#i need to be a fictional fly on the wall when that conversation happens

[crisis-exystencial]

Sooo, who's writing the fic about the andreil encounter after andrew comes back from LA??

[kkanabel]

co-pilot mischief ✫ both broken ✫ chapter tres ✫ finale

captain curly x teasing!reader

it’s been a month since your epiphany that Captain Curly has a sweet little crush on you, and you’ve been teasing him the entire time. what happens when you push him even closer to the edge? you asked that question, and here we are: Curly has officially broken.

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

words: ~6.1k

t/w: sex, minors dni, overstimulation, fingering, REALLY OVERSTIMULATION, multiple orgasms, curly being a lil shit, so much yucky, gn!reader who wears a bra, no specific genitalia mentioned for reader (if i fucked up & did somewhere, pls lmk), any other things i should mention?

a/n: hi. been obsessed with this video game recently—well, especially with Curly (go figure. i like fictional men). i needed to make something self-indulgent bc i just like this man way too much. and because i just want to make a world where none of them have to suffer. enjoy~ 

~jeremy does not exist in this world~

Planned Shipment Duration: 382 Days Elapsed Transit Time: 342 Days

Since the incident, you’ve noticed Curly’s behavior shift from his usual awkward-but-adorable responses to something else entirely—avoidance. Every conversation with him feels clipped, every interaction rushed. This avoidance comes to a head when you have to discuss the ship's fuel readings.

“Captain, can you double-check the fuel calibration?” you ask, stepping into the cockpit with a tablet in hand.

Curly is already seated at the console, his back stiffening at the sound of your voice. “It’s fine,” he mutters without looking up, his fingers flying over the controls.

You narrow your eyes. “Fine? It’s been showing inconsistencies for two days now. Can we be sure it won’t cause an issue later?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “I’ll… take care of it.” Still, he doesn’t glance at you, his gaze fixed on the screen as if the fuel levels are the most riveting thing he’s ever seen.

You step closer, placing the tablet on the console in front of him. “It’d be quicker if we checked it together,” you say, deliberately leaning over just slightly to try and catch his eyes.

But he shifts, pulling back as if your proximity physically burns. “I’ve got it,” he says tersely, still avoiding you.

The clipped tone stings more than you expect. You hesitate, studying him. His hands grip the edge of the console, the veins in his forearms standing out as though he’s using every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. He looks tired—no, exhausted—but there’s something else in his expression, something tight and defensive.

You pull back, watching him with a frown. There’s an ache in your chest you weren’t prepared for—a pang of guilt mixed with frustration. You liked teasing him, pushing his buttons just enough to see the cracks in his armor, but this? This feels different. It’s like he’s shut a door between the two of you, and you can’t help but wonder if you pushed too far.

You bite your lip, torn. Was it the water incident? The shirt? Or maybe it’s been everything—the touches, the flirtation, the unspoken tension you’ve been toying with for weeks. Whatever it is, the wall he’s built feels higher than before, and it leaves you restless, your stomach knotting with something that feels a lot like regret.

That night, sleep refuses to come. You lie in your bunk, staring at the dim ceiling of your cabin, your mind replaying every moment from the cockpit earlier. His stiffness, his avoidance, the way he couldn’t even look at you—it all swirls together, making your chest feel heavy.

Was he angry with you? Embarrassed? Or worse—had you made him so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to be around you anymore? The thought makes your throat tighten, and you sit up, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

The hum of the ship’s engines fills the silence of your cabin, steady and soothing, but it does little to calm the turmoil in your chest. You’ve been lying there for hours, staring at the ceiling, your blanket pushed to the side as your mind cycles endlessly.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The look on Curly’s face earlier had been… different. It wasn’t just the usual exasperation you’d grown fond of teasing out of him. It was heavier, like he was carrying something you couldn’t quite name, something you weren’t sure you should have pulled at.

You close your eyes and groan quietly into the darkness, guilt and frustration twisting in equal measure. Sure, it’s fun to watch him squirm, to push his buttons just enough to see the cracks in that carefully constructed exterior. But you may have gone too far—even if the water spilling on your shirt was a complete accident. His jaw had set so tightly, his words clipped in a way that left no room for your usual playful retorts.

The memory sits heavy in your chest now, pressing down like a weight.

You roll over for the hundredth time, but the ache of regret and the nagging spark of curiosity keep you pinned wide awake. It’s not just the teasing, is it? Not really. It’s the way his silence speaks louder than his words, the way he looks at you like he’s bracing himself to lose something he doesn’t even have yet

You sigh, sitting up and running a hand through your hair. You know you should leave it alone, let him come to you when he’s ready, but patience has never been your strong suit.

Sliding out of the bunk, you glance at the reflection of your sleepwear in the metal panel across the room. The skimpy fabric makes you hesitate, but only for a moment. If you’re honest with yourself, part of you still wants to provoke him. But another part—the part twisting in your gut—just wants to be able to speak to him normally again.

The ship feels colder at night, the air biting against your bare skin as you make your way down the narrow corridor. The faint glow spilling from the cockpit confirms your suspicion: he’s there, just as you expected.

You pause in the doorway, your heart beating harder than you’d like. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His head is bowed, his fingers raking through his messy blond hair as he leans over the console. He looks… defeated. The sight sends a pang through you, sharp and unwelcome.

Taking a breath, you step inside, keeping your voice soft as you speak. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He straightens abruptly, his shoulders stiffening as his chair creaks under the sudden movement. His eyes meet yours for a moment before flicking downward and darting back up, his jaw clenching. You catch the faintest flush across his cheeks, but his expression is unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” His tone is flat, but there’s a strain beneath it, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You try to smile, but it falters. Stepping closer, you cross your arms, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than you expected. “I—” You stop, unsure of how to begin. “I just… I wanted to check on you.”

His brows furrow, suspicion flickering across his face. “Check on me?”

“Yeah.” You force a small laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears. “You seemed… off earlier.” You hesitate, glancing at the console to avoid his gaze. 

The silence that follows feels heavier than when the ship’s gravity went haywire and pushed down on you all. You risk a glance at him, only to find him watching you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His hands grip the armrests of his chair like they’re the only thing anchoring him, his knuckles pale.

“It’s fine,” he says finally, his voice tight, controlled. Too controlled. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

The way he says it makes something inside you crack. You know that tone, the one he uses to push people away, to keep himself locked behind walls you’ve only just started to glimpse behind. And it hurts.

“Curly…” You step closer. “That’s not what I—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his voice sharper now, his eyes flashing with something you can’t quite name.

But you don’t back down. Not this time.

“Don’t what?” you challenge, leaning closer to him. You keep your voice soft, almost hesitant, but there’s no mistaking the edge behind it. “Don’t worry about you? Don’t care?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. He just stares at you, his stormy blue eyes locked on yours, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he finally says, but there’s no conviction in the words. They’re a shield, flimsy and cracking.

You tilt your head, your voice dropping lower. “Why not?”

“Because…” He looks away, running a hand down his face, and you see the way his fingers tremble. When his gaze snaps back to yours, there’s fire in it, raw and unfiltered. “Because I can’t keep doing this, alright? I can’t—”

He stops himself, his voice breaking on the last word, and your heart stumbles in your chest.

“Can’t what?” you press, taking another step closer, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor. Your voice softens, and this time there’s no teasing, no game. “Curly, just tell me.”

He lets out a frustrated sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan, and rises abruptly from his chair. The suddenness of it makes you flinch, but you hold your ground.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is louder now, but it’s not anger—it’s desperation, raw and bleeding. “You waltz in here in your—” His eyes flick down to your barely-there pajamas before snapping back up, his expression torn. “—your… whatever that is, and you look at me like that, and you think it’s funny, don’t you? Messing with me, pushing me, like it’s all some game!”

You blink, stunned by the outpouring of words. “I—”

“No,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking. “You don’t get to talk right now. Do you know how hard I’ve been trying? Trying to keep this… whatever it is… locked down? To keep things professional, to not…” He trails off, shaking his head like he’s trying to dislodge the thought.

“To not what?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“To not ruin everything!” he bursts out, and the words hang in the air between you, heavy and unrelenting. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, waking up every damn day and seeing you, knowing I can’t—shouldn’t—feel this way?”

His chest heaves, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He’s closer now, the space between you shrinking with every ragged breath.

He leans in closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of hesitation before he barrels on. “Do you know what it’s like to sit next to you every day, to have you so close and know I can’t touch you? Can’t tell you?” His laugh is bitter, almost self-deprecating. “God, I can’t even think straight when you’re around. You’ve got me walking into walls, screwing up flight routes, forgetting my own bloody name half the time.”

“Curly…” You reach out, but he grabs your wrist before you can touch him, his grip firm but not painful.

“Don’t,” he says again, but this time it’s a plea, his voice breaking. His gaze locks on yours, his eyes glassy with an emotion you’ve never seen from him before.

And then, before you can say anything, he moves.

In one swift motion, he pushes you back against the console, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, the unsteady rhythm of his breath.

“I can’t…” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, but you don’t move, don’t dare to break the fragile moment hanging between you.

“Then don’t,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes search yours, and for a heartbeat, everything stands still. Then, with a groan that sounds like defeat, he closes the gap, capturing your lips with his in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from your lungs.

The kiss is not soft or measured, but raw, desperate, and full of everything he’s been holding back for months. His lips crash against yours with an intensity that makes your knees go weak, and you gasp into him, feeling the weight of all his pent-up frustration pouring out into this moment.

His hands, rough and calloused, grip the edges of the console beside your hips like he’s barely holding himself together. You feel the tension in his arms, the way his muscles cord and flex, the sheer power of him caging you in.

And then, suddenly, his hands shift. One moves to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down to your hip, pinning you firmly to the console beneath you. The cool surface bites against your skin, grounding you as his fingers wrap around you with just enough force to keep you there without hurting you.

He pulls away for a moment, searching your eyes for any hint of rejection, finding none.

You open your mouth to speak, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His lips crash back down onto yours, more insistent this time, as if he’s trying to erase every teasing word and playful glance you’ve ever thrown his way.

His body presses closer, and you’re keenly aware of every inch of him—the strength in his broad shoulders, the solid weight of his chest against yours, the way his body is being held between your thighs (which you’ve just realized that you wrapped around him), keeping you and him firmly in place. His free hand trails down your side, his touch firm and possessive.

“Curly,” you keen, eyes fogged from the kisses he just gave you.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice low and rough. “Not unless you’re ready to take responsibility for what you’ve started.”

The words send a shiver through you, and you meet his gaze, your breath catching at the unrestrained emotion in his expression—anger, yes, but also longing, vulnerability, and an aching kind of need that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m not sorry,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling but steady enough to hold his gaze.

His lips curl into a gentle smile, and he shakes his head, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours. “I expected such,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less intense.

And then he kisses you again, slower this time, but just as overwhelming. It’s less about frustration now and more about everything else—the want, the need, the relief of finally letting it out. His hand slides from your hip to thread his fingers through yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if to soften the moment, to remind you that despite the force of it all, he’s still Curly.

Even then, as he pulls his lips away to trail his kisses down that delicious neck of yours that he’s been fantasizing about for the past couple months, he bucks his hips into yours subconsciously. 

His eyes widen at the realization of what he just did, and he’s just about to apologize when he hears your soft groan, your hips grinding back into his. 

You’re going to be the end of him. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his mind goes entirely blank while reaching his hands to grab onto the mounds of your chest as he places wet kisses all over your neck. 

The sensation makes you gasp—his warm lips suckling all over the crook of your neck, trailing slightly further down as his large, warm hands grasp at you, fingers gliding against the thin fabric over to the tips of your nipples. He teases it over the fabric, each graze sending a jolt down your core as his pants get tighter.

You watch as Curly’s eyes glaze over while looking at the thin fabric of your shirt, watching your nipples peak and harden under his ministrations. One of his hands pulls away from a breast, brushing down your body until he pulls the skimpy fabric of your shorts and your underwear to the side and places his fingers right onto your heat at just the right spot, rubbing at it.

Your gasping, arms tightening around his neck, and your hands gripping at the hair on the base of his neck only serves to spur him on. His eyes are still hazy with a sheen of lust as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them lasciviously before easing a finger inside your hole, slowly massaging at your walls until he finds your most delicious spot. 

When you tense up and you let out another gasp, his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, knowing that he’s found it. As you reach up to capture his lips with yours, he slips another finger in. 

As you’re kissing, you let out a choked moan as he only rubs against that little spot more, fingers starting to curl up rougher and faster. His fingers filled you up so well—so thick and long, pressing your insides in all the right places. 

When you clench and spasm around his fingers, you expect him to slow down, but his fingers only get faster through your orgasm. You squeak in response, and his eyes are hooded as he finger fucks you into oblivion.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your lips, his voice thick with frustration and something darker. His breath fans hot against your cheek as he pulls back just enough to speak, his eyes blazing as they meet yours. “To push me until I couldn’t take it anymore?” 

His face is a storm of emotions, each one fighting for dominance. His jaw is tight, clenched as though he was holding back. His lips are red and slightly swollen from the kiss, a stark contrast against the stubble shadowing his sharp jawline. 

But it’s his eyes that leave you breathless—dark and blazing with an intensity that borders on feral. Those blue eyes, turbulent and unyielding, locking onto yours like they’re searching for every answer you’ve ever hidden. It combines with the feeling of his fingers pressing you in the right spot, making you see stars.

“You’ve been playing with fire, haven’t you?” he breathes, his voice rough and biting. His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile—a shadow of one, edged with frustration and disbelief. “All those looks, those little comments. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

His hand at the console shifts, and he presses a little closer, his body heat seeping into you. “God, do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you parade around like that? Laughing, teasing, pretending you don’t notice what you’re doing to me?” His words are a low snarl now, sharp with exasperation and tinged with lust as he drives his fingers deep into you, earning a squeal from your lips.

“Every time I thought I had it under control, you’d pull something new. A touch here. Showing off some skin there.” His free hand slides along your jaw, his thumb brushing deliberately across your cheekbone. His touch is gentle, almost a mockery of the fire behind his words and the intensity behind his fingers. “You really thought I would break eventually, didn’t you?”

His eyes flicker to your lips, and his fingers keep curling and thrusting inside you in a way that makes you squeak. The sound makes his gaze snap back to your eyes, his expression darkening further. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself from this onslaught of pleasure.

“Was this the plan all along?” he taunts, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “To push me so far I’d lose control? Or were you just so sure I’d never cross that line?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “Well, congratulations. You’ve got me right where you want me.”

He pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes again, his lips curling into a wicked smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So tell me,” he murmurs, his tone both a challenge and a warning, “what are you going to do now?” Your gummy walls clench on his fingers as he works you undone again—with both his fingers and his words.

“Please,” you keen, voice breathless. “Just fuck me, Captain.” 

The use of his title in that pleasure-drenched voice of yours makes him sharply inhale. He leaned back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he says, his voice low and commanding. "You're going to need to be ready for me. Really ready. So, I’m going to take my time." He knew the company regulations like the back of his hand—no personal items, especially not the kind that could be used for pleasure. And he knew you hadn't had anyone else in almost a year.

Your eyes go wide with shock as he speaks, and you realize what he meant. "But I... I've been... stretching," you protested, face heating up at the implication. 

Curly's smile grows, and he leans down, his mouth hovering just above yours. "With your fingers?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement. "That's not enough. Not for what I've got in store for you." You look up at him in shock.

"Trust me," he murmurs against your lips. "You'll thank me for it later. Especially when I break you like you tried to break me. I’ll have you begging, you little tease." His words send shivers of excitement up your spine.

With that, he slides his hand back down your body, his fingers slipping into you again. Your muscles are still contracting from the aftershocks of your two climaxes. He pumps his fingers in and out, watching your face contort with pleasure and overstimulation. But he knew he had to prepare you, had to make sure you could take him.

He leans in, whispering in your ear. "You're going to come again," he tells you, his voice a promise. "And then again. And each time, I'm going to make you feel so good that you'll forget your name."

Your eyes close, breath coming in short pants as you moan into his mouth. Curly revels in the feeling and the view of your hips moving in time with his touch. 

Curly slides in a third finger, curling them gently, feeling the slickness of your arousal. Your eyes fly open, and you look at him with a mix of shock and need. "Curly," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand, hole stretching around his fingers. "Please..." He strokes you in a steady rhythm, watching your face contort with pleasure. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet, but the occasional whimper escapes. 

He pushes your tiny tank top up, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling it as he continues to play with you. Your hands pull him closer, urging him on. He can feel your body tightening, your legs starting to tremble. He knew you were close.

And then it happened. With a cry, you cum again, your muscles clenching around his fingers. He still doesn’t stop, though, instead curling his fingers deeper inside you, keeping the pressure on your sweet spot. Your orgasm went on and on, your body shaking with pleasure, legs giving out.

As the last of your tremors subside, he pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth. He tastes you, watching as your face heats up. "So good," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’m going to push you until you can’t take it anymore.” 

Without warning, he slams his mouth onto your core, his tongue flicking you rapidly. You scream, hips jerking up. Your nails claw at the console, searching for any kind of purchase before gripping his blonde locks.

Curly feels the warmth of your orgasm wash over his hand and lips, juices coating his fingers and face as he watches you come apart in front of him. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you let out a guttural cry, body arching. 

He waits for you to open your eyes, to look at him with the same hunger he feels burning in his gut. When you do, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, and you’re panting. "Please," you beg, voice a whimper. "Please, Curly. I need you inside me." Your vision was already starting to go blurry, and you felt a slight twinge of dizziness from all the mind-numbing orgasms.

His only response is a shit-eating grin and his fingers continuing to work you open. The sound of your wetness fills the cockpit, and he couldn't help but groan. You’re so tight, so perfect. And all his. He watches your face as he works into you, his tongue circling you in time with his fingers curling up and down, thrusting in and out. You’re close, so close to breaking altogether, and he can feel the tension building in your body.

“Curly, please, I-” And then, with a scream, you cum again, gushing wetness all over his hand and face. He pulls away, wiping it from his cheek with a grin. 

"See?" he says, his voice filled with pride and eyes filled with darkness. "I told you I'd make you beg for it."

Your chest heaves, breath coming in ragged gasps. You stare up at him, eyes glazed. "Curly," you whisper with a needy voice. "Please... I need you."

He stood up, his cock straining against his pants. "Not yet," he said again, his voice firm. "We have all night."

He reaches down, helping you to your feet. You sway slightly, legs weak from the intense orgasms. He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the Captain’s Quarters. The crew is asleep. The only sounds are the steady hum of the Tulpar's engines and your two footsteps.

Once inside, he places you down onto his bed gently, your legs still shaking. He hovers over you, his eyes dark with hunger. He kissed you again, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you and your desire. You moan, hands reaching up to tug at his shirt.

He breaks the kiss, pulling his shirt off. Your eyes scrape up and down the sight of his bare chest, his muscles rippling in the dim light. He leans back in, his mouth moving down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles. You shiver, skin sensitive from the previous orgasms.

Curly slides his hand down to your hole again, his thumb pressing against you as he kisses his way down your body. You gasp, hips rising to meet his touch. He spread open your legs revealing you, all bare and wet. He took a moment to appreciate the view, your swollen hole and the glisten of your arousal—the glisten of your multiple orgasms.

With a groan, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking over you at the perfect spot. You almost scream, the sensation too much. He slides two fingers inside, desperate to continue stretching out your inner muscles.

He licks and sucks, his mouth a symphony of pleasure. You cum again, body bowing off the bed, hands tangling in his hair. He doesn’t let up, his tongue relentless, his fingers curling inside you, pushing you to the edge once more. Your cries grow louder, more frantic, until you’re almost screaming. And then, just as suddenly, you go quiet.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and you go limp beneath him as your body refuses to stop twitching. Curly pulls back, panting, his mouth wet with your essence. He watches your chest heave, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He knows you’re on the edge, just about to shatter into pieces.

He slides his fingers out of you, watching the way you quiver.

He stands, his own desire clear in the bulge in his pants. "You’re doing so good," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now you're ready." Curly chuckles as he watches your muscles twitch. “So cute,” he mumbles as he zips his jumpsuit down all the way and pulls his boxers down. It's massive, thick and long, standing erect and flushed with arousal.

You’re still unable to form words, eyes blank as you come down from the onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes flutter open when you feel him getting back onto the bed, chest heaving as you stare up at him. "Curly," you breathe, voice shaky. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can take it anymore."

He leans over you, eyes dark with need. "You can," he says, his voice firm. "You will. And you're the one who begged for it."

Curly lines up his cock with your slick entrance, the tip kissing you lightly. It's hot, and you can feel the pulse of his excitement. His reddened tip is so much larger than what you've felt before, veins standing out. Your eyes widen, looking at the size of him, and you feel your stomach flip.

Slowly, with a look of absolute focus, he starts to push in, watching your face as you bite your lip to keep from screaming. The head of his cock, that angry red tip, breaches your entrance, and you can feel your body stretching around its thickness. He goes so slowly, so carefully, that you can't help but trust him. The veins on his shaft stand out like roads on a map, and they feel like they're carving into you as he slides in inch by inch.

The pressure is intense, but you’re so wet, so ready for him. He slides in deeper, feeling you stretch around him. Your walls cling to him, and he knows he'd never felt anything so amazing. He pauses for a moment, savoring the sensation.

And to his surprise, you cum again, walls tightening around his cock. A keening sound tears from your throat, and you buck your hips against him, trying to push him deeper. He holds you still, watching your face, feeling your walls pulse around him. 

It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, a wave of pleasure so intense it almost brought him to his knees. “Fuck,” his eyes squeeze shut, voice hoarse. 

But he doesn’t stop. He couldn't. He pushes in further, feeling you tighten even more. You were whining now, a high-pitched sound that seemed to echo through the room. He knows he’s hitting all the right spots, that you were on the edge again. And he was going to make sure you fell over it.

You're so wet, so ready for him, that he's able to ease into you with surprising ease, despite his size. Each time he pushes in, you feel your muscles resisting before giving way, your body adapting to his thickness. Your walls clench around him, trying to get used to the feeling of being so full, so claimed. It's as if every part of you is being rewritten, every nerve ending remapped to accommodate his size.

His thumbs press gently against your pulse points, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. “You’ve been in my head for months. Twisting me up so bad I can’t tell what’s real anymore. Hell, I can’t even close my eyes without seeing you.” His voice has dropped lower, huskier, the edges roughened by emotion and strain.

The feeling of fullness is intense, almost overwhelming, but it's mixed with an aching need for more. You can feel your body stretching, adjusting to his size, and it's both slightly painful and incredibly arousing. He's so much larger than any toy you've ever used, and the thought of taking all of him sends a fresh wave of desire through you.

You glance up at his form, the dim artificial lights overhead casting a faint, bluish hue across his bare chest. His skin glistens faintly, a sheen of sweat highlighting the sculpted lines of his muscles—the curve of his shoulders, the sharp planes of his chest, and the ripple of his abdomen. Shadows deepen in the grooves between his ribs and along the flex of his arms as he shifts, his every movement purposeful, almost mesmerizing. There’s faint golden hair dusting his chest and trailing down his stomach.

The sight of him makes you coo, “Curly, you’re so perfect.”

His eyes never leave yours, and in them you now see a fierce concentration, a hunger that's been building for a long time. The head of his cock reaches deep into you, and you arch your back, the sensation overwhelming. You're so full you feel like you might burst. But then he pulls out slightly, only to push back in even deeper, and it's as if you've been hit by a bolt of lightning.

With one final, powerful thrust, he's all the way in, and you let out a cry that echoes through the cabin. Your nails dig into his back, your body shaking with the intensity of it all. His cock is so big, so hard, that you feel it in every part of you, filling you up in a way you never knew was possible.

Your hips are moving, rutting against him, urging him deeper. 

He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours, his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole. You moan, the feeling so intense that you don’t know if you can handle it. Orgasms roll through you, one after another, each one more powerful than the last. You couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, they just blended together into a never-ending crescendo of pleasure.

Curly's movements then become more forceful, his thrusts deeper and faster. Each time he fills you, you can feel your inner muscles clench around him, trying to hold onto that delicious feeling of fullness. He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to pick up the pace.

Tears slide down your cheeks as he fucks you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. Your eyes are now squeezed shut, and all you can see was the bright white light of pure ecstasy. You don’t know if you can take it, don’t know if you could handle his size, his strength. But you don’t want him to stop.

The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. It's primal, animalistic, and you can't help but get lost in it—in the feeling of his body pressing into yours, in the heat of his breath against your neck, in the way your orgasms build and crash over you like waves.

Your body starts to shake, your muscles tensing as you feel another climax building. You look up at him, eyes pleading, and he leans down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss. It's as if he knows exactly what you need, and he's more than willing to give it to you.

Curly starts to hit that spot inside you with every thrust, the one that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. You moan into his mouth, your hips rising to meet his, desperate for more. Fuck, but you don’t know if you can take it anymore. He's relentless, his cock driving into you, stretching you further and further until you think you'll shatter into a million pieces. 

And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you do.

You push him away, just enough for his cock to pop out of you, and you squeal. “‘Curly,” you keen, twitching all over as you release all over yourself, him, and his sheets. His dick twitches as he watches you spasm all over his bed, coating both of you in your cum and slick. 

The corners of your eyes sting with tears of pleasure, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Curly’s gaze doesn’t waver, his lips slightly parted as he watches you, his chest rising and falling with his own labored breaths. 

���Bloody hell,” he mutters, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his voice hoarse and rough. Then, without hesitation, he flips you over with a strength that sends your pulse racing all over again. His hands are firm yet careful, a mix of desperation and reverence in the way he touches you.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The weight of his words settles over you, and you know this is far from over. His frustration, his need, his months of pent-up tension—all of it is unraveling here and now, and you’re the one holding the thread.

And with those words, you know it’s going to be a long, unforgettable night. The thought crosses your mind in a brief, hazy moment of clarity: How are you supposed to walk tomorrow? But the question is quickly swept away, drowned in the whirlwind of Curly’s relentless thrusting and the electric heat between you.

Hours later, when the two of you finally collapse into each other, exhausted and sated, there’s a rare, blissful quiet in the air. His arm drapes over you after he cleans you up, heavy and warm, pulling you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you into a peace you haven’t felt in ages.

For the first time in years, Curly sleeps soundly. No tossing, no turning, no restless hours spent staring at the ceiling. In his dreams, as in reality, you’re there with him. And ever since then, he hasn’t had any insomnia.

And you? You have no regrets.

a/n: the finale~~ let me know what y'all think!

oh yeah.. smut.. neverending smut..

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics.

also might be accepting requests hehe! i can’t guarantee that i can do em, but i’ll accept ideas!

btw. not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos/inconsistencies stay safe & hydrated as always!

(and go to sleep if you’re reading this super late. don’t be a curly. take care of yourself!)

thanks for reading! <3

crossposted on ao3

taglist: @m-carriaga2021, @skyeconch

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

[simp-ly-writes]

The Silent Duke

─────── · · A Smosh Bridgerton/Historical AU

Pairing: Duke!Spencer Agnew x F!Reader (no use of sher/her pronouns)

─ · · SUMMARY: Your parents say you must marry by the end of the season (much to your horror) but what happens when a mysterious gentleman appears, what difference will that make of your marriage outlook when sparks fly and yet you are being paired with another- the mystery-mans best friend out of all people!

─ · · TAGS: bridgerton alternative universe, historical au, old-fashioned society, talks of marriage, hopeless-romantic reader, jealous!Spencer, fluff, angst, drama

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,091 | PART TWO

─ · · A/N: I am so unbelievably hyped for the next season of Bridgerton and for those who don't know what the show is, this is basically a historical AU.

─────── · ·

It was the start of the social season and you your parents had agreed you had wasted enough time having your head in books and your fingers stained by paints and inks that you should find a spouse (much to your horror).

You were scared. Scared to lose your independence of doing what you want, when you wanted to. Scared that you would have to stress about providing for others all the time and to worry over someone. You were scared that you would fall in love, whatever love felt like, with someone only for your heart to get broken when they go to court another; someone who looks better than you, has more polished shoes or sharper brains.

What if they could sing? Dance better? Would they have a laugh that sounds like rainfall and bells? These thoughts swirled around your head as your older brother and their wife sat across from you, you sitting in between your mother and father. You were surrounded by couples who deeply loved one another and you wanted nothing more but to find something rare like that.

But it was exactly that, rare, that stopped you from looking and getting your heartbroken in the first place. You dreamed in the novels you read of knights whisking away servants and queens falling for peasants but that was it, just fiction or for the lucky. And you always lacked luck being the second born in all.

Sighing to yourself, your clothes feeling too tight all the sudden as you adjusted your collar and gloves, shifting in your seat as your mother reprimands, "Stop moving, you mustn't wrinkle your clothes now, dear, we have appearances to maintain." You shift one last time with a nod. Your hands now forming fists placed atop your knees to stop yourself from moving about.

You swear to be hearing the string quartet already as grand grounds and an equally grand home come into view from the cobbled streets. Surrounded by a brick wall fence and iron gates that glide gracefully on the hinges, the whole property is well-maintained as a fountain with various fish spout water. You hold in a laugh while observing the bulging eyes on all of them, the owner must have a good sense of humour.

"Mama, I have not seen this estate before, is it a first for the host?" You question in a whispering tone, unknowing to how well the carriage blocks your conversation as you pull up to the staff awaiting on the front steps.

"Yes, it is the Duke's first time hosting an event, though Lady Danbury has been... politely reminding the Duke that he does need to host events with his title. You nod your head, curiosity ever-growing as you imagine a thousand men who would hold a title and not wish to flaunt it all around the ton.

You wonder if they have a spouse, children to fill these walls that you are about to enter. Are they young or old? Bright or simple-minded? What hobbies do they have? Why keep themselves hidden... what secrets do they hide?

In a world of your own you descend for the carriage, your father taking your mothers arm as they stroll ahead of you. You can hear your brothers wife giggling from behind and you do not dare to turn around. Instead following absent-mindedly behind your parents like a little ducking.

The halls are painted a wonderful forest green, gold accents appear tasteful but are not gaudy. The floors are a wonderful oak that warms the interior, it truly feels like a home despite the scale. As you continue further into the home, you pick out the simple paneling against the walls, the surplus of plants and trinkets rather than the beheaded animals or weapons you would think a rich man like this to hold against their walls. But none of it but gorgeous paintings and by reading the tags, all gifted.

For a man who does not socialize with the ton, they seem to be in well standings with many artists for them to gift such beautiful works. Soon you find yourself distanced from your family, so enveloped by the various landscapes and bizarrely, portraits of animals and the dukes friends. All of which you had never seen before.

Keeping your hands behind your back, to stop yourself from touching everything with your curiosity. You take to a side table, running long with the hallway. A book sits open with various encouraging messages and doodles in the corners of the pages that has you smiling before a light cough has you standing upright and at attention.

A presence now stands politely behind you yet just to your side. You can see their shadow casting over the book as you turn your head to be met with blue eyes framed by a thin pair of silver glasses. Curly brown hair draping elegantly over his forehead. His beard is clearly cut and self decorated in a simple black suit and white shirt.

Your cheeks warm, embarrassed to be caught snooping by this member of the ton as you take a step back and bow your head in greeting. "Good evening, It appears I have lost my way to the events hall," you voice, doing your best to keep your tone even and your eyes looking above his eyes, not being able to maintain eye contact in your embarrassment.

"Good evening," the man greets you back, extending their hand towards your own that you hesitantly take, unable to hide the surprise when they take your hand, gracing the back of it with a delicate kiss, that has your skin tickling underneath your gloves, "allow me to take you back."

You nod in reply, not trusting your voice as your hand is moved to their arm as they lead you back up to the hall. "I see that the decor has caught your attention, anything of note?" They make light conversation and you are partially thankful for them trying to ease you but at the same time, you didn't wish to speak, keeping your answers short and wanting to find your brother to hide behind like old times.

"I... I found it curious, the decor in how there are no portraits of the Duke yet so many of his friends and animals. I have not seen anything like it in the other manors I have been invited into." The man hums out, agreeing with your answer as you catch the corner of their smile. "Yes, very interesting how the Duke has no images of himself despite it being his main estate. Many appear to look past it but you observed it, Do you think it tasteless?"

You catch the hint of a tease but genuine curiosity matching your own, "I do not think it to be tasteless. I find it uplifting to see a nobleman not bragging their possessions, a trait hard to come by these days."

"Hard to come by yes but not if you don't look in the right places for it. It appears we have arrived, I wish you a good evening," the man places his hand on top of your own, gently removing it from his arm before turning back down the hall.

"Are you not joining in the festivities, sir?" you ask, hands clasped to your front with a tilt to your head watching as he stops and turns his head over his shoulder. "I have yet to think about that, but your presence will definitely make me consider." And with that he disappears behind another door as if a mere fragment of your imagination.

─────── · ·

The ballroom is a whirlwind of champagne, delicacies and delights as lace and linen twirl around the floor in various bright shades of nature to celebrate the early spring. You stand to the back, observing as the couples dance around the floor, skirts twirling and suit tails chasing after. You do your best to hide your dancing card in between your hands, the pursuit of finding a spouse still looming over your head, and that dread comes crashing down like a tidal wave as your mother bring forth a potential suitor.

"Child of mine, may I present to you Mister Tran, he comes from a family of businessman and traders, how wonderful is that dear? He is a polygot and even a world adventurer." Your mom brings your hands together as you bow down in greeting and he does the same, ending with a kiss to the back of your glove that has you not feeling the same sparks as you did with the man earlier in the hallway.

Mr. Tran appears tall and lean, he has long hair tied back into a bun. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he signs your dance card and adjusts his glasses, that similar slim silver that has your heart racing for some reason. "Pleasure to meet you," Mr. Tran speaks in a light even tone, "I hear you had a passion for literature, have you ever read in another language?"

"No, I have not had the pleasure of yet but I do wish to in the future," you reply, eyes casting over his black suit that hows small stripes of another material. His pocket square is nothing like you've seen before, "What design do you have in your suit-pocket there" you ask.

"Ah, this is from my dear friend Spencer. We both traveled to France in our early twenties, quite the adventure not meant for the proper ears here but we commissioned this work in memory of it." Mr. Tran leans down closer for you to observe the small french-styled buildings and floral prints embroidered.

"It is quite lovely," you finish with as Mr. Tran stands back upright. "I mustn't hold your gorgeous attention any longer. I'm sure many more suitors are wishing to introduce themselves but I do look forward to our dance later tonight," he parts with one last kiss to your hand as you stand there still, your mother put her hands up in a silent cheer towards you that you try and force a smile to your face as the next gentleman coves up and the next, and next... until your card became full.

Your heart dropped seeing not an empty slot left, that man from earlier still at the forefront of your thoughts as you got whisked off to the dance floor where you would spend the rest of your night filled with conversations of men ranting about their mistresses or trying to smell your hair with little that you could do.

Their conversations bored you, they hardly asked you a question on your likes or the things you studied, some even had the delight of saying you shouldn't have studies in the first place that put you in a great mood to say the least.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Mr. Tran asks, you freeze in his arms, blinking confused to getting recognition and that your partner changed. Your shoulders finally drop as he smiles down at you, pulling away for a twirl before coming back together. You think quickly for an excuse, "Just wondering where the Duke is, I have yet to see him tonight."

Mr. Tran hums in agreement but by the look in his eyes, you don't believe him to be truthful as you press forwards, "Have you seen the Duke, Mr. Tran?" you ask the only man you could consider to be in high standing with you tonight from his basic ability to hold conversation as a two-way affair alongside actually interesting hobbies.

"I have but I am surprised to know you are looking for the Duke, am I not to your liking?" Mr. Tran teases light heartedly, already knowing your answer after conversing with his friend earlier.

"Well, it is their event afterall, do you not find it curious that they do not appear to it?" you cut him off with a sorry smile.

"Well, from being in close standings to the Duke, I cannot say that this is not a common experience. He likes to keep in close company not these large social events not to his tastes," Mr. Tran explains as you both sway together, you catch a look from your parents and brother who all are encouraging you to smile more as you roll your eyes in their direction.

"I gathered that from his decor from earlier, though I do wonder where a man went from earlier. Say have you seen a shorter gentleman, glasses similar to your own with curly hair?" Mr. Tran does not do well to hide his smile or chuckle, a light coming to his eyes as he puts all the pieces together about his friend and you.

"Very interesting and very insightful of you to observe, I do know the gentleman you know to be describing, he is to be my best mate, Spencer."

"Spencer?" you test the name against your tongue as Mr. Tran's arms tighten around you, "Correct but I wouldn't say that name so outspokenly, you might receive more than a few looks for it"

"Oh! I do apologize, did they do something disgraceful- wait. That was wrong of me to consider, I do apologize, again," you ramble.

"No, he certainly is not disgraceful, I mean you both did converse did you not? He is a perfect gentleman except when it comes to his competitive attitude in sport, then he is not," you both chuckle at this, the music slowing as your eyes cast over his shoulder in the final moments of dance.

Mr. Tran holds you still as you stumble over your shoes when catching a familiar blue. Spencer, you learned his name to be casts you a wink and raised champagne glass as he observes you with a small smile that has your heart pumping as you cast a similar one in his direction.

"It appears you both have found one another," Mr. Tran teases, you both bow one more to end the dance before you are stepping around the crowd to see where Spencer had disappeared off to once more only yo be stopped by your mother as you huff in annoyance and try to continue forward but are sadly stopped.

"Mother, please-I" you begin. "My, you and Mr. Tran have truly made a connection with one another, we must see him next week for another dance," and with sunken shoulders you are lead out another door and towards your carriage.

─────── · ·

Spencer awaited in the room for your presence, he had not yet had a moment where you both could converse freely again without a thousand eyes staring back at your interactions. He worried that his title would come in the way yet again.

So he turned around, ready to greet you with a smile as the door handle turned open. Only for him to sit back in his chair when Mr. Alex Tran, his best friend came into the room. "It appears that my presence is disappointing to many today, how wonderful for me." Alex sarcastically comments while sitting across from Spencer, placing his shoes against the coffee table as someone comes over to pour both men a glass of whiskey. Both men commenting their thanks to the staff before they exit the room.

"Hm, might just be with that face of yours~" Spencer teases, holding up his glass for a cheers as Alex scoffs but clinks his glass nonetheless. "You're one to be commenting on face values, you are leading that poor man/lady on."

"I have no idea what you are on about."

"Hmm, well if you have no idea then you mustn't be interested in learning how much they wanted to learn about you once knowing we were friends..." Alex slowly turns his head to Spencer, catching as his eyes light up much similarly to your own. He knows that you both formed a connection in that little meeting within the hallway and he would not want his best mate to miss out on another opportunity like this.

"Well, all knowledge is good knowledge, do let me know," Spencer says, feeling around in his jacket for a cigar as he lights it in wait. Alex shakes his head with a smile, "Brother I say you are infatuated, would I be wrong in saying so?"

"Infatuated?" Spencer thinks aloud, blowing out a cloud of smoke to the side while staring up at the coffered ceiling. "I would not say infatuated but intrigued."

"Their mother introduced me to them, saying they are to find a husband by the end of the season. I do understand that they looked similar to our age but I did find it odd that with such elegance, someone did not swoop them off their feet earlier. And they really are quite intelligent and well-spoken, holding a love for literature and an interest in my adventures. I had never spoken to a woman/man with such childlike curiosity mixed with a mature understanding of the world and its functions." Alex recalled your conversations to Spencer, catching as his eyes narrowed in recognition for the dance you both shared together.

"I would say you should put your foot in the door so-to-speak. I may be finding a spouse like the other gentlemen by the end of the season. The lady/sir appears to be in high demand, their card was full as soon as they noticed they were available," Alex concludes, taking a drag of Spencer cigar. "I mean, I wouldn't mind marrying them, they seem in tune with my lifestyle," Alex imagines only to be kicked in the shin with a wince.

"I think our friendship may have to be called into question if you take away the first person I have taken interest in in nearly a decade," Spencer quips, taking the cigar back before loosening his tie.

"Well then, friend. I think you will need to 'step up your game' as the youth say. I overheard that I was number one on their dating card," Alex presses more, loving the look brewing in Spencer eyes as they both lean back in their chairs. "Well that really won't do," Spencer comments, shaking his head, curls coming undone.

"Are you saying the Silent Duke is finally going to be socializing like the rest of us in the ton? Not frolicking with their fellow artist friends?" Alex presses for a clear answer, his love of adventure shining through for the possibilities this could entail.

"You would stand correct."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: what did y'all think??? also sorry for the lack of updates, was on vacation.

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp

[therealnotta]

Long post about how my weird nightmares work under the cut lol

So I used to have, like, wicked bad nightmares. Bad bad. Could hardly sleep at night. At some point, little me realized that nightmares aren't really bad; they're your subconscious going "Hey! Hey!! What if this happened?! What would we do?" The reason they keep coming back is because good ol' subconscious is still worried about it. This made nightmares much less scary. All I really needed to do was find the answer. In this completely improbable situation, what would be the solution? How would it be okay? Once I found the solution, the nightmare was "fixed." Usually, I didn't have a problem with it ever again. Teeth falling out? Cool, you fill a cup with milk and put the tooth in. What if there's no cup? Find another container. What if there's no milk? Fill the cup with spit. What if no one will take us to an emergency dentist? You have a few hours to put the tooth back in, and we can find an Uber in that time, subconscious. It's okay. Don't be worried about our teeth falling out. And that fixed it!! Recurring nightmare, gone.

Now, if it's a fantastical problem, I can usually find a fantastical fix. Subconscious isn't worried about Freddy Fazbear eating my face in real life, because I've explained what fiction is and that it's impossible for Freddy to eat my face, they just want to know like... what if he WAS real? Well, if he was real, I'd just talk to the kid causing the problems and explain I'm not a serial killer. Or I'd melt into the walls and run away. Anything's possible!

Super popular thing I do is becoming vaguely omnipotent. Subconscious hates it when I do that and actively tries to stop it because it's "cheating." If it's a real-problem nightmare, then it just doesn't work. I can't fly if I'm in an exam! That's not helping in this conversation! But if it's fantastical? Oh, this is MY dream. I'm not going to let anyone stop me.

Example here is this one wild dream I had that stuck with me ever since, and is the reason I made this post to begin with.

Started off normal. I was on the Enterprise, explaining to Spock that I was born in 1999. Guys, he hated it. Absolutely hated it. I remembered Vulcans have super strength, so it was me pointedly looking at Pike through a window and hoping he noticed. He did, I escaped, and as Pike was talking to me about how weird that was, we discovered some disease had broken out on the ship that caused high levels of aggression. Uh oh!

And then the dream demon came.

The dream demon was a small child with an axe. Their fashion sense? Maximalist and impeccable. They were determined to kill me, and were coming charging down the hallway, so I warned Pike to just let me handle this and then promptly started running.

Ran through the halls of the Enterprise a bit, when I found an opening to the next dream (Almost ran past it! They're very subtle, more flickers of something new tahn anything else) and saw my chance. Ran on in, decided to try out parkour in the swampy area. Decided that this was MY dream. I get to make the rules.

Failed at parkour, miserably, and turned this into the dream demon's nightmare.

Once it was the dream demon's nightmare, it was.... excessively. Horrific. Not for me, but I felt bad for this kid. They were masculine-presenting now (they were okay with that part) and being confronted by their mother and uncle. Apparently, their father was a top dream demon and had died in this nightmare, leaving them to be in charge. I remember how stressed the idea made them, and how it was a custom for the skull of the dead demon to be kept and maintained, so they just... had their father's skull. Very creepy. They were pretty much terrified. I was watching this through a window, which didn't help.

Guys, dream demon hated that.

Dream shifts, and I'm in an underground bunker with the resistance. Not any one in particular, just a generic resistance, getting briefed on our progress and where we're going next. I'm pretty bored. Look over, and there's dream demon again. They're wearing the most fun dress this time, and I'm a little jealous. It's awkward, because they don't notice me at first, and then come at me at full spead.

And then was promptly stopped by another dream demon. This one looked vaguely like that giant vampire lady everyone was obsessed with, and she catches this kid by their collar and picks them up. Apparently, they were just a dream demon in training and were clearly doing a poor job of it. I ask the lady if she's cool with me leaving, she doesn't have a problem with it, I just waltz on out to the next dream.

I'm in a forest. It's okay, but there's a dense fog around me. Not great.

The dream demon kid is back.

They regain control and start chasing me through the forest. I bargain that we should get to take breaks in the clearing, because running gets old, so we'd have this awkward little break every once in awhile, but I was always far enough ahead and it was fine. They were unhappy with it, but so be it.

And then? They actually got me??

I remember feeling the axe embedded in my back. One thing I hate about my nightmares is that I do feel it when I get hurt; it's a cold, burning pain that doesn't go away. I hate it, and I turned around, grabbed this kid, and started telling them off for it, how it's fine to chase me or whatever but actually hurting me is rude, and I threw them into their next nightmare.

They were standing on a stage in front of countless dream demons, and I was in the crowd, watching. The murmurings around me told me that this kid wasn't living up to their expectations, that their father was a better leader, that they weren't menacing enough, weren't accepting enough. All I remember is this kid up there going. "Hey! Hey, it's not all that bad! I mean, I even let those ADHD kids in!"

It made me laugh so hard that I woke up, and I never saw that kid again. Hope they're doing well being the leader of the dream demons though!

[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | Chapter 1: Jaemin x Reader

Summary:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones.

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul's top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word.

So why, then, does he always find himself in the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

BLACK DAISIES MASTERLIST

___________________________________________________________

I've known him for almost a year and a half when it happened. 

The small bell of the cafe's back door dinged so hard, I thought it would get ripped off from the wall. I looked up, eyes wide with panic and hands still wrapped around the cold corners of a metal tray when a head of jet black hair appeared on the entrance. It took me half a second to register what I was seeing before I found myself flying to his side in a heartbeat. 

"Jaemin! Oh my god, what the hell is going on!"

My first thought was that he was injured. He was doubled over and I quickly hunched to his level so that I could peer at his face. He looked paler than usual, beads of sweat stuck on his forehead, eyes glazed with a slight look of panic as he tried to keep himself from falling over. I threw out my hands to hold him by the shoulders and that's when my gaze caught it; the small black package that he quickly tried to hide inside his bomber jacket before I could even fully see what it is. I didn't give it much attention back then—I was far too focused in trying to see if he was hurt anywhere to worry about anything else. When his gaze finally focused on me, I thought I saw guilt there.  

"I need your help. Sorry, I don't know where else to go."

My brows furrowed together. 

"What the hell is going on—"

He reached out for one of my hands helping him up and squeezed it tight. 

"Please don't ask me questions. Just—can you trust me?" 

"I don't understand—" my voice started to rise. Is he hurt? Bleeding? In pain? 

"Please."

My lips parted then pursed again. 

"Okay."

Jaemin tugged me closer to him and threw a panicked look outside. He then pulled me farther into the now closed cafe, back into the storage room, the location of which he shouldn't even know in the first place. 

"Let me hide here for a bit. Just a bit."

That encounter was my second mistake since meeting Na Jaemin. 

I should have asked questions. 

Lots of them. 

___________________________________________________________

The first mistake happened about a year and half ago. 

"Welcome to Brick and Beans, what would you like to have today?"

I plastered on my practiced smile and looked at the stranger in front of me without actually looking at him. Working in the service industry sure does things to your head once you get used to it. Despite having to deal with people all the time, you also get to develop a kind of numbness and detachment to human interaction. A face just becomes a face, a customer simply becomes just another passing responsibility. I tried to blink a few times to make myself seem more interested on the boy standing in front of my counter, patiently waiting for him to give me his order so we can go ahead and get on with both our business. 

"Uh… I'll have an iced americano. No water. Eight shots of espresso."

My lips parted and curled on the sides to give him my service smile. My hand automatically reached out for the plastic cups stacked on my side while my other whipped out the marker clipped on the pocket of my apron to scribble his order. 

"That's one iced americano, no water, eight—"

I stopped and blinked once. Twice. My gaze shot up at the customer in front of me again and really looked at him for the first time.

"I'm sorry, that's eight shots of espresso?"

He nodded, seemingly unbothered by my question. 

"No water?"

A slight shake of the head. 

"...eight shots. Of espresso."

"Eight shots, yes." 

For a moment we both just stared at each other. He was looking at me patiently, probably only slightly weirded out by my question while I gave him a look that's a mix of worry and disbelief. Working as a barista has exposed me to my own fair share of weird coffee requests, but this is by far the one that takes the cake. 

I softly cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the words I was scribbling on the cup. As strange as it is, I really am not in the position to judge a customer. 

"That'll be 4.50 dollars. Is that for here?"

"Make it to go." 

"Got it. I'll get you your order soon…"

"Jaem." 

I smiled and scribbled his name on the cup. 

Foot traffic was pretty slow on the cafe so I was able to quickly finish the order on autopilot. As I worked on mixing, I found myself humming softly to myself, my tune shifting into short whistles every time I would dunk an espresso shot down into that cup. I didn't even realize that the customer didn't bother taking a seat on one of the empty tables, opting to lean on the wall by the side instead, hands shoved in the pockets of his jogs as his eyes followed me. 

"One iced americano for Jaem," I called out and pushed the packed drink into his hand. He handed me his card and I quickly worked on swiping it. 

"You sure like your coffee explosive, huh?" I shot him a question for the sake of making small talk as I punched some buttons on my terminal. 

"It's the eight shots, isn't it?"

I answered by giving him a shrug and a smile.

"It's the first time I ever did one like it. I can only imagine how it tastes like."

His lips slightly quirked into a smile. A...really cute smile if I might add.  

"Is there anything wrong?"

"It's really good." 

"Sure, Jaem. I'm not here to judge," I gave him a wink before handing back his card and receipt. "Well, thank you for dropping by. We hope to see you here again." He took both wordlessly and slipped them on his wallet. 

I was waiting for him to walk off with his drink with the practiced polite smile plastered on my face again. He turned, coffee in hand, took about five steps, before turning to me again. I blinked in mild confusion as he placed his cup back on my counter. 

"Actually… I'll have it here." 

___________________________________________________________

"I'm not going to try your death coffee, Jaemin." 

I didn't look up from the page I was reading but I could feel it, that deadly pout and puppy eyes combo drilling onto the side of my head. I flipped a page of my textbook over and I heard a sigh come from the boy beside me. 

"I bought it for you. You said you need to finish a paper tonight."

"I do. That doesn't require me to be awake for the next week and a half," I answered back with a quirk of my lips as I finally looked up to meet his gaze. We were seated at one of the far tables of the cafe for my 15 minute break, away from the handful of customers scattered on the smattering of tables and high chairs. This has become quite a routine already… but how it started, I can't really explain.

Ever since that first order, Jaemin had made it his routine to drop by almost regularly. At first the banter started similar to how a regular customer and his favorite barista would have, but since he would always come and visit during slow hours, we would always have more time for longer conversations. Casual talk turned into light-hearted jokes, and finally into a kind of banter that comes with familiarity with each other. Slowly, I came to know the complexities of Na Jaemin, and boy, is he an enigma and a paradox rolled in one. 

You never really know what to expect with him. There are days when he would be a bursting ball of energy—most of the time when he would order his drink from hell—but there are also moments when he would be quiet and reserved. I found it odd at first, but slowly accepted it since it didn't really hurt me in the first place. In fact, if I am going to be completely honest, I find this kind of personality set working for me. Imagine gaining two friends, except they're only in one body. 

But that's not the only odd thing in our dynamic, too. If someone would ask me now to describe the kind of friendship I have with him, I wouldn't really know how to explain it. We joke together, laugh together, sometimes even tease the crap out of each other like we've known each other for years. We work well together, but at the same time… I know almost next to nothing about him. I don't know his address, who his other friends are, if he's going to school or not… hell, I don't even know what his number is. Outside of this cafe and his regular visits, I don't have anything to prove that he actually exists. He didn't share, and I also didn't ask. 

Until today.

"Fine. I'm just going to drink this then."

I gasped before shooting him a squinted glare. 

"You are going to burn a hole in your stomach, I swear to god—"

He simply shrugged and made a huge show of sipping the previously untouched tears of Lucifer. 

I reached out to tug at the hood of his jacket in an attempt to call him out when I noticed it. His hair was initially masking it at first but now I could see it in full view: a purple bruise just on the side of his eye, almost to his temple.

"Oh my god, Jaemin. What happened?" I asked in a hurry as I tried to take a closer look at it. His expression changed in a heartbeat as he realized what I saw and he quickly leaned back and pulled the hoodie again over his head. 

"That's—it's nothing." 

"It looks so bad. How did you get that?"

He didn't answer. His eyes avoided my own and his hand gripped the plastic cup between us a little bit tighter. 

"Did you get into a fight?" I pushed, gently this time. 

His gaze moved to meet mine again for a few seconds. It's obvious he was contemplating what and how to answer. 

"Yeah… I got into a bit of a tumble with some friends."

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back on my seat. He threw me a look that silently asked what else I want from him.

"Look. You don't tell me shit but at least I know enough to be sure you are lying."

Jaemin looked away and started tapping his finger against the table. 

"Why are you… why do you even want to know?"

I looked at him incredulously for a few seconds before leaning over. 

"Because you're my friend and I want to make sure you are okay."

"I am okay."

"Your black eye says otherwise."

"Come on, don't push this. Can't we be friends without," he waved his hand between us. "This?"

"Jaemin, I don't even know who you are."

That made him stop. He stared at me for what felt like a full half minute and that's when I saw it for the first time. The dilemma in his eyes. 

"It was because of work…" 

The look of confusion I made must have been so intense that he quickly tried to jump over it.

"Work—why, what do you—"

"I'm sorry, but that's really all that I can tell you." 

The sound of desperation in his tone wasn't lost on me. He looked so torn that I felt almost guilty for pressing.

"Fine… I won't ask again… As long as you are sure you're fine."

He peered at me once more as if assessing if he was finally off the hook. 

"So...we're still friends?"

"Huh?"

"You and me… we're still friends?"

"Uh, yes…" 

The look of relief on his face made me smile despite myself. He caught it and he made it a point to answer it with his best eye roll. 

"Don't laugh at me. I don't know how to do friends."

"You're so cute~"

"Shut up."

And that was the exact day I decided—I'm never going to let Na Jaemin feel alone again. 

Chapter 2

[selfawarejester]

So, someone requested a fic where Blue Team rescues a Child!Reader from a war zone, but unfortunately Tumblr ate the ask. If you’re the one who requested it, please enjoy!

EDIT: found a screenshot! @simp-for-fictional-men-only, hope you like this!

Blue Team x Child!Reader (Halo)

It’s been a long “day”, even by Spartan standards.

Blue Team had been trying to repel Covenant forces on an Outer Colonies planet for over a week… but it hadn’t been enough. Command had called an evacuation, and after destroying a base to help the efforts, Blue Team had been ordered to help with final evacuation calls in the nearest town.

On the Pelican ride to town, there was a brief moment where they thought it was a waste of resources to send Spartans for an evacuation op, especially because the other Spartan teams were still doing the best they could to strike back at the Covenant; not necessarily to stop them anymore, just to hold them back long enough for the civilians to escape and maybe a little revenge. The events of the week, coupled with the guilt of their brothers and sisters still risking their lives, weighed on them heavily.

But at the end of the day, they’re glad they did: they found a group in the Rec center, a dozen people in the boroughs, twenty in an apartment complex — the Marines wouldn’t have been able to lift most of the wreckage that blocked them from escaping.

By the time they’d gotten to the outskirts of town, Blue Team had been left alone to sweep through the dead town. Chief considered just going to meet up with the Marines — surely, they could match the pace of the overloaded Troop Transports — and this area was just dilapidated factories and shady looking establishments that had long since been stampeded.

But a need to fulfil his task to completion stayed his hand… and thank god it did.

At first, it was just soft sniffles that sounded from the inside of the rundown factory. Chief and Kelly, who’d partnered up to search this side of the district, thought it was one of the many Jackals that had been posted in the previous sector wandering, or a Grunt that had been left behind after the Jackals had entertained themselves (in which case, they should probably put the thing out of its misery), so they go inside.

Chief goes first, moving carefully through the debris so as to not dislodge the wreckage, or disturb the corpses of the few soldiers and more civilians. He retrieves their dog tags, securing them in one of the compartments of the MJOLNIR, and Kelly follows, stepping where he does.

Slowly, the sound becomes louder and louder, wheezing and snotty sobbing. Definitely an injured Grunt, he thinks. It’s coming from under a slab of concrete propped up against a wall. Kelly flanks to the right, while Chief goes to the left. He signals that he’ll lift it on the count of three, and grips the edge of the slab. When the slab gets tossed aside, Kelly raises her shotgun, pointing directly at the small figure.

You shriek and bury your head in your knees, pulled up to your chest. You couldn’t believe that after all the gross, awful things you’d had to sit through, holed up in this corner, you were just going to die.

But when nothing happens for a solid five seconds, you chance a peek over your knees and gasp. S-117 and S-087 are emblazoned across the chests of the armored giants… Spartans.

Kelly and Chief exchange confused gazes, having no idea how to deal with children. The last ones they’d had any interaction with was the Castoffs on Netherop, but they were more feral gremlins than they had been children.

(Kelly and Fred still aren’t entirely sure that the whole incident wasn’t a heat-induced hallucination.)

John really doesn’t want to go through another episode like it, but on the other hand, it would be easier if you were pelting rocks at them.

Kelly, being the more personable of the two, kneels to your height (or as close as a Spartan could get) and softly calls. “You don’t have to be scared. We’re here to help.”

You knew that — they were Spartans! The greatest heroes Humanity ever possessed! You were just shocked that you were getting rescued by them.

“Y-you’re Spartans.” You whisper dumbly, but you couldn’t help it! How are you supposed to be cool when you grew up with Master Chief’s action figure on your nightstand. “Like Master Chief.”

You can’t see it, but John can sense Kelly’s smirk as she looks over at him and points. “Well, that’s the man himself.”

* Oh no. By the way your wet, moved eyes stare up at him, it seems you’re a fan.

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!! You hope your pterodactyl screeching wasn’t external.

“Whoa.” This couldn’t be real. You’d passed out from exhaustion, and were dreaming all of this. That could be the only possibility!

John knows that this is the part where he says something witty or inspiring… but he really doesn’t know what to say, so he just awkwardly clears his throat. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head violently, a burning need to not disappoint your childhood hero, and clamber up to your feet… only to wince and lean against the wall, something sticky on your leg.

Now that you’re standing, he can see the dried blood around your ankle. “Hold still!” All the softness is gone from Kelly’s tone as she works on bandaging you up, but you don’t mind, appreciating how careful she’s being.

Co-ordinating with Linda, who informs him that there are patrols scouting the areas — probably only to get any survivors, and not to catch them, but they should still move — and Fred, who tells him that the convoy is flying off-planet via Pelicans in half an hour, John makes some quick calculations.

With the pace you’d set, hobbling alongside Kelly, whimpering every time you put your weight on your left foot, it would take them at least an hour. Too long.

“Whoa…” The sound comes unbidden from Fred when Kelly emerges, with you clutching at her hip, all bloody and dirty. A pang of sympathy strikes as he looks around and realizes all that you must have seen. He was well aware that normal children weren’t nearly as resilient as he and his siblings had been.

“….” He stays silent as you arrive in front of him, staring up at him with slight apprehension, heart racing as he tries to think of something to say — and for some reason, he lands on an awkward, weirdly Southern-sounding. “Hey champ!”

John and Kelly both shoot him weird looks, and he wants to dig a hole and die, when they hear it.

A small giggle falls from your lips, tiny hands covering your mouth as you try not to laugh. Fred sighs in relief, but his anxiety returns when Kelly’s joking voice comes over the comms saying “Well, I guess we know who’s taking care of them.”

Linda drops out of nowhere, and nearly scares you to death as you shriek and bump into John, holding his leg tightly. You don’t really notice how he freezes, confused again.

“…sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, you think with a pout and drop from Chief’s leg, careful of your own busted ankle.

“That’s Linda, that’s Fred and I’m Kelly. You can just call him Chief. What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/N.”

“Alright. We won’t be able to make it if you’re walking, so you need to get on one of our backs.” Chief tells you, straight to business. “Which one of us do you feel comfortable with?”

He’s really hoping you pick Kelly or Fred. It wouldn’t exactly be a burden, you’re much tinier than the full grown people he’s had to carry out of a war zone, and you’re handling it much better as well, even though you’re barely ten years old.

“Um…” You look shyly up at Fred. “If you don’t really mind…”

*Aw. That’s… actually kind of sweet. Fred beckons you over, and hoists you up between his shoulders, giving you the rundown on what to do if people start shooting, and to hold on tight when he tells you to.

*You’re much more considerate than the freaked out VIPs he’s had to extract. But he still feels you twitch every time the wind causes something to clatter, so he decides to strike up conversation.

“So how did you wind up there?” It’s not until afterwards that he realizes that, unlike soldiers, civilians aren’t comfortable discussing stuff like that. But you answer that it was your dad’s factory, explaining that it was Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

The Spartans, specifically Kelly, asked you questions about it, having never heard of it themselves. After all, military settings rarely allowed such breaches of protocol.

You only trailed off as you got to the part where he told you to hide, and Fred lets it be.

When you finally get to the convoy, a nurse hurriedly tries to pull you away from the Spartans to help out, apologizing for not doing it sooner when Fred tells her it’s fine and that you can stay. After all, Kelly had fixed you up well, and you seemed terrified at the prospect of being left alone.

All that was left to do was fly up to the ship in outer orbit, with the rest of the survivors. Since there were such few Pelicans, everyone had been crammed into them, military and civilians alike. You’d simply wandered onto the one they’d been on, sandwiched between Chief and Fred.

Chief watches you picking at your shorts, and suddenly remembers the chocolate bar Sgt. Johnson keeps giving him - “you’re not yourself when you’re hungry, Chief” He’d snicker and then leave, Chief just standing there, not understanding the reference - but hey, chocolate was chocolate.

“Here. You did well.” Your eyes go wide, and for a second he thinks you’re going to refuse, but then you snatch it out of his hand and snarf it down. This is how it must feel to watch him eat.

“You’re going to like it up there.” Fred chimes in when your gaze starts getting distant again. “Space is really cool.”

In a twist of fate, you find one of your best friends when you arrive on the ship. Their parents promise to take care of you, and thank the Spartans.

When they start directing the survivors to their quarters, you hug every Spartan, even Linda… or their legs, since you couldn’t reach anything else. (Thankfully, you telegraph it pretty well, so they don’t accidentally smack you or something.)

John just stiffens and then nods, Fred pats you on the head awkwardly and shuffles away (he was very shocked by the affection), Kelly laughs and claps you on the shoulder, and Linda just hums and pets you on the head like a dog, walking away afterwards.

You go on to be a Marine yourself, finding yourself on the Halo campaign, where Chief and Cortana save you once more. You’re surprised he still remembers you.

You leave a bar of the same brand he gave you at his shrine, giving a heartfelt eulogy and catching up momentarily with the other members of Blue Team before you all leave again.

You almost faint when he shows up at Requiem, though. Don’t feel bad, as Lasky fanboys behind Chief for the whole campaign.

Palmer corrals you and Lasky into a break room to make fun of your behavior after it’s all over.

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Who knows when... - Wet Dream... Come true... (mini series) Part 1/?

Warnings: 18+ readers only. NSFW. Swearing, sex (protected sex), oral - male receiving, nakedness in the shower. I DON'T OWN HENRY CAVILL. THIS IS FICTION! NO MINORS!

"That's it, baby girl. Fuck. You're taking my cock so well." Henry moaned deep from in his chest.

His hips snapped, back and forth, pushing and pulling his thick cock inside your pussy. You moaned out loud as he sucked and licked your throat, wrapping your legs around his waist, wanting him to go deeper.

"Yes! Fuck, yes," You cried out. Your nails dug into his back, his shoulders, his waist, his backside, anywhere you put your hands. You pulled him closer. "Yes! Oh, Henry, I'm-"

You pushed yourself up in bed with a slight groan, rubbing your eyes with your fingers. Damn it, you wished your dream had never ended. You let out a tired yawn, stretching your sore muscles before sitting up a little more. The dream had been so real, you could have sworn your legs were aching, your pussy too. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and put your feet down on to the soft, fluffy carpet.

You looked up and finally noticed you weren't in your room. With a frown you pushed yourself to stand and slowly began to walk round the bed, looking for your clothes. Suddenly the door opened, startling you, freezing you in place as you came face to face with the man who'd taken you home.

"You're awake," He smiled at you.

"It wasn't a dream," You gaped at him, "... I'm actually stood naked in front of Henry Cavill." You groaned, covering your face as you dropped onto the bed in embarrassment.

Henry chuckled softly, "I'm not complaining." He smirked before he reached up behind the door and took down his dressing gown. "Here, put this on." He kindly offered you it.

"Thank you," You blushed as you acceptd his dressing gown. You held in the giggle that threatened to break as you tied the belt around your waist. Being Henry's, it was far too big for you but it was warm.

Henry sat beside you on the bed with a soft smile on his face. You looked cute in his dressing gown, and after you've finished with it, it would smell like you. Henry cleared his throat and tore his gaze from you. "Do you remember last night?"

Oh yes. Now that you were fully awake and had come face to face with your 'wet dream', last night had come flying back, crystal clear and in detail. "Yes." You answered meekly. Your cheeks flush as you thought about the details of last night.

Henry grinned, "Good."

You looked up to him with a shy smile. "Good."

Henry let out a low chuckle. "You look cute when you get shy." He teased giving you a playful nudge making you blush a little more and hide your face in his fluffy dressing gown. "Would you like to join me for a shower?"

Your eyes widened a little in confusion. "I thought, you'd be wanting me to... hmm, leave."

"I thought you said you didn't do one night stands?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. So he did remember one of our many conversations from last night.

You shook your head. "I don't. I just thought, you might want rid of me." You whispered and looked down bashfully.

Henry shook his head and let out a soft sigh, "Y/N, I said last night that I really liked you. And I meant it." He smiled softly at you. "Is that okay?"

You nodded biting your bottom lip. "... Yes," You smiled looking up to him, only then noticing what he was wearing. Your mouth water as you watched the sweat trickle done his neck and his chest, making his chest habit stick to him and - "What time is it?" You cleared you thriat and the dirty thoughts clouding your mind.

Henry looked down, "Oh, still early. I had to go take Kal out for a walk, ended up having a run." He chuckled softly. You nodded with a smile. "So, shower?"

You nodded and blushed a little, before you looked around the room. "Oh, hmm... Where are my things?"

Henry smirked playfully as he stood up from the bed. "I thought you said you remembered last night?" He asked walking out of the room.

You rolled your eyes, "Well, when Henry Cavill is literally fucking your brains out, you tend to forget where you dropped your things."

Henry laughed heartily as he walked back into the room holding your things in his hands. "When you put it like that." He teased placing your things beside you on the bed. "Do what you need to and I'll get the shower going." He smiled softly at you.

You nodded thanking him and waited until Henry walked into the bathroom before you fell back onto the bed with a deep breath. You just needed a minute to collect your thoughts.

Last night actually happened. Your flat mate had asked you to be her plus one to her works party. You'd only been there an hour when you'd tripped in your friends stupid heels she'd made you wear and fallen into someone. That someone had been Henry, and thankfully he was more than happy with the accident. The two of you ended up talking all night and then, well, you woke up the next morning in Henry's bed after a night full of mind blowing sex.

"Y/N?" Henry called out from the bathroom. His voice mixed with the sound of running water filled your stomach with butterflies.

"Coming!" You answered quickly, pushing yourself up from the bed.

Henry was already in the shower by the time you entered the bathroom. You could see his silhouette through the steam and the glass of the shower. It only just occurred to you that you were actually going to be in the shower with Henry, naked, and fully sober.

"Are you getting in, or just going to watch me?" Henry asked with a playful tone.

You licked your lips at the thought of just watching Henry wash himself. "I'm coming,"

You smiled, and quickly pulled open the dressing gown, taking a quick sniff of it, melting a little as you breathed in the scent that was Henry. Once you'd safely hung the dressing gown up, you took a deep breath and stepped round the glass door. Your eyes bugged a little and your mouth hung open as you came face to face with Henry's naked back and arse.

"Fuck," You muttered to yourself.

"I could say the same thing," Henry looked over his shoulder with a smug smirk. He turned around and faced you, "Come here." He held his hand out to you.

You took his hand and stepped forwards until you were under the stream of water. You instantly closed your eyes and relaxed as the water ran down your body. A soft gasp past your lips and your eyes shot open as Henry lightly moved his hands up your arms.

"Do you have to be somewhere today?" Henry whispered.

"No plans made.. Yet."

"Good." Henry smiled at you.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours as he moved his hands to your back, pulling you closer to him, pressing your body against his. He ran his tongue between your lips and slipped it into your mouth, pulling a soft moan from you.

You gripped onto Henry's arms as he pushed you gently against the cool, fogged glass of the shower. Your tongue licked at Henry's as he squeezed your waist.

He pulled back with a deep breath, "Sorry." He let out a breathless chuckle making you giggle.

"No you're not."

"No, I'm not." He gave you a smug smile.

You smiled up at him, placing your hand on his hard chest, "I don't want you to think I'm being a cock tease, or anything," You bashfully looked down. Henry's hard cock stood between the two of you, practically making you drool as you eyed it. "But, maybe having sex in the shower, without protection, isn't the best idea."

Henry nodded, taking in another deep breath and stepped back a little from you. "Of course... You're absolutely right," He cleared his throat.

A silent groan left you as your eyes danced over Henry's naked body. He was a God! You licked your lips and reached out, grabbing his hand making Henry looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't I still need to repay you for something?" You asked with a playful smile.

Henry's head tilted to the side as he tried to think of what you meant. "I don't -" His breathe caught in hi throat as you wrapped your hand around his hard cock. "Fuck,"

You bit your lip as you got on your knees in front of Henry and looked up at him through your eyelashes at him, giving them a bat before saying, "Do you want me stop?"

Henry shook his head gulping. "No." He growled, his eyes fixed in your hand as you slowly, teasingly stroke him.

Your eyes fell to his cock before you. It was a beautiful sight, you could admire Henry all day. You slid your hand down to the base of his cock, cupping his balls in your palm as you ran your tongue down the length of him and back to the tip. Henry groaned deeply as you repeated the action once more before you wrapped your lips around his tip.

"Fuck," He moaned with closed eyes.

You were glad Henry didn't have an overly long cock (not that it wasn't big - it was). You were able to fit most of him into your mouth, and deep throat him before pulling off to stroke him again. Your eyes water a little as you caught your breath but it didn't bother you, the sounds Henry was making above you spurred you on. You used your other hand to play with his balls, licking up the length of him again before taking him back into your mouth. You bobbed slowly up and down, adding light pressure to his balls as you did.

"Shit. Baby, don't stop," One of Henry's large hands fell to the back of your head, encouraging you to take more of him as he slammed his other against the wall. "Fuck! Baby, I'm gonna cu-" Henry groaned from deep in his chest as you sucked and licked him as he came.

You moaned, the taste of him on your tongue making you wetter than you thought possible. You pulled off him and smirked up at him. You enjoyed seeing him like this.

Henry panted, trying to catch his breath. "That-" He ran a hand down his face, "Fuck, that was hot." He chuckled breathlessly and helped you off the tiled floor. "Perhaps, we should shower later..." He grinned at you making your eyes widened and light up with lust as he pulled your body against his. "We've got plans, now."

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he��s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

[gorgeousgust]

Strange Birds - K.B

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fiction on Tumblr and I am so eager to share it with y'all. I know that I made a lot mistakes, because english is not my first language. I really adore this song "Birdy - Strange Birds" This song gives me literally chills and vibes of both Kanej and Kaz x Y/N All I hope is, you enjoy reading it. Thank you for hearing me mumbling about this! Word Count: 1K Warnings: Kinda angst with a little fluffy ending. That theme screams Kaz. And my shitty writing.

Little ghost, you’re listening, 

Unlike most, you don’t miss a thing, 

You see the truth 

 Kaz Brekker never confirmed that he sees Y/N as more than just a crow of his but deep down he knew; he adored her. He never missed a thing about Y/N. Whenever she walked with the Dregs after a heist, her gaze met those sweets in the pastry or her curious glances at a new book in the bookstore. 

He never missed it. 

 He could sense her happiness or her grief, anger toward his enemies… When she is around, a surge of joy comes with her. 

I walk the halls invisibly, 

I climb the walls, no one sees me, 

No one but you. 

 Yes, everyone in the Dregs, even Matthias could feel when she is sad. However, not like Kaz did. The way her lips fell or in her eyes, he could see all of it. All of the reasons why she is sad, he could see right through her soul. 

 Y/N hated it. She hated when Kaz sees her vulnerable. All she wanted was to prove herself to him that she is not a failure. Before Kaz, she was a mess. She lost her family. She lost her friends. She lost everything she had and then she met him. Her guardian angel… Despite he is dirtyhands or demjin by the drüskelle. She saw him as her guardian angel. She adored him; even she loved him. 

You’ve always loved the strange birds, 

Now I want to fly into your world 

I want to be hold 

“Crows just don’t remember the faces of people who wronged them. They also remember those were kind. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.” She heard him once. When he talked with Inej, she heard their conversations. She always thought about Kaz’s interest in strange birds. 

and she wanted to be his, his strange bird. 

My wounded wings, still beating 

You’ve always loved the stranger inside 

Me, ugly pretty 

 Y/N walked to his office. She knocked on the door to come in. When she walked to his office, she could see his tired gaze. “Are you okay?” She said to him. He didn’t respond at first, he was concentrating on the job he had. She leaned closer, and that’s when he looked up and see her worried eyes. “I’m fine.” He spoke. She knew it was a lie, all she wanted was to keep him close to herself and she wanted to tell him that he needed to rest. Instead, she just only nodded. She went to her place to sit; she was watching the raindrops fall on Ketterdam’s cold streets. 

 Y/N and Kaz’s relationship was complicated. They were not beloved but they loved each other. Not just like friends did. Like lovers did. However, their traumas were a barrier to them. Nevertheless, that was only Kaz’s thoughts. She did not think like that. She thought his trauma or hers was not a block. They could be in love without touching. She always respected him and his boundaries. She wanted him to accept that but she did not want to push it. Therefore, she remained silent. 

 She didn’t know that Kaz was staring at her, he observed her. The way her eyebrows scowl, he could tell she was having one of her arguments with herself. He wanted to comfort her about it. “What’s in the head of yours?” He said while he turned to his papers. She looked at him with such surprise. It always happened between them. 

This time, she did not want to show her vulnerable times to Kaz, because she was scared. Y/N is scared that she will get the rejection from him. “Nothing.” She said. That made him to look at her. Their eyes met; her cheeks turned a bright flash of red. Kaz was not stupid; he understood Y/N’s feelings toward him. However, he could do nothing about it. 

He hated himself for that. 

Oh little ghost, you see the pain 

But together we can make something beautiful 

So take my hand and perfectly, 

“Y/N, I can’t give you.” She turned herself to him. “What?” She said. It was low and husky. “I- I can’t give you what you want from me.” She looked at him; he saw her hurting glances towards him. She did not even attempt to hide her hurt feelings. “And what exactly do you think I want?” That made him silent. He thought for a second. 

 She never attempts to touch him or she never crossed his boundaries. She always had respect for him. He turned his gaze down. She sat up and came close to his side. At the moment, she was close to him yet she distanced herself from touching him. “You think that I want to snog you? On the other hand, do you think I want to touch you? To feel you?” Her voice became loud. “Yes, hell I do. But I respect you. Moreover, I don’t care about physical touch. I care about you Kaz Rietveld.” 

We fill the gaps, you and me make three, 

I was meant for you, and you for me 

 For the first time in Y/N’s life, she felt fearless. Fearless about what she thought. He was in shock and she saw it. He understood that she meant for him the world. “You are the brightness in my life. But this is wrong, Y/N.” He wanted to touch her, he wanted to hold her close but how? He asked that question himself for the past months… He was a mess. 

“Don’t.” She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think like that. “When are you going to understand that I am crazy for you and I know this is not wrong.” She looked at him. She was waiting for him to say something back, even argue but he said nothing. He remained silent. 

She sighed. “Understood the message.” She barely said, it came as a whisper. However, the room was tense and silent so Kaz catches the sentence. She turned back to leave him alone but she heard him. “I don’t want you to go, Y/N. I want you to stay.” 

You’ve always loved the strange birds, 

Now I want to fly into your world 

I want to be hold 

My wounded wings, still beating 

You’ve always loved the stranger inside 

Me, ugly pretty… 

[vreugd-madelon]

Pillars of the Earth Review

The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet is a 1076 page Historical Fiction novel. The 1st in the Kingsbridge series, and it’s followed by World Without End (#2) and A Column of Fire (#3). I got this book from my mother who found it at a little library.

Follett has re-created the crude, flamboyant England of the Middle Ages in every detail. The vast forests, the walled towns, the castles, and the monasteries become a familiar landscape. Against this richly imagined and intricately interwoven backdrop, filled with the ravages of war and the rhythms of daily life, the master storyteller draws the reader irresistibly into the intertwined lives of his characters into their dreams, their labours, and their loves: Tom, the master builder; Aliena, the ravishingly beautiful noblewoman; Philip, the prior of Kingsbridge; Jack, the artist in stone; and Ellen, the woman of the forest who casts a terrifying curse. From humble stonemason to imperious monarch, each character is brought vividly to life. The building of the cathedral, with the almost eerie artistry of the unschooled stonemasons, is the centre of the drama. Around the site of the construction, Follett weaves a story of betrayal, revenge, and love, which begins with the public hanging of an innocent man and ends with the humiliation of a king.

Trigger Warning: Rape, Graphic Violence.

I rate this book 5/5 stars.

I’m astounded by how much I love this book. I will confess my bias and tells that I’ve been raised Christian (Christian school, but not like going to church every Sunday), but I’ve never wanted to see a Cathedral be build so much in my life!

The chapters are insanely long, like chapter 1 was 83 pages! But with the 40 hour audiobook it felt like it was flying by and has an awesome narrator. This chapter follows Tom Builder and his family which was really interesting to see the conversations that they’re having. However the insta-love between him and Ellen was something I’m not a fan of. Luckily their relationship really grows inside these pages and I really wanted them to flourish. What shocked me was his fate at end of part 3. I still feel it in my soul. Chapter 2 follows Peter and I really didn’t see the switch between POVs coming. I really like how his story line picks up from when we meet him with Tom. Chapter 3 is William’s POV and I really dislike him as a person, but love him as a characters. I just love to hate him and it’s been a very long time since I loved to hate and abhor a character so much. His fate at the end is very fitting.  After these three chapters I really thought that William’s was the most interest.

A lot happens within these 1000+ pages. I won’t be able to cover all of it, but here are a few highlights: My favourite character I absolutely love is Aliena, and yes, she gets her own POV. She’s a strong independent woman, who needs no man to save her. Yet it’s the silent type that captures her heart.  I do like the themes within the book. The hypocrisy within the church is a very large part, especially with Prior Phillip being such a humble and honest man and even he has to give in to trickery at some moments, but he really is a ‘means justify the end’ type of man. Every single character is morally grey. They do good things and they do bad things. They do thing for their own advantage, some do care about the consequences and others don’t care at all or a little less, casting them aside after nothing more than a moments thought. It’s only those special few that actually go out of their way to help others.

I do absolutely recommend this book for anybody and everybody!

Do you have any questions? Or maybe some recommendations? Send me an ask here on Tumblr or tweet me. If you wish to support me, you can buy me a coffee! Or even buy my debut fantasy novel, The Mending Road.

[loverdrew]

Do It For Me | b.b

Synopsis: Y/N may never be able to forgive Bucky if he goes through with his decision. (pre-endgame with a twist, very inaccurate storyline and writing I know but it’s all fiction)

Warnings: a few cuss words here and there

Based off of Greys Anatomy (between Izzie and Denny)

My first ever Bucky Barnes fanfic! I’m getting more into writing for Marvel characters.

I had been sat up in my room at the Avengers compounds for the whole day at his point; harnessing my magic, drawing/reading to calm me down, and just enjoying a nice day off. Everything seemed quiet, a little too quiet for my taste. No one had come knocking on my door to talk or check up on me. After a few minutes I started to hear talking through my headphones and it was coming from outside my door. I slowly let my earbuds drop from my ears, silently opening up my door and creeping downstairs. It had seemed to more I got down the steps, I saw more people come into view. All backs were turned, some arms crossed, but voices were definitely raised. It felt like more than one person kept trying to speak and once at the bottom step, I saw the one person who was the center of it all.

Wanda was the first one to see me, cutting her sentence short, and soon everyone followed. Steve’s face dropped, biting his lower lip and looking at the floor. Bucky stood up, eyes almost bulging out of his head. I looked around stunned at everyones faces as they all made a collective sigh.

“W-what’s...what’s going on guys.” Wasn’t so much of a question, but more of a ‘tell me now or I’ll crush you guys with just a thought’. My powers were growing, everyone knew this. With one scream, a whole city could go deaf. With no swipe of my hand, I can send more than 10 men flying 100 feet. Most of the time they wouldn’t dare bother me in fear of my emotions becoming heightened and possibly destroying something. But something tells me right now might be the first time that happens.

“I said, what’s going on.” My hands glowed purple, the color of my powers. Wanda immediately rushed in front of me and looked me in the eyes, rubbing her hands over mine. When she found out I also harnessed powers from an infinity stone, Tony made it a point to have her help me maintain my magic. Her touch softened the glow, instantly calming down my heart rate. She repeated the same phrase to me; ‘don’t let it take control of you, take control of it’. The purple glow went away, as she guided me towards the group.

“Thanos is coming, Y/N.” Tony spoke up.

“And we’re trying to figure out how to stop him once and for all but...there was an idea brought up.” Bruce chimed in, and I followed his gaze right to Bucky. His head laying low. My mind went to the darkest of places. Bucky had never looked so ashamed. All I wanted to do was hug him and rub up and down his back, he always liked that. The last time I did that for him was a few nights ago when he had yet another nightmare and I found him downstairs watching TV even though I knew he was exhausted. He was too afraid to fall asleep. I remember that night, thinking about how badly I wanted to tell him how I felt. He had been my rock since coming into the compound, even if nobody else saw it. Our friendship consisted of late night snacks and conversations, training together making each other stronger, and always communicating and tell each other the truth no matter what. But oh, how I wanted that friendship to mean more to him as it does to me. But I would panic, thinking I wasn’t ever going to be good enough for one of the best people I’d ever met. He deserved a woman who was just as great as he was. 

“Tell her.” Natasha spoke, anger laced in her voice.

“Bucky...” I whispered. 

“My greatest wish in life is to take back every bad thing I did in this world. Every person I had killed, hurt, ruined their life.” He looks at Tony with deep regret. “And I can’t ever do that physically, but maybe in another way, I can.” He was rubbing his hands together avoiding my gaze.

“Okay? Bucky that’s great that you’ve figured out how you want to do that-” 

“You didn’t let him finish.” Sam said with a monotone voice.

“We need to be ready whenever Thanos decides to come. And the only way for me to get my wish is to...be the one that’s sacrificed during the battle.” My heart stopped and the ringing in my ears began to pick up. Wanda could see my hands glowing much brighter and more rapidly this time. I could feel her hands come up to the sides of my arms but within a flash my whole body shook the entire room like an earthquake.

“What!!” I walked over to him and slammed down on the table. “Are you out of your god damn mind Barnes!”

He tried to reach out but I raised my hand, stopped his movement and moving his arm to stay at his side, unable to move it.

“No, no, no you’re not doing this. You guys please tell him he is NOT sacrificing himself! You have no idea how much power those stones are! Just look at me! I have the same powers as a stone yet I can’t control shit Bucky! It’s out of control you’ll be dead before you can even use one stone to fight off Thanos!”

“I’ve been working with Tony and Shuri on a way to help me harness the power. They’ve been working on a suit for me that is stronger than Tony’s. Y/N you have to understand that this is my way of righting my wrongs, if I die then I die a hero who saved the whole world, not someone who use to kill hundreds of people with no remorse.” I turned towards Tony, his eyes becoming scared as he held his breath.

“You...” I throw my hands up and thrashed Tony into the wall, shattering it. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear at what I could do to him. Wanda yelled out to stop, but I couldn’t hear anything over my own boiling anger. “You knew about this. You knew he wanted to die and didn’t try to stop him!”

“I-I was just doing what I thought was the only option.” I slammed him again into the wall.

“There’s other options Tony!” I began to cry out, tears instantly springing from my eyes so quick it took me a second to realize I was even crying. With each puff of my chest my powers weakened as I wasn’t paying as much attention anymore, my brain becoming overstimulated with dark thoughts.

Bucky came up behind me and brought his arms around mine, his cheek pressed up against the back of my head.

“You’re not doing this Buck, we’ll find another way.” I said in between cries. I looked around seeing everyone else become emotional at my breakdown. Natasha was like a mother figure to me, this was the first time I was seeing her tear up. Wanda was my protector, but she didn’t know how to protect me from my own feelings. And everyone who surrounded me, who watched me grow from a 20 something year old uncontrollable witch to a grounded and a fantastic Avenger, wore heavy hearts and hooded eyes. I turned around quickly wiping my eyes of any tears and stood tall. My breathing coming back to normal. “It’s okay we’ll-we’ll find another way. There’s gotta be another way right?” 

“Y/N...” He said sadly, clutching my hair. I pushed him off and walked away giving some distance between us, actually, between the whole crew. I stood on one side of the room while the rest remained where they were.

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to make me okay with this. Alright, you did some shit in your past Bucky, so what we all don’t have the best track records as angels. And I’m sure you don’t feel like you deserve to live with all of the trauma you’ve endured but guess what? You do! You know how you get the fix things? You become a better person, a fighter and protector of the world! People change Bucky and I’ve seen it first hand in you! You deserve to live just as much as anyone else!” Everyone remained silent, so I assumed they agreed with me. “And if you tell me one more time about sacrificing yourself because that’ll right your wrongs in this world, so help me God, I will kill you myself right now!” And without thinking, my hand shot out a purple beam of light, latching onto a glass vase and chucking it around the room, creating a whole in the wall and the glass shattering everywhere.

He walked up to me peacefully with his hands held in the air.

“Y/N, please. I’m going to be alright, you don’t have to worry this much. You should be more concerned about protecting yourself. I definitely wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t do this and something worse happens to you.”

I laughed in sadness.

“What about me? What about me when you die!” I saw multiple people begin to shed the same tears I was. We had all grown fond of Bucky when he joined us. He really proved and showed deep down, behind the trauma HYDRA had left him, he was a great man. That’s why I fell so deeply in love with him. “That’s the worst thing that could ever happen to me Bucky! I will die inside if you don’t exist in this world!”

“Y/N-” more tears sprang from his eyes. His voice cracked and got lower. It’s like he couldn’t find the words to describe the pain in his heart at the thought of leaving you behind. Without having told you that he loved you too. 

“No I get it! You’ll be okay, you’ll be fine with it but what about me? Please, don’t do it for yourself, do it for me please!” I hunched over, the grief and pain overtaking my body. I felt too weak to even stand and continue yelling at him. “Please Bucky, please do this for me! Don’t leave me please don’t do this, I can’t take it please! You have to do this for me, because if you don’t I will never be able to forgive you!”

He stepped closer at a slower pace.

“For dying? For saving the world?”

“No for making me love you!” I began to cry out harder, the ring in my voice shaking the room once again, making everyone’s hands fly up to their ears as I got louder and louder. Natasha at this point was full on bawling, along with most people in the room. I think it was safe to say everyone knew of my affection towards the man at the center of attention, and maybe that’s why everyone had left me alone today. Afraid of this exact situation. The one person, the one thing in this world that can bring me to tears at my feet.

Bucky’s eyes filled with adoration as he ran up to me and held me on the floor in between his legs. I clutched at his arm crying into his shoulder. He looked back at Tony, who only gave him a nod. They had agreed together that one of them was bound to be the sacrifice when it came to defeating Thanos. Bucky of course still wanted it to be him, he felt it was the most right option. But when he looked back at Tony, clutching the love of his life in his arms, Tony took that as a final answer. Tony was okay with the decision he had come to long ago. He was ready to die for the good of everyone else, but nobody knew that yet. Bucky wasn’t giving up the fight, but now it only became that much harder to leave her behind. It was easier not knowing her feelings, but it had come to the light. Bucky wanted a life like Tony, the kids, the wife, everything. But at what cost? He was still going to fight to the death if he had to, but the decision to be the one to end it all was fading away.

“It’s okay Y/N, I promise we’ll talk more about it and find another way if we have to.”

“We have to Bucky, we have to.” My cries didn’t stop, but my voice lowered. My eyes caught everyone else’s, almost embarrassed at my sudden outburst of devoted love to Bucky, but everyone knew, they just never heard it from me. “Just hold onto me please.” I pleaded.

“I’m here Doll, I promise I’ll stay right here.”

[bffsoobin]

This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

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“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow. 

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile. 

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you. 

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner. 

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest. 

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you. 

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage. 

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door. 

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own. 

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch. 

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were? 

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow. 

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question. 

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger. 

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated. 

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away. 

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest. 

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance. 

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you. 

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh. 

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle. 

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely. 

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back. 

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.” 

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you. 

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep. 

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class. 

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake. 

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another. 

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger. 

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in. 

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said. 

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying. 

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television. 

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion. 

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”. 

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it. 

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay. 

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-” 

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.” 

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!” 

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.” 

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka. 

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut. 

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect. 

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.  

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours. 

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway. 

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.  

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s. 

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with. 

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to. 

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall.  “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall. 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic. 

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get. 

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them. 

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet. 

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.” 

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better. 

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you. 

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side. 

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument. 

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair. 

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms. 

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top. 

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun. 

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts,  and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow. 

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears. 

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you. 

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin. 

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night. 

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder. 

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality. 

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone. 

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you. 

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it. 

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice. 

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.” 

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.” 

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.” 

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you. 

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins. 

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come. 

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt. 

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down. 

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it. 

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him. 

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.

[jj-lynn21]

Stellan interview

"Stellan Skarsgard Is Finally Seizing the Spotlight"

https://www.thedailybeast.com/stellan-skarsgard-is-finally-seizing-the-spotlight

With roles in “Dune,” the Star Wars series “Andor,” and “Hope,” the character actor par excellence has never been more popular. He talks to Marlow Stern about his stellar career.

Few if any actors have built a resume as impressive as that of Stellan Skarsgård.

After achieving teen-idol status in his native Sweden—even releasing a pop single—due to the TV series Bombi Bitt, Skarsgård transitioned to film acting. It was in the mid-’90s, with roles as a sadistic oil rig worker in Breaking the Waves, a fiery abolitionist in Amistad, and a haughty mathematician in Good Will Hunting, that the towering, stone-faced Swede would cross over into America, and establish himself as one of the finest character actors alive.

He’s since maintained a healthy diet of what he calls “experimental films,” including a total of six with Danish auteur Lars von Trier, and Hollywood studio fare, such as the Pirates of the Caribbean and Mamma Mia! films, the Thor and Avengers superhero extravaganzas, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Cinderella. And right now, at the age of 69, Skarsgård is at his most prolific. There was his Golden Globe-winning turn in HBO’s Chernobyl, the upcoming villain in Denis Villeneuve’s Dune, and a main role in the Disney+ Star Wars series Andor, which he’s filming right now in London. Oh, and he’s fathered eight children, including the actors Alexander, Gustaf, Bill, Sam, and Valter.

“There’s no competition, really,” the elder Skarsgård tells me of his talented brood. “There’s some joking competition at the dinner table, but I know they’re better than me, so I’ve given up.”

Skarsgård’s latest is the Norwegian drama Hope. Directed by Maria Sødahl, the wife of his frequent collaborator Hans Petter Moland, it is a heartrending autobiographical film about a long-married couple, Anja (Andrea Bræin Hovig) and her theater-director husband Tomas (Skarsgård), whose atrophying bond is put to the test when Anja develops terminal brain cancer. As they fight for Anja’s survival, the two reevaluate how their relationship went off-course, and why they fell in love in the first place. (The U.S. remake rights were quickly snapped up by Nicole Kidman and Amazon Studios.)

Anne Frank’s Stepsister: How Trump Reminds Me of HitlerNEVER AGAINMarlow Stern

In a wide-ranging conversation, Skarsgård opened up to The Daily Beast about his many great films, the controversy surrounding pal Lars von Trier, being a nudist, and much more.

How have you been passing the time during the pandemic?

In different ways. The first half of the year I was at our summer house on an island outside of Stockholm, and all my kids—who were also actors, most of them, and they weren’t working either—were all out there in two houses eating dinners together, having a good time, and seeing the spring inch-by-inch, everything grew, which you never get time to do otherwise. But this job I’m doing here now [in London], I was supposed to fly back and forth from Stockholm because I’m shooting this Star Wars series called Andor, and it would have been very convenient because it’s only a two-hour flight, but because of the quarantine I’ve been stuck here. For more than a month I’ve been alone in a hotel room staring into the wall.

Speaking of the Skarsgård household, I read a quote from your son Alexander who said that when he was a teenager, “Dad was always walking around [without clothes] with a glass of red wine in his hand.” Was that your vibe during the pandemic?

Not this time! Is it the wine that worries you? [Laughs]

Did the stress of the pandemic make you feel less… free?

No, I’m still taking off my clothes when I get home very often—and my kids also, some of them do. It’s not a big thing. We’re Swedes! And we have no God that says we can’t show our body parts.

What about it do you just find so liberating? I don’t go the full monty but when I go home, I do tend to take off my pants and let loose a little bit, because it is constricting.

If it’s warm enough you don’t need clothes, right? Unless you’re ashamed of your body—or taught to be ashamed of certain body parts. For me, it’s all upbringing. It’s cultural. Some cultures don’t care about what part of the body you show, and some cultures are very precious, and some cultures the women can’t show their faces.  

I’m curious what life was like in the Skarsgård household, because you’ve helped produce so many talented kids. Alexander described it as “bohemian,” similar to what you described during the pandemic, filled with dinner parties and a free-flowing atmosphere.

It’s always been a very open house, and the kids’ friends, it’s been easier to sometimes be in our house than their houses—especially during puberty, when conflicts arise—because we’re very relaxed and non-judgmental in our family. It’s really, truly pleasant. And my kids are more like pals to me. There’s no hierarchical relationship at all. It’s very nice. We just have fun!

It’s a very talented—and frankly, attractive—family. How did this happen?  

How did I make kids that look so good? [Laughs]

Is that something you’re particularly proud of?  

[Laughs] Well, the looks I don’t care so much about, but I’ve had two beautiful wives—and very smart wives—and that’s helped a lot. I’m not going to take much credit for anything. But what I’m proud of is, when I hear from other people in the business about Gustaf or Sam or Bill or Valter or Alexander, I hear that somebody worked with them and they were really nice on the set and totally cool with everybody, and how no matter what menial job anyone had on the set they were nice to them, then I’m proud. If they win awards it’s secondary to that, because that is a lottery anyway. Awards are sort of like reality shows.

They really are a popularity contest. Let’s talk about Hope. It could have very well been called Grief.

I thought it sounded bland to begin with, but in fact the film is about hope—and about love. It’s not a normal cancer film where it’s all about beating the cancer or fighting against it, but it’s about someone who gets a death sentence in a family situation with a lot of kids, like I have, and everything that was petrified in the relationship floats up again. It’s about how they rejuvenate their relationship, and through those horrible circumstances, find love again.

There’s one very powerful scene in the film that really encapsulates many elements and themes that it explores, and it’s the sex scene between you and your wife. It manages to capture the joy of reconnecting as well as the grief you’re experiencing.

I think it’s a great scene, because it starts beautifully—very gently—and it looks like it’s going to be really nice for both of them, and then her anxiety sets in, and things start to bad. And it does go bad pretty fast.

On another level, I’m an American and we don’t see sex very often in movies. And when we do, we don’t see it in the service of such complicated emotions.

With sex in film, it’s difficult, because sex is something that feels fantastic when you do it, and it looks ridiculous when you watch. Those humping movements like a dog? It’s not sexy at all! So, you can’t do a sex scene that looks like it feels, so they always have to be about something else. The sex scenes I had with Emily Watson in Breaking the Waves, it was about her curiosity, because she discovered her first penis, she discovered sexuality, and it was totally about the relationship. The sex was just there. And in this film, the scene is not really about sex but about something else. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sex scene that looks like it feels, and that can convey that beautiful thing that sex can be.

Really, in America, we get almost no sex scenes in movies. And it’s 2021.

It’s very strange. It’s not as bad as during the Hays Code, when you couldn’t let the lips meet for more than one second.

You just had a train going into a tunnel.

[Laughs] Yes, that very subtle image. But in America, you have a strong, strong tradition of bigotry or fear of sexuality. Only two years ago, in nine states in America, it was still illegal to have sex outside of marriage, and my American friends have told me that when they were growing up, it was even regulated how they could have sex—you couldn’t have oral sex or anal sex—so it is so ingrained in American culture that people’s sexuality is not a private thing, but something that everybody should interfere with.

Hope is also an exploration of mortality. Is that something you think about often? 

I’ve never been that interested in it. I’ve always been aware of it. It’s the only thing you know in life—you’re gonna fucking die. But already many years ago, I thought I’d had such a fantastic life that it would only be fair that I died, because I’ve already lived more than most people. So, I don’t feel any injustice in death. And I’m not afraid of death because I’m not religious, so I don’t have to worry about whether I’m going to end up in hell or heaven. But I have small children still, my youngest is 8, and I’m no spring chicken anymore, so I think about how I should stick around for at least another ten years until everything is set.

I read that you’d studied a bunch of religions in the wake of 9/11 and reached the conclusion that it was all sort of bunk.

I grew up with total freedom of religion—my parents weren’t religious, though my grandmother was very religious. It was taught to me without judgment, and it was a very tolerant upbringing I had. But I hadn’t read the Bible. And after 9/11, when I saw George W. Bush standing in front of TV cameras and claiming that God had put him there, I thought maybe it was time to read what they actually believed in. So, I read the Quran and I read the Bible. There are some fantastic stories—as fiction, it’s sometimes brilliant and sometimes boring—but the God in both the Quran and the Bible, there’s only one reason to really worship them, and that is fear. It’s a power that says, “If you don’t worship, you’re going to die—and not only die, but burn in eternity.” It’s a bit autocratic and dictatorial, I would say. It’s very hard for me to worship something under threat.

And if God put George W. Bush in the White House, then God has a very cruel sense of humor.

[Laughs] Yeah, he does. And the latest president said the same thing.

But he doesn’t believe in God. He only believes in himself.

Yeah. I think that if he had more appreciation from the liberals in America, he would have just as well gone populist-liberal.

I think so too. You know, I read that your Dogville co-star Nicole Kidman already picked up the remake rights to Hope for Amazon.

She’s picked up the remake rights, yeah.

Both you and your son Alexander have shared some pretty intense scenes with Nicole. There’s that dramatic scene in Big Little Lies where Nicole hits your son in the dick, and it almost seemed to me like payback for what you put her through in Dogville.

[Laughs] Yeah, I’ve done two films with her and Alexander just finished doing The Northman with her. But she’s lovely. I really like her. She’s so cool.

At least it was a prosthetic and not Alexander’s real thing.

Yeah… coward! [Laughs]

I gotta say, between Chernobyl, Hope, Dune, a Star Wars series, and even a Simpsons cameo as yourself, how does it feel to be at your most prolific at 69?

I’m just working! I’m doing my job and having fun doing it. I’ve been lucky and a lot of good projects have emerged. It goes up and down, you know, throughout life. And I don’t think I could have a better life than I’ve had. I don’t have any regrets. And I don’t have to be the star or be in something very successful, I just have to have fun.

Nice. Do you feel you’re underrated? I think you’re someone who’s so consistently great in everything that it can almost be taken for granted how great you are. I know you won a Golden Globe recently, and that was long overdue, even if it’s mostly bullshit.

I don’t know! I can tell you: it’s much better to be underrated than overrated. So, I’m very comfortable if I am underrated. But I’m a Swede with an accent—or most of the time I have an accent—and for being a Swede with an accent, I have been extremely successful internationally, so I can’t complain. When it comes to the big studio movies, and I’ve been in four or five gigantic franchises that have paid a lot of bills for me, their concerns are financial, and I’m not a ticket-seller. I’m a solid fucking actor, and I’d rather be an actor than a star.  

It gives you the mobility.

Exactly. The freedom I have. I can easily do small, experimental films and strange stuff—films that could ruin another actor’s career—so I’m in a good position.

I wanted to ask you about Breaking the Waves, because it’s the 25th anniversary this year and I consider it a masterful film. And it was Emily Watson’s first film, which is just extraordinary. How did you two establish such strong chemistry?

She’s British, which means she comes from a rather prudish society too, and to take on a role with an obscure Danish director—who wasn’t that famous at the time—and to take on a role with such explicit sex and nudity took enormous courage, but she was fantastic. My job was to love her, and that felt easy, but I think that she felt loved, and I think that she felt secure, which is essential for being able to do anything courageous. But she’s such a brilliant, talented, wonderful woman. I finally got to work with her again in Chernobyl. I mean, you just have to look at her and everything comes.

There’s this longstanding debate over whether Breaking the Waves is misogynistic or not, and I personally find it to be a misreading of the film. I’ve always thought of it as a biblical allegory of sorts about a desperate woman navigating a deeply sexist world.

Absolutely. Lars doesn’t have that in him. Those fantastic female roles that he has written, if you want to defend women in film, you’ve really got to take care of him because he writes the best roles for them. Those roles are very much him, and he definitely doesn’t have a negative attitude toward women. He loves them. There’s a plague of labeling people—not for what they’re really saying, but for what they appear to say. He was stamped as a misogynist and then he made a bad joke about Hitler at Cannes, and everyone stamped him as a Nazi, which is the furthest thing from what he is.  

Stellan Skarsgard and Emily Watson in Breaking the Waves

You stamp people as a “racist,” a “fascist,” a “communist,” I mean this fucking stamping is as smart as QAnon. It’s frightening. The fantastic thing about mankind is that we’re not one thing. We’re all capable of the most brutal and horrible crimes and we’re all capable of love. We do good things and we do bad things. There are nuances. The way of seeing people as “good” or “bad” guys is forcing something upon humanity that is really dangerous, because when you say someone is the “bad” guy then you’re saying you are the “good” guy, and it’s forcing you to not look at your own flaws.

I’m a huge fan of Lars’ films but I think one thing that’s really colored people’s opinion of him are the allegations that Bjork made against him on Dancer in the Dark. You didn’t have the biggest role in that film, but is it something you witnessed?

I’ve never seen him do anything like that. It’s not him. And if you talk to any of the other women who have worked with him over and over again, you will not get those kinds of accusations. But the Bjork and Lars conflict was enormous during the shoot, and it had very little to do with #MeToo. Lars, like all directors, in the end is a control freak, and Bjork has controlled everything in her career—from the music, to the costumes, to the way she sounds—and if two control freaks try to make a film, there will be conflicts. I got phone calls from Lars during the shoot where he was in tears. She left the set several times, and it had nothing to do with sexuality. She tore up her clothes. They had a very difficult relationship. But you’ve gotta pick your toxic males. You can’t put a “toxic male” label on everybody, otherwise it will be watered down, that label.

I’m so excited for Dune. What can you tell me about it? Denis Villeneuve said that your Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is different from the comics or the David Lynch film in that he’s not as much of a caricature but a calmer, more sinister presence.

The thing about it, and why I’m looking forward to this film as well, is because it’s Denis Villeneuve. Whatever he does, he creates an atmosphere that is dense, that you can touch, and you’re just sucked into it. You’re never bored—even if he does long, slow takes. The atmosphere builds up, and you’re in his universe. I think it will be the same with this one. He’s lovely to work with, and a beautiful man. I did eight or ten days on the movie, so my character doesn’t show up for too much, but his presence will be felt. He’s such a frightening presence where even if he doesn’t say anything, I think you’ll be afraid of him. And I’m extremely fat. I had eight hours in the makeup chair every day. And in some scenes, I look very tall because I levitate. You’re going to have a lot of fun with it.

The whole HBO Max day-and-date thing is weird, and I hope as many people as possible get to see the film on the big screen.  

Oh, definitely. I think they made a deal with AT&T—which owns Time Warner, which owns HBO, which owns my phone—that they cut a four-week deal where it’ll be just for the theaters, but I’m not sure. That could change.

I also feel culturally obligated to ask you about Andor, the upcoming Star Wars series you’re in. What’s that about, and who do you play in it?

As you know, they’ll shoot me if I say anything! I can’t even get a proper script. It’s printed on red paper so I can’t make any copies of it, it’s ridiculous! Of course I’ve seen all the Star Wars films, because I’ve had children in the ‘80s, and the ‘90s, and the 2000s, and the 2010s. I’ve had children in five decades, which means you’ve seen all the Star Wars films—and seen all the toys as well. But when I saw Rogue One, it had much more atmosphere and seemed a little more mature—and that was Tony Gilroy, who’s the showrunner on this one. So, hopefully this one will be a little more than little plastic people falling over.

Was a part of the motivation to do Andor to look really cool to your kids?

I do think like that sometimes! I’ll go and do a children’s movie for that reason. But also, I’m not the most mature person myself, so who doesn’t want to go and fly a spaceship?

Plus, now you can give your kids action figures of yourself and say, “Play with me.”

Fuck yeah. Go play with dad. Don’t disturb him! Go play with him! [Laughs]    

I’m not the most mature person myself, so who doesn’t want to go and fly a spaceship?

OK, this is kind of a silly question, but do you have a favorite movie death of yours? My favorite has to be in Deep Blue Sea, because in that one you get your arm ripped off by a shark, and then the shark uses your body as a battering ram to destroy this underwater facility.

I would say that is probably, in terms of inventiveness, my favorite one too. It was Renny Harlin. Yeah. I like it! Fortunately, I didn’t have to spend that much time on that stretcher—it was a doll. But it looked really cool! And the sharks weren’t CGI back then. It was mechanical sharks, and they were pretty dangerous. The little boy in me was very excited.

Another movie of yours that I love, for entirely different reasons than some of these other ones we’ve discussed, is Mamma Mia! Is it basically a vacation filming these? I imagine the cast parties are a lot of fun, because it seems like you all are having a ball.

Well, it is. I’m not a singer and I’m not a dancer so I was scared stiff, but the only way to make it work—because it’s not much of a story—is that we had fun doing it, because that joy is contagious to the audience. And we really had fun. It was very relaxed in Greece there on the beaches, and the parties we had there were very good too. It was a nice bunch of people to hang with.

When the cast of Mamma Mia! goes wild in Greece, who is the one that parties the hardest? Who’s the VIP?

It depends what you mean by partying! I usually get pretty drunk. Down there, Colin [Firth] and I were pretty good at it. And at those parties, we also had 50 dancers in their twenties, and they had much more stamina.

I have to ask: Will the gang get back together for a third one?

I don’t know! It took 10 years between number one and number two, so if it takes another ten years, I don’t know. Some of us may just be there in urns, with our ashes!

You released a pop single in the ‘60s, right?

Yes. When I was 16, I became extremely famous in Sweden. We had one TV channel back then and I did this TV series, and it was like being a rock star. But it meant also that all kinds of shady people thought they could make money off me. So, this guy calls me from Stockholm and says, “Stellan, can you sing?” And I said, “No.” And he said, “Well, try it!” And then I hear this guitar on the other end of the line, I go, “Ahh!” and then he goes, “Perfect! Come over to Stockholm.” I went to this very shady studio in the suburbs and we recorded it, and then the guy who was running the project said, “I listened to the tape now, and I think it’s better if I sing and you speak on the record.” So, I don’t sing on the record. But there were very cruel headlines in Sweden. One paper had a headline that read, “Stellan Skarsgård, who we loved on this TV series, we don’t like anymore.”

That’s so mean! In addition to Breaking the Waves, another film that really raised your profile in the United States was Good Will Hunting—which holds up remarkably well. Some of my favorite scenes in that film are the ones where you and Robin Williams are jousting. And I know he’s a wild card, so what was it like shooting those?

He really is a wild card because anything can come out of him, and he can say anything and do anything, and he has this urge to do it because he has these three parallel brains that are constantly working on finding something funny or interesting. Sometimes, even when we would do ten takes and everybody would be happy with them, he’d say, “I have to get something out of my body,” so we would do one extra for that. You didn’t know what you’d experience when the camera would start rolling—you just had to dance with it. And it was fantastic. He was such a lovely man and had no ego. He was just a volcano of creativity and ideas.

Do you ever think about your legacy? You not only have a bunch of talented children but also have amassed such a strong body of work.

The thing is with legacy: you won’t be able to enjoy it, so just forget it. No, I don’t. And it doesn’t matter. If you’re extremely successful, it takes a decade and you’re gone from people’s minds. You can only hope that your children remember you for a couple of years, at least!

Well, they’ll have the Star Wars toys, at least.

They’ll have the toys! That’s right. [Laughs]

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 3: You Look Taller

Summary: Steve is transformed into the world’s first Super Soldier, but after a bomb is detonated in the SSR lab, he is soon putting his new found strength to the test.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Word Count- 7.5k ish

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

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

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

SSR Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

Steve didn’t sleep a wink that night. His mind was in overdrive, his body spiking with just about as many contrasting emotions one could possibly feel all at once. Excitement, fear, pride, concern, uncertainty, determination…and then there were his thoughts about Katie and what they’d done last night. He was conflicted about that as well. On the one hand it had been so wrong, to have rubbed one another to release through their clothes, without even courting so to speak. It went against everything his Ma had taught him about treating a dame with respect, instead he’d gone head and behaved just like Bucky normally did when he paraded around in his uniform, using it to pick up any woman he could.

But on the other, nothing had ever felt so damned right to him before in his life.

He still couldn’t quite believe it, although the evidence it had happened was plain to see in his pants which he’d hastily changed and hidden in the bottom of his trunk. What he was having trouble processing was why. Why a dame like that had picked a guy like him. He still wasn’t completely convinced she wasn’t acting out of pity. Pity that he was about to undergo some transformation and had never been touched that way before.

But then she’d admitted that she hadn’t either. “What was it you said about waiting for the right partner?”

Maybe she did actually feel something for him. And whilst it hadn’t been the most conventional beginning, perhaps it might morph into something else?

 With a groan he shook his head, who was he kidding? It was June, 1943 and they were in the middle of a war. He was about to be injected with some kind of serum that was either going to turn him into a soldier with enhanced capabilities or…well, he didn’t want to think about the 'or'. Either way, he knew what should be at the forefront of his mind, and a relationship with Katie Stark was not it.

He went about his morning routine as normal. Thanks to the SSR’s programme being covert, most people on the base completely ignored him as usual, which suited him fine. The last thing he wanted was people asking him questions about how he was feeling, because he simply didn’t know. This time, once he was dressed he ensured all his belongings were packed ready to be taken to his new barracks, wherever they were going to be and no sooner had he done that the door opened and he snapped to attention, saluting the soldier that had arrived along with Agent Carter.

“Hello Steve," she smiled at him.

“Good morning, Ma’am.” He said, his hand, dropping to his side and he relaxed as she instructed him to be at ease.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Good, follow me then.”

Grabbing his hat he headed after her, walking in silence through the camp, his eyes focussed directly ahead. Eventually he was led around to the main office buildings, outside of which a car was waiting. Peggy walked around one side where the driver opened the door for her and Steve snapped himself out of his thoughts and climbed into the other side, shutting the door behind him.

 The two or so hour drive from New Jersey to their destination was quiet. Agent Carter made a little small talk, but for the most she was silent or conversing with the driver. That said, it seemed to fly by in comparison to when he had taken the trip the other way a little under a week ago. As he glanced at the buildings passing them by, one by one they started to get familiar.

“I know this neighborhood," Steve said absentmindedly as he looked out of the window. “I got beat up in that alley.” He continued watching his finger pointing out of the window, his eyebrows raised as he spotted another familiar landmark, “and that parking lot.” Another pause as his head dropped slightly, eyes on his hands which were clasped on his lap, “and behind that diner.”

“Did you have something against running away?” Peggy asked and Steve took a deep breath, shaking his head as he remembered his Ma’s words to him.

“You start running they’ll never let you stop.” He explained, once more glancing out of the window, “You stand up, push back. Can’t say no forever, right?” He gave a shrug and once more his eyes fell to his hands. He stared at them, and the longer he stared the more he thought back. 

Hands that had last night traced the soft curves of Agent Stark’s hips, breasts. The vision coming in so clear, nearly like a picture show and it caused him to swallow a little, his throat and mouth feeling dry and he couldn’t help but wish that it was Katie in the car with him, not Agent Carter. Whilst the pretty, British woman sat on the seat beside him had always been pleasant enough to him, there was something about Katie that just kept him grounded if there ever were a word to describe the way she made him feel. He never once felt jittery in her presence yet now, as he sat there being quizzed on something that was actually quite personal, he was starting to feel a little angsty.

 “I know a little of what that’s like. To have every door shut in your face.” Peggy spoke gently as she looked at him and Steve met her gaze for a second before she looked forward once more, and his mind strayed back to something Katie had said last night.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He looked down at his hands. “Katie…I mean Agent Stark told me about how people weren’t exactly open to the pair of you joining the SSR or the Army.”

“She did?” Agent Carter looked at him, her brown drawing ever so slightly into a frown.

 Steve nodded, “last night.” And no sooner had the words left his mouth his eyes widened as he realised he’d outed the fact Katie had come to his barracks. Peggy looked at him, an immaculately shaped brow arched slightly, rouged lips curling up into a smirk at one side as Steve began to babble out an excuse. “She came to check on me, along with Dr Erskine. I mean, well, just as he was leaving that is. There was…we just…”

 “You don’t need to explain. What you and Agent Stark do is nothing to do with me,” Peggy shook her head, the corner of her lips twitching as Steve hastily looked away, out of the window, his cheeks burning. “I do know one thing though...."

 “What’s that?” Steve’s head whipped round to look at her.

“She’s soft on you.” Peggy replied simply “That’s why she’s been torn ever since you got picked to be our candidate.”

“Torn?”

“In case it goes wrong.” Peggy shrugged, "Or you change in more ways than physically which means you’re no longer the man she…” Peggy trailed off, licking her lips taking a deep breath before she continued “…the man she clearly cares for.”

Steve met her eyes for a second before he looked away, his stomach now twisting in knots that had nothing to do with the procedure he was about to undergo. But the warmth and excitement he had initially felt at what Peggy had said died all too fast because of course it would be just his luck to finally meet a gal that enjoyed his company, liked him for who he was, a gal who he felt comfortable with and attracted to, just as he was about to undergo whatever the hell this procedure entailed before he shipped off to goodness knows where.

Fate was a cruel mistress sometimes.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, and it wasn’t long before the car pulled up at the side of a fairly busy street and Steve frowned, following Agent Carter’s lead, climbing out of the vehicle. He took a quick look around. There were plenty of people on the sidewalks in the summer sun, going about their everyday business, none paying him any attention.

“This way.” Agent Carter spoke and he spun to follow her, taking a look up at the fairly non-descript shop called ‘Brooklyn Antiques’ which she was leading him towards.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“Follow me.” Peggy completely ignored his question and instead walked into the shop, Steve behind her, placing his hat on his head.  The bell above the door rang as Peggy pushed it open, Steve pausing to shut it behind him as Agent Carter strolled into the dimly lit, crowded shop. It smelt of old leather, wax and furniture polish and was crammed full of all sorts of intriguing items that Steve would normally have found fascinating.

 But as it stood he was just plain confused.

Peggy stopped still as an old woman with grey hair, clad in a floaty dress and a pink cardigan emerged through a set of heavy drapes and stopped, smiling at them both. “Wonderful Weather this morning, aint it?” she spoke.

 “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.” Peggy replied.

 At her words the woman gave an almost in perceptible nod and moved to the desk which held the cash register. Steve heard a faint buzz and then Peggy gently gestured once more for him to follow her. He did so as she walked through the drapes the woman had emerged from into a crowded store room of sorts which held photos, heavy gilded frames, basically everything his Ma would have labelled junk. He stopped besides Peggy as she looked at a huge book shelf which covered nearly the entire back wall and then to his absolute astonishment the book shelf simply opened towards him revealing that it was actually a set of solid steel doors.

 Steve’s mouth dropped open as he was now facing a huge corridor which was in use by a number of military and medical staff walking by. Agent Carter stepped in and he did the same, following her down, glancing every so often to his side at the Military Police Officers and soldiers, trying to figure out how the hell all of this was hidden from public sight on the outside. Eventually they reached a set of double doors which were pulled open and Steve found himself on the mezzanine balcony of a huge circular room filled with machinery, some kind of pod in the middle of the chamber he was looking over. It was full of doctors and technicians, all dressed in white lab coats and the entire room fell silent as everyone looked up at him. He immediately spotted Katie, stood by Dr Erskine. His eyes locked onto hers and even from the distance he was away he could see they were shining in the light of the lab.

 Agent Carter took a deep breath and tuned to her right, Steve hastily following her down the metal steps to the lower part of the chamber. He strode over to where Dr Erskine was waiting, file in hand besides Katie who smiled at him. 

“Hi.” She said gently and he smiled back at her, swallowing a little as his attention turned to Dr Erskine as the doctor spoke.

“Good morning.” He smiled, shaking Steve’s hand when suddenly a camera flashed as a photographer who Steve hadn’t noticed snapped a shot, causing Steve to blink a little. “Please, not now.” Erskine protested and the photographer made a hasty retreat, ushered away by Peggy as she followed him from the chamber, directing him away from the equipment and up the stairs to the side.

Steve turned to his right, looking at the pod, his eyes roving all the dials and the various components, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath.

 “Are you ready?” Katie asked softly and Steve nodded his head, turning back to her.

 “Good.” Erskine spoke. “Take off your shirt, your tie and your hat.”

“Maybe the hat first.” Katie quipped, pointing out the order Erskine had said the clothing items in was a little awry and Erskine looked at her, sarcastically. She met his stare with an equally sassy one of her own, a cheeky grin on her face as she shrugged.

 Steve did as he was told, handing his items of clothing off to a nurse who smiled, taking it away before Erskine directed Steve up the steps to the left of the pod. He climbed up, shuffled around slightly as Katie watched him lay down, his head on the leather headrest at the top.

“Comfortable?” Katie asked him.

“It’s a little big.” Steve joked, smiling and she gave a soft chuckle, reaching out to touch his arm. Her hand was surprisingly warm and she left it there for just long enough before she pulled back as Erskine appeared by her side, smiling. “You save me any of that schnapps?” Steve looked at him.

“Not as much as I should have.” Erskine almost grimaced, “sorry. Next time” at that he stepped back. “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

Steve glanced to his left and for the first time caught a glimpse of Katie’s brother up close as he strode towards them, clad in a smart pair of slacks, white shirt, tie and waistcoat.

“Levels at 100%.” Howard replied as he stopped besides his sister, taking a look at Steve. Now they were side by side, the resemblance between the two was clear to see. Same nose, cheekbones, but Katie’s hair was a lighter shade, her eyes a warm, striking green where Howard’s were a deep brown.

 “Good.” Erskine turned away as Howards eyes roved over Steve a little.

 “We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready,” Howard smiled, “as we’ll ever be.”

“He’s not a damned fish in a bowl, Howie.” Katie nudged her brother as he was still staring at Steve. Howard turned to face her, his eyebrow arched, before he gave Steve one last look and headed off towards some kind of machine in the far corner of the room.

 “Ass.” Katie shook her head before she glanced at Steve. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” She dropped her voice, “If you’re having any…” “I’m not.” Steve shook his head.

 “Okay.” She took a deep breath, and for a second looked as though she was going to say something else but she was interrupted by Erskine.

 “Agent Stark? Don’t you think you would be more comfortable in the booth?”

“Oh, erm, yeah, of course. Sorry.” She nodded and turned once more to look back at Steve. Again, she made to say something, but clearly decided against it. Instead she reached out, gave his hand a soft squeeze before she walked away. Steve watched her go and, as she approached the stairs, she stopped and looked back at him, her face softening once more into an almost shy little smile before she turned away again. 

Steve’s head rolled back round, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His heart was racing now, and he wasn’t quite sure whether that was all down to the procedure or the fact that her hand on his had jolted another memory of their time together the previous night. Luckily, before he had time to dwell on it too much, there was a loud booming noise as Erskine loudly tapped a microphone.

“Do you hear me? Is this on?” Satisfied that it was, the doctor turned and looked up at the small group gathered to watch in the glass walled room on the level above the atrium. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace.”

As Erskine spoke two nurses pulled down the large rectangular shaped pads at either side of the chamber, laying them flush to Steve’s chest.

“We begin with a series of micro injections into the subjects major muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change.” Erskine continued as the nurses retrieved the vials of blue coloured liquid, slotting them into the appropriate receptacles along the side of the chamber by Steve’s hips. “And then to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays.”

 Erskine walked back to Steve’s side as a nurse approached him with a syringe. She inserted it into Steve’s shoulder and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as she pulled the needle out of his skin.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Steve spoke, pleasantly surprised at how easy that had been. He wasn’t a huge fan of needles, having spent most of his childhood one way or another being stabbed by them for his various ailments, but he’d learned to cope with them.

However, his relief was short lived.

“That was penicillin.” Erskine looked at him and Steve felt not only apprehension creeping back into his system, but a deep embarrassment at being so dumb as to think it would be that simple.

Erskine then cleared his throat and spoke once more to the others in the room. “Serum infusion beginning in five, four…” at that two further pads like the one on his chest lowered, cuffing his arms a little “…three, two…” Erskine gently patted Steve’s shoulder “…one.”

 Steve felt the sharp cone-like spikes of the pads attached to his body piercing his skin and he could actually feel the serum as it flowed into his body. It was cold, like he’d dipped each limb into an icy lake, and the shock of it forced his eyes wide open.

“Now, Mr. Stark,” he heard Erskine say and, after a second or two he felt the pod move into an upright positions, the sides and top parts enclosing him inside. He gave a snort as he realised that the glass screen at the front, designed for whoever was in here to be able to see out of was a good 6 inches too high.

 Steve took a deep breath and then there was a little knock on the outside of the capsule.

 “Steven, can you hear me?” Erskine asked.

“It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” Steve joked, making light of what was happening, the sweat already beading on his brow. And, if he was honest, he probably could have happily peed right then, more out of nerves than anything else.

“We will proceed.” Steve heard Erskine say and then a few seconds later the capsule he was in was flooded with a warm light, as the Vita Rays were turned on.

  “That’s ten percent.” Steve could hear Howard’s voice. “Twenty percent. Thirty…that’s forty percent.”

As the count increased so did the intensity of the light and heat. What started off feeling like a pleasant dose of summer sun was rapidly becoming unbearable. Even the brightest sunlight he’d ever been in on Coney Island during the summer was nothing compared to this. He skin felt like it was on fire.

“That’s fifty percent. Sixty. Seventy.”

Despite his best attempts, the burning was simply too much and Steve couldn’t keep the yell of pain from bursting out of his mouth any longer as the vita rays washed over him. He was hot, hotter than he had ever been before. His skin was bubbling almost as if his blood was boiling similar to a kettle of water. He was vaguely aware of voices outside the chamber and herd Katie’s loud yell as it rang around the air.

“Shut it down.”

Erskine’s voice hit his ears as the doctor banged on the chamber he was in “Steven!”

“You heard her, shut it down!” Agent Carter’s voice was clear and then he heard Erskine once more as the Doctor frantically shouted. 

“Kill the reactor, Mr. Stark! Turn it off! Kill it! Kill the reactor!”

“No, don’t!” Steve yelled back, finally finding his voice. There was no way he was quitting, not after he’d come this far. He could take this. Pain was nothing, he felt it every day of his damned life. “I can do this!”

Famous last words. The heat increased, the pain increased, it was too much. Every muscle in his body was searing in agony and it felt like someone was lancing him with red hot needles over and over again…

But then suddenly it went dark. The pain was gone, the heat was gone and all Steve could feel now was an overwhelming sense of calm and tiredness even, like he’d just been on another one of those damned runs with the unit. His chest was heaving as he gulped in air, his head falling to the side as panted, waiting for his body to recover. After waiting, for what seemed like forever but was in reality mere seconds, he heard Erskine call out to Howard again and then the doors to the pod opened, the cool air hitting Steve’s perspiring skin.

He stumbled out of the pod supported by two people, he had no idea who, as his eyes were screwed shut, his head bowed as he took deep gulps of air. His legs felt heavy and he was a little unbalanced, as if his centre of gravity had changed somewhat, but as he took a shaky step forward he noticed how clear his chest was. His breathing wasn’t wheezy in the slightest and with every breath he took he felt stronger, less lightheaded. All in all, despite feeling completely overwhelmed he felt good.

“I did it.” He panted a little, his eyes still closed as he took a shaky step forward.

“Yeah, yeah. I think we did it.” Erskine’s voice came from his right, followed by Howard’s from his left which was laced with pride.

“We actually did it.”

“How do you feel?” Another familiar voice spoke and with a deep breath he straightened up and looked down at Katie before he glanced around the chamber and realised that for the first time in his life he was looking down at people.

“Taller.” He answered a little facetiously, glancing at Katie as she reached out to touch his chest, swallowing a little as she hastily withdrew her hand.

“You look taller.” She handed him a T-shirt she took off another member of the nursing staff. Steve took it with a thanks and moved to pull it over his head, his breathing finally evening out and he turned to face a doctor who approached him a little nervously.

“Mr. Rogers, we just need to-“

But whatever it was that they needed Steve never found out as at that point there was a loud explosion from the room over the atrium, showering them in glass. Instinctively, Steve pulled Katie towards him, curling his body around hers to shield her from the debris before he stood up tall as he heard Erskine yelling.

“Stop him!”

Then there was a gun shot and, as he wheeled round, he saw Erksine drop to the floor. Katie pushed past Steve whipping a gun from her hip taking aim as the culprit ran up the stairs with the two female agents in persuit.

Steve knelt beside Erskine, his eyes locking onto the doctor's as he struggled for air. Erskine opened his mouth, but shut it again, and Steve realised from the blood that was pooling around the doctors body, there was nothing he could do. Erskine raised his right hand, and simply prodded Steve’s chest gently, right above his heart, similar to the way he’d pointed at him the night before.

“Not a perfect soldier, but a good man…”

The words echoed in Steve’s brain as he watched Erskine’s eyes close as his head rolled to the right, his breathing stopped. Steve took a deep breath of his own and felt another heat radiating through his body, this one out and out anger as he raised his head slowly to look at the stairs the suspect had run up mere moments ago. His jaw clenching he sprang to his feet and ran off, taking the steps two at a time. 

As he sprinted through the facility he could hear gunshots and explosions from the street and as he emerged into the street he saw the woman from earlier led on the floor, not moving, a wound to her chest. Vaulting over her he saw Katie to his left tending to someone who was down on the sidewalk, whilst Agent Carter was stood in the road, un-moving, arm raised as she shot at a Yellow Taxi which was driving straight for them. He threw himself at Peggy, taking her out of the path of danger as the car sped past

“I had him!”  Agent Carter said with an air of annoyance as they both climbed to their feet.

“Sorry!” Steve yelled as he started to run after the car, surprised momentarily at the way his legs just seemed to move with little or no effort, covering far more ground than he was used to. He picked up the pace, tracking the car as he went, taking a short cut down a road to his left. But he was going too fast and, as he rounded a corner, he lost control over his new power and crashed straight through the window of a Bridal Wear store, taking out the display. He jumped back up, straight onto the street, tossing another apology over his shoulder as he cut down a narrow alleyway with a chainmail fence at the bottom.

The fence was ten feet tall, easily, and Steve picked up speed a little more with the aim of jumping as high up it as he could get before scrambling over the top, but as he took off from the floor he realised that he was going to clear it. He was going to clear a ten foot fucking fence.

Tucking his legs up, he landed easily and ran out onto a street full of cars, his hands held up, protests of “woah, whoa, whoa” slipping form his mouth automatically as they all skidded to a stop trying to avoid him. He spun to his left, spotted the cab and continued his chase as it weaved itself in and out of the traffic.

He was gaining on it now and he dug a little deeper, realising he had a lot more energy in his tank, his bare feet slapping the wet concrete of the ground. As he drew closer to the car he knew that the only way to get the vehicle to stop was by getting inside it, and to do that he needed to physically get hold of it first of all. An idea suddenly came to him as he saw a car in front of him and he approached he hopped up onto the trunk then the roof, and then to the car in front before jumping onto the back of a truck. With a final leap he flung himself at the yellow taxi landing flat on the roof, his hands gripping either side of the sills above the doors as it began to sharply weave side to side. It took a sharp turn to the left, then right, then left again, forcing Steve to adjust his hold as it tore down a narrow street before emerging on the road which led to the pier. This gave Steve a little time to steady himself and he rose tentatively onto his hands and knees before there was a loud bang and a bullet shot through the roof of the car. Another few shots came, Steve dodging them all as he slid down the side of the car, wrenching the passenger door open. But before he could climb in, the man shot at him, meaning Steve had to let go with his right arm to avoid taking the bullet straight in the chest, but by shooting at him, his target had taken his eyes off the road, meaning he hadn’t noticed the two trucks emerging in front of him. The taxi crashed straight into them and flipped over sideways, beginning to roll and Steve let go, tumbling forward onto the floor before he came to a stop.

Steve rose to his feet and headed forwards as his target crawled from the car. He watched as the man stood, pointing his gun towards Steve and shot, missing him, the various people screaming as the gun went off. Steve picked up the door of the car which was lying in the road and held it in front of him as the man shot twice, the second bullet coming through the door and grazing the left hand side of Steve’s abdomen. As he peered round the side of the door he noticed that the man had now taken a young boy hostage, his arm pinned around his chest as he dragged him backwards, the boy’s mother screaming and begging for him to stop. Steve tossed the door to the side, following him, his right hand clutching at the wound to his left.

“Get back!” The man warned with the boy dangling in his arms as he backed away. Steve dodged another bullet, flattening himself against the wall. The man ran off towards the dockside and Steve followed using a large iron buoy as shield from another incoming shot. He hastily followed, keeping his back to the damp brick of the shipping company building, and as he peered round the arch he saw the man raise his gun and press the barrel to the boys head.

Steve’s blood ran cold, “wait, don’t! Don’t!” He protested, approaching with his arms up. At that the man pointed the gun at Steve and pulled the trigger, Steve automatically flinching as he awaited the shot that never came because the gun was empty. As he had nothing else to do, the hostile dragged the boy towards the side of the docks and Steve realised what he was intending to do.

“No! Don’t!”, but it was too late. With a shove the kid went flying into the water and the man turned, sprinting away. Steve ran to the edge to see the kid treading water, looking up at him.

“Go get him! I can swim!”

Decision made, Steve sprinted after his target who had disappeared, but as he ran he noticed to the right in the water some kind of sleek, black submarine pulling away. With a spring off the edge Steve dove into the icy, cold water, swimming in the vessel's slipstream. Whether the sub wasn’t going that fast, or if it was his ability to simply swim faster, Steve had no idea, but he caught it easily, punching straight through into the cockpit, flooding it with water. He then wrenched the canopy open and pulled the man sharply upwards sending him flying straight out of the surface and onto the cold stone of the dockside where he landed with a thud.

Steve followed quickly, climbing a set of steps out of the water and as the man got up, Steve saw the flash of a blade in his hand. With a reflex that was purely automatic, he dodged out of the way aiming a kick to the man’s chin which sent him sprawling backwards. The knife flew from his hand, but so did a familiar vial which Steve suddenly realised was full of Erskine’s serum. It shattered on the floor, the blue liquid pooling on the damp cobbles as Steve gripped the lapels of the man’s jacket, pulling him harshly forwards.

“Who the hell are you?” He demanded.

 “The first of many," the man spoke in a thick accent. “Cut off one head-” at that he popped a tooth loose and swallowed it, looking at Steve, his jaw set, “-two more shall take its place.”

 Steve frowned, perplexed as none of that made any sense, until he spoke again, through the foam that had now started to bubble from his mouth.

“Hail HYDRA!”

With that the man gave a little grunt, his pupils completely dilated as he grew heavy and limp in Steve’s grip. Steve let go, the body falling to the ground as he straightened up, his chest heaving as he stared at the dead man on the floor.

Steve couldn’t help the disappointment flooding his system at the fact he hadn’t managed to capture him alive. But that said, whilst he hadn’t managed to find out who he was exactly,  he now knew who he was working for and at least they’d managed to stop the serum from falling into the wrong hands.

The serum.

At that Steve glanced down at his hands, which were both significantly larger, then to his forearms where the muscles flexed as he opened and closed his fists. With everything that had happened he hadn’t had chance to appreciate the extent to which the procedure had actually enhanced him. He’d run with a speed he had never thought possible, his lungs had stretched to a capacity that now, he thought about it, stunned him, his ability to swim the way he had, leap, the pure athleticism he had displayed in that short ten minute chase was astonishing.

His hands flew to his stomach to find a hard set of abs, his fingers tracing the definition of the planes of muscle under the wet t-shirt which clung to his body. His hands moved upwards almost tentatively, reaching the hard curve of his pecs and it was at that point a voiced broke through his stunned thoughts.

“Steve!”

He looked up to see Agent Stark running towards him. Behind her, Agent Carter and a few other soldiers and police officers were working to keep the now assembled crowd on the pier back. “Are you okay?  You’re bleeding.”

Steve glanced down at his shirt and noticed for the first time the blood on the white material. He shook his head.

“He shot me but it's just a graze, I’m fine.” He jerked his head towards the guy on the ground by his feet. “More than can be said for him…”

She glanced down at the body on the floor, blinking as if she was seeing the dead man for the first time before she dropped to her knees, her fingers pressing into his neck checking for a pulse.

“Did he drown?”

“No.” Steve said, and he quickly explained about the submarine and pulling the man from the water. As he explained about the vial of serum, he saw Katie’s eyes flick to the broken glass on the floor before her face darted back to Steve as he told her about the man having loosened his tooth and bit something. “I’m not sure what it was but…”

“He bit something?” Katie’s entire face changed into a look of shock, her eyes darting side to side as she wrenched the guys mouth open, her fingers jamming straight inside.

 Steve grimaced. “What…”

“Son of a bitch.” she pulled her hand back and knelt back on her heels, wiping her hands very ungracefully on the side of her skirt.

“I’m not…”

“Cyanide capsule.” She sighed, “a lot of the intelligence organisations provide them to their undercover agents and they keep them hidden in a false tooth. If you’re caught, you can effectively kill yourself before you’re taken and, well…”

“Tortured?” Steve finished for her. Katie took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Questioned was the word I was going to use but…” she shrugged, looking around. “He was clearly a Nazi Spy.”

Steve looked at her, nodding. “He was HYDRA.”

“HYDRA?”

“Heil HYDRA.” Steve looked down at the dead man, “last thing he said before he died.”

 Katie bit her lip, “fuck,” she mumbled, before she looked up at Steve. “Sorry, just, well Erskine warned Phillips not to be complacent about Schmidt but Phillips was adamant that Hitler was the big threat.” She bowed her head a little, her shoulders slumping and Steve took a deep breath as he realised that the Doctor was no longer with them having died in his arms little over ten minutes ago. It left him feeling hollow, sick even and from the looks of it Katie was feeling just as bad.

But now wasn’t the time.

“I err…” Steve cleared his throat a little, composing himself. “I’m not following? Why did Erskine differentiate? I mean, I thought HYDRA were Hitler’s deep science organisation?”

Katie glanced down once more before she turned her pretty face back to Steve, “Yes, they are. But Erskine always said Schmidt had ambitions beyond Hitler’s. Something Peggy backed up from her time undercover.”

 At that point she made to stand and automatically Steve offered her his hand. She took it and he made to pull her up, but with his new strength he was far more forceful than he had meant to be and she gave a little yelp of surprise as she was jerked straight into his chest.

“Easy Soldier.” She gasped, her hands falling to his biceps as she steadied herself.

“Sorry," he hastily apologised, his own hands settling gently on either side of her ribcage, the rough tweed of her uniform jacket prickly under the pads of his fingers. “I’m not used to…” He trailed off as he realised that not only was he looking down at her now, but his new large frame completely dwarfed hers.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice was equally breathy as his, her eyes still on his face and she gave him a little smile before she moved one hand upwards, gently cupping his cheek, almost as if she was checking something, which to be fair, she might have been. Steve had no idea what he looked like, he hadn’t seen a mirror yet. The only parts of him he’d managed to get a glimpse at so far were his arms and legs.

What he did know was that her touch was blazing on his skin, more than it had been the night before. He could hear her breathing too, and he could see every single detail on her face and her eyes. Not only were they green, but they were the most gorgeous shade of green he had ever seen in his life. He could see the dots of brown speckled throughout and the slight ring of amber surrounding her irises, reminding him of the sun. Full of warmth and power….

“Hey, you okay?” Katie frowned. 

“Yeah, erm, I just, I can see better.” Steve replied simply, as her hand gently curled in on itself as she dropped it to her side. “Has it…” he began to ask and Katie smiled, shaking her head.

“Still handsome.” She smiled, and Steve felt his neck flush with heat again before a voice cut through their moment.

“Did you get it?” Colonel Phillips was striding towards them. Katie moved back from Steve, turning towards her Superior, steeling her composure. 

“No,” she shook her head, before gesturing to the shattered vial on the floor. 

“Shit.” Phillips exclaimed with a groan.

“But neither did they.” Katie looked at him, before she turned to look at Steve once more, “And there is one upside to all this…”

“Don’t you dare tell me to look on the Brightside, Stark.” Phillips glared at her as she took a deep breath, realising her head, chin jutting defiantly towards him.

 “At least we know it works," she said simply.

 Phillips looked at her, then to Steve, before he gave a snort. “One isn’t enough.”

 Steve inhaled deeply, his frustration mounting but it was Agent Stark that spoke next.

 “Well, one is all you’ve got. I suggest you start treating him with a little more respect seeing as he just chased down a damned HYDRA operative through twelve blocks of Brooklyn, pulled him out of some underwater craft and took a bullet for his troubles.”

 Phillips’ jaw twitched at the way he was being spoken to and Steve grimaced slightly in anticipation of the incoming dressing down Katie was going to get, but it never arrived.

 “HYDRA?” Phillips blinked and Kate nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

 The man took a deep breath and then turned to Steve, his eyes travelling up and down his body “Rogers, you hurt?”

“No, Sir.”

Philips inhaled again and then turned to Peggy “Agent Carter, I want a recovery unit down here for this so called underwater craft. You two…” he spun back to face Steve and Katie, “back to the lab so the Medical Team can assess you. If you are truly the only super soldier I’m getting, then the last thing I want is you to drop dead of complications.”

 “That means he cares," Katie looked up at Steve who glanced at her as he saw a smile tug at her lips.

 “You’re gettin’ on my nerves,” Phillips pointed at her, before he gave her a filthy look and turned to leave.

 “Is it authority in general you got a problem with or just him?” Steve asked after a moment or two and Katie let out a little chuckle.

 “Believe it or not I actually like Chester.” She smiled, “I just enjoy irritating him more. Come on, we’re attracting a bit of a crowd so…” She gently squeezed his hand before she began walking the same way Colonel Philips had done a few moments before, Steve following, pausing slightly as he felt a tug on the side of his T-shirt. He stopped and turned to find the kid who he’d last seen bobbing up and down in the muggy water of the docks grinning up at him.

 “That was swell!” The kid laughed and Steve raised his eyebrows.

 “That’s not exactly the word I would use…”

 “No, but the way you ran and jumped in and then threw him outta the water like BAM!” The kid smirked and Steve felt his neck growing warm at the praise, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “What’s your name, Mister?”

 “Err Steve.”

“Marty!” A voiced called and the boy turned, Steve following his gaze to see a woman who had been stood talking to a police officer, hastily making her way over. “Come on.”

 “Ma’am.” Steve greeted her as she stopped in front of him, taking a breath.

 “You saved him.” She said, her voice cracking.

“Oh, no, I…”

“Thank you,” she stood on her toes and kissed Steve’s cheek before she dropped an arm round her son’s shoulders and turned him away, gently talking to him.

 Steve stood stock still for a moment, swallowing, before he turned to see Katie watching him, her eyebrow arched a little, smile spread across her pretty face.

 “A regular superhero,” she teased and Steve rolled his eyes at her as he fell into step besides her.

 “Hardly.” He scoffed, “I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

Katie stopped and turned to face him, shaking her head, “you still don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?” He frowned as she began to walk again.

 “How many other kids from Brooklyn do you know that would have just done what you did?”

“Well its hardly a fair comparison is it?” Steve pointed out as they walked down the side of the building, Katie nodding to Agent Carter as they passed “How many others do you know that just got converted into…well, a Super Soldier or whatever the hell they’re calling me?”

“You had no idea what that serum had done, other than make you taller,” Katie shot back as they moved back towards the entrance of the pier. “But you took off after that guy, without so much as a second thought for your safety.”

 “I just did what anyone would have done.” He sighed, a little uncomfortable at her praise.

 She stopped at the side of a black car and turned to face him, her face soft, ��no, you did what that kid from Brooklyn would have done.” Her eyes remained locked onto his before they were interrupted by an Army official who handed Steve a blanket. He took it with a thanks, wrapping it around his shoulders, despite the fact that he didn’t feel cold in the slightest, in fact he felt a pretty strong sense of warmth.

 And as he watched Katie climb into the car he was pretty sure that wasn’t solely attributable to Erskine’s serum which was now coursing through his veins. 

**** Chapter 4

[ssa-sugar-tits]

queen of hearts // chapter eight

summary : y/n y/l/n was crushed when she found out about maeve donovan. heartbroken, she left her entire life behind. what happens when she becomes the most prolific serial killer the bau has ever seen?

prologue + series masterlist & taglist

content warnings : swearing, death penalty mention, angst, sexual implications

a/n : reader is a psychotic murderer. this is purely a work of fiction and if you or someone you know are experiencing homidical urges, seek professional help immediately.

-

You'd accepted that you were going to die. You'd made peace with the way things ended, with your decisions. The only way kept yourself sane in the cold cell was by remembering the good memories you had. Before Maeve. Before your first kill. You sang to yourself and longed for someone to be there but it didn't hurt anymore. No, you were at peace.

Then you were a week late and vomiting in your cell. Your head pounded and you were cramping up like fucking hell. Your cellmate, Diane, had been the first to consider the possibility.

"Y/N you've been here a few weeks."

Not glancing up from your journal, you responded.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I'm gonna be straight with you. You fuck anyone before getting locked up?"

Barely giving the crude implication any thought, you'd scoffed and laughed loudly and instinctively but then froze and looked at her as the words came to life. It took that conversation for you to go to the infirmary and be tested. That morning, you found out that Article 6 of the 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights states: "Sentence of death shall not be carried out on pregnant women."

You weren't going to die. The nausea somehow worsened at the news. Were you relieved or more terrified than before? Hell if you know. There were countless whispers and phone calls made-- no doubt in your mind that some of them went to the BAU. Now what you don't know is what happens next. Where to go from here. Of course you won't be released or get to see Spence again. It's over for you. But you wonder what'll happen to your child when you're gone. Would Spencer want to keep the child? Or would they be thrown into the hell people call foster care? For once since being imprisoned, you're scared. So goddamn scared. The thoughts keep you awake at night, they make you shiver and gasp with panic. Every night your silent sobs help you fall asleep eventually.

-

"Y/L/N. You have a visitor."

Who the hell would come to visit you? Your family wants nothing to do with you anymore and the only friends you've ever really had are the team. Hesitantly, you walk with the guard who called you. Each step feels heavier and heavier. You're not sure if your heart sinks or flutters when you see who it is but something inside of you wants to spring out of your chest.

It's Spencer.

Sitting down, you don't say a word. Neither does he. You just stare into each other's cold, empty eyes.

"Orange looks good on you." He whispers and tries to smile but his face fails him. You want to speak but your throat goes dry and your facial expression go blank.

"Say something Y/N. Anything." His golden brown and now tearing eyes search yours for an answer but you still don't falter. You can't.

"We need to talk about it. We need to talk about what happens next."

He triggers the response you've been trying to muster up the words for. The guard's hand grips her gun when you spit out an angry, hurt yell.

"Are you serious? 'What happens next'? I have this baby and then they kill me, plain and simple. You're a fucking genius, you know that. Don't try to play these games with me Spence, I don't need you to make me think I have some kind of control here." Your voice goes low and raspy. "Because I don't."

It's a sad sight when his eyes fill with tears and yours threaten to do the same. No one speaks, you sit in god awful silence until the guard eventually escorts you back to your cell. Not daring to look back at him, you know eyes are still piercing you with their gaze but you still don't fucking look back. Head hitting the cell wall, you shrink down to the floor and start to cry. You feel small and helpless. They're heavy and loud sobs and Diane covers her ears with her pillow, groaning with irritation. The cries come endlessly and burn your throat and sting at your eyes until you finally somehow run out of tears and screams after what seems like hours. Your head lays on the hard floor and you start to think. Maybe it doesn't have to end here. Maybe you can make a plan. Sniffling roughly, you take a look at the night shift guard standing watch. If this doesn't work, then oh-fucking-well. At least you tried.

"You're new, aren't you?" His head spins to look down at you and you bite your lip, unsure of what you're doing. He's timid but trying to remain showing the 'tough guard' facade. "It gets lonely in my cell, you know."

His demeanor changes immediately. "You're in here because you're a monster. Now settle down inmate." Fuck. That didn't go like you'd hoped. He's right about you but it still parts you inside to hear the word monster being used to describe you. You tilt your head curiously when the profiler in you sees it. Something in his dark eyes looks at you with intrigue and... despite his harsh words maybe even desire.

"If I'm such a monster why are you looking at me like that?" Smirking and wiping a salty tear off your cheek, you know it could work. You bring your hands up to the cold bars and rest your forehead against them. "You wanna tell me your name?"

The guard looks both ways before finally giving in,

"Wilson. Bryce Wilson."

You breathe out your next words.

"Well Bryce Wilson. I want to show you something."

You think, no- you beg to yourself.

Please, let this work.

-

7 MONTHS LATER - THIRD PERSON POV

-

Emily clicks through channels hoping to find a late night movie to watch, she's exhausted from a report on a particularly difficult case.

No way. Not a chance.

Her hands fly to her mouth and she bites furiously with anxiety at her nails when she sees Y/N's face on the screen. The remote falls from her other hand as she settles on watching the news story.

"Breaking news: Y/N Y/L/N, also known as the Queen of Hearts killer escaped from prison this evening. We've been told a guard by the name of Bryce Wilson has been arrested as an alleged accomplice. Sources say the guard was romantically involved with the killer and that she is 7 months pregnant. What we don't know is if Wilson is the father, do we Debra?" The red-haired anchor-woman beside him takes over. "Speculation is certainly out there Jeff. Tune in at 8 for any updates, you're watching Channel 2 news." Panic stricken, she scurries to dial the team and sees missed calls and chaotic texts from just about every team member. The one that catches her eye is from Hotch.

"I know you've all become aware of the situation regarding Y/N. Briefing room in an hour."

And off she, and the rest of the frantic team, went.

-

[ladydorian05]

Dangerous love - Javier Peña x Gn!reader

Okay, I finished it, finally!!! I don't have a lot to say about this except that it all began with a few lines provided by my brain in the middle of the night and then this happened.

A huge thank you to @din-damn-djarin​ she helped me so much editing this thing and with the ending (many parts of the ending were written by her).

Hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Dangerous love

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader 

Summary: With Steve on vacation, it's up to Javier and you to check upon the new lead; unexpectedly the stakeout goes to shit and some surprising things happen after you jump at the first opportunity to endanger yourself. (I still don't know how to write this thing and I'll probably never learn.)

Warnings: Bullets, minor injuries, mentions of blood, what else, Javier’s potty mouth but with restraint, maybe a little of out of character behaviour at the end, no time line, fictional events. thoughts in italics. Spanish translations of long sentences can be found in ( ). And I think that’s it.

Word count: 5K and then some.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn you Murphy, Why did you have to ask for vacation days right before we got a lead. Javier thought as he tried to get comfortable in his seat  behind the wheel, with Steve out of the picture, he was left to carry out this stakeout alone, alone with you. Inside the close quarters of his car.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, far from it actually. He just didn’t want to fuck things up with you now that he was finally able to put a name to the way he felt whenever he was around you. From the way his heart rate increased in your presence, to how much his thoughts revolved around you. Hell, he even stopped fucking around with his informants for the simple fact that none of them were you.

There was no way he was going to tell you. He couldn’t, your jobs were too dangerous. The slightest mistake could cost either of you your lives and the last thing he wanted was to put you in more danger than you were already in, even if he knew you could take care of yourself.  Besides, he didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.

“Okay, I got the snacks and here’s your coffee.” You said opening the door of the passenger side, taking him out of his thoughts. It was some kind of tradition between the three of you, getting snacks to make sitting inside a car for hours on end, waiting for something to happen, a little more bearable,”Any sign of our guy?”

He thanked you, taking the paper cup from your hand “And no, no sign of him or any of his associates.” he sighed before taking a sip from his coffee.

“Damn it, it’s close to midnight, either they appear in the next 3 hours or we’ll be stuck in here for another day.” You complained, leaving the bag with the snacks between you two. You were tired, even if you liked the extra alone time with Javier it was hard to enjoy it when both of you were sleep deprived, more than usual, and cramped inside his car for the second day in a row.

The lead was solid, the problem was they needed evidence that the house they were watching actually belonged to the guy you were after, once you got it you could take the information to Carrillo and mobilize resources to take him in. 

“Five says that we won’t get anything tonight either.” Javier says, taking a bag of chips for himself.

“Five what? Bucks?” You see him nod while stuffing his mouth with a handful of potato chips. You contemplate his profile for a moment before answering his bet, “Alright, I’m in. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, it's been quiet.”

“That’s mainly because Murphy’s not here.” You both share a laugh at your partner's expense. It was no secret that out of the three of you Steve was the most approachable. Javier was the known asshole of the embassy, you always tried to keep your guard up, what with being the new one, and Steve was just a ‘by the book’ kind of guy, even if being after Escobar made him bend some rules lately.

When you were first transferred to Colombia you were surprised that you actually got along just fine with both of your partners. You were the newbie, but they didn’t belittle you or underestimate you like you expected them to. However, you certainly never expected to end up falling for one of them.

As the months passed Javi became more than just your partner or friend, he became your confidant, you knew you could always talk to him. While he wasn’t the  most approachable person around the embassy, you found out he actually had a soft side. He was reliable, hard working, with a dry sense of humor, a ‘no bullshit’ attitude that called to you, and as much as he wanted to hide it, he cared deeply, even for things that were out of his control. The fact he was so fucking handsome didn’t hurt either.

You didn’t fall for him overnight, it was a steady, slow kind of change. It took sleepless nights pouring over documents, each taking turns getting more coffee to keep you both going;  late night conversations and laughs over strong alcohol to chase the stress from work away; having occasional dinner nights with him at his apartment or yours on those nights when the feeling of being alone in a different  country fighting a never ending war gets unbearable.

It wasn’t sudden, but it still surprised you when you realised your feelings for the DEA’s resident Cassanova were deeper than you thought. That was another thing that worried you, it was no secret where or rather from whom he tends to get information about the narcos you were chasing after. Even if he’s recently been more discreet about it.

“Heads up, we’ve got movement.” Javier brings you out of your thoughts, tossing the bag of chips back into the bag of snacks you brought. “Seems like you’ll be getting those five bucks after all.”

“Told you I had a hunch.” Both of you watch as a van parks in front of the house you’ve been watching, several men get out of the vehicle. You recognise a couple of them from the list of known people working for Escobar, most of them were foot soldiers.

You reached inside the glove compartment for the camera, hoping to get a few good pictures before they disappeared inside the house. This could be the missing link you needed to get to the guy that lived there.

“Hold on, don’t finish the film just yet,” Javi’s words give you pause as you start rewinding the camera to take another photograph, “another car’s pulling up.”

“Anyone we know?” You ask squinting to see who comes out of the other car parked away from the street lights lining the road.

“Fuck me...yeah, from the Cali cartel.” He answers, rubbing his chin with a hand.

“Shit, that can’t be good.” You lowered the camera. The change in the atmosphere around you was instant the moment both of you noticed the persons inside the other car were readying their guns.

“You have your gun with you?” Javi asks, reaching behind him for his own weapon.

“Never leave the house without it.”

“Good. When all hell breaks loose, and it will, I want you to find cover before you do anything else, got it?” You hear the click of the safety from Javi’s gun as you reach for the handle of your door; you can sense the familiar feeling of adrenaline as you ready yourself for what’s to come.

“Yeah, you better do the same.” You don’t get a response from him. In a matter of seconds, the once quiet street turns into a war zone. Gun in hand, you run for cover, ending up behind the wall of a house at the entrance of an alley.

You take a moment to breath and try to pinpoint Javier’s location. You see him poking his head from behind a wall on the opposite side of the street. You sigh, relieved to see that he got himself behind cover in time.

You can’t really do anything. It’s just you and Javier out here, you lacked both the numbers and the firepower. Minutes that felt like hours passed. You take a look at the shooting happening a few meters from your position before hiding again in the dark of the alley as three more cars arrived on the site. One of them coming up from the street you were in, you prayed that they didn’t notice either of you. It was clear that both sides had called for backup.

Fuck, now bullets were flying towards this side as well, it wouldn’t take long for them to start looking for a more solid cover than their cars. You see Javi come to the same realisation as he sends you a worried glance when your eyes meet. You needed back up too.

Neither of you expected something like this to happen, it was just a stakeout; you were horribly unprepared with no vest and only so many bullets. The moment they noticed either of you it was over. There was only one choice, you needed to call Carillo.

There was a phone inside the car. If you were fast enough you could dive inside the back seats of the car and grab the phone, you were certain Carrllo would still be in his office, he never left early. It would take him little to no time to round up a team and get to your position as fast as possible.

You turned to look at Javier after formulating the quick plan in your head and explained it as best as you could with your hands, asking him to cover your back. You watch him shake his head, gesturing with both hands for you to stay put. You know if you do as he wants they’ll find you sooner or later; with your plan, if everything went well, at least you both stood a chance of getting out of this alive and  there was even the possibility of taking some of them into custody.

You put the safety of your gun back on and  tuck it into the back of your pants for the moment. While looking at Javier straight in the eyes you slowly shake your head, watching as he spits out a curse you’re too far away to hear before diving out of your cover to get to the car.

Javier knew the situation would escalate badly for the two of you if they noticed your presence there, he was just holding onto the hope that they would be too engrossed in trying to kill each other for that to happen. He turned his attention away from the wall in front of him to check up on you, only to see the determined expression on your face. He’s seen that one before, you always looked like that before doing something brave, yet incredibly stupid that would no doubt end up endangering you.

What the hell were you thinking!? Javier understood what you were trying to say with your hands, your plan was insane. Yes, having backup would be really helpful, life saving even; but risking your life like that? No, he wouldn’t let you. He answered by very clearly telling you to stay where you were.

He swears his heart leapt out of his chest the moment you disregarded his instruction to stay put, tucking your gun in your pants before breaking into a run for the car. FUCK!

You left him with no choice but to do as you asked, there was no way in hell he was going to leave you even more open than you already were. Hopefully, with all the chaos going around, they wouldn’t notice you or where the bullets from his gun were coming from.

He tried to keep an eye on you while also paying attention to the altercation. The car wasn’t that far from your previous position, but considering the stray bullets raining all round, it was too damn dangerous. He was filing away in his head all the things he would say to you if- no, ONCE both of you were out of this mess. He wouldn’t let himself think of any other outcome, you were going to be fine and you would get out of this, both of you.

What was in reality a few seconds, felt like an eternity to him. You running alone, unprotected, straight into a firefight was a scene he’s only seen in his nightmares, the fact that this was really happening was worse than he had ever imagined.

He stopped breathing for a moment when he saw you stumble a little from the corner of his eye, but when he turned his full attention towards you, you weren’t there and the backdoor of the car was open. He sighed in relief, you made it.

Carrillo got there with backup in record time and these guys were still at it, they had the worst aim he had ever seen, it was laughable that the shooting lasted this long, but damn he was glad to see Carrillo and his men arriving. They blocked the escape routes, effectively cornering them and made quick work of subduing and cuffing any survivors.

He made his way towards you as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t get a bullet for stepping out from his cover, after all he would be of no use to you dead, but Carrillo noticed him first and stopped him halfway there.

You could hear the moment the backup arrived from your place on the floor of the back of the car. You were tired and probably in need of medical attention. You hadn’t felt the pain initially, too preoccupied with your madrun to get to the car and filled with adrenaline to notice. It wasn’t until things had quietened down significantly and the adrenaline began to seep from your body that you had time to assess your injuries and felt the searing hot pain blossoming in your arm and thigh. You weren’t sure if the bullets were still in there, if you had been hit anywhere else and just hadn’t felt the pain yet or how bad the bleeding was.

Slowly, you began to move in order to get out of the car. Hissing in pain when you had to use your leg to crawl to the opposite door, you figured it would be easier to keep moving forward and get out from that side than try to backtrack towards the one you used to get in.

The sudden movement of the door opening caught everyone who was close by off guard, some of the men actually pointed their guns at you.

“Whoa! Easy there, I’m friend no foe.” Scanning the area you spotted Javier with Carrillo, their attention focused on you, it seemed like they had been talking before you made your presence known. Javier walked towards you as the Colonel ordered his men to lower their weapons. “Hey, a little help please?”

He offered you his hand to help you get out of the vehicle. “Easy there, are you hurt?” He looked you up and down  searching for injuries and sure enough, he found them, “Fuck, you’re bleeding. Coronel, pida una ambulancia!” After telling the colonel to call for an ambulance he gently guided you away from the bullet hole ridden car to sit on the flatbed of one of the team’s trucks. 

Javier was uncharacteristically quiet considering the move you pulled off, you were expecting the scolding of your life, but he said nothing. He just hovered around you as the paramedics cleaned and treated your wounds, thankfully they weren’t life threatening, and gave one word answers when they asked him any kind of questions to find out if he was also injured. It was unsettling.

Anger you could deal with, you’ve done so on multiple occasions already used to his fiery personality, but this cold shoulder treatment...the only times he had ever acted like this had been when things got really bad or when he felt responsible for losing someone on the job. He would often shut himself out in situations like that,  but even then you were always able to get through to him and coax him into talking to you. 

Carrillo approached you once the paramedics’ job was done. “Mis hombres se encargaran de los malparidos. Yo los llevo de regreso a la base, necesitaran otro carro para ir a casa.” (My men will take care of the sons of bitches. I’ll take you back to base, you’ll need another car to get home.)

“Gracias por su ayuda Coronel.” You thanked him for the help, seeing as Javier still refused to speak.

“Al contrario, gracias a ti y tu llamada ahora tenemos arrestados no sólo a colaboradores de Escobar, sino también miembros del cartel de Cali.” (On the contrary, thanks to you and your call, we now have arrested not only Escobar’s collaborators, but also members from the Cali cartel.)

Javier went to retrieve any personal belongings from the car before following Carillo back to his truck. The ride back to base didn’t change anything, the three of you travelling in tense silence since Javier still refused to speak. It was a good thing the Colonel was never really a talkative man to begin with otherwise you’re sure he would have felt insulted by Javi’s current mood. 

Once back at base, Javier made quick work of the paperwork needed to take a provisional car while the one previously assigned to him was towed away and replaced. You decided to  put his odd behavior down to the stress of the night's events, thinking maybe that was what had him acting like this and hoping that maybe he would relax on the way home.

No such luck.

The car ride was infernally quiet and Javier’s mood only seemed to worsen by the minute, you could see his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He pulled up in the building’s garage, killing the engine without so much as turning his head in your direction. You couldn’t take it anymore, the silence was suffocating you.

“Hey, I got a new bottle of whiskey if you wanna grab a drink?” The only answer you got was the sound of the door slamming shut behind him as he got out of the car. At first you thought that was a no, but when you got out he was standing by the car’s trunk waiting for you. 

You made your way through the building to the door of your apartment; the slight limp from the wound on your thigh slowing you down somewhat. It wasn’t serious, the bullet only grazed the outer side of it. Your arm didn’t have the same luck; still, it was nothing time, a few stitches and bandages couldn’t fix, but it still hurt like hell, you’ll be sure to take some pain meds before going to bed. Javier was following behind you. If he ever decided to quit being a DEA agent, you were sure he’d be able make decent cash playing poker with the expressionless face he had going on  at the moment. Well, he would as long as he wore dark sunglasses, otherwise his expressive eyes would probably give him away. 

You opened the door and turned on the lights of the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll get the bottle and the glasses.” You tell him as you toe off your shoes, leaving them in the entrance. You hear the door close and before you can make your way to the kitchen his hand darts up to grab the wrist of your uninjured arm.

“Javier? Wha-”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Oh. So it was time for the scolding, he waited until you were alone for this, shit. Maybe you could play dumb?

“I was thinking about getting a little bit drunk before going to sleep.”

“You know what I mean. Back there, what the fuck were you thinking putting yourself in danger like that?” So, that was a no on the playing dumb thing then.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you were? You had no vest and still you ran headfirst into the open, you could’ve died!” He could feel the grip he had on his emotions slipping, all the fear, all the helplessness he felt the moment he saw you dive out into the rain of bullets rushing back to him.

“But I didn’t.” You knew he was right, it was a dangerous move, but it worked, it got you out of the tight spot. “Listen, I know it was dangerous, but it worked out.”

“So you were aware of how dangerously stupid that was and you still went ahead and did it!?” He let go of your wrist to pass his hand through his hair in exasperation,“To top it off, this isn’t even the first time you’ve pulled something like this, I don’t have enough fingers on my hands to count how many times your dumb luck has saved your ass.”

“Well excuse me for saving our asses back there!” You snap, your composure which you had managed to keep up until this point wavering, “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You think I don’t know about your little endeavours with the other side of this war?” How dare he act as if he’s never put himself in danger, as if he wasn’t playing with fire himself, “How’s Don Berna? When’s your next coffee date?”

His eyes widened in horror and all the blood drained from his face. Any other day this kind of reaction from him would’ve made you laugh, but right now it only gave you a strange sense of satisfaction.

“How do you know about that?” His eyes fixed on yours, both of you locked in a staring match until you’re silent for a little too long and he speaks again, demanding an answer, “Huh? Answer me. How. Do. You. Know. That?”

“I saw you with him.”

“You followed me!? You fucking followed me!?”

“Yes, I did! What did you want me to do!? We were stuck, stressed as fuck, with no new leads and you were acting strange! I was worried!”

“That didn’t give you the right to go and fucking follow me! And that’s beyond the point, that’s different!” Your once tense, but relatively controlled, conversation was now a shouting match. A match that would most likely end with no winner and your friendship on the line, but you’ll be damned if you backed down from this.

“How!? How is it different!? I run once or twice towards some bullets to save our asses and you get to lecture me about it, but I can’t bring up the fact you’re meeting with a sicario, behind both of your partners backs, in your free time!?”

“We’re not talking about me!”

“OH! So YOU can make stupid and dangerous decisions, but I can’t!? And YOU can call ME out on them, but I can’t call YOU out on YOURS!?” Every time you stressed a word you made sure to poke him hard in the chest with your index finger as if you really needed to emphasise your point anymore.

He let out a heavy sigh trying to cool down a little. You had moved at some point during the heat of the argument, both of you trying to get into each other's faces as you yelled back and forth and you were so close to him now that the puff of air lightly ruffled your eyelashes. Deep down he knew you were right, but the night events still hung heavy in his mind. For a moment, he swore you weren’t going to make it, he should’ve known better- should have trusted you, but that didn’t mean he would support every single insane plan you came up with.

“I just-”

“You just what!?” You interrupted him. He was beyond frustrated with this situation. He just had to go and open his fucking mouth. He could have just stayed silent, shared that whiskey with you and drink until he forgot all about this whole stupid situation and then gone to bed.

“I just want you to understand-”

“Understand what!?”

“Goddamnit.” he muttered under his breath.

“Understand what Javier!? Maybe if you stopped stalling and just said what you want to say I would!”

“That I fucking love you!” Shit. He drags the palm of his hand over his face as he contemplates his options, it’s too late to go back now he decides, “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you!”  

“Well, I love you too!” 

The stunned silence that followed the unexpected confessions was deafening. Neither of you dared to move from your positions, until you saw his eyes flicker from yours to your lips and his tongue poked out to lick his bottom lip.

You don’t know who moved first, but at that point you don’t care. Your lips came together with his in a passionate kiss, all thoughts of your argument forgotten for the moment. You could only think about how good it felt to finally kiss him, you always believed that he would be a good kisser, but this was beyond anything you ever imagined, all your previous fantasies of what kissing your partner would be like fell in comparison to the real deal.

It wasn’t perfect; no, nothing in real life is ever perfect, but at the same time it was everything and more. There was no fight for dominance, it was just a coming together of two people, two people trying to convey with actions what has never been said with words. Months of pent up feelings finally finding release.

His arms were around you, one hand on your lower back and the other behind your head, pulling you ever closer while your own hands held the back of his head, fingers losing themselves between his short locks of hair. You were so drunk on him, you never wanted to stop, unfortunately, oxygen was a necessity. Slowly, you pulled apart from each other, leaving little pecks on his lips as you went. 

“Fuck, we’re a mess.” He said, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Did you mean it?” You ask, finally finding your voice after taking a few deep breaths.

“Every word.” He answered, pulling you into another much slower kiss.

“Good.” You said against his lips the next time you parted. “Because I do too.” You were going to go in for another kiss, but you felt the pull of the stitches on your arm when you tried to bring his head closer, making you flinch in pain.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing the sudden movement.

“Yeah, just...the stitches are bothering me.” You said with a grimace.

“Fuck. I forgot about them.” He slowly detangled himself from you as not to hurt you further. “Let’s sit down on the couch, there’s more light over there, let’s make sure you didn’t reopen the wound.”

“It’s alright, just a bit sore, that’s all.” You gingerly touched the bandage covering the stitches. He called your name, to get your attention back.

“Please. If only for my peace of mind.” With a sigh, you agreed. He left his hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to your couch. He began to remove the tape that kept the gauze in place over the stitches as carefully as he could manage. “Thank you, your plan really did save us.” You stared at him in surprise, you weren't expecting that. “But you really need to be more careful. Do you have any idea how I felt when you just ran out?”

You shook your head.

“I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

“You’re not THAT old.”

“Excuse you, I’m not old at all.” His eyebrows raise at your words and there’s a look of mock offense written across his features.

“That’s not what your cracking back says.”

“If we didn’t spend so much time behind a desk my back wouldn’t sound like fireworks going off every time I stretch.” Your eyes found each other for a moment before both of you ended up laughing. “No, but seriously. I don’t know What I would’ve done if anything had happened to you. Please, don’t risk yourself like that, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“You know I can’t promise something like that...but I’ll try.”

“I can work with that.” He focused back on removing the tape without further upsetting the wound.

“I’ll be more careful, but in return, I want you to do everything you can to cut all ties with Don Berna. I don’t care how much information he gave you or keeps giving you, it’s not worth it if you’re going to end up in the middle of both sides.”

He took a deep breath before letting the air out. “I am trying, but it’s a delicate subject, I need to watch my steps. I reached out to him on a whim, and even if I got some good stuff from him, I’m not stupid, sooner or later he’ll cash in the favor.”

“Be careful, please.” He nodded.

Once the tape was out of the way, he looked at your stitches without touching the skin around them, not wanting to cause any kind of infection, once he saw that none of them needed to be redone, he covered them again.

“Alright, all’s good, let’s get you to bed.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“Javier, not today, I’m tired and my leg hurts and-” You’re cut off by his chuckle.

“To sleep. Jesus, get your head out of the gutter. Go get ready, I’ll bring you some pain killers and a glass of water. Whiskey’s not going anywhere, we can have it another day, you need to rest.”

When he came into your room you were already in your pajamas, taking your pants off had been tricky but you managed it without disturbing your wounds too much. He hands you two pills and a glass of water, you thanked him before swallowing the pills with some water. Leaving the glass on your nightstand, you make yourself comfortable in your bed.

“Well, I’ll umm...I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nods his head in your direction before turning to leave.

“Javi, wait.” You call before he reaches the door. He looks back at you over his shoulder, “Could you stay?”

His eyes widened in surprise before answering “Of course, sweetheart.” He’s quiet as he takes off his shirt, shoes, socks and moves to climb under the covers.

“Do you sleep in jeans? Isn’t that uncomfortable?” he freezes in place, one knee on the bed and one hand lifting the corner of the thin sheets covering the bed.

“No, I- I usually sleep in boxers.” he lowers his gaze to the bed, “I just don’t have any with me right now.”

There’s a moment of silence as you process his words before you burst into laughter.

“You- you mean- you’re not-” you try to talk in the middle of your laughing fit, but only manage to get a few words out.

“Yeah, I’m not wearing any underwear,” you swear he almost looks embarrassed “get over it.” he mutters.

“Sorry, I just-”you try to calm down, but can’t help the giggles that still escape your lips. “What, did you have plans for after the stakeout?” The question came out jokingly; maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to ask after what happened in your foyer, but deep down you wanted to know. You trusted him in any other way, could you also trust him completely with your heart?

“No.” He looks you in the eye and you notice that he understood the double meaning of your question. “I don’t do that anymore, for some time now. ”

“Oh.”

Once he settles, you reach over to the nightstand turning off the small lamp that sits there. You can’t see Javi in the darkness of the room, but you know there’s still something playing on his mind from the way you feel him fidget beside you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching out for him across the small distance that separates the two of you. Your hand finds his shoulder and you run your fingers up and down his arm, enjoying the way he relaxes under the touch. 

“It’s nothing, go to sleep.” 

“Javier.” You warn, much too tired to argue but determined not to sleep until you get to the bottom of whatever's bothering him.

“I’m still thinking about what happened earlier...loving you can be quite dangerous.” Javier sighs, “You know that, don’t you?”

“It’s just as dangerous as loving you.”

“What a pair we make huh?” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Your voice is laced with exhaustion and you shuffle closer to him, nestling your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around his body, “We’ll be fine.” 

He hums in agreement, his arm hovering over you but not quite touching.

“You can touch me you know?” You say with amusement.

“Your arm- I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t. I promise.” You smile, pecking a kiss against the first patch of skin you can reach.

He lowers his arm tentatively, wrapping it around you and pulling you closer to him.

“Goodnight.” You mumble against his chest, sleep already beginning to pull you under.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He whispers into your hair, listening to the way your breathing has evened out. Sleep has never come easily to Javier, but that night for the first time in months, it does.

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