is already decently furnished, even though Joel had sent out the invitation with the disclaimer that everything is a mess, please bear with us.

“When you said everything would be a mess,” Yves says, leaving his shoes in a line at the door, “I thought your apartment would actually be something other than spotlessly clean and well arranged.”

“It’s easy to make things look neat if you move all of the clutter into the closets,” Joel says.

“It’s just a few boxes,” Cherie says. “But it was tricky to figure out how to place things. It’s a lot more spacious than the apartment we had in college.”

“No kidding,” Yves says. “It’s a seriously nice place.” Back in their last two years of university, Joel and Cherie had gotten an apartment just a few buildings down from the apartment which Yves picked out with Mikhail—they had similar floor plans. Yves distinctly remembers the space: creaky floorboards, space heaters lined up against the walls to last them the winter; decent natural lighting, and never enough kitchen space.

Back then, he and Mikhail had had separate rooms, so their apartment became a spot in which Erika became a frequent visitor, and then, at one point, stopped visiting at all. 

But that’s not the point. The point is, the apartment Joel and Cherie have picked out is much nicer than the one they’d had in college—for one, it’s more spacious, and the entire building has nice facilities and looks newer—and Cherie’s eye for interior design has only helped their cause.

“I’m glad you were able to come!” Cherie says, turning to Vincent. “Yves is always telling me about how busy you are with work.”

“He’s the one putting out all the fires,” Yves says. 

Vincent smiles, extending a hand for her to shake. “Cherie, right? It’s nice to meet you. And you’re—” He turns to Joel, with a slight sniffle. “Joel. I think we met last time.”

Cherie squeezes his hand. Joel laughs and says, “I’m surprised you remember my name.”

“He’s good with names,” Yves says. An acquired skill from all the hours of networking, probably.

“That’s a useful skill to have, especially if you’re dating Yves,” Joel says. “I swear he knows everyone.” He goes on to tell a story about how, back in university, Yves almost accidentally got elected as vice president for a business club he’d only shown up to once.

At some point into the conversation, Yves ducks into the kitchen to help with setup. He sets out the dish he’s brought—salmon sliders with mango salsa—and the beef skewers that Vincent made earlier (he’s not sure why Vincent was worried in the first place, because the skewers look very competently made). After that, he busies himself with finding a way to keep everything temporarily covered until they eat.

Something soft and fuzzy winds around his ankles.

He looks down, and the soft and fuzzy thing looks back at him with pointy triangular ears. This is news to Yves.

“You guys have a cat?!” He shouts from the kitchen, vaguely in the direction where Joel and Cherie should still be standing. “Since when?”

“Since a month ago,” Joel shouts back.

“Her name is Gingersnap,” Cherie adds. “Gin for short.”

“Oh,” Yves says, kneeling down to scratch her behind the ears. His hands are a little calloused from all the snow he’s been shoveling lately, but Gingersnap purrs anyways, evidently unbothered. “What the hell, guys, now I’m never going to be able to leave your apartment. Consider me a permanent resident.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Cherie says.

At some point, Gingersnap gets up, mewing, and heads out of the kitchen, and Yves resumes life as an active contributor to the potluck’s success. When he finishes reheating everything up, setting the table, arranging the dishes, and filling up two pitchers with iced water, he wanders back out into the living room. Vincent is there, alone, except he’s not really alone, because…

Oh.

God.

He’s kneeling down, unmoving, speaking to Gingersnap in a soft, low voice, holding out a hand for her.

She approaches him, a little tentatively, and then nuzzles her orange head into the crook of his hand. Vincent smiles—a soft, private smile. “Hi, Gin,” he says.

There’s the low, lawnmower hum of a purr as Gingersnap rolls onto the ground to let Vincent continue petting her. It’s a heartwarming sight—Vincent, from the office, crouched down to pet a cat that’s smaller than his hand. Yves thinks he might cry.

Then Vincent withdraws his hand, reaches up with an arm to swipe at his eyes. Something jolts through his shoulders, a tremor so slight that Yves wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t already been watching—

“—nGkt-!”

Gingersnap mews at him, perplexed but undeterred. “Sorry,” Vincent says to her, quietly, “I’m not trying— to—” It’s all he can get out before he’s veering away again, this time with both hands tightly steepled over his nose for—

“hhIH’—GKKtt-!”

He sniffles softly, though the sniffle is immediately followed by a small, quiet cough. He reaches up with one hand to rub his nose. Yves watches his expression draw uneven, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“hhIH…”

Whatever sneeze he’s fighting seems terribly indecisive—but terribly irritating—for the way he rubs his nose again, his eyes squeezing shut in ticklish anticipation.

“HhIH… hh… HH-hhH-hHIHh—”

 He cups a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, and not a moment too early—

“—hIHh’iiIKKTSHh-!”His shoulders jolt forwards with the force of it, though it gives him barely a moment’s reprieve before his breath hitches again, sharply, urgently. “IiI’DSZCHuuhh-!”

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent turns to blink at him. His eyes are a little red-rimmed and watering. There’s a thin flush over the bridge of his nose.

“You didn’t tell me you were allergic to cats,” Yves says, rounding the corner to close the distance between them.

“Slightly allergic,” Vincent admits, turning aside with a liquid sniffle. “It’s ndot - hhIHH-! - a big deal.”

“I didn’t know Joel and Cherie had a cat,” Yves says. “I’m sorry. I would’ve told you if they did.”

“It’s fine,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I like her.”

“You might like her, but your body doesn’t seem to be a fan.”

“It’s a good thing that I have a consciousness, so I can codtinue petting her.” Vincent sniffles again, lifting one hand to rub his nose with his index finger. Yves does not know how to even begin to tell him what an inadvisable idea that is, but either way, he doesn’t have a chance to before Vincent’s eyes graze shut, and he turns to face away from Gingersnap before he jerks forward, catching a muffled - “Hh’GKK-t!” - into a clenched fist.

“Bless you,” Yves says. “You know, you’re really not going to make the situation any better if you keep on—”

“nNGKT-!!”

“—bless you!”

“hh—hHhih’iiKKsHHhUH!” The last sneeze is noticeably harsher than the others—it sounds loud enough to scrape against his throat, which seems to be further evidenced by the small cough that succeeds it.

“I’ll ask Joel if he has any antihistamines,” Yves says. 

“It’s fide,” Vincent says. 

“If you insist on spending time with Gingersnap, wouldn’t it be better to spend it without having to sneeze?”

“I would still have to sdeeze,” Vincent says, as if he’s already experienced in the matter—briefly, Yves wonders how many cats he inadvisably plays with on a frequent basis. “Just less.”

“That would be an improvement.”

Vincent looks away. “Antihistamines mbake me tired,” he says, after a little hesitation. 

“It’s a good time to be tired,” Yves says. “It’s not like you have any pressing work to get done.”

“I want to make a good ibpression on your friends,” Vincent says, wiping at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “That’s ndot going to happen if I fall asleep halfway through dinner.”

“If you did, I’m sure no one would fault you for it.”

“I’ll take something after we finish eating,” Vincent says. “If things haved’t improved by then. ”

“Okay,” Yves relents, and—since it doesn’t seem like Vincent is leaving anytime soon—takes a seat next to him on the rug. It’s a compromise he can accept.

—

Nora gets there next, followed by Mikhail and then Giselle. It’s Yves’s first time formally meeting Giselle, who turns out to be very tall and a little intimidating—she’s come straight from work, so she’s dressed accordingly, and she talks with the sort of quiet authority that Yves knows is usually indicative of years of experience. Right before they sit down for dinner, Vincent ducks out into the bathroom—‘I need to look at least marginally presentable,’ he’d said, seeming like he was in a rush—so Yves saves him a seat at the table. 

“Yves,” Giselle says, taking another salmon slider. “You made these entirely from scratch? This is delicious.” 

“Thanks,” Yves says. “To be honest, it was a bit of a gamble. I wasn’t sure if the sauce was going to pair well with it.”

“Yves is really good at cooking,” Mikhail says. “That’s half the reason why I roomed with him in college.”

“So what’s the other half?” Cherie says. 

“The other half is that he lets me eat his food,” Mikhail says.

Yves laughs. “For a second, I thought you’d have something nice to say about my personality.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mikhail says. 

“Yves is very good at cooking,” Vincent says, emerging from the hallway. Yves blinks at him. Whatever he’d done in the bathroom has done wonders—he looks remarkably put together. Not a strand of his hair is out of place. His eyes are dry, not red, not teary, not irritated, his collar crisply upright, his voice devoid of congestion. The only telltale sign about his ailment is the slight bit of redness to his nose, but it’s winter—that could easily be chalked up to the cold.

He slips easily into the seat next to Yves, his posture impeccable. Yves does everything in his power not to stare. 

“I think he’s responsible for some of the best hot chocolate I’ve had,” Vincent continues. That remark is surprising, too—repurposed from a memory as it is, it seems almost like something that could be genuine.

But Yves remembers how easily Vincent had lied, back on New Year’s—how easily he’d drawn the fictitious threads between them, almost thoughtlessly, as if they had always existed. 

I could make better hot chocolate, Yves thinks, before he can stop himself. I could really make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever tasted, if I just had time. It’s an absurd thought, and one that he doesn’t have much grounds for. He had been pressed for time, back then—he hadn’t known when Vincent’s ride was going to be arriving—but even if he’d really, properly tried, even if he’d succeeded in making the best hot chocolate he’s capable of making, there’s no guarantee that Vincent would’ve liked it.

He’s surprised by the pang in his chest, now, the desire to make true something that he knows to be false, to be worthy of the compliments that Vincent’s so easily spoken about.

“That’s definitely an exaggeration,” Yves says. “Technically, Mikhail didn’t even know that I knew how to cook when we signed the lease. The real reason why we roomed together is much more interesting.”

It’s a story he’s told before, though Cherie and Giselle haven’t heard it before. It’s easy to fall into it again: Mikhail and Yves met in their first year, over a group project in an intro to finance class. The two other members of their team had been dead weight, and at the time, Yves had thought—incorrectly—that Mikhail was just as bad as the rest of them.

It’s practically a comedy of errors—a series of miscommunications had led them to each finish the project independently. Yves remembers the all-nighters he’d pulled for that, nervous and over-caffeinated, until the day before the presentation, where he found that Mikhail had not—unlike the other members of their group—spent the last few weeks slacking off. 

Beside him, Vincent goes still.

When Yves chances a quick look at him, he sees: a slight, almost imperceptible ripple to his expression, before it smooths out again.

He nearly backtracks—his first thought is that perhaps something he’s said is the source of Vincent’s irritation—but then Vincent turns his face away. There’s the slightest disturbance to the line of his shoulders, and then—

“—gkT-!”

The sneeze is barely audible, stifled as it is into a half-closed palm, though the gesture is subtle, too—easily mistaken as Vincent simply looking away, resting his chin on his hand.

“I can’t believe you guys are still friends after all of that,” Nora says.

“Right,” Yves says. “I was so ready to never talk to him again. But obviously, we still had to give the presentation.”

He talks about how, in a half-asleep effort to salvage the project work, he and Mikhail had found some way to relate their findings to each other, to loosely bind the disparate subjects into a coherent thesis. Mikhail talks, too, about how they’d manipulated their presentation to get their combined work to seem sufficiently on topic.

Mikhail is halfway through his story when Yves sees Vincent jolt forward beside him.

He looks up just in time to catch the tail end of a sneeze—expertly stifled, just like the others—into a clenched fist. This one’s a little more forceful, even in its quietness—it leaves Vincent hunched over for just a moment, his shoulders slightly slumped, before he straightens again, covertly lowering his hand.

There’s a slightly hazy, distant look to his features, as if whatever’s been bothering him hasn’t begun to let up yet.

Yves nudges him with his arm. Vincent doesn’t exactly jump at the contact, but he does freeze, his shoulders stiffening.

“Hey,” Yves says, quietly enough that he doesn’t think anyone else should be able to hear. “You okay?”

Vincent nods.

“You sure you don’t want to take anything?”

Another nod. 

“I can’t tell you how little either of us proofread that paper,” Mikhail is saying.

“I reread it three months later,” Yves admits. “And he’s right. We really didn’t proofread it.” 

But it was a winning proposal, even though they’d both been too tired to realize it then. And still, Mikhail had still managed to hold a grudge against him for two long months. And then Mikhail had run into last-minute problems with his upcoming lease arrangement, and Yves had happened to find a decently priced two-bedroom apartment with no roommate, and he’d reached out half as a joke.

“You know those friends who say they can never room together?” Mikhail is saying. “Like, they hang out all the time, or they’ve been friends for years, or they trust each other with their lives, or whatever. But the second you put their living habits in close proximity, everything goes to shit? I think we were the opposite.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because you two never had a good enough relationship to ruin in the first place?” Nora says jokingly.

She has a point. Yves is starting to think that all of the formative relationships in his life have all happened by accident.

—

Vincent and Giselle get along very well, Yves notes, listening to the two of them talk. Halfway through dinner, they get into a heated discussion about the more outward-facing expectations at work, as Joel and Cherie exchange knowing glances. Giselle talks about feeling accountable for the team she manages—for knowing that if they don’t perform, she’ll take the fall for them; for being careful not to disperse the stress from higher ups unevenly, for constantly feeling her way through how much work is reasonable to expect of them. Vincent talks about the stress of apportioning work to others—the knowledge in his own competence and the knowledge gap when it comes to how others will handle things, the desire to take on more work alone to make sure everything is accounted for.

Nora, who’d had an internship at a different firm after each year in college, weighs in too on the management styles she’d been under, to what extent the expectations from leadership affected the dynamic between her coworkers.

It’s interesting, Yves thinks, that they all have their own subset of worries, even when they come across as people who are so certain of themselves.

As the others speak, Vincent stops periodically to rub his nose with the knuckle of his index finger—an action that always seems to keep the irritation at bay, but never seems to mitigate it entirely. For a moment, his expression goes hazy, his eyes watering ever so slightly, but it always lasts only a moment.

When Mikhail cracks a joke that has the entire table laughing, Vincent takes the opportunity to cough quietly into an upheld fist. When Cherie talks about her and Joel’s extremely mathematical efforts to fit everything into the car before moving, Vincent turns aside, raising a napkin to his face with a quiet, well-contained sniffle.

It’s difficult to tell, at first. But his attempts to keep quiet, to succumb to his symptoms as inconspicuously as possible, take their toll on him. Every time he jerks forward with a near-silent stifle, Yves can tell, by Vincent’s expression when he emerges, that it’s just short of relieving.  Every sniffle seems to only add on to the mounting congestion, in the long run. It’s a slow, almost imperceptible unraveling.

And yet, when Yves asks about it—when he offers to ask the others for antihistamines, or when he offers to make the drive to a convenience store himself; when he suggests that they go out to get some fresh air—he’s always faced with the same nonanswer, the same dismissive, I’ll be fine. The same persistent, Don’t worry about it.

So Yves doesn’t worry about it, for now—at least, not outwardly.

—

At some point after dinner, they disperse. Yves talks to Joel and Cherie about the apartment, about the pains of moving in, about the other places they’d considered and about why this one had been at the top of the list. Then about the cat— “we had been talking about getting one,” Cherie says. “And then one day Joel was wandering around downtown, and one of the pet shops there was holding an adoption event, and then when I got home there was a cat in the living room.”

“He didn’t call you to come pick out a cat with him?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission?’” Joel says. 

“He texted me before he brought her home,” Cherie says, and scrolls through her phone until she finds a text that says: Would you kill me if I brought home a cat. Just asking for a friend. And hypothetically if we extended this thought experiment it would be an orange cat that’s 2 months old.

“That sounds like a text from someone who’s absolutely decided already,” Yves says. “Ask for forgiveness, huh? So how’s the forgiveness going?”

“I let her name her,” Joel says.

“He’s on litter box duty for the next six months,” Cherie says.

On the other side of the room, Mikhail and Vincent are having a conversation—it could be because Vincent is the person in the room that Mikhail has talked to least, to date, but Yves has a feeling that it’s so that Mikhail can gain embarrassing intel on what Yves has been doing for the past few months.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Vincent turn away, his eyebrows drawing together, raising both his hands to his face to catch a sneeze into steepled hands. Then, not a moment later, his shoulders shudder forward with another.

“Totally off topic,” Yves says, to Joel and Cherie. “Do you guys have any antihistamines?”

“I think we have some Benadryl,” Cherie says. “It should be in the bathroom cabinet, behind the mirror.”

He does find it there, eventually—next to a box of band-aids and a small cylindrical container of cotton swabs. Perhaps he’ll hand it to Vincent, discreetly, when he’s done talking to Mikhail. Vincent had said antihistamines made him tired, but now that dinner is over, it shouldn’t be an issue—Yves suspects people will start heading out soon, and he’ll be the one driving, anyways.

When he steps out into the hallway, Mikhail and Vincent are in the middle of a conversation. It’s a conversation Yves has every intention of interrupting, and no intention of eavesdropping on, until he overhears—

“So,” Mikhail says, “When you first started dating Yves, what was it that you saw in him?”

Yves winces. That’s certainly not an easy question to answer—he and Vincent don’t know each other all that well, and any planning they have done on the basis of their fake relationship has been almost entirely centered around logistics—events, important dates, flagship moments in the relationship, trivia-worthy personal details. Not… this.

But Vincent just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “Honestly, if I told you everything I liked about Yves, you’d want to date him too.”

“That’s a tall claim,” Mikhail says. Yves is positively certain that no permutation of words in the universe could make Mikhail want to date him. “You can’t just say that and not give any examples.”

“I guess Yves is a very considerate person,” Vincent says, with a sniffle. “It actually confused me, at first. When I was growing up, after I moved here from Korea, I was brought up in the sort of environment where there was always an expectation for self-sufficiency. It didn’t matter how young I was, I guess—there were certain things I was expected to know, and certain things I was expected to teach myself.”

Something about his expression looks wistful, if not a little sad. But perhaps this is a trick of the light; perhaps his eyes are just watering from earlier. “My parents trusted me with a lot of things, but it was the kind of trust where they weren’t planning on filling in the gaps for me if I fell short.” 

“I know what you mean,” Mikhail says. “That must’ve been difficult.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Vincent says. “But I’m not telling you this because it was a burden to me, or anything. Back then, it was all that I had ever known. It was normal to me, then, because it was inevitable.”

“Yves is a very different person than I am,” Vincent says. “At times, when I was growing up, it felt like kindness was always something that had to be calculated.”

He pauses, sniffling again, before he raises his arm to his face with a forceful—

“hIhh’GKT-! Hh… hh-HHih’NGKktshH!”

“Bless you,” Mikhail says reflexively.

“Thadk you,” Vincent says, sniffling. He lowers his arm. “I was always taught that if you lend a hand to someone else, you have to make sure their success is not the thing that robs you of your spot—that sort of thing. But Yves is kind even without thinking about it. He’s kind even when there’s nothing in it for him.”

“So that was what made you develop feelings for him?” Mikhail asks.

“Eventually, yes,” Vincent says. “At first, I thought that we were irreconcilably different.”

“What changed?”

“Yves is an easy person to like, romantically or otherwise,” Vincent says. “It’s a little disarming to be on the receiving end of his type of kindness. And I think that’s ultimately what made me start liking him. He’s just the sort of selfless person you can’t help but admire, if that makes sense. It’s like—when someone does so much for you out of sheer selflessness, at some point, you start wanting to be a part of their happiness too.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yves sees a small orange blur—mostly fluff, on four short white legs, with two pointy ears—bound from the kitchen into the living room.

“I get it,” Mikhail says. “That’s an interesting answer. It makes me hopeful that Yves might’ve stumbled into a relationship that will be very good for him.”

That’s a statement he’ll have to revise, Yves thinks wryly, in a few months, whenever it stops being practical for Vincent to keep up this act.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What makes you say that?”

“When he and Erika broke up, he was—” Mikhail pauses, briefly, and Yves is thinking about the many embarrassing—but completely, verifiably true—ways he could finish off that sentence. “—he was pretty upset,” Mikhail says, instead, which Yves decides is suitably merciful.

“Look, what’s between them is between them—I’m not going to claim I know all the ins and outs of their relationship. But given that Yves was living with me for much of the time that he and Erika were dating, I’ve seen them interact more times than I can count.”

“I don’t think Erika is a bad person,” he continues. “She’s very ambitious, which I think was good for Yves back when they first started dating. But I don’t think she recognized those things about him—how much he cares for others, how much he gives people the benefit of the doubt, how much he… well, frankly, how much bullshit he’s willing to endure on his end. I think she took his kindness for granted, a little bit, and she certainly didn’t go out of her way to reciprocate.”

“What I’m saying is, I’m glad he met you,” Mikhail says. Beside him, something small and orange hops onto the couch they’re standing next to. “I can tell that what you said was sincere.” 

If even Mikhail thought he was being sincere, perhaps Vincent is a little too good of an actor.

“Obviously, it’s early for me to be saying this, so you can take it with a grain of salt,” Mikhail continues. “But I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.”

The sentence feels like a punch to the stomach.

And—well.

I’m glad he met you. I think you could be kind to him in the way he deserves.

Yves has really dug himself into this hole, hasn’t he?

Mikhail thinks that Vincent is good for him—Mikhail, one of Yves’s closest friends, someone who is by no means quick to express his approval over whoever Yves is seeing—which means that when they inevitably stage their breakup, Yves is never going to hear the end of it.

Is it cruel to be taking Vincent to all of these events, to be introducing him to all of his friends, when—after the impending breakup—Vincent might never see any of them again? Is it cruel that Mikhail likes Vincent enough to be hopeful that this is going to last?

Yves doesn’t have time to contemplate it more when three things happen.

One—Gingersnap, who is still perched at the very top of the couch, nudges her face against Vincent’s arm and mews softly at him.

Two—Vincent stops what he’s doing to reach out slowly, cautiously, to scratch gently at the fur under her chin. Gingersnap purrs, leaning her head into his hand.

Three—Vincent withdraws his hand, suddenly, as if he’s been burned, twisting away reflexively. He lifts his hand—the same hand he’s been petting Gingersnap with (probably inadvisably) to his face, to cover a resounding—

“hh—hiHH-hHihh’iIZSChHH-uhh! snf-!”

The sneeze sounds ticklish and barely relieving, as if he’s been holding it in all afternoon. 

It’s only a few moments later that Vincent’s jerking forward with another ticklish, wrenching, “hh… hhiHH… NgKT-!—hh’hiiIIIK’TSCHhuhH! snf-! hiIh… hIIIH-IITSCHh’yyue!”

“Oh,” Mikhail says, finally comprehending. “You’re allergic to cats?”

“Just slightly— hIh… hH- Hiih—hhH’nNGkT-!” Vincent sniffles wetly, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Sorry to - hh-! - cut our codversatiod short - hH… I… hhiHh’IiKSHhuh! Excuse mbe… hH… Hhh-! I’mb going to rund to the bathroom… hh… hhiIh… hh-HIih’iiIK’SHhUHhh!”

Yves ducks out into the kitchen before Vincent has a chance to head his way. He busies himself with removing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water, Somewhere behind him, he hears the bathroom door click shut, hears the slightly muffled sound of a sneeze, then another.

He shuts his eyes.

Vincent had said that it was fine. Should Yves have insisted? It’s Yves’s fault, again, that Vincent is in this situation, but then again, he couldn’t have known—both that Joel and Cherie would have a cat, and that Vincent would like her so much. Either way, Yves can’t help but feel partially responsible.

But would it be strange, now, to offer Vincent something to take for it, to openly acknowledge his affliction? Should he have done something earlier? Or should he wait to acknowledge it after they leave?

Against all doubt, he finds himself outside of the bathroom door.

Yves knocks.

There’s the sound of water running, inside, and then the sound of the faucet being turned to shut. Then there’s a brief pause. Yves is contemplating knocking again when the door opens just a crack.

There, Vincent stands, his eyes a little watery still, his nose just slightly redder than usual, his hair slightly out of place—he’s just washed his face, then.

“Yves,” Vincent says.

“Um,” Yves says, holding out the glass of water and, next to it, the bottle of Benadryl. “Thought you could use these.”

Vincent takes the cup, a little hesitantly, and sets it on the bathroom counter. Then he takes the bottle of allergy medicine, unscrews the cap, and removes two small pink pills.

“Thank you,” he says. Yves thinks he’s about to take a sip when he twists to the side suddenly, his eyes squeezing shut, snapping forward with a loud—

“hIIH’IIKKSHh’hUh!”

The hand he’s holding the cup with trembles a bit with the action, but the water inside doesn’t spill. 

“Bless you,” Yves says, taking the cup from him, before—

“hIHH… hh-Hhih’iISCHhh’Uhh!”

“Bless you!”

The only acknowledgment Vincent gives him is to take the cup back from him, sniffling, and down the pills in one quick, decisive sip.

“They’ll take some time to take effect,” Yves says, though he’s sure that Vincent knows that already, for the way he knew to take two, even without reading the label on the bottle. “Are you okay?”

“It’s been awhile since my last edcounter with a cat,” Vincent says, sniffling. 

“You forgot how bad it was?”

“It gets better with exposure,” he says. And worse without.

Yves says, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know they’d have a cat.”

“Even if you’d known, I ndever told you I was allergic,” Vincent says. “It’s fine.”

“I should’ve thought to check. Seriously, a housewarming party—”

“I told you, snf, I like cats,” Vincent says, clearing his throat. “So it’s fine.”

Yves looks around—at the bathroom, which looks just as pristine as he’d left it earlier, except that the tissue box on the bathroom counter is a little askew. At the slight tiredness to Vincent’s posture, even as he looks off to the side, tilting his glasses up to his forehead to swipe at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Do you want to get out of here?“ Yves says.

“I cad stay,” Vincent says, as if he really is willing to, despite the side effects. “Do you want to stay longer?”

I want you to be comfortable, Yves wants to say. 

Instead, he says, “I think I’ve just about caught up with everyone. Besides, we have work tomorrow, and I think Cherie and Joel do too, so I don’t want to stay too late, you know?”

“Okay,” Vincent says. 

“I’m happy you came,” Yves says, stepping past Vincent to put the bottle of Benadryl back into its original spot, where he found it. He snags the glass from the counter on his way out.

“Your friends are a fun crowd,” Vincent says, following him out.

Yves laughs. “I think just between you and me, Mikhail has been dying to interrogate you about this relationship.”

“He did idterrogate me,” Vincent says. “How much of it did you overhear?”

“What?”

“When you were standing out in the hallway.”

Oh. Well, perhaps he hadn’t been as discreet about eavesdropping as he’d thought. Yves says, “Okay, you got me. I heard a good amount.”

“I don’t think Mikhail noticed you there, if you’re worried,” Vincent says. “In any case, it doesd’t matter if you overheard. It was just the same story.”

They step out into the hallway. Giselle has left, already, to be home in time for a cross-timezone call with a team that works somewhere halfway across the world. Yves bids everyone else a goodbye (Cherie and Joel thank him for coming, and Cherie hugs him and Vincent both on the way out; Nora asks Vincent to send her a recipe to his beef skewers, to which Vincent admits sheepishly that he stole from a cookbook, to which Nora says “making it successfully is half the work;” Mikhail says, “If you and Vincent get a place too, I want to be invited to your housewarming party.”)

On the way out, Yves grabs both of their coats off from where they’re hanging in a closet next to the front door, and hands Vincent’s coat to him. There’s never much street parking by the apartment, so the car is parked a couple blocks down, and it’s cold enough to be worth bundling up.

“You’re very good at lying,” Yves says, when he’s sure that the door is shut behind them.

Outside, it’s snowing just a little. Snow falls from the sky in thick white flakes. Vincent pulls his hood over his shoulders, sniffling a little—though whether that’s from the cold or from the allergies, Yves can’t be sure. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Definitely a compliment. I just mean, you play the part really well.”

“So instead of being a good boyfriend, I’m a good fake boyfriend,” Vincent says, lifting his sleeve to his face to muffle a cough into it. “Somehow, that seems much less impressive.”

“It’s arguably more impressive,” Yves says. “It definitely requires a different subset of skills.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment. When Yves looks over, he sees Vincent raise both hands to his face, steepling them over his nose, his eyes fluttering shut.

“hHh… hHh’iiiIKKSshh’uhh!”

“Bless you,” Yves says. 

“Ndot— hh… hHh… done — hH-hhIh’nGKKTsHuuh! hHh-hH’IIZSCHHhhuh!”

“Bless you! Cats, huh?”

Vincent hums. It’s snowed all through dinner—the snow under their feet coats the sidewalk, powdery and untouched. Their shoes sink into it while they walk.

“I didn’t know you used to live in Korea,” Yves says.

“It’s not a secret, snf-!,” Vincent says. “But I ndever found an occasion to bring it up.” 

Yves can think of a hundred things to say—how it’s strange only learning this information secondhand; it’s strange to play the part of someone who knows Vincent and knows him intimately, and to know so little about him, at the core of it. Isn’t it like that, with coworkers? The only window he has to Vincent’s life is made up of the things Vincent has chosen to share with him—over small talk in the break room, or conversationally over their outings, or during longer drives.

He knows an assortment of trivia, like Vincent’s favorite color (green) or Vincent’s birthday (March 15th) or the number of siblings Vincent has (one), or when he had his first kiss (during his first year in university) or his least favorite chore (vacuuming) or how he spends his weekends (generally at the library downtown, catching up on work or working on his personal projects). But even that was only for the sake of having something to say if his friends asked him—of having a basic understanding of his supposed partner that Vincent could later corroborate.

“Was it very different there?”

“I moved here when I was pretty young,” Vincent says. “But it was very different.”

When Yves looks over, there’s something complicated to Vincent’s expression that gives him pause. “Back then, I was young enough that everything was new to me. So the cultural shift wasn’t as pronounced for me as it was for the rest of the family. I think that’s why they moved back, eventually.”

“Did that happen recently?”

“They moved back just six years after we came here,” he says. “I was in high school at the time, so I stayed with my aunt to continue my education here.”

“Was it difficult living here on your own?”

“Is this useful to you?”

Yves blinks, taken aback. “Sorry?”

“Is this information useful to you?” Vincent says, looking over at him. His glasses have fogged up a little in the cold.  “Do you think your friends are going to ask about it?”

“It’s—not exactly useful in that sense,” Yves says, backtracking. “I just wanted to know. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

That’s right, he reminds himself—he and Vincent are only doing this for appearances’ sake. 

“I got used to it,” Vincent says, finally, which isn’t exactly an answer. “It’s hard to say if—hold on, I— hh-!”

Yves sees him duck off to the side, raising his arm to his face.

“Bless you—!”

“hh-Hhiih’IIZSCHh’uhH!”

The sneeze is muffled slightly into his sleeve. Vincent sniffles, keeping his arm clamped to his face for a moment, in trepidation, before dropping it to his side.

“Apologies, snf-!,” he says, as if he has anything to apologize for. “It’s hard to say if things would’ve been better if I’d gone back with them to Korea. I just know things would’ve been different.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say to that. It feels like something that Vincent has thought about for years, something that Yves couldn’t even begin to comprehend—growing up here, alone. Away from his family, in a country foreign to him, with his family all the way on the other side of the Pacific ocean; staying with a stranger. To say that it had to have been difficult would be a vast understatement. 

Had he doubted himself, then? Had it been his idea to stay here, in the States? Had his parents told him it was for the best? Had he argued with them on the subject? Had they listened?

“Do you think you’re happy enough now to justify that decision?” Yves asks.

Vincent is quiet for a bit. Around them, the snow continues to fall, silent and slow, listing upwards on every updrift. “Sometimes,” he says.

—

When they get back to the car, Vincent is quiet. The car is frigid, the window panes cold enough to fog up when Yves puts his hand on them—he puts the heaters on to the highest setting. If anything, being out of the cold seems to make Vincent’s nose run even more—a fact which he carefully obscures, resting his face on the palm of his hand with a few muffled sniffles.

“Thanks again for coming,” Yves says. “I know I—and everyone else—already said that to you like a hundred times. But I mean it.”

“It’s ndo problem, snf,” Vincent says. “I’ll be sure to avoid putting you into contact with cats in the future,” Yves says.

“There’s ndo need for that.”

“While we’re at it, is there anything else you’re allergic to?”

“Not much,” Vincent says. “Unless you pland on getting rid of the entire season of spring.”

“That’s secretly why you chose an office job,” Yves says. “So you could avoid all the pollen by staying inside all day.”

“Busy season was - snf-! - idvented solely for that purpose,” Vincent says.

It’s barely a couple minutes into the drive when Vincent stifles a yawn into his fist.

“Are you tired?” Yves asks. “I mean, you did say that thing about antihistamines making you tired.”

“Wide awake,” Vincent says, before—moments later—hiding another yawn behind a cupped hand.

“Evidently,” Yves says, which earns him a quiet laugh.

“Tell me if you ndeed me,” Vincent says, leaning his head lightly on the passenger seat window. As if this is work, or something. As if Yves could have any conceivable reason to need him during the drive home.

“Not at all,” Yves says. “As a matter of fact, it’d probably be a good thing if you close your eyes. You wouldn’t have to look at all this traffic.” It’s a little past rush hour, but traffic is only just starting to clear up, and driving in the city at any hour has never been a particularly pleasant experience.

Vincent opens his eyes. “Do you wadt me to help navigate?”

“I want you to sleep,” Yves says. “I’m an expert at handling traffic.”

It’s as if all this time, Vincent was merely waiting for permission. Yves isn’t certain if he’s asleep, but he certainly looks to be—when Yves sneaks a glance at him, his eyes are shut, his shoulders slack, and his breathing has evened out. It’s an image Yves wants to thoroughly take in—the slow rise of his chest, his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks. 

Instead, he drives. Instead, he stares hard at the rows and rows of cars before him, at every traffic light, and tries not to think about—

Vincent, at the housewarming party, kneeling down to pet a cat smaller than his hand, despite being well aware of the consequences.

Vincent, calling Yves kind even without thinking about it, talking about him—about his best qualities—with near-artful dishonesty.

Vincent, walking beside him in the snow, talking candidly about growing up here; the unspoken understanding between them about how much he must’ve given up.

That Vincent, the same Vincent from work, asleep in Yves’s passenger seat, while Yves drives him home.

Yves can’t help but think that if he caught feelings for someone like Vincent, Erika would be the least of his problems.

[strljaem]

“LOVE POTION.”

adapted by “the boy is mine” ariana grande’s music video.

💿 : the boy is mine, ariana grande.

The night hung heavy with anticipation as I stood in my dimly lit apartment, the air thick with my thoughts. I slid my long, slender hands over the kitchen cabinet, fingers trailing delicately over the cool, smooth surface until they reached the small glass bottle of pink sparkling love potion. My blonde hair was neatly pinned in a flower bun, and I adjusted my cat-shaped black-framed glasses, straightening my white blouse and smoothing down my black skirt. A smile curled on my lips as I envisioned tonight's plan: sneaking into Na Jaemin's apartment and using the potion to win his heart.

The small TV on the kitchen cabinet beside the sink hummed softly, the news reporter's voice a distant murmur. Suddenly, the words "newly elected mayor Na Jaemin is set to address the media any moment for a press conference" cut through the fog of my thoughts. I gasped, turning quickly to the TV and raising the volume. My eyes sparkled as the screen switched to his handsome face, framed perfectly by his blue dashing suit. His voice, deep and commanding, filled the room, making everything else blur. I was entranced, staring at him, my mind drifting into fantasies.

"...we have gathered the city’s overflow of stray cats. And we will release them, hungry into the streets, to combat this problem at its source."

His words snapped me back to reality. The plan to combat the rat infestation with stray cats seemed almost poetic in its simplicity and brilliance. "Thank you," Jaemin concluded, his face serene yet powerful.

"That's brilliant, so hot," I whispered, a smile spreading across my face. My moment of admiration was abruptly shattered by a sharp cracking sound. I whirled around to see the love potion bottle shattered on the floor, pink liquid glistening in the dim light. A cat, wide-eyed and guilty, darted out the open window. I squeaked, rushing to the floor to salvage my precious potion.

Carefully, I opened a drawer, retrieving a syringe. Kneeling, I began gathering the liquid and dust, painstakingly sucking it back into the syringe and transferring it into the bottle. It wasn't perfect, but it was more than enough. I couldn't let my carefully crafted potion go to waste.

With the bottle secure, I giggled, a thrill of excitement coursing through me. Hurrying to my closet, I rifled through the fabrics until I found the perfect black material, sleek and form-fitting. I was going to make a Catwoman suit. The idea was exhilarating. I ran to the living room, sat on the couch, and began sewing with feverish determination. Hours passed, the rhythmic hum of my sewing machine blending with the sultry tones of Ariana Grande's "The Boy is Mine" on the turntable.

Finally, the suit was complete. I stood before the mirror, admiring the way the fabric clung to my curves, accentuating my form. I looked dangerous and irresistible. I applied smokey black eye makeup, enhancing the mystery of my eyes, and tied my hair back into a sleek ponytail before donning the mask. A cat tail, the perfect final touch, swayed behind me as I moved.

My heart pounded with anticipation as I climbed out the window, the cool night air brushing against my skin. I moved across the rooftops with feline grace, the city sprawled out beneath me, every shadow and corner familiar. I knew exactly where Jaemin lived.

The journey was swift, my adrenaline propelling me forward. I arrived at his building, scaling the side with ease. His apartment was on the top floor, the large windows offering a glimpse of his world. I slipped inside silently, the darkness my ally.

I finally landed outside his window pane, crouched low, my senses alert. The kitchen was empty, the quiet hum of the refrigerator the only sound. I sighed in relief, my breath catching as I saw him emerge from the bathroom. Na Jaemin looked so hot, his black jet hair drenched as if he had just taken a shower. He was wearing a white t-shirt, unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, revealing his toned arms. My mouth hung open at the sight, desire pooling in my veins.

Carefully, I opened the window, watching as he went back into the bathroom. This was my chance. I slipped inside, landing softly on the floor, and crawled towards the bathroom. The door was half-open, and through the crack, I saw him staring at the mirror, steam swirling around him. Oh god, he looked so hot, his plump lips, wet hair, and damp skin just for me.

As I pushed the door slightly, it creaked, and he turned around, eyes wide with surprise. I quickly hid myself, heart pounding. He stepped out of the bathroom, a glass of wine in his hand, and his eyes landed on me. I was sitting on his bed, legs crossed in a seductive pose, smiling at him.

“Hey,” I purred, my voice dripping with allure.

He was startled, fear flashing across his face. He dropped the glass of wine onto the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t cracked but it made a loud thunk noise. He tried to run, but I stood up on the bed, taking my bullwhip and throwing it around his feet. With a quick flick, he was pulled towards me, falling to the ground. I slowly reeled him in, my eyes never leaving his confused yet captivated gaze. At the same time, I was wondering why he didn’t even bother to tell me and let him go? Instead, he just played with my actions. He amazed me, that’s actually so hot of him.

As we made eye contact, the tension in the room became electric. I lowered myself to his level, crawling over him. Our faces were inches apart, breath mingling. He smelled just like wine, mixed perfectly with the scent of his masculine perfume, air thick with unspoken desire. I smiled, taking out the love potion. My hand reached out, cupping his cheek as I brought the bottle closer to his lips.

But before I could pour it into his mouth, his hand shot up, grabbing mine and the bottle. Our eyes locked, and the room seemed to shrink around us, the world narrowing to just the two of us. My eyebrows furrowed, confused by his sudden resistance. He looked deep into my soul, his gaze intense and unyielding.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he took off my eye mask, revealing my whole face. A smirk played on his lips as he leaned in closer. My heart raced, thinking he was going to kiss me. I closed my eyes, anticipation swirling inside me. But instead, I heard the shattering of glass as he threw the love potion against the wall.

I gasped. “What are-“

Then, his lips were on mine, claiming me with a fierce, possessive kiss. The world melted away, leaving just the two of us, tangled in a web of desire and danger. The kiss was a promise, a challenge, and an acceptance all at once. I melted into him, my hands clutching his shoulders, the heat between us scorching.

He placed me carefully on the wooden floor. When we finally pulled apart, his eyes were blazing with a mix of emotions. Both of us were out of breath by the passionate kiss. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice husky.

I hesitated. His eyes were looking worriedly into mine, searching for response. “You.” I breathed out, “Only you.” While tucking one of his hair behind his ears. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through me. He took my hands and kissed it. He leaned in and whispered on my ear, “Then, you’ll have to earn it.” he spoke in a low tone.

And so, the night unfolded, a dangerous dance of passion, power, and unspoken promises.

[h-inxs]

-Oh God,forgive me for falling into this sin

(The kinktober was tempting me and couldn't resist so enjoy this small plus. )

Content: sex w vampire, unprotected sex, biting kink, bloody kink, pwp, raise kink p in v, breeding kink (slightly).

Albert was your life partner for a few years, when you met him you were barely 20 and he was technically too, except that he had been that age for 100 years, when you discovered him sucking the life out of a poor woman, one part of you was scared and the other was exited.

His veiny arms grabbed the woman's pale neck and his prominent jaw moved, he was still sucking her blood when your umbrella fell silent, the sound of something hitting the ground alerted him.

His mouth was stained with the blood of the lady, now dead, his fangs pressing against his lower lip, he took a step towards you, but you didn't see you, something told you to do it but you were paralyzed.

"Jasmine, wait " His somnolent voice tempted you to drop down, but instead, you grabbed your pompous dress and ran away like crazy, without shouting anything, just breathing heavily.

You knew he was following you, you weren't stupid but you didn't expect that the moment you looked forward again his arms would surround you.

" Let go of me, Albert" You asked with heavy breath.

" I can't, I don't want you to stop loving me " He murmured against your neck and you fell into one thing, he had been sucking people's blood for the first year you were knowing each other.

And from that day on you became involved in his world, the first time you had sex it was as if he could break you but at the same time you felt like he treated you like a porcelain doll.

But it became more frequent when you agreed to have sex whenever either of you wanted.

Now being in your present, in which he was under you and you with your back to him while he thrust into you hard and grabbed your neck gently, you were not able to articulate a single word, only moans and sighs of pleasure came out of your mouth, your breasts moved in time with his fierce movements.

One thrust in particular made you scream in pleasure and he smiled victoriously at having found your g-spot,

"Are you about to cum honey? "murmurs in your ear, you nod as best you can and he quickly changes position, now he is on top of you, your legs on his shoulders.

"Well, tonight we will make you make me a dad"He rubbed your clit quickly and spit on it, he shuddered as he felt you squeeze him.

"Oh, do you like that, huh?" He smiles and his movements get deeper, you grab the sheet with your hands.

"Oh Albert! "

"Yeah, that's it, make me a fucking dad " He moans feeling your orgasm approaching, he grabs your neck and pulls you into his mouth, he bites between the junction of your neck and shoulder, you manage to come and you can feel his hot jets of his essence filling you.

He lets go of your neck and gently sets you down on the bed and lies down next to you, looking at you and brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

"We have made a mess " You laugh, looking around, there is a broken leg of the bed but that will be fixed, you hold hands and intertwine them.

"So..make you dad, huh? " You make fun of him and he spanks you in response.

"Let's go to sleep, dear wife before I fuck you 5 more times" He murmurs in your ear, smelling your hair and getting under the sheets.

Maybe I'll continue with these two....

[oddygaul]

Plane Movie Roundup #1 - Henry Sugar, Spaceman, Enter the Dragon

Initially it felt a little weird to group things as Plane Movies, but then I thought about it some more, and… well, have I really watched something if I've only watched it on a plane? Yes, but also no. I think it’s helpful context to remember I watched something tired, distracted, and with the constant rumble of a jet engine blaring in my ear.

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar

I actually watched all of this series of shorts except this one last year (The Rat Catcher was my fav), but just now got around to Henry Sugar. So, this applies to all of them, but - I absolutely love the style these shorts are done in. The rapid, feverish monologues while the actors stare the audience down complements Wes Anderson’s style to a T, and the constant shuffle of the sets and stagecraft is enthralling. The actors all swapping between multiple roles adds a very odd drama to the proceedings, and the casting was great as well - I can’t imagine someone I’d rather have locking eyes with me and calmly reciting narration than Richard Ayoade.

Anyway, Henry Sugar in particular was alright. The slow unveiling of the mystery in the first half kept my attention, but when all was said and done it felt a little saccharine. I thought it started to broach a genuinely interesting discussion about the class disparity of skill mastery: for all that we romanticize the idea of the starving artist, isn’t an independently wealthy person, who doesn’t have to spend time worrying or doing anything about their bills, plans or obligations*, able to have a fast track to bettering any skill they want? Doesn’t it feel particularly frustrating that despite creative arts typically being seen as a pure expression of emotion and feeling, due to the massive time investment required to excel, they're tied up in social status just like everything else? The example here was even particularly salient to examining that idea, given the inherent spirituality often suggested by meditation which Sugar clearly lacks.

*Not to mention the cost of equipment and the networking / connections required to actually make a career out of something creative, even if you’ve already gained the skill to do it

And yet, in a twist even more unrealistic than being able to see through solid objects with one’s eyes closed, the laughably wealthy man decides to use his new wealth-gaining technique to better the world and help those around him. What a fairy tale.

Part of me wishes it followed the hinted-at horror tangent of Sugar being unable to see anything beyond the base organic makeup of all the bodies around him… but we have Luther Strode for that, I guess.

Spaceman

Wasn’t really impressed by this movie… I think what the creators found interesting about the premise and what I found interesting about the premise were drastically different. If you came here for Space Madness – Is This Man Really Hanging Out With a Giant Spider or Not??, well, that sucks, because Spaceman is largely disinterested in questioning Jakub’s sanity and is content to accept Hanuš as his giant space therapist with very little fuss. If you’re here for Loneliness in Space – Can One Even Begin to Fathom the Ultimate Desolation of the Void??, again, not so much.

Instead, the movie is essentially Toxic Man Who Was Shitty to His Wife and Spends Way Too Much Time at Work Realizes That’s Bad While in Orbit of Jupiter which… didn’t do much for me. Feels real easy to have an epiphany about how you were wrong when you’re half a solar system away and can’t actually work on that problem in any meaningful way… and then the way he tries reaching out is by sending a generic, manipulative message to his wife and then immediately flinging himself out of his ship on a suicidal one-way spacewalk? Doesn’t really feel like you meaningfully learned your lesson, my guy.

The ridiculousness of the spider did result in some great moments, though. Hanuš rollin out of the pantry eating nutella while saying “Hey, tough break bud, that sounds really rough” like he’s Adam Sandler’s fuckin college roommate was pretty choice.

Enter the Dragon 

Initial thoughts: god damn Bruce Lee is hot as fuck Latter thoughts: god damn Bruce Lee is scary

This was my first Bruce Lee movie… and what a trip it was. From the jump, I felt like I was out of my depth in a weird way when he started talking about ‘emotional content’, but still, I enjoyed this from an aesthetic standpoint if nothing else.

Mostly, Enter the Dragon was one of those movies where upon watching it, dozens of other things clicked into place in my head - media that was inspired by it, media that has parodied it, media that’s reverent towards it. And here, unlike many other times where I’ve first experienced older, hugely influential works, I was immensely entertained. The music is groovin start to finish, it has some of the best funny cheese moments (Bruce throwing the snake into the guardroom, the facility guards walking around with nunchuks like that’s a thing that anyone does), and the fight choreo is killer. Lee absolutely schooling O’Hara in their duel with that move like water shit… mmm. Give me more of that.

Okay, so the other thing that really struck me is how fucking scary Bruce Lee is in this movie. Now, maybe I just think of kung fu movies as lighthearted due to their constant parody in pop culture, or because the ones I actually grew up with, like Kung Fu Hustle, are decidedly comedic - but even putting that aside, I think Enter the Dragon genuinely is intentionally tongue-in-cheek much of the time. It even plays into the nonviolent, “don’t worry, they’re just sleeping” trope with Bruce only knocking out the guards on his nighttime excursion. So it came as a real shock every time Bruce Lee just straight up fucking brutally murdered a dude. Look, with O’Hara it makes sense, he absolutely had it coming, but it’s still wild to watch the camera slowly pan into Bruce Lee’s face, fully focusing on his thousand-yard-stare, theremins going wild in the background. Not a man to fuck with.

[arecipeforfeels]

Got high and decided I’m watching ca:tws so be ready for incoherence:

Marvel movies used to MEAN SOMETHING

They did however always live in the pocket of the military

I don’t care I would eat this movie if I could

They were so insane for it and they had to do civil war as the worlds worst no homo ever

HE DOESNT HAVE ANYONE AROUND THAT SHARES HIS EXPERIENCE COS HES LOST IN TIME

THE WHOLE MOVIE IS HIM BEING UNSUCCESSFULLY SET UP ON DATES

I hate everything

I also am not immune to an action sequence and some fun music….

Also it is very impressive how violent they can make these movies and completely get away with it if there’s no blood splatter

Bad guys r French, more at 10

I took a kickboxing class in like 2013 bc I thought black widow was hot and wanted to also be hot

(Sidenote, I also played basketball for five years bc of high school musical. I have never had an original thought in my life)

FIGHT SCENE NUMBER TWOOOOO

This is an iconic one cos it’s the one where he puts his shield on his back to fight for Even Footing (and also ON VA VOIR U WILL ALWAYS B FAMOUS)

people went so bonkers for that

Tag urself Im the giant harddrive

Okay goofiest admission ever: in this movie there’s a bunch of time spent in this one big building that’s supposedly located in dc. But it’s got this big giant atrium with a huge high steel and glass ceiling, and at some point during this movie someone hits it or crashes through it or shoots it. And every time I hear the words “glass ceiling” I think of this fuckin movie

CHEKHOVS ELEVATOR

“Wow yayyyyyyy war machiiiiiiime!! For sEcUriTy”

US Army wet dream while still trying to keep Cap there as a voice of reason

It’s a fascinating dichotomy

Air and spase! Museum (great night at the museum 3 reference)

Also I cannot believe he goes to his own fuckin exhibit

...actually upon reflection I too would go to my own exhibit

The endgame revisionism of him going back in time is soooooo stupid she does not exist to me

It’s such character assassination of everyone involved

(I don’t care, I say caringly, as I care deeply)

I also had (had??) a massive crush on Hailey atwell

Robert Redford is here

Weird joke about Algerians and the French

THERE IS AN ACTUAL COMPELLING CONVERSATION ABOUT PTSD

This movie is also a Chevy ad

Also I remember seeing the big SUVs in this movie and being like “damn those are tanks” they are also nothing compared to what’s out there now

This movie also feels so much more grounded in actual life

Like we talk abt all the CGI coming in later movies, this one feels gritty in comparison, on simply a mechanical level

Speed tour of dc

We have reached the civilian casualty stage of the movie

I can’t imagine how much money Samuel L Jackson has made off these movies

THE CAR FLIP SHOT W BUCKY IIIIIIIIII (editors note: this is where the coherence begins to go downhill. You can sense the trend)

god this movie

THE SHIELD CATCH IM EATING MY SHOES

Elevator scene lets fuckin goooooooooo

Let’s GOOOOOOOO

the tension build is so good

Everyone say thank u Steve rogers for breaking the glass ceiling

This movie is also an apple ad…2014

GUY WHO FULLY HITS ON STEVE AT THE APPLE STORE

Look the fuckin Natasha Steve bromance in this is lovely

Buddy comedy

I will say this was such a moment for the MCU, the hydra reveal

Esp cos like agents of shield was in its heyday etc etc

2014 sure was a time

This man [Toby Jones] has been so comically typecast forever

OPERATION PAPERCLIP CASUAL NAMEDROP

god

This is so fascinating to me Bc it’s like “Here is how we revisionize the United States’ history of interfering in coups etc etc it was bad guys in the government doing it etc etc”

“What we need to to is get back to the good government”

Sam Wilson the man that you are

Bucky shows up at any time in this fucking movie and I start barking

I am also always thinking of the “we shot him in ze legs” vine

This is my Roman Empire

“I knew him” oooouuuuugggHHHH

RIP Stan Lee

Bucky yeets a guy into a jet engine and by god does he look good doing it

This stupid movie (editors’s note: caught in a miasma of 2014)

[cheswirls]

a:tla la thoughts 1.3

oh my god i forgot abt cabbage man being introduced in omashu. he was at the gate but he didnt' say anything! i was waiting for that scream. hopefully next time

oh is this jet. at first i thought it was haru but the shorter hair. sokka's immediate disapproval. this is jet huh. ok. ok i see you

NOOOOOOOOOOO he didnt say it aaaaaa whyyyyyy theyre teasing meeeeeee

OH they're putting this kid in the first season < i said that they looked it up and they do visit the northern air temple in s1. the fact that he and assumedly his father are in omashu instead is. hm. a choice.

jet also being in omashu is weird considering they made it a point to say there's no fire nation presence in omashu. what business does he have here. like why. that's his whole thing. hunting soldiers.

teo's design is sick tho, love the hair. love the goggles. thought his father caused that explosion but if not that was a weird way to show katara and aang are benders.

OH ok now i get it. jet and co are bombing parts of the city as a way for the ppl to rise up. trying to drag omashu into the war. i do like that if that's the case. good angle

i!!!!!!! don't like mai's hair. are they like space buns? what was wrong with her original hair? they had that sort of ornate hairstyle down for suki's mom. i like thalia tran's voice but the hair is rly throwing me off, not to mention the scene they're all introduced in is rly dark for some reason????? if it's colored black i cannot see it.

ty lee is cute tho!!! and i do like azula so far. i like them all so far. just not mai's hair.

hehe :) the cabbages

i don't rly have full context so idk that i can give a complete opinion based on conjecture. the significance behind having teo and sai inhabit the northern air temple was about sharing culture and more than just idk... sai giving weapons to the fire nation to protect their livelihood. like that is a part of it, sure, but by removing the setting, it's taking away a lot of nuance the whole situation had.

jet and co being behind the bombs makes sense but idk in what context. if they're tailing fire nation spies outside (outside???? or does omashu having a woodsy side to it where they've set up camp and i just missed it?) the city to eliminate them, then why also bomb them inside the city? that part to me still seems like indiscriminate attacks meant to incite the army to fight. but i will hold back bc i dont wanna give these writers credit if thats not the case and its smth stupid instead rhgowhgqeg

speaking of stupid. can we live in an era (as someone who knows very little about showrunning) where actors voice if something pertaining to their character is bad or doesn't make sense. didn't emilia clarke wander around london or whatever in absolute turmoil bc she hated the ending for her character in game of thrones but in the end she still went thru w it bc what else could she do. i wanna live in a world where an actor reads a script or tries to act smth out and stops and goes no. no this is stupid i don't like this he would not say that. and it like, have weight and significance?? like if bad writing exists, instead of letting it slide, can ppl in the making of the show voice their opinions? if smth is bad then it's bad.

this is all bc of the senseless iroh pushing zuko to the ground and drawing attn to himself scene at the end of e3. like why. the gate was right there. no one was checking faces. cover zuko's head again and run out in the crowd. do anything aside from the needless sacrifice like what was the point, whyyyyyy, i don't understand.

(this was an interesting mashup episode but tbh all i was thinking thru watching it was 'wow! ppl who get into atla thru the netflix adaptation r gonna be so confused when they watch the cartoon and learn jet and teo are introduced at different points of the season from each other and omashu. completely different points. omashu is first half, jet is middle, teo and sai are end. not a bad thing it was just jarring to think abt.)

once again i do not like anything they've done with iroh's character.

idk i'll probably go in depth next episode when everything hopefully gets explained better but. maybe bc they're making atla into a drama instead of the action/adventure it was originally, they feel like everything has to be "dramatized" and it's sucking the soul out of the show? the comedy isn't there really, which is a shame. atla's comedy is like the golden standard of cartoon kids-rated comedy. i would've loved to see them get into omashu by disguising aang and katara running with the absurd surname and that whole element, instead of sneaking in with jet with what tries to be humor maybe but falls short of such. this show needs to be funnier to be successful in my eyes.

also i know i said this last time but i wanna say it again re: the change in genre. taking this show from a global journey adventure serial and trying to make it a drama is removing a lot of what made atla work so well. there was so much planning and nuance in everything, and it worked bc of the genre it fit into. trying to slice and dice certain elements of a season to fit a not even 8 hr runtime isn't great to begin with, but like. you can make the show more adult-oriented without changing what it is at its core, y'know?

now that there's definitely gonna be a good chunk of next episode also set in omashu, i rly hope there's some nod to haru and that it's not smth they cut entirely. tbh, i said everything connects throughout atla's three seasons, and this rly makes me wonder if they get a s2, what they're planning on doing then. i thought before this came out that if they were gonna cut anything, that i actually didn't care for jet's episode that much, but if you cut out jet, then you get rid of one of the more iconic scenes of s2, if not the whole show, where he's being brainwashed by the dai li. everything connects. the friends you make along the way come back to lend their assistance. i really hope the rest of what they'll do with omashu is decent and not wasted time.

[leelee120000]

Looking Back On: My Chemical Romance, “Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys”

July 2, 2020

“Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys” is next to be discussed. I should start this section by apologizing for breaking the Clarion’s “no more articles about My Chemical Romance” rule. It wasn’t going to survive with me around. I’ve written here before about how my friend Mag really dragged me into the emo scene in 2011. 

“Danger Days,” my MCR album of choice, simply must be included in this article. First and foremost, “Danger Days” and the podcast “Welcome To Night Vale” are the two major things that inspired me to be a radio DJ throughout high school. That choice has impacted my life in so many ways that it’s not even funny. The album is amazing; comic books, apocalypse and anti-capitalism fit so well together. 

I won’t focus on the comics as they take place 10 years after the album. Dr. Death-Defying’s intro in “Na Na Na” is hands down the best intro to an album ever. It accomplishes more world-building and tone-setting than most full books in just a few sentences. 

The song blasts us into the world of the Killjoys (the rebels fighting for freedom in the story, who are personified as the band members) so well. It sets the immediate goal of saving The Girl from the evil Korse who kidnaps her at the end of the song. “Bulletproof Heart” is so romantic and such a powerful song. 

“SING” gets a lot of crap for being ‘too poppy’ for “Danger Days” but I disagree. The music video follows the Killjoys breaking into the evil BL/ind organization to save The Girl from Korse. A struggle ensues in which they all die; however, they do succeed in saving her. 

The rest of the album takes place before the kidnapping and deaths. “Planetary (GO!)” is a party song with its poetic lyrics about the folly of fame contributing to the song’s dance party concept. 

“The Only Hope For Me is You” has an intro that feels like a hazy dream as the synth sweeps up the song. It is a power ballad and highlights the war (the Analog War, according to the comics) that the characters are fighting, with constant mentions of guns and bombs. The song shows that the Killjoys have nothing left but each other. 

“Jet-Star and the Kobra Kid / Traffic Report” adds so much to the world. Are they dead? Who knows! Keep listening to find out! 

“Party Poison” is such a good rock introduction to the chaotic character of Party Poison. It starts with a clip of the character talking about bombing since, according to him, life’s too short not to fight. There’s a reason that he’s the leader of the rebellion in this war. “Save Yourself (I’ll Hold them Back)” is a good sneak peek at what the Killjoys will become. 

“S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W” feels like a lullaby to The Girl. I should explain a little more about her character here.  The Girl is nameless. When the Killjoys took her in, they didn’t want to give her a name but let her decide for herself. She’s the main protagonist of the comics. 

“Summertime” feels like a somber prequel to “Bulletproof Heart,” like love before the war. “Destroya” takes us right back to speed. A duet between Gerard and Frank, the song includes moaning, which makes this the most awkward song to play out loud. However, it adds to the story. 

“The Kids From Yesterday” has a music video consisting of footage from MCR’s last tour, but I feel like the song is the Killjoys coming to terms with the fact that they’re gonna die.

“Goodnight, Dr. Death” is the official end of the album, where the titular Doctor is murdered as the national anthem plays. The last song is “Vampire Money,” which was written as a response to people asking Gerard to be in “Twilight.”

LeAnne McPherson

[ayyden-apoloe]

ok im here to read 2 days late bc of sickyness :D !! godgodgod okaY SO thank you for actually replying omg im so excited waHhhh

readmore bc i got really autistic about this and its long aaaaaaaAa i love this ty bye

ooooourgh i feel like the walking in the dark thing could also be them both feeling isolated and looked down (maybe unintentionally) by the other guild members on for wanting to interact w each other. the gajeel side of that is obvious, nobody trusts him and they all think he doesnt belong and he cant blame them for that.

but with LEVY i feel like after The Incident she and droy and jet dont really ,, talk about what happened and seeing each other while theyre healing just makes them angry and sad so they distance for a while (maybe 2-3 weeks ? a month ? however long it takes them to physically heal) and then try and gloss over it w maybe the occasional outburst from one of them ((for that goodgood healing-from-trauma story spice)) and when she decides to listen to her heart and maybe give gajeel a second chance shes Scared and Confused and maybe a bit Ashamed, bc why should she even give this asshole the time of day, he tried to kill her family. when she says this team shadowgear gets into a fight. like a screaming sobbing awful terrible fight where jet is mostly just angry, he thinks levy feels she Has to forgive gajeel bc shes gotta be the bigger person and/or that if she Doesnt shes afraid of what gajeel might do in the future. droy is fucking afraid tho, he hasnt really had a proper convo w his 2 best friends in the world for a monTh and then suddenly one of them decides to let the guy who nearly killed them and made it a public spectacle just start ovER ?? what the fuck ! where did his headstrong and reliable levy go and who is this girl in her place ?!? and levY is the most confused of all of them bc shit jet and droy are right ! theyre fucking right !! whY is she sticking her foot back in that beartrap and why does she feel like if she doesnt her world will crumble around her ? (i think she doesnt handle anger very well she doesnt know what to do w all the energy and it just consumes her thoughts and she sits and stews) she Shouldnt forgive gajeel hes a dick and hes proven it and christ if jet and droy are feeling like this then how will the rest of the guild think, she already cant barely stand to be around most of them rn, theyve only looked at her w pity or a wince of pain for an entire month and she feels like she let everyone she knows down

NEXT !! (had to force myself to set that last paragraph down i have so many thoughts and ideas) i see your gajeel feeling like a fake and a mess bc hes not Actually a terrible guy and he doesnt want to be but fuck its all he knows to do at this point and i do the gif of the kid at the desktop nodding and doing a thumbs up, you know the one, i have no notes youre right and fantastic and SOSO smart

GOD YES DEMIROMANTIC GAJEVYYYYYY YEAAAHHHH im demiromantic and demisexual myself so i GET IT DUDE RAAAAAAGH :D !! when they first started talking a little normally i was like wait wtf this is going too fast, they should hate each other but then it grew on me. and i really Really like that feeling of gajeel and levy feeling forced and awkward and painful to watch interact for a while, its shows theyre human and you gotta have room enough for the original feeling of my the viewers' disgust to die down before jumping into even complicated aquaintance territory, let alone anything romantic [i have a bigbad hc about the SG getting beaten incident thats honestly really dark that adds to my thoughts and feelings on this but thats a whole entiRE can of wyrms]

sits and listens raptly and eats popcorn for the last few quotes bc yeysyesyes no notes, levy NEEDS to be her own 3d person who has issues and insecurities and and aND (hers is the more interesting side of their whole trust issues situation imo)

ANYWAY BITES AND TEARS AND RENDS AND CHEWS AND RIPS AND GNAWS AND AND AND AND !!! but yeah i also super get the fear of being soso invested in smthn other people might look at as weird and crying bc you Gotta share but what if people are mean waiLS ! so ty for actually answering w so many thoughts aaaa this is everything i couldve asked for bWAH im sending my admiration to you as we speak it will arrive in the mail by sunday

bore the shadows that you made, with no light of my own, i shine only with the light you gave me

sniffle sniffle …… gajevebebebeytt and this song … GRAH,, also an alternate version under the cut :3

[unluckyhoneybee]

Sex Education: Sun and Waves. (LN)

Part nine: You throw your plans over the board, literally. Smut.

MASTERLIST

Previous part: Mediterranean sun.

Note: feelings, feelings, feelings... Thank you for the suggestion! And sorry for the long time it took me to write this.

Warnings: +18. They talk about porn again. Lando is awkward. Penetrative sex, fingering, blowjob, unprotected.

Something was touching my nose when I woke up.

"Shit"

George laughed and I slapped his arm.

"We are all having breakfast, sleeping beauty."

I rolled my eyes and covered my eyes. The light was awful, hitting my eyes who were trying to get used to it.

"What time is it?"

"Breakfast time. We are on holidays. No time needed"

I sat and George laughed at me. I had slept in a sofa and probably looked like shit.

"Mind to explain why you slept in the sofa?"

"Max slept in my bed. The guy was wasted."

"And Lando..."

"He slept there. Have thay already left?" I asked trying not to sound worried.

"No, they are having breakfast."

"Good. I'm surprised Max is up"

George sighed and sat closer to me.

"There is something going on with Lando, right?"

I felt the air leaving my lungs.

"What?"

"I saw you yesterday"

No, no, no, no. My best friend saw me humping one of his best friends?

"W-what?"

"Yeah, back there. And then you came to talk to us after talking to him and looked happy. Like really happy."

I blushed, the fear slowly dissipating. That was close.

"Um..."

"Be careful, okay?"

I sighed.

"It's Lando." I said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah. I know. That's why. And the other guy..."

Tell him, tell him, tell him.

But words didn't came. I nodded and muttered a don't worry. I couldn't go and tell George. Lando and I had set some rules. We had built our thing around trust. I couldn't just go and tell him without talking to Lando before.

"Let's go and have breakfast"

I couldn't avoid blushing when my eyes fell on Lando. He was leaning back on a chair. He was wearing a blue bath suit and a t-shirt. It fascinated me how his skin glowed in the sun, how his muscled torso fit perfectly inter the clothes, how the moles around his arms draw imaginary shapes...

George pinched my arm and I bit my lip.

"You are drooling"

"George, don't tell a word to anyone" I whispered pulling him close.

Lando noticed us and smiled. I said a loud Good morning but my eyes were on him.

It was nice to have breakfast with all of them. The sun warmed my skin and the waves moved the yacht. I was completely used to it by now.

"Hey, I'm gonna ask someone to put the ski jets out" Alex said getting up. He was sitting by my side so Lando took the opportunity to jump.

"Why so eager?" Charles asked.

"The sun mate"

I was slightly hidden from it under the porch, so it was the perfect excuse.

"Better?"

"So much better"

He took a ship of water without taking his eyes off mine.

Last night hit hard. I was sure, more and more each minute, that I was falling in love with him. And now he was looking at me and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

He gently pushed his knee against mine and I smiled.

"Here, YN. Your toast. Do you want honey?"

"Mmm, yes"

An hour later we were all the rail. Some of the guys were already on the jet skis.

"Won't you go swimming?" I heard Alex on my back.

"Not yet."

"And why is that? Don't you want to try the jet ski"

"Mmm. Not really. I don't know how to also so..."

"Lando! Hey. Take YN with you. She sais she can't ride those things."

I blushed. Lando was putting on the lifejacket.

"Can't you?"

I told him no with my head and he gave me a cheeky smile. I showed him a middle finger and both, Alex and him, laughed aloud.

"Okay, okay. Get a bikini and hop into it with me"

I bit my lip and Alex pushed me. I never changed so fast. Soon, I was on the railing again and Alex was helping me with the lifejacket. Lando was patiently waiting with a smile.

"Are you sure? Does Alfa allow you to do this? With that guy?" George took me by the shoulders and shook me while he laughed.

"I will take care of her. Don't worry" Lando was already hopping in the machine.

George looked at me and then at Lando and nodded. Was he going on dad mood now?

"Russell, help me getting on it."

With one hand on George's and the other on Lando's shoulder, I got behind him on the jet ski.

"Is your ass on the seat?" George asked.

"It is"

"Then let go of my hand"

I was nervous, to say the less. This was my first time in one of this things and even though I trusted Lando, he was Lando after all.

"Ok, Norris. No jokes. I will jump to the water at the slightest thing."

"No jokes. I promise"

George was actually enjoying it. He had that cheeky face of his.

"Some jokes, Lando. Don't be boring"

"No!"

And a second later we were moving away from the yatch faster and faster. I grabbed into Lando's lifejaket as of my life depented on it. My eyes were closed and my cheek was pressed against his back.

The machine was even jumping on the surface, the water splashing around us.

"Slow down, slow down" I said tapping his abdomen twice.

A second after, his hand covered mine and the jet ski slowed down, spinning softly to the left.

"It's okay." He said once the thing had stopped.

I opened my eyes. The yacht was far away now.

"Shit" my heart was beating fast, so fast. "Shit Lando. Look how far we are"

"Don't tell me you are scared of the ocean." He half joked half not.

"I'm not. Just... This thing is fast"

"Not faster than your car"

I chuckled and rested my chin on his shoulder. Where the other far enough?

"You are leaving later, right?"

"Yes"

I pouted even though he couldn't see me. It was funny how these past days I wanted nothing more than fogert about this feelings growing for him and now I only wanted him to stay.

"Don't be all sad now, Missy. We still have what? Nine hours? Plus. It's you the one who is leaving in that beautiful yacht"

"That's... True. But I will miss you, you know?"

"Do you want more lessons during the summer break?"

I slapped his arm and he laughed.

"Okay, okay. I will miss you too, Missy. It has been nice to see you"

I leaned and gave his cheek a kiss. Then another one, and then another one, following the moles on his face.

"You should stop, Missy." He whispered.

"Yeah, right"

Our thing was pure educative sex. No PDA. It was a secret and it would be over once any of us managed to find someone.

"Ready?"

"For what"

He made the jet ski move and I yelped. The prick laughed hard.

"Lando, please"

"It's okay, really. Just grab into me. You won't fall. I know you trust me, missy"

"I do. On the bed. Not here. I definitely do not trust you here"

He laughed and did that thing again. It made me grab harder into him. I was completely stuck to his back.

"YN, babe. It's really okay. Do you want to drive it? I can teach you"

I bit my lip.

"I'm scared"

"I'm with you"

The way he said that almost made me faint. Alfa Romeo's driver YN YSN drowns in the ocean because Lando Norris is too good for this world.

"How the fuck do I get in the front?"

He got up to one side and I screamed grabbing into him so he won't fall.

"Lando!"

"I won't die. Sharks are not that big in this sea"

"There are sperm whales on this sea. They are bigger than sharks"

"Get to the front and stop freaking out, missy" He kissed my head and I blushed.

You moved to the front and grabbed the handles.

"See, no problem" He sat behind me and grabbed my hips. His big hands felt like heaven on my skin. Flashbacks from last night came to my mind and my cheeks flushed. I needed him. I needed to have him before he left in the afternoon.

"Hey, missy. Are you listening?"

"No" I blurted and he laughed.

"Yeah, what I thought. Too occupied thinking about dry hump me again?"

"Yeah, basically."

He laughed hard and put his hands over mine.

"It's easy..." He explained me how the damn thing worked, speaking softly on my hair and making me shiver.

His fingers were moving softly over mine and my hands looked so small next to his. His chin was on my shoulders so sometimes, when he turned his head a bit, I could feel his lips on my skin. I was feeling deezy. Almost overwhelmed by everything. The sea was bouncing the jet ski and he was firmly pressed against me, his crotch against my ass. I would only need to turn my head to one side to kiss him. My skin was burning but I didn't know if it was him or the sun. For a second, I closed my eyes and wished for this to never end. I just wanted to stay here, with Lando, the sun and the waves.

"Ok. Some gas... And there we go"

His hand had moved mine and pulled me out of my daydream.

"See? It's not difficult. Your car is more complex than this"

I moved my hand tentatively on the gas handle and the jet ski moved forward again. Lando let my hands go and grabbed my waist instead.

"Does this have brakes?"

"Not really brakes, but doing this it slows down. It's like suddenly trying to put it on reverse."

I nodded. It was different to have him explaining this to me. He was cute and talked slow, probably wanting me to understand things properly.

We stayed in the water, he showing me things about the jet ski till we heard Pierre shouting from the yacht. Our little bubble exploded and Lando sighed. I was having so much fun with him that my belly hurt from laughing.

"The fun is over" Lando groaned in my ear.

"I wish we had more time"

He sighed and caressed my waist under the lifejacket.

I drove the jet ski to the yacht, hearing Pierre complaining about how long we had been on it. I rolled my eyes and laughed.

Lando hopped into the yacht before, reaching a hand for me to take with a soft smile on his face. But payback is a bitch. He had scared me to death minutes ago, so I pulled his hand and he fell into the water. Everyone around laughed as he came to the surface. His curls fell on his forehead and he had a huge smile. One of those smiles you could read as danger.

Obviously, he didn't stay still. He swam to me and soon I was in the water too, engulfed by the contrasts of temperature and by immense happiness. Maybe it was too much to ask, but I would die to always have Lando like this. No worries. No hiding. Just us having fun.

I reached the surface and pulled my hair out of my face. He was just there in front of me, half a meter away from me. I would only need to lean a bit to press my lips on his. But he was the fastest. He hugged me, his body pressing into mine.

Soon, water splashed next to us and we broke apart laughing. He touched my hand under the water and my face warmed. Maybe he felt like I did. Maybe he was falling too.

Yuki and later Charles jumped into the water too, but Lando could only look at me. He was dripping wet and smiling and my heart couldn't beat faster.

It turns out that feeling such intense feelings could be tiring and overwhelming. After lunch, I felt drained. The guys were playing on the water and I could just look and smile. Until the captain came and told us the yacht would leave in two hours. Just for the sunset or something like that.

"Oh nooo" I heard Max exclaim.

They would leave. My two days in paradise with Lando were over and I felt as if I hadn't enjoyed it enough. Lando came out of the water. His body was glowing with beads of water and he looked perfect. His skin was slightly tanned. I bit my lip and he looked at me, giving me a weird smile before walking toward me.

"Hey..." He sounded a bit sad. Maybe he didn't want to leave either "Do you mind if I shower?"

I nodded a bit taken aback.

"Yeah, yeah. Just dry yourself a bit before going in"

He obeyed. Max would shower too in another bathroom. They both left and went inside and I stayed on the chair, knees to my chest and chin on my arms.

Minutes went by and I felt more and more anxious. I couldn't just let him go like that. I wouldn't see him in maybe two or three weeks. So when no one was looking, I sneaked inside and walked fast to my bedroom. I could hear the water running in the shower. I thought about it a couple of times. Would I be invading his space? Would he want me there? But the longing feeling of being with him was stronger, so I opened the door slowly. I gasped a bit when I saw his figure through the translucent glass. My hands were shaking when I started taking my clothes off and my knees felt like jelly by when I reached to open the glass. I stopped breathing and waited for his reaction as I took a step into the shower.

Am I overstepping? Should I have knocked first?

But then Lando slowly turned around and all the thoughts disappeared from my head. His lips, half-open, were begging for me to kiss them. He smiled and I almost fainted.

"I thought you'd never come" He teased with a smirk and a soft voice.

The water was still falling over him when I closed the gap and kissed his lips. He moaned at the contact and grabbed into me, his big strong hands kept me close enough to deepen the kiss. He licked into my mouth and I hummed, tasting the lemonade on him and running my fingers up his back.

The warm water fell over me too when Lando pressed me against the wall. The kisses were deep and hungry, almost consuming the air in my lungs.

As our hands move on the other's body, the moans and gasps were more intense and frequent. I could never get tired of this.

Lando ran his hands down my sides and grabbed into my ass. Then he lifted me and I hit my head with the shower head.

"Oh shit" I grabbed into his shoulders and hid on his neck laughing. I didn't want people outside hearing us but it was difficult as hell.

"Oh no" He touched my head immediately. "Are you okay?"

With panic in his eyes, he made me look at him. I was covering my mouth trying not to laugh.

"How did you do it, little gremlin?" I said looking at him and then at the shower.

He chuckled and kissed my forehead.

"I'm so sorry. This stuff always looks so good in porn. It's unfair"

I cupped his cheeks and gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

"Lando, honey. Porn is fake."

"But it looks fun"

"I can have more fun without hitting my head or without you getting all tired"

"I'm an athlete. I'm well trained"

You rolled your eyes.

"Put me down, idiot"

He lowered me and I kissed him hard, pulling a moan out of his throat. "Of course, you are well trained, Lando. But really, I don't need you to do all of those things they do in porn" I kissed his cheek and then sucked the skin on his neck. His hands grabbed my ass and pulled me flushed against him, his hard member pressed on my lower belly. "I fucking love this neck, Lando"

Leaving light bite marks, I travelled down his shoulder.

"Fuck, you look so perfect. Your body is just... I couldn't stop looking at you today, Lando"

I stole a kiss from his lips before going to his other shoulder. With my lips, I looked for moles and marks on him. They drove me crazy. They were everywhere asking to be kissed.

"I don't need you to be an expert in sex or something like that. I just want to have fun and enjoy with you"

Slowly dragging my lips down to his chest, I sucked his nipple and licked it. He gasped and knotted his fingers on my hair.

"I only need you to make me feel good" I let myself fall on my knees. "I want to have fun and that sex on porn it's not fun"

I bit the skin on his hip and he shivered.

"I love how clumsy and awkward you are. It makes it more special"

Another kiss on his belly, then under his belly button and then right above his member. He caressed my face and whimpered a continue, please.

I smiled a bit. I loved to have him like this.

"I love how we can laugh and just be stupid during sex" I grabbed his member with my hand and jerked him slowly.

"Fuck..."

"That's what makes our thing special" I licked softly the tip. "I know I can do things wrong because you are there to tell me how to be better"

I sucked and he moaned.

"I love how I can wear Patrick Star underwear and you would joke about it"

"Shit, YN. You are driving me crazy"

"I'm just gonna let you fuck me in this shower and it will be messy because that's what we are"

"Are you? Are you gonna let me fuck you here?"

I nodded and slid his member into my mouth. With my lips wrapped around it, I started bobbing my head slowly. He let his head fall back and his grip on my hair tightened. A low moan came out of my throat and he gasped.

"Fuck. I love your mouth so much. You are so good with it"

I pulled him out and swirled my tongue around it. I fucking loved when he talked like that.

"Come on, missy. Open that mouth please"

I obeyed and showed him my tongue, which made him smile. "You are beautiful, YN"

That made me blush hard. He had that effect. He had always had. Since the beginning of this thing.

Lando was careful when he slid his member into my mouth. He was careful and moved slowly he started bucking his hips onto it.

"That's it, babe. You are doing so well. Just tap me twice if it's too much"

He was groaning and moaning as I sucked and moved my tongue over him. He had his slow and steady pace, only going deep once in a while after being sure I was okay. And he grew closer and closer. After so many lessons, I started to learn the signals. How his eyes looked in desperation at me, how his nostrils slightly opened, how he mainly breathed through his mouth and how his fingers tightened around anything he could grip.

Lando stopped then, when he was almost there, and pulled out with a groan.

"Why do you stop?" I asked out of breath.

"I have to fuck you in this shower, right?"

"You are young and athletic, can't you take two rounds?"

"I prefer to cum fucking you" He grabbed me and helped me stand before kissing me hard. His tongue wandered around my mouth before he pulled back and pressed his lips on my forehead for a second. "Can I?"

"Fuck me? I came here expecting you to do it"

He chuckled and grabbed my hips. Suddenly he turned me around. I was facing the wall now. "Oh fuck" I gasped surprised.

He laughed a bit before spanking my ass softly. Not too hard, it only itched a bit.

"Shit, Lando"

"YN. I don't have condoms"

I turned my face to him. "Neither do I"

"Fuck, I wasn't planning on seeing you during these holidays"

Wait, what? Was he only seeing me?

"W-well. I-I haven't had sex with anyone else since we took those tests" I muttered.

"Haven't you?"

"No" I whispered. Have we been exclusive? Without even agreeing on it?

"Neither have I"

"I'm on the pill" I said looking at him in the eyes.

"Fuck. Are you...?"

"Fuck me, Lando"

He gave me a deep kiss and pressed me against the wall again. He used two fingers to get me ready and soon he was fucking me. His hand was around my mouth, silencing my moans. It has fast, hard and deep. He had probably never fucked like this, but it felt so fucking great. He was hitting the right spot and it was driving me crazy.

"Shit, YN. You feel so fucking good" He said in my ear, his voice was deep and low and it was perfect.

I whimpered on his hand and closed my eyes tight. I was close, but he was closer. The pleasure was building up on my lower stomach when his hips began to stutter on their thrusts.

"I'm gonna come, fuck YN"

I reached back and ran my hands over his hair, then he freed my mouth and I kissed him. His tongue danced on my tongue and I sucked his lips before he pulled out and came on my back. His teeth sank on my skin and he groaned.

With my fingers tangled in his hair, I turned around and kissed him again, silencing his low moans as he jerked himself through his orgasm. When he pulled back, his pupils were huge and his breathing was hard. He gave me the most intense look ever before crashing our mouths once more and taking his fingers to my centre. He was almost a master in this now, so he went directly when I needed him the most. His fingers moved fast against my g-spot as I moved my hips dragging my clit over the palm of his hand. He made me cum so soon and so hard I almost lose my balance. Luckily, Lando had well-trained his reflexes and was fast catching me. I pulled back from his mouth and took a deep breath.

"Fuck, you did so well, missy." He said before kissing my forehead.

All that pleasure was still running over me as I slowly recover and my senses came back to earth. I noticed the water still coming over us and Lando's hand around my middle, his leg between mine and his lips leaving soft kisses on my face.

"Earth to YN?" He whispered half laughing.

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

I love you.

To save me from saying anything I would regret, I pressed my lips on his cheek and he hugged me close.

"I'm going to miss you a lot"

"I'm going to miss you too" I whispered back as I tried to not cry.

"Hey, I'll text you, okay?"

I looked into his eyes and he cupped my chin, giving me a short loving kiss.

"Okay... Just tell me how your amazing holidays in this place go" I smiled a bit and he nodded.

"Same to you, missy" He took a deep breath and stroked my cheek. "Now, let me clean you."

Sorry if it took too long. The last weeks have been messy and my head was on the clouds. I'm still proud of this part. Probably not what I had in mind, but it turned out well.

Next part: Car rides and tears.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner 

One Shot: Title Of Your Sex Tape

KINKTOBER DAY 13: Porn

Cowritten with @spectre-posts

Summary: An innocent joke leads to something a little less innocent as Katie introduces Steve to the world of modern Porn…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language words, smut (NSFW), no under 18s. Porn. Stupid jokes…yeah…

A/N: They’re back!! God, I missed these two idiots so much. Thanks to my cowriter and collaborator for Kinktober for allowing this indulgence. This slots into the SSB timeline after the one shot Ask Questions, Throw Shield Later whilst the team are in the middle of looking for Bucky and the rest of Hydra. If you haven’t read any of the Stark Spangled Universe fics, you might not get this but you can appreciate the smut and humour in itself. And please feel free to check it all out and chat to me with comments and reviews.. Stark Spangled Man is the first starting point…it’s my absolute favourite epic I’ve written. Its’ long as hell but…my total guilty pleasure. I love these babies!

W/C: 4.5k

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Kinktober Masterlist

It started off as an innocent joke.

Katie was lounging in one of the chairs by the desk, watching as Steve and Tony were arguing over some new compact weapons system for the jet when Steve blurted out, “that’s not gonna fit in there.”

Both the Stark siblings, at the same time replied, “title of your sex tape,” before they burst out laughing.

Steve groaned and rolled his eyes. "Children."

Katie looked at him, then snorted. “You love Brooklyn 99, so don’t gimme that!”

"Not when we’re discussing where deadly force weapons fit into a Quinn Jet." He deadpanned

Ignoring him, Tony grinned and turned to his sister . “You know, now you mention it…I can kinda see the similarities.”

“Between him and Perralta?” Katie frowned.

“No, don’t be ridiculous, Kiddo. Between him and Boyle.”

The youngest Stark burst out laughing once more, her head tipping back as she chuckled.

Steve tossed his notes into the air dramatically and scooted back from the table. The wheels of his desk chair skidding over the floor as he stood. "I'm taking a break."

“Oh, Steve… don’t be…” Katie watched him go, before she finished, “…such a baby.”

“Little touchy.” Tony sniffed.

“And he calls me a brat.” Katie scoffed.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed he doesn’t know what a sex tape is.” Tony mused, picking up the notes.

“Course he knows what a sex tape is. They had dirty flicks and stuff back then. And besides, how do you know we ain’t watched porn together?” Katie smirked. “Maybe we have a nasty, dirty video of our own.”

At that Tony first went blank, then white and thereafter a little green.“That is disgusting and I don’t ever wanna hear that ever again, young lady.”

Katie simply popped a shoulder with a big smirk. "I'm going to top off and find Steve. I'll be right back."

Tony simply waved her away as she stood up.

She found him in the main kitchen for the Avengers floor. He too was searching for something and Katie sighed softly as she set her mug down on the counter. Her hip jutted out as she leaned into the granite. "You know, if you weren't so serious in these meetings all the time, you'd at least appreciate a good joke."

“And maybe if you and your brother took the meetings a little more seriously we might be making a more headway into rounding up the remnants of Hydra.”

And finding Buck...

Katie tilted her head to one side and dropped her since folded arms from across her chest. She stepped forward towards Steve and moved into his space. "Alright Soldier, what's really on your mind." Her left arm slid up his chest to around his neck, her engagement ring catching the light. Her right hand stuck to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his tee.

“Nothin….just…damnit I feel like we’re getting nowhere.” He sighed, “we’ve had nothing since that last raid, Sam’s trail on Buck has gone cold. Nat and Clint have found nothing on any of their recon and…who knows where Thor is…add that to the fact your brother and Banner seem to be more focused on building robots that invade our damned apartment in the middle of the night than doing anything of use…”

“I thought you liked the idea of the Iron Legion…god that is still an awful name.” She shook her head.

“I do, I just don’t think it’s the best use of our time.”

"You sound like you need a day off," she scratched at the back of his neck. "Why don't we finish this arms meeting and we take the rest to ourselves?"

Steve took a deep breath. “Maybe.”

"Alright," Katie dropped her arms, knowing not to push it any further. "I'll refill this mug and meet you back in the conference room."

She moved to grab the coffee and poured herself one before she turned back to face Steve.

“Tony is taking this seriously, as we all are. The reason he’s filling his time with this seemingly pointless technology development is because we have no leads and he needs to keep busy. Same reason I’m still working full time on the publishing company.”

Steve only managed a nod, not in a curt way nor any way really.

"Alright then," Katie stated, "back to business."

She brushed past him, not looking back and left the room, almost colliding with Clint on the way.

"Whoa there," he joked.

“Wouldn’t go in there if I was you.” She said with an airy tone as she continued towards the labs. “Captain Cranky is out in full force.”

“I heard that!” Came Steve’s loud voice from the kitchen.

“You were meant to!” She shot back over her shoulder.

Clint watched her go before he walked into the kitchen to find Steve running a large hand over his face.

“Okay…explain.” Clint arched a brow as he reached up into the cupboard for the popcorn.

"Tony being Tony and this whole team has lost focus on the reality of the situation we're in.“

“The whole team hasn’t lost focus, Cap.” Clint shook his head, his tone easy. “What do you think Nat and I have been doing for the past three weeks? Bunking on floors and in dirty motels ain’t exactly been a barrel of laughs.”

Steve sighed. He was just frustrated. There were things not marked off on his list of concerns, most important the last cells of HYDRA and in equal measure, finding Bucky. "I know. I'm sorry." He too filled his mug now and took a last look at the skilled archer, "you're in for a treat in there. Tony wants to fit a new live laser system in the vertical stabilizers.”

Clint frowned, "but it won't fit there."

"That's what I said," Steve scoffed.

Clint looked blank for a moment, “and…so what did Stark say?”

“Both of them simply said that was the title of my…my sex tape, then started laughing.”

"Brooklyn 99, nice," Clint smirked. "A Nova favorite."

Steve exhaled, and then watched as Clint tossed the microwave sack of popcorn into the machine and hit the button.

“You’re not gonna lace that with cayenne pepper again, are you?” He asked as he picked up his refilled mug.

"No...maybe." 

Steve simply snorted as he took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll catch you later, better go try and make Tony see sense.”

Clint snorted as Steve left the room. He simply shook his head at and waited for the popcorn to pop.

*****

“Stevie?” Katie called from the kitchen of their apartment. “You wanna beer?”

"Suppose." Steve sat on the couch looking over something on the glass tablet which gave him access to the Stark System files. 

"You're supposed to be taking the rest of the day," she shouted again.

“I never technically said that, you did.”

He smirked to himself as he heard Katie’s exasperated groan.

“You’re a pain in my ass…” she grumbled, grabbing two bottles before she headed back into the lounge. She handed him one and quickly snatched the device from his other hand as the exchange happened.

“Hey…”

“Oooh reflexes a little slow there, old man.” She grinned, “didn’t see that comin’, did ya?”

Her soldier frowned then smirked. Very quickly her beer was out of her hand and she was on her back on the couch. "Who you calling old and slow doll?"

She chuckled, her hand reaching up and brushing through his hair. “You…if the cap fits…”

He groaned, “that joke is almost as bad as the sex tape one.”

She grinned again, her green eyes sparkling. “I though it was funny.”

“Hilarious….” He deadpanned before he gave her lips a quick peck. 

“Speaking of hilarious, know what really made me wanna laugh when you left for the kitchen?” Her hands smoothed up his biceps to his shoulders as he shifted above her a little, his weight on his knees.

“What?”

“Tony now thinks we made a sex tape."

“What?” Steve blinked. "Why...why would he think that?"

"Because I might have suggested we made one."

Steve groaned, the noise turning into a begrudging chuckle. “What did you do that for?”

“Because he insinuated you didn't know what one was. And I knew it would freak him out, which it did. Why do you think he wouldn’t look at you for the rest of the morning?”

Steve cocked his head to the left and popped a shoulder, "that explains it."

“It amused me, I like fucking with his head.”

"Have you?" Steve quirked a brow.

"Have I what?" Katie sought clarification.

"Made a sex tape." Steve said it with curiosity but his face held a slight cringe. "Like with Ward or...."

“Why did you have to mention that fucker?”  Katie rolled her eyes. “No, no I haven’t.”

"No offense meant, doll." Steve sighed. "Just curious."

“If I’d have made a sex tape you would have seen it by now.” Katie took a deep breath, “along with the rest of the world. It would have no doubt been leaked or sold to the press or ransomed back to me or some dumb crap like that. You never heard of Pam and Tommy?”

"Um...."

“I’ll take that as a no.” She snorted, “Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee, famous people, very famous back in 90s…they made a dirty porno for their own use but it was stolen by some guy doing work on their house. He turned it into a video and it basically got sold to the public, ended up on the internet.”

"That's...grim." Steve wrinkled its nose.

"Yeah, some people still find it funny but it blew up all over the world and wreaked havoc on their lives and marriage. In good ways and bad ways." Katie popped a shoulder.

"You know, back in the day Dirty flicks used to be held in dark rooms for men only and cost a good penny." Steve mused. "Buck and I snuck into one once. We were sixteen and he managed to pop the back door to a showroom open.

“Oh get you, you dirty dog.” She grinned before she suddenly cocked an eyebrow up. “You seen any porn since defrosting?”

Steve shook his head, "nope." He popped the 'p'.

“D’ya wanna?”

He immediately flushed a bit.

Katie held his gaze before she leaned up to kiss him again, “I love how I can still make you blush.”

He kissed her lip softly. "Say we do, whatcha got in mind?"

“Do what? Watch porn?” She smirked, “I really have created a monster, huh?”

"Well," Steve sat back from caging her in on the sofa. "Call it curiosity or comparison for science."

“Science, huh. Tony would be proud.” She stayed where she was and reached for the tv remote. “But to answer your question there’s all sorts available…I can’t say I’m really intrigued by some of the hardcore stuff but…” she then nodded to the screen and Steve looked round to see the image was some form of menu from a porn site.

His eyes flicked down, reading the various types available and he felt himself grimacing. 

“Okay, what the…big cock? Blowjob? School girl? No…just…”

“It’s all different fetishes, or kinks, not actual school girls…hang on…” Katie laughed, “here, couple, female friendly…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it says. They’re designed to be a little less…well, more about the actual romance of the sex itself and not just the kink. They’re called that as they’re videos that people in relationships might wanna watch to have a little fun, get aroused. Or maybe women on their own if they’re feeling that way inclined. Think of them as being the real dirty parts a romance film leaves out or doesn’t quite show you in explicit detail.”

"Hmmmm…" he hummed, looking over the thumbnail images of the videos. "Alright, so we just...pick one?"

"Yeah," Katie nodded. "Only if you want."

He nodded, he could do this…in fact, he kinda wanted to. Contrary to what people may think, Steve classes himself as fairly open minded when it came to sex. Whilst people no doubt assumed Captain America’s bedroom appetites to be either non existent or “vanilla” it wasn’t. Katie had brought out a side to him he’d never indulged before, one that might have been called deviant back in ‘his’ time. But, well, everyone told him he needed to move with the times, didn’t they?

And this was one area that he was more than happy to embrace the modern side of. He was comfortable enough now to share his sexual appetites and links with his fiancée. Just how he should be.

Sure, he could watch a dirty flick with his gal...no shame in that.

"Alright, doll. You pick, I ain’t got a clue."

Katie looked at him then turned her attention to the television. She scroll down a little more then hovered over one particular video. "This looks like it could be okay." Steve examine the title. Husband surprise his wife with sexy night in bedroom. He snorted and looked at her.

She merely smirked and shrugged. "Soon enough," she pressed play.

“That’s not…okay, that wasn’t what I was thinking but it is now.” He chuckled, “no I was gonna say as far as sex tapes go that’s a really shit title.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” she grinned, “or in this case a porno by its title.”

Steve chuckled and turned his attention back to the screen, his warming beer in hand.

Katie shifted besides him as the video began to play, sitting up and tucking her legs up onto the couch so that her head was leaning onto Steve’s shoulder.

The set up was awful and so contrived. The wife had come home for a stressful day at the office. Her husband had come home earlier than she to set up his romantic night at home. Candle lit dinner and soft music with what was no doubt grape juice over wine as they sat together gazing at one another.

Steve scoffed and snorted as Katie giggled and at one point the two were in a fit of giggles as the actors on screen ridiculously flirted in the most unconvincing way about their attraction to one another.

“Well this ain’t winning any Oscars any time soon.” Katie snorted, and then downright howled as the husband told his wife he was going to take her to heaven and back, “oh Jesus!”

Steve chuckled, "well, doll, have I taken you to heaven yet?"

Katie looked at him, and then burst out laughing, “Steve…oh my…stop!”

“You ain’t answered the question!” He started to laugh as Katie shook her head.

“You take me to heaven every single time , baby…” she fluttered her eyelashes.

He chuckled deeper at her silly flutter, his eyes flicking to the screen, "Looks like it's finally getting to the actual deed."

“Bout fucking time, pardon the pun.”

As most softer porn flicks, the couple started with very romantic kissing and heavy petting.

Steve watched, tilting his head a little bit as the camera focused on the expression on the blonde woman’s face. Then it flicked to the ‘husband’s’ hand as it started to knead at a sheer lace covered breast.

“You know what else is unrealistic?” Katie mumbled.

"Hmmm," Steve hummed, as his fingers trailed up and down Katie's exposed arm. She'd since led her head in his lap, facing the television.

“No one would ever wear that underwear to work.”

"You wouldn't?" He kept watch.

“That would be uncomfortable as fuck.” She let out a breath. “My fancy underwear is reserved for date nights only.”

"I like your fancy underwear."

“I know you do. Especially the blue and white set.”

Steve gave a little grunt in appreciation at the favorite bra and panty set which he damn near wanted to rip off her any time she wore it.

She fell silent again as they both concentrated on the screen. It was getting a little steamy, now. The woman's bra had been removed and now the ‘husband’ was paying a lot of attention to his ‘wife’s’ breasts and nipples.

Steve sensed the rhythm of Katie's heart uptick and her body language had subtly changed. He knew exactly why. This was one of her kinks. Nothing got his future bride as heated up or as turned on as when he played with her tits. In fact, he could distinctly recall a few times he’d got her off from doing that alone.

So he did what he thought would be alright by her and moved his hand from her arm and down the collar of her tank she'd changed into after calling the work day over. Thick and long fingers dipped between her skin and bra, circling around her areola first, then her nipple. He'd acted as though it was absent minded, but there was nothing absent about his actions.

He felt her chest hitch, but he didn’t look down. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen as he felt Katie starting to twitch a little as she lay on her side, cheek to his thigh.

Steve's free hand twitched itself, just a little, imperceptibly even, as he set to controlling himself. He, too, was getting a little warm as the video continued on. The sounds, sighs and moans, combined with Katie's own reactions were making the space in the gusset of his pants a little tight.

And he knew from Katie’s proximity to said crotch area, there was no way she wouldn’t have noticed.

The action switched from the attention on the wife's breasts to now lips over her tight and taught abs, mouthing over a covered mound and sucking her clit through the fabric.

He felt Katie shift a little more obviously this time, and for the first time he glanced down to see she’d squeezed her thighs together. That made Steve want to groan out loud at the thought of how wet she’d likely be inside those damned denim shorts she was wearing, the ones she always liked to lounge around their penthouse in.

For a man who had a great amount of self-control, his brunette haired little vixen seemed to make it snap quite quickly. His eyes flicked back to the action at hand and now the husband had pulled himself from his slacks, fisting his shaft as he ate his wife out.

And that was the point a noise slipped from his lips, an almost imperceptible little grunt. But not so imperceptible his girl didn't notice.

Katie rolled to her back, those stunning eyes looking up at her fiancé. His hand was still down her shirt, and with the twist of her body, he'd managed a full handful now of her breast.

He blinked down at her, as she flicked a brow up, a silently question as to why his hand had stopped its movements.

"C'mere…"

She sat up, immediately, and obediently moved to straddle his strong thighs with her own.

Very quickly, Steve's lips crashed into hers as his strong hands held her face in his palms. The kiss was heavy, lustful. Fingers trailed down her neck and over her breasts, lowering to the hemline of her tank top. In a flash it was over her head and on the floor at his feet.

Her nails raked at his flat, strong abs as she reciprocated, yanking his tee off and tossing it over her shoulder. There was a clink as it collided with and knocked their beer bottles over on the coffee table, but neither of them gave a shit.

Katie's breasts were exposed the second Steve's hands were free, easily undoing the back clasp as he'd expertly learned to do. He cupped them both, pushing them together and buried his face between them. His nose slid between the valley of her breasts as he kissed the edges. Thumbs rolled her nipples between his forefingers as his hips tilted his erection toward her clit.

“Fuck…” the first word either of them had spoken in a while fell from her plump lips as her head tilted back, nails digging into his shoulders.

Steve hummed along her skin, his warm and inviting open mouth covering the nipple on her right side. His tongue swirled around the erect skin before teeth pulled at it in a gentle fashion before lips enclosed around it to make up for the harsh contrast of his nip.

Katie moaned loudly, drowning out the noise of the long forgotten porno on the television. It was a noise that went straight to his already rock hard dick, as he ground his hips upwards again.

Steve moved them to the cushions of the couch with a lightning speed. With Katie's back now against the black butter like leather, he kissed her lips first, then her jaw, her neck and down her sternum with short pecks before finishing his assault on her left nipple, which he hadn't forgotten about.

She was putty in his hands. Her fingers were in his dark blond hair, nails raking at his scalp before they dug into his shoulders, just below the junction with his neck.

The super soldier growled at the tingle of pain before pulling back and immediately fiddling with the button on Katie's shorts. There was absolutely no slow movements to his task. He was rock hard and desperate to bury himself between her thighs. After, of course, a little snack.

Said shorts joined the haphazard pile of clothes strewn around the floor and room, as did her black panties.

"Thought you didn't wear those to work..."

“Those ain’t fancy…” she swallowed as she took a deep breath.

Steve was belly to leather as she spoke. His left hand pushing Katie's bent knee into the back cushion while his right hand pressed the inside of her left thigh to open her wide for him. His lips met the apex of her inner thigh before he immediately puckered his soft lips around her clit.

Katie's back arched off the couch, her hands flying to her own chest to further give attention to her nipples as he sucked hard before laving his tongue over her weeping slit. 

"Fuck, doll, you're soaked." Steve rasped against her folds. "And you taste so good."

“Stop, talking…” her hand pushed his head further into her.

With a growl, he kept at her. Tongue poking and licking, lips covering that sensitive bud before he managed to probe two fingers deep inside her. He fucked her with precision, his palm down, coiling her tighter. It was when he moved palm up and hooked his knuckles just a little that she cried out with two flicks of her spongy upper wall.

Her hands back at her breasts, her hips bucked violently as she trembled, her breathing now rapid, a sure sign she was teetering on that edge.

"C'mon, doll. Cum for me, baby."

“Stevie…Stevie…I’m…” her voice trailed off into a low, broken moan as her back arched and her hands flew to the cushions of the couch.

"Oh fuck," Steve spat quickly as his mouth covered her again, his tongue and fingers working her over as she came.

Her hand was soon pushing him away, those smooth, shapely legs trembling as he moved away and sat up, hastily undoing the front of his jeans.

Like the 'husband' from the video, Steve pushed his pants and boxers to his thighs and stroked himself before immediately lining up and sliding right inside his bride to be.

A satisfied noise came from her throat as he bottomed out, his weight held on his forearms as his forehead pressed to hers.

"Jesus, sweetheart," his breath fanned her face. Steve snapped his hips; once, twice and on the third go, he gave a grind against her overly sensitive clit.

“Stevie, don’t…” she stopped dead to let out a little grunt, her nails raking up his back. “Just…just fuck me, soldier.”

"Yes, ma'am," Steve grunted as he snapped his hips and picked up speed. He kept his balance over her and his weight still in his arms as his lower body did the work.

Katie’s eyes locked onto his, her pupils blown as the motion of his thrusts moved her back up and down the sofa cushion beneath her. Her hands moved, and she cupped his face and pulled him down for a filthy kiss.

Her teeth pulled at his bottom lip, causing Steve to press his fingertips into the leather near her head. He was close and he'd hoped to fucking whomever that she was too because damn it did this rush feel good.

Her hands kept his face there, mouth open against his, noses pressed together as she panted and moaned at his movements. She could feel him twitching inside her, and knew he was close. And so was she. The heat was beginning to build between her legs and in the pit of her stomach once more, and fast.

"Harder." She stated into his mouth.

“Fuck, Doll…” he pushed his hips forward as hard as he dare, snapping them back and then forward again with a ferocious force.

That did it just enough and Katie was yanking at the longer hair atop his head as she cried out.

As soon as he felt her go, Steve allowed himself to give in with a surge that seemed of rise from his toes upwards. Single handedly, he balanced on one arm as he pulled Katie's head so their lips could meet in the same instance he came, crushing her into his face.

The kiss was stilted, but passionate none the less, flickering out into soft, lingering pecks as he sighed, his chest heaving.

His nose eventually bumped hers and she hummed in tired delight.

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes opening slowly.

"Oh, doll, do I love you." He said with a soft baritone and he lowered his lips again. "I'm gonna love you forever."

Katie smiled, dumb fucked and satiated, "So, about that sex tape of our own...…"

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance.

“Fuck me in the ass.”

The pair of them stilled, and then in identical, slow movements both turned their heads to the long forgotten porno that was still playing.

Both sputtered and fell back into loud, belly laughter.

“Call me old fashioned, doll…” Steve pecked her lips, “but I think I prefer it off screen so to speak.”

"So that's a no to porn?"

“Not a hard no…I mean, I’m…no…don’t make that into an innuendo!”

Katie cackled as Steve snorted, his forehead resting on her collar bone.

“Would you wear the underwear?” He mumbled into her skin.

"Oh most definitely."

“Then… I’m in.”

Steve felt Katie start to chuckle again, and he knew what she was gonna say before she said it but still he let out a low groan as she blurted the same childish line that had started this whole damned thing. 

“Title of your sex tape!”

[illicitlimerence-writes]

close friends | t. holland

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader word count: 3.1k warnings: some language, some angst if u squint. otherwise it's just fluff and tom being tom. didn't proofread this. a/n: so tumblr decided to be a little bitch and deleted this t w i c e. so i had to write this t h r e e times. this came up in my head after i got like three notifications that tom posted something on his ig story, and then it turned out he deleted them. as always, english isn't my first language so i'm sorry if this gets confusing bye. also, i was listening to cardigan by taylor swift as i wrote this.

my masterlist

so we all know tom sucks at instagram. that's a surprise to literally no one. no matter how many times you tried to teach him he still doesn't get it, and it was only a matter of time before he finally posted something he shouldn't have.

it was just one of those days, you missed him like hell. he was away filming the third spiderman, and you had to stay behind because of work.

naturally, you relied on face time and texts to survive and fill the void he left behind. you loved talking to him, listening as he rambled on and on about his adventures on set. a love-struck look on your face as you tried your hardest to stay awake despite the urge to close your eyes.

eventually, sleep took over you, and you drifted off with the sound of his voice lulling you to sleep. he stopped talking abruptly when he didn't hear your soft chuckling in reply to the story he was telling.

instead, he saw your sleeping figure, long steady breaths moving your chest up and down. and he cursed himself for making you stay up so late for him. he took one last look at you, taking a screenshot of your sleeping form.

he quickly hung up the video call and opened instagram instead, uploading the screenshot to his story,

'missing my favorite girl, thank you so much for everything you do for me. x @yourusername'

the next morning you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. at first, thought someone had died as one notification after another filled your screen. most of them came from instagram, so you opened that app first.

thousands upon thousands of mentions, tags and new followers. you frowned, and suddenly a text from your friend popped up at the top of your screen.

'omg just saw his story. so happy for u both'

who's story? what was going on?

you refreshed your timeline, and tom's icon appeared, a colorful circle around it. an odd feeling sank in your stomach. you tapped his icon and suddenly your screen was full of... you.

a picture of you, sleeping. tom's smiling form in a small rectangle on the bottom right corner.

oh god. you read the words he wrote, over and over again. your heart pounding in your chest, and a sudden wave of fear ran through your body. but then you read his words once more, and all you could feel was love. pure, unconditional affection.

sure, your families and closest friends knew about you, but you hadn't talked about making your relationship public yet, but there was nothing you could do now.

you sighed, leaning back on your pillows. a small chuckle left your throat.

you grabbed your phone once again, quickly facetiming tom. you knew he had an early call today, and you hoped you could catch him while he was still in his hotel.

it ran once, twice, and then you saw him, hair all over the place, bare chest. hands rubbing sleep off of his face.

"mornin', darling." he said, his raspy morning voice making you smile.

"hi, baby. did i wake you?" you asked, sitting up and crossing your legs.

"yeah but it's fine, princess. i did keep you up last night so it's only fair."

"i'm sorry about falling asleep on you, that was a really nice picture you took last night," you lifted one eyebrow, and watched as he smiled at you sheepishly.

"i thought you looked really pretty, you always look pretty," he said, grabbing the water bottle on his nightstand and taking a swing.

"thanks, i hope the whole world thinks so, too," you declared. leaning your chin on your fist, watching him expectantly.

he did not react like you had expected him to.

his breath hitched as he sipped his water, and suddenly all you could see was the cream-colored ceiling, as you heard him spitting out and coughing.

"tom! oh, my god! are you okay?" you asked, getting on your knees and holding your phone up to your face, "tommy?" you repeated when he finally stopped coughing, you could now hear his heavy breaths.

at last, you saw his curls appear from the bottom of the screen.

"wh-what did you just say?" his voice was rough, his chest heaving.

"are you okay?" you asked again.

"ye-yeah i'm fine. babe, what did you mean by 'the whole world'? did something happen?" he asked, frowning. you echoed his expression, watching him for a second.

“you posted a picture to your story,” you repeated, and he nodded.

“yeah, i posted it to my close friends, i-” he stopped mid-sentence, eyes growing comically wide. “oh shit, did i-” he caught himself off as he threw the phone to one side, you heard him fumbling around for his laptop and you snorted. “shit, baby, don’t tell me i posted it… fuck!” you couldn’t keep it in any longer, you broke out laughing.

“of course this is how the world finds out about us!” you continued giggling until your stomach hurt.

“fuck, princess i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear i- why are you laughing!?”

“tommy, tommy! it’s okay, baby, don’t worry. i’m not mad,” you stopped once you noticed his pouting. “it’s fine, my love, i don’t mind. sure it’s unexpected, and a little sudden but i wouldn’t have it any other way. i knew what i was getting into when we started dating,” you told him honestly, wishing you were there to give him a hug and kiss him all over.

“darling, i’m really, really sorry. i swear i thought i tapped the green button like you told me to” he continued his sulking, nervous eyes glancing back and forth from his laptop screen to you.

“i know, baby, i know this is not your forte, and i really appreciate the sweet gesture, honestly. i love you so much,” you told him as you bit your lip. folding your legs to your chest, wrapping one around them.

“god, i love you. i swear i’ll make it up to you,” he ran his hand through his hair, giving you a quick peek of his bare chest.

“i’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, you glanced to the clock on your nightstand, sighing when you saw the time. “i’ve gotta go,” you said as you stood up and stretched. a wicked idea ran through you head. “i’ve got like five meetings today, so i’ll probably be busy most of the day. just in case i don’t reply or something,” you made up you lie quickly. grabbing your laptop and opening a new tab.

“oh, okay. i’ll be on set until like 1 am, so we’ll talk tomorrow?” he asked, eyes bright. you nodded, biting your lip.

“definitely. i love you,” you blew him a kiss. he smiled, and you felt your heart swelling.

“i love you, too. good luck today!” he said as you reluctantly hung up the call.

you immediately got to work, calling your assistant and telling her you were taking a few personal weeks, and to email you in case of emergencies. next, you texted harry, asking him to call you once tom was busy on set.

you waited for the page to load, and once you had bought your one-way ticket to atlanta you hurriedly threw some pre-planned outfits into two suitcases, just in case. your phone rang and harry’s face popped up on your screen. you quickly answered the call, and let him know of your out-of-the-blue plan. he agreed to meet you at the airport and drive you to set. and because of your recent and sudden rise to fame, he suggested you wear all black and a cap. you followed his advice, throwing on some sunglasses as well, as you had seen tom do many times before.

once you reached the airport and checked-in, you bought some coffee and breakfast, as well as some food for the flight. you opened instagram, seeing all the messages and comments. you had seen how the fans reacted when their favorite celebrities announced a relationship, and you knew to expect the meanest comments, and even death threats. for your own sake and peace of mind, you allowed yourself to scroll until you read three of those, and closed the app.

once the plane took off, you tried to catch some sleep, preparing for the inevitable jet lag, but your mind kept buzzing from one scenario to another. so you took out your book and tried to read some chapters, putting in your earbuds, music playing quietly.

when you finally, finally landed, you stretched your legs and grabbed your bags, putting on the cap and sunglasses again, you spotted a familiar head of wild curls. you quickly approached harry.

“what happened to all black and a cap to go unnoticed?” you asked as he took one of your bags in his hands.

“think about it, two kids wearing black, a cap and sunglasses? people would think we’re up to no good.” he gave you a tight hug, you’d missed him almost as much as you’d missed tom.

he caught you up on everything he and tom had been doing these past months, you shifted in your seat in excitement, the sleep that was slowly taking over you on the plane had now disappeared from your body.

in what was probably a 15 -but to you felt like five- minute drive, you got to the hotel to leave your bags and take a quick shower. harry left you alone in tom’s room, making his way to his own room next door. he said he’d order something for you to eat whilst you got ready to see tom.

you took the quickest shower ever known to humankind, and when you walked out of the bathroom after using tom’s shampoo and conditioner, -you’d missed his smell all over you. the few forgotten hoodies and shirts that were once drenched in the smell of his soap and cologne, were now very faint.- you wrapped a bathrobe around your body, rummaging through tom’s clothes until you found one of his shirts.

you pulled it close to your face, sighing at the familiar scent you’d missed so much. you got dressed quickly, grabbing your now fully-charged phone and the key to tom’s room that harry had left on a coffee table. you knocked on harry’s door and he let you in.

“i just texted tom, he says they’ve got like three hours left.” you sat next to him on the couch, the table in front of you filled with food waiting to be devoured.

“my poor baby, they overwork him,” you pouted, reaching for one of the plates.

“it was his idea, said he’ll do anything that helps finish filming sooner.” you stopped chewing your food.

“wait, really?” you asked in disbelief, you knew tom loved his job, and you found it odd that he wanted to cut his time on set short.

“yeah, it’s been rough for him. not having you around, i mean, after he spent months with you. he’s been pretty distracted lately. messing up lines, he’s been waking up late and missing early calls...” your heart sank at the words. you ate the rest of your food with a knot in your stomach, cursing yourself for not getting there sooner. soon enough, you were back in the car, your leg bouncing up and down. you fell asleep on your way to set, waking up when harry parked the car and nudged your shoulder.

you stepped out carefully, your head turning back every few steps you took, in fear that tom might catch you. once you reached the stage where tom was filming, you flashed the visitor badge harry had given you to the guard and he let you both in. you walked in as you leaned down, your forehead against harry’s back, shielding you from the curious stares. harry told you to hide behind a giant box where they kept some lights whilst he spoke to the director.

although the box was big and tall enough to cover you completely, you crouched down, straining your ears for nearing footsteps. you heard two sets of feet approaching, your heartbeat racing.

you were met with your accomplice, a friendly-looking man behind him. you stood up as they approached you.

“this the girl?” the man asked, and harry nodded, “nice to meetcha, i’m jon.” you shook his hand, “okay, so we’ve cleared tom’s schedule for one week, we’ll need him back fully recharged and ready to work like it’s his first day on set, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, if it means he’ll work better if you’re here you can stay until we're done. i really don’t mind, i just need my guy back.” you blinked at his words, nodding slowly. “we’ve got a couple hours left tonight, i’m all up for some cheesy reunion, but it’ll have to be when we’re finished, i can barely keep him focused as it is.”

with that he left, and harry led you to tom’s trailer, where you caught some sleep while you waited. like that morning, you woke up to your phone buzzing. you reached for it, sleep leaving your body as you read the text.

‘just finished filming for the night, i’m exhausted. miss u, love you. x.’

all rational thoughts left your head, you opened the door to tom’s trailer and sprinted out of there until you reached the set. your eyes finally, finally met his figure, and tears filled your eyes.

your legs moved on their own accord, you mumbled apologies as you crashed into people, but you didn’t care. tom had his back to you, and even though he wasn’t wearing the spiderman costume, you’d recognize that ass anywhere.

“tom!” you called out, stopping a few feet away from him. you saw him whipping his head around, eyes scanning the sea of people. you made your way up to him, “tommy!” you repeated, and he finally turned around.

his mouth wide opened in disbelief, arms twitching, feet running towards you as you did the same. you crashed into each other, your legs wrapping around him, arms around his neck, fingers curling on his soft hair. his hands running all over your back, your hair. pulling you as close as humanly possible.

whispers of ‘i love you’, ‘god, i missed you’, ‘never leave me again’, and ‘i promise’ were exchanged. you tightened your hold on his hair, pulling back to look at him.

“hi,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“hey,” he replied, burying his face on your neck again, pressing small kisses anywhere he could reach. his hands settled on the back of your thighs as he spun you two. you giggled, sniffling as a few tears escaped your eyes.

you could not care less about the people around you, all you could think about was the boy wrapped all over you, your favorite boy. tom led you back to his trailer, where you finally untangled yourself from him. he settled you down and you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you again.

you had been starved of his touch for so long, there was no way you were letting him go anytime soon.

after many kisses, touches, tears, promises and more kisses, you left for the hotel. harry had already left, getting a ride from another cast member to leave you two alone. at that moment you swore you’d make him godfather of your firstborn child.

as you waited for tom to step out of the shower -you would’ve joined him, but three showers in a day seemed kind of excessive-, you laid down on the bed, throwing the covers over your body, tom's scent engulfing you. you breathed in happily. you tapped on your phone, replying to some work emails when you received a text from harry.

‘i believe the ball is in your court. you’re welcome.’

next, you received a picture of you and tom. harry must’ve taken the picture when you and tom were too lost in each other to even notice anyone around you. in the picture, your legs are around tom, bodies pressed closed together, your noses touching as you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. it was a beautiful picture. and the black and white filter harry had applied to it made it seem like one of those old pictures of wives reuniting with their spouses after the war.

you smiled, heart swelling with emotion as you contemplated your options. you hummed quietly, tapping the instagram logo and waiting for the app to load.

you quickly uploaded the picture harry sent you tagging both him and tom and adding a quick caption before you shut down your phone. you were drifting off to sleep when you felt familiar arms around you.

you leaned into tom’s touch, your back resting against his chest, legs tangling with his as he interlocked his fingers with your own.

“thank you so much for being here, my love. i love you,” tom whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“i’ll be here whenever you need me. i’ll always come back to you.” you turned around, facing him. you kissed the corner of his lips, and he cupped your cheek, his lips meeting yours in a slow kiss, filled with emotion. your fingers played with his fingers as you moved to straddle his waist. “i love you,” you broke the kiss reluctantly. as much as you both wanted to make love that night, you’d made it your top priority that tom took his time off to rest as much as he could, and that included that first night.

you gave him one last kiss, going back to your previous position. the familiar and comfortable weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his lips on your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back, you couldn’t ask for anything better.

the peaceful environment you had created suddenly burst like a bubble as tom’s phone pinged over and over again. you heard him grunting, arms reluctantly leaving you.

tom chuckled, putting his phone on do-not-disturb and throwing it somewhere on the bed.

“you’re perfect for me, my favorite girl.” you smiled, leaning into his touch as he kissed you all over. sleep quickly taking over both of you.

tom swore his heart stopped when he’d seen the picture you posted. you’d never looked more beautiful than when you were staring up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth. the words you wrote as a caption were the last thing on his brain as he finally succumbed to sleep.

‘i said, “i bet you can’t keep this a secret for five months.” he said, “darling, i won’t make it past three.” @ tomholland2013 it’s been 10 months, who won?’

edit: i just saw henry cavill's ig post and omg what is my life. pls respect celebrities' privacy and relationships.

[kyun-toast]

[ATEEZ] Mafia!San - Will You Join Me?

word count: 2.9k warnings: explicit language, gun use, violence, description of death (not explicit), sexually suggestive, gets a lil steamy summary: cupid has a bullet with your name on it a/n: Y/N a little dramatic and San annoying af. I wrote this in a two hour flash at 2am, so this might be deleted after I reread it tomorrow because I’m pretty sure a lot of this is just me chatting shit.

1. Yoon, David – 12:45 Note to self: likes donuts. probs dunkin’, maybe krispy? idk just look for a man w a paper bag.

“I’ll have to warn you though, the lift is under maintenance, so you’ll have to take the stairs.” The receptionist smiled at you sympathetically. “I can get someone to help you with your suitcase if you’d like?”

“Oh no, it’s ok, I’ll just find another place to stay. I have weak knees anyway.” You forced a laugh and hoped the lady didn’t notice the dead look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, love.”

Turning away with your suitcase in tow, you headed towards the building opposite the hotel and hoped that the rooftop would be easy enough to access.

It was quite irresponsible of you not to have a backup plan. It seemed that being named the sharpest shooter in the underground world had gotten to your head a little, but you argued that a bit of spontaneity never hurt anybody. Though your target would beg to differ.

Being a public building of offices, it was all too easy for you to reach the roof of the building. You found that walking with your held head high and gaze set straight ahead would never get you questioned. Who would ever stop someone with a walk so confident?

Thankfully, the rooftop hadn’t been turned into some garden space: an air-conditioning fan over here, a water tank over there. You checked your wristwatch reading 12:40 and muttered under your breath. The damn hotel lift had taken precious minutes of your time and compromised your view.

You opened your suitcase to set up your sniper, giving your little black cat charm on the side of your gun a squish. Cute.

Sitting on the case with your stock snug against your shoulder, you peered into the scope to get a closer view of the revolving doors to the bank. Oh great, there’s a lamppost in the way.

Mr. Yoon was apparently quite the punctual man, always seen stepping into the bank doors after his lunch break at exactly quarter to one and therefore, your window of opportunity was thin.

“I want it done today or you’re getting sniped yourself, Y/N.” You heard the voice of your boss yap in your head again. Blah blah blah, same old threat. You argued that procrastinating the man’s death was actually something very considerate of you to do.

You heard a familiar clatter of metal hit the floor and you turned your scope to the rooftop opposite to see a man in overalls with his toolbox open on the floor.

“Lift maintenance guy?” You muttered to yourself and wondered if the mechanics of elevators ran all the way through to the rooftop. You made sure that you wouldn’t be in his line of vision and swivelled back to your original position, cursing the man under your breath for ruining your first choice of setup.

12:44

“Come on, Yoon. Lunch time’s almost over.” Your finger lay restless on the trigger, itching to get a glimpse of the bank teller.

20 seconds.

“Krispy or Dunkin’ what will it be today, entertain me.”

10 seconds.

You saw the man turn the corner and waited for him to get a little closer for you to shoot.

5 seconds.

“That’s it, just past the lamppost and you won’t even know what hit y- what the FU-?” You shouted and quickly clasped a hand to your mouth. Mr. Yoon hadn’t even made it past the post, and he was already laying on the pavement in a growing pool of blood.

Calculating the angle in which he was laying, you spun your vision around to the hotel rooftop and saw the maintenance man begin to pack up a sniper back into his toolbox. Taking off his cap, you noticed a flash of white in his jet-black hair and just like he knew you were watching, he turned with a smug grin on his face and shot you some finger guns.

“Oh, you little fucker.” You spat, and watched the man jump down into a hatch to disappear.

You slumped dramatically onto the floor and splayed your limbs to stare blankly at the sky. Never in your life had you ever missed a shot, let alone have it stolen by someone else, and your boss had your phone ringing to rub it in your face.

“That wasn’t you, was it?”

“Listen, what if? You know, what if that was my thirteenth reason? I just couldn’t take it anymore and that was it. No more Y/N. You wouldn’t even come to my funeral, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t because you’d be too broke to have one. You realise you’re not getting paid for this?”

“Why? He’s still dead?” You sat up in disbelief.

“Well, it turns out someone else wanted him gone too. I can’t lie to our client and say that we did it.”

“You’re oddly moral for someone that runs a hotline for hitmen.”

“I’ll call you if I find you another job.”

“Justice for freelance contract killers.” You muttered weakly as he ended the call. The faint sound of police sirens filled the air as you let out a heavy sigh and lay back on the concrete.

You pictured the man and wondered who it was that would even think to render the notorious Y/N L/N jobless. Though you did have to admit that it was a clean shot.

“Skunk-hair looking ass.”

2. Kim, Seungho – 18:00 Note to self: babysitting. easy target but kid knows NOTHING.

You were stationed by a corner window in an unfinished apartment building with a trainee by your side, setting up his kit.

Stood by the trainee, you scanned to see if everything was in the right place, checking the kid’s posture too. You had been sent by your boss to reluctantly train a young recruit and you joked if you had been demoted following your last predicament. You were never in it for the money though, you lived for the adrenaline.

The boy had potential and you saw it, he just needed to make cleaner shots because three bullets somewhat near the target’s vital organs wasn’t going to cut it.

“What’s your name again?”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.” The recruit replied, his eyes never leaving yours, in absolute awe.

“Eyes on the scope.”

“I’m sorry, nobody told me I’d be getting trained by you. The Seoul Shooter? Like wow.”

“Ew, is that what they’re calling me?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s a pretty cool name, they used to call me ‘Jitman’ in my hometown, not very creati-”

You shushed the boy and tapped his shoulder as you pointed to a small figure in the distance.

“You see him through the scope? Now keep your hand steady, never feel as if you’re being rushed. Death works to your schedule.”

“Got it.” Jisung said, following the man with his gun.

“Ok, on 3… 2… 1…”

You heard the bullet cut through the evening air and hit the target neatly through his office window.

“Bro? That was so clean? That has to be one of the sexiest shots I’ve seen in a while-” You began.

“Uhh, that wasn’t me, Y/N.”

Before you could even process what had happened, you heard the rustle of footsteps patter down the stairs behind you. Taking out your handgun, you moved towards the open door to find the same man you had seen on the hotel rooftop stop in his tracks on the landing. Clad in a fitted black sweater and jeans this time, he looked a whole lot more attractive close up.

“You again?” You exclaimed; gun still pointed at the man as he dropped his duffel bag to raise his hands.

His eyes widened, not in shock, but more with an excited glint in his eyes.

“Oh my, it’s Y/N, the Seoul Shooter.” A coy smile painted his lips as he shook his white fringe out of his eyes.

“See, everyone calls you that.” Jisung interjected from behind.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Word around town is that you’ve been unemployed for some time now,” nodding towards Han, he added, “and it looks like the rumours are true.”

“I’ve actually decided to take a break you know? Let the other kids have a chance at making a name for themselves. Bit of charity work.”

“Y/N kinda got demoted because you keep taking their shots.” Han interrupted again.

“Hey, who told you that?!” You narrowed your eyes at the boy. Han Jisung was a smart ass and you vowed then and there that you wouldn’t take on any more training sessions.

You whipped your head back around to the man eyeing your body up and down.

“My eyes are up here, sir. Unless you really wanna get shot.” You spat.

“Well, I’d die a happy man if you were the last thing I’d see.” He smirked in retaliation and studied your eyes carefully. “Well, my job here is done, I better be on my way. Got a big cheque waiting for me.” He grinned as he reached to grab his bag and carry his way on down the stairs with footsteps too light-hearted for your liking.

“Why didn’t you shoot him?” Jisung asked as you watched the man disappear into the evening.

“I don’t think killing a man for taking my shots is justified.”

“What, and sniping Mr. Kim Seungho just before he gets to feel the bliss of clocking out is?” He laughed. “Do you know what I think, Y/N?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’m not going to say anything.”

Han Jisung tormented you the whole drive back to the quarters.

“Y/N and Skunk Man sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes lo-”

Smack.

“Ouch, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just kidding.” He laughed as an idea struck him, “K-I-D-D-I-N-”

Smack.

3. Park, Kiha - 10:32 Note to self: bad man. bad, bad man. but big, big cheque.

Having had your last two shots stolen, mystery Skunk Man was beginning to get on your nerves. You were seething to the point that you demanded your boss give you another job, itching to defend your title of being the finest shooter in Seoul.

Laying on the floor of a rooftop hangar, the man had the gall to pop up out of the hatch to set up his station right next to you, as if you were both on some picnic.

"Nice seeing you here today, Y/N." He said, sitting cross legged to mount a scope to the top of his sniper.

Not even bothering to take your eyes off the target, you muttered, "I got here first, you better back off." voice laced with venom.

"Well I've been promised a cheque too, we're all just trying to get fed around here."

Ignoring him, you glanced down at your watch that read 10:31. Any time now, Park Kiha would be walking through the glass bridge to get to his meeting in the twin building.

Steadying your finger against the trigger, you held your breath and counted down from three, two, o-

"I like your cat charm by the way."

You pulled the trigger only for it to stray a little to the right, still hitting your target, just a little less central than you would have accepted.

You shot up from your position to face the man laying on his side, head propped up against his hand to look at you.

"Do you have something against me? Do I even know you?" You exclaimed, carding your gloved hand through your hair.

"No uhh, but I saw your face on a bounty poster once and thought you were cute." He said, attitude too blasé. "That was a nice shot though, I was going to wait a few more seconds."

"So you saw my picture, and started following me around to antagonise me?"

"Nah, I just happened to be super lucky to have been put on the same cases as you. Big bad men have a lot of people after them I guess?"

Throwing your equipment back into your bag, you watched the man proceed to roll over onto his back with his arms behind his head to look up at the sky.

The mid-morning sun cast a golden glow over his skin and though you spent most of your life working with guns, his uniform and kit next to him looked a little different, almost attractive. They suited him a little too much and you thought that if a sleek sniper were to be personified, it would look exactly like this leather clad man.

"I should ask for your number, the way you're looking at me right now, Y/N."

"Good luck, you won't get it." You turned to step down the hatch as he propped himself up again to watch you leave.

Choi, San – 15:25 Note to self: he’s kinda hot tho :/

So, we had finally put a name to the face. As your boss handed you a folder, you were slightly taken aback at the small ID picture pinned to the top of the file.

“You might be a little happy about this one.” He said, taking a sip of coffee. “He’s been recently recruited by ATEEZ as their sniper. Quite a deadly one too. He was scouted shooting pheasants down in the Namhae countryside apparently.”

“Hmm, how much?” You questioned.

“A million dollars.”

“Excuse me? A mill-?” You choked on the air and composed yourself just as quick to nonchalantly lean against the filing cabinet and look out the window, “I don’t know, he didn’t look a million dollars-worth to me.”

“He hasn’t been in the game long, but man has he taken down some big names.”

Though you didn’t necessarily feel too attached to Choi San, you did think that you were going to miss him a little. It was nice having a friend on your level to spar with.

Who were you kidding? You thought he was hot and that it would be a shame to have to shoot him.

But on second thought, you had been itching for the adrenaline in the trigger again, and the million dollars looked a lot sexier to you than some man.

“I’ll take it.”

-

San was all too easy to find. He seemed to enjoy hiding in plain sight since no common person would recognize him in the bustling streets of Gangnam. Nestled in the corner of another rooftop, you zoned in on the recognizable black and white hair sat outside on the terrace of a café.

Once you were ready, you repositioned your finger on the trigger and focused the cross hairs on the familiar head. You were steady until San lifted his head and stared right back at you through the scope, sending you a wink.

“Shit.” You muttered, his actions throwing you off and when you repositioned your aim, he had slipped into the crowd, now lost.

“No, no, no, no, no, Choi San, ugh.” Seeing that he knew what you were up to, you got up to pace around the rooftop. Your mind worked nonstop to find an alternate solution but all you could conclude was to go home, stay low and pick another day to continue.

This man had thrown you into the worst slump of your life, but you were somewhat enjoying the chase and you hated to admit it.

The abrupt sound of a closing of a door behind you had everything clicking into place.

“You pretty motherfucker, had this planned, didn’t you?” You laughed.

Upon hearing the cocking of a gun, you turned to pull out the throwing knife strapped to your thigh and pulled his body in by his collar to reach his throat. And it just turned out that San had the same idea in pushing his handgun up underneath your chin at the same time, faces a little too close.

“I like your beret.” San said candidly, jerking his brow up at the hat on your head.

“Me, too. It’s Marine Serre.”

“Nice choice.”

“I’m going to count down from three and we’re going to drop our weapons, ok? And talk this out like adults because I for one, didn’t wanna kill you.” You bargained.

“Sure.”

“Three, two, one!” The both of you pulled away for a split second in bluff only to reposition your weapons against each other’s throats again.

“I knew it.” San smirked.

“No, for real this time. I mean it.”

“Go ahead, baby.” He smiled as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“Three, two, o-”

San cut you off by leaning into your lips, placing onto them a kiss so intense, almost mirroring the violent nature of the situation. However, what surprised you more was that you let yourself melt back into him. He let his gun clatter to the floor to walk you backwards into the wall behind, hoisting your leg up around his waist.

You broke away from the kiss for air when he smiled, “I mean, it is kinda hot, but I would appreciate it if you could stop holding that knife against my throat right now, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine.” You muttered as San leaned back in to kiss you whilst roaming his hand around your thigh, ridding you of the rest of your knives and smirking against your lips in satisfaction.

Feeling his bulge grind between your legs, you both only grew more fervent for each other as you kissed.

“Wait, I wanna take you on a date first.” He pulled away to look you in the eye.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Mhmm, to Bar 1117.” He hummed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t that your company’s place…?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna love you.” He whispered, peppering small kisses down your throat.

“Are you trying to recruit me or fuck me, San?”

"I mean, you can kill me now and leave for that million dollars or you can come with me for a new job and that million dollar dick."

"You're unbelievable."

“I heard you were doing freelance anyway, baby.” He looked into your eyes again, a mischievous glow blooming across his face, “So, will you join me?”

-

disclaimer: San’s pie chart hair is one of my all time faves but I also can’t stop thinking that it looks a little skunk-like. In the cutest way. a/n: I've edited this a lot since I posted it and I think I'm gonna keep it

-

Mafia AU Masterlist

[harryandhishook]

The Isle of the Lodge

Pairing: None

Setting: The North Star Lodge

Warning: None? Harry?

Summary: Harry goes to Ireland under Gil's recommendation and meets his doppelganger, Sean

Words: 2815

Requested: Anonymous - Okay, this is going to sound weird but hear me out. I kind of would like a fan fiction of Harry meeting Sean from the lodge... please? >w<

Side note: I'M BACK BABY, kinda, I'm back for a little while since I'm moving house, I've decided to spend some time writing fics again to relax so I don't burn out but soon, I'll have to put my computer away and I won't be able to write again unless it's on my Ipad which I'm not too keen on but if it's all I can do, it's all I can do

It had been around three years since the barrier was broken, three years since everyone was free to do as they pleased, three years since Harry decided he was going to travel just like Jay and Gil decided to do. The whole world was open to him and one of the first places that the young pirate decided to go … the United Kingdom, more specifically Scotland, with a few stop offs around the Country, no one else, just him.

The private jet skidded to a stop along the runway, the first stop along many in Northern Ireland, stirring Harry from his thoughts, his eyes glued to the window, only now seeing the new scenery around him, nothing like he had ever seen before. Without a moment’s hesitation, he whipped out his phone, taking a few photos to send to Uma and the crew before leaning back and waiting for clearance to move. While the poor, jetlagged pirate relaxed a little more than he had earlier, being on a plane for the first time really wasn’t something he was all too happy about, he took the time to look around, taking in all the details of the plane Ben let him borrow, the plane in which he was insisting he didn’t need nor want to be honest but no matter what he said, no matter how many different compromises he suggested, Ben was adamant he take one of his royal jets, not only would he have a personal chauffeur but he could go wherever he wanted as long as he made hotel arrangements, and even after hours of arguments, this is how Harry ended up sitting quite comfortably on an empty plane, just himself, his pilot and a lovely hostess who, even though she is meant to be doing her job, sat beside him and chatted for majority of the flight, easing his mind.

Since this entire trip was Harry’s first time anywhere other than Auradon or the Isle, the moment the plane had stopped and he was allowed up from his seat, everything was practically done for him, well, while he watched so he knew what he was doing. Passport checks, baggage claim, the whole thing, Harry, the Pilot, and the hostess experienced it together which confused a few of the airport staff quite a bit,

“So, Mr. Hook, where is it that we are going to be staying?” the pilot asked as they all stood together just outside of the Airport, luggage beside them as the young pirate pulled out his phone and scrolled through the many different notes, calendar events and messages to find the correct thing he needed,

“’Right, so, we’ll be staying at North Star lodge in Ballynahinch, suggestion from Gil when he came here a few months ago, dinnae ken why since from the directions I’m getting on me phone says it’s about an hour and a half away from this place … it better be a bloody well good place to stay” Harry complained as he pocketed his phone again and looked around, “I guess we get a taxi or something?” the boy asked, looking between the two much older people as they just nodded and agreed as they all grabbed their things and heading off to the taxi rank, climbing into a taxi and quickly making their way to the random lodge in a random town in Ireland.

It was mid-afternoon when the group arrived at the small hotel, Harry watched out of the window in pure awe at the sights that passed them by, each sight was something new and now, he could see why Gil loved to travel. The hotel stood tall but not looming like Auradon prep or Ben’s castle, it was just the right height, cosy even and perfect for his first true adventure.

Stepping out of the car, Harry couldn’t wait to take in the area as he practically ran to the gate of the lodge, taking in every little detail he could see, it was like Evie’s little castle cottage but more rural and less fashion,

“It’s beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it” he commented, turning back to look at his companions who were chuckling at his childlike wonder, pulling their luggage from the car with the help of the driver, “well, that’s no’ exactly true but it’s close enough” he explained before rushing over to help with his own things, paying and tipping the taxi driver before they finally decided to head inside, ready to start his new life on adventures.

The moment Harry stepped inside, he knew his entire life had been leading up to this, it was nothing like Auradon, quite the opposite honestly, quiet, out there, perfect. As his companions took to being proper adults and getting their rooms, the pirate decided that this was a suitable time to actually look around.

Dragging his luggage to the side, Harry shuffled back out the front doors, out into the open world where he can finally see just what Gil gushed ever so much about and he had to admit, it was easy to see, the views, the fresh air, the birds chirping all around, it was incredi-

“WATCH OUT!” a voice from near him screamed as a bike almost came crashing into him, he leapt out of the way just in time for the wheel to skid to a stop just where he was standing,

“Do you have eyes, lad? There’s nothing for miles and ye’ managed to hit the only target here? Do you not know how to ride that thing?” he growled, demanding an answer as he glared at the guy, he hadn’t really wanted to start any drama, he actually wanted to try and make at least one friend and zero enemies but almost get hit by a bike was definitely something Harry considered reasonable enough to be angry over,

“I’m sorry, my chain came off and I couldn’t stop it” the stranger explained as he climbed off the bike, inspecting the contraption before he paused and looked back up, “Wait, are you Scottish?” he asked curiously, his head tilting to the side like a curious puppy needing more attention. Harry raised his eyebrows,

“Um, yes? Why?” the pirate asked, watching as the guy chuckled, balancing his bike on the fence beside them as he slowly reached up to take his helmet off, the entire situation just confusing him even more than anything he had ever experienced before,

“It’s not very often I get to meet another Scottish person honestly” the guy commented as he finally pulled his helmet off, “My names Sean” he stated and Harry finally got a good look at his face, leaving both men in shock as they stared at one another,

“I-I’m Harry …” the pirate whispered, unsure if his words were even heard or spoken to be honest, he couldn’t fathom how he had flown across the world only to stare at someone who should really be on the other side of a mirror, “…how?” Harry questioned all while the look-a-like stared back with just as much shock.

The silence between the doppelgangers was broken as the door beside them opened and out popped a young blonde with a bright purple shirt but it seemed neither boy noticed as they continued to stare,

“Sean? You were meant to be in here like five minutes ago, what’s taking you so … long …” the girls sentence seemed to drop off near the end as she too joined in on the staring, seemingly shocked by the two Sean’s or maybe two Harry’s? “Alright, someone needs to explain what the hell is going on here!” The new girl demanded, snapping Sean out his unexpected trance, causing him to quickly turn to his friend to try his hardest to explain what was going on in whatever the entire situation was,

“Skye … I have no idea to be honest” Sean admitted as he looked between Skye and Harry, pointing between the two of them as if that was going to explain anything, “this is Harry, Your new guest.” the Scotsman quickly jumped to his bike, pulling it from the fence and lifting it to his shoulder, “And, well, I’m going to go fix my bike. I’ll be back, try not to get us mixed up, yeah?” he teased as he wandered away, still looking a little shocked at the situation. The silence that followed was deafening, even as Skye shuffled forward and waved a hand in front of the newcomers’ face,

“Hello? Earth to … Harry? It was Harry, right?” Skye questioned, trying to shake the poor guy out of his daze, it was like talking to a brick wall, “how about we take you inside and I’ll get you a drink to calm you down” she advised, taking the still stunned Harry by his arm and guiding him back through the doors of the lodge where everyone was waiting and it didn’t take long for the few other staff to also see the resemblance, causing a silence to fill the lobby,

“Holy … did Sean get replaced by aliens or something?” a girl with braids woven delicately through her hair commented while the others stared, confusing the pair that had originally accompanied the pirate,

“This is Harry, he and Sean bumped into each other, and it seems I can’t get him to talk again” Skye explained, however, it seemed like that didn’t help as in that moment, anyone would be able to hear a pin drop if it wasn’t for a sudden interrupting zipper. Everyone’s head turned as the hostess stood back up with a package in her hand,

“What? His friends warned us that this could happen and since travelling through airports doesn’t allow certain things, he wasn’t allowed to have his comfort item” she explained as she slowly unwrapped the mysterious parcel, walking past everyone and standing in front of the poor pirate, “Here, Harry, you need this” she stated as she took his hand, wrapping his calloused fingers around a familiar metal handle which was almost like a shock to his system, his head shook side to side for a moment until he glanced down at his hook then back up to everyone that was surrounding him,

“So, I may ‘ave blacked out for a minute there … So … Someone stole me’ face?” Harry stated as he held himself tall, brushing himself off and making sure that he at least could keep some dignity but once again, the silence was the only thing left in the lobby as everyone who seemed to work there, an older man, the one they called Skye, the other girl and another guy, stared back at him in even more shock than before, “Alrigh’, this is gettin’ a wee bit weird now”,

“Sorry, we just weren’t expecting you both to be identical in almost every way” Skye explained as she snapped her fingers towards her friends, forcing them back into reality and into a series of questions to each other and Harry, which was quickly turning into a very overwhelming situation, luckily for Harry, there was a door right beside him and a perfect opportunity for him to slip out which he one hundred percent did.

The moment he was able to close to door and lean against it, he finally took a breath, his first adventure and somehow, he managed to involve himself with another crazy story,

“Finally managed to get away then, eh?” a familiar Scottish voice appeared beside him, startling the poor Pirate who almost banged his head against the door, “They can be a little much but, they’re like family to me” Sean explained as he smothered down his shirt, making sure it looked good on him as he peeked into the mirror opposite him, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe until they notice you’re gone, so, what’s with the weird hook?” the biker asked as he turned to his look-a-like with a smile,

“Oh, this” Harry spoke, holding up his hook to show it off a little better, “it’s ma Da’s, ever since I was a babe, I always wanted to be like ‘im, when I was old enough … and also to shut me up, he gave me his ‘ook” he explained before shaking his head in confusion, “I dinnae ken why I just told ye all that” pushing himself off the door, Harry moved over to the small seat closer to Sean with a sigh, “I’m guessing this is why Gil wanted me to come ‘ere” he chuckled nervously, pointing between the two of them,

“My Dad?” Sean asked, turning to look back over at the pirate before his brain kicked in, “Wait, sorry, you were probably meaning a different Gil” he corrected as he moved to sit beside the other him, “I have an idea, why don’t we start over” Sean recommended, sticking his hand out to shake in greeting, “Hi, I’m Sean, Sean Matthews, I work here at the Lodge and it seems like we have to same face” he introduced which caused Harry to chuckle and take his hand, shaking it happily,

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Harry, Harry Hook, I’m here visiting under ma friends guidance and it seems we ‘ave the same voice” the pirate replied before bursting out laughing with Sean, the both of them relaxing, like this meeting was meant to be, “I know this might sound weird and it might just be because we ‘ave the same face but I feel like I know ye already” he stated between giggles, leaning back into the seat with a sigh as he started playing with the end of his hook,

“You know, I agree with you or at least, it feels like we were meant to meet one day … that sounded weirdly sappy and romantic, that was not meant to be that way” Sean babbled, just causing the both of them to laugh even more, “hey, maybe we’re secret twins or something” the biker wondered out loud, running a hand through his hair as he followed the pirates lead, leaning back and relaxing,

“Maybe, I ne’er knew my Ma but I knew me Da and ye said ye had a Da so I guess it’s unlikely … unless …” Harry teased, jabbing Sean in the side with his elbow before suddenly sitting up, pulling his phone from his pocket with an excited gasp, “Wait, I ‘ave to send this to me Cap’n” he stated, opening the camera and shuffling closer to his new friend who turned to him, face twisted in confusion,

“Captain?” Sean asked before shaking his head and smiling as Harry snapped a photo and sent it insanely quick to a group chat of what Sean guessed to be his friends, “well now that’s been done, can I get an explanation on the whole Captain thing?” the biker re-asked, letting Harry shove away his phone to answer,

“It’s a long story, I’m guessing ye met me friend, Gil, he came here about 4 months ago, anyway, that’s no’ the point, the place we grew up, it wasn’t a good place, I was raised by me Da who was a pirate, he demanded that I become a Cap’n, just like him but I met someone who became me best mate, Uma, then we met Gil, we took over a ship and everything fell into place, Uma was Cap’n, I was first mate and Gil became Quartermaster, that’s how it was and it’s always been like that, even now” Harry explained, it may not have been his life story but it was as good explanation for now and speaking of the devil, all of a sudden, his phone blew up, message after message, beep after beep, “and there they are” he chuckled, turning his phone on silent so they wouldn’t have to hear the constant messaging from his friends,

“Okay, so, first off, your life sounds insane and I need to know more, and secondly, we need to find out if we are related or not, this can’t just be a coincidence” Sean listed as he pulled out his phone, “here, give me your number and we can keep in contact even when you leave” he said, handing Harry his phone to enter in his details, “then, we can find out what’s going on or at least become better friends at least” he explained while Harry finished and handed back the phone, “Ye know what, I’d like that” the pirate agreed, leaning against his new friend, mentally preparing himself for onslaught that lay beyond that door and beyond.