#bluetooth interview questions & answers

[cherry-leclerc]

star-crossed ☆ mv1

genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut

word count: 9.1k

Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, fingering

inspired by star-crossed, ethan gander !

cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)

The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick. 

White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth. 

Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”

“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head. 

The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”

“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend. 

“Any more guesses?”

“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”

The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”

“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples. 

“September 4, 2022.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“You said it would be warm!”

Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas—

“Should I just come back later or…”

Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away. 

And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”

Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”

It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry. 

“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”

His smile slips away. “Sorry?”

“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.

But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”

When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you. 

Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”

“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”

You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”

The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”

-

“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”

-

“She really said that?” 

Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”

“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty. 

Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain. 

“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”

Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”

Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”

“Oh! Hi!”

His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”

“New?”

Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”

“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”

You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”

A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”

The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”

“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.” 

“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.

You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”

His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”

A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”

Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”

-

“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”

“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”

Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”

-

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“I’m not a quitter.”

“There we go!”

“But he makes me want to quit.” “Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”

And he does. 

It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup. 

“You look—”

“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”

He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”

“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”

Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?” 

Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”

And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”

With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”

“Yeah—and what’s another?”

His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”

“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”

His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”

Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”

 The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”

“Ah—is my ban lifted?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

-

“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”

Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”

-

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“Nepo-Baby?”

You hum. “They all are.”

Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”

“Oh, you’ll know.” Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”

You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”

Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest. 

“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”

“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”

Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same. 

“Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Been hiding from you.”

“Seems like. Don’t do that.”

“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Probably.”

You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”

“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”

“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.

But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down. 

“R-right—her.”

-

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”

“Hey,” you warn.

“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”

“Great…”

“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”

“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”

“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”

-

“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”

“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”

“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”

He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.” 

“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”

-

Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

“Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”

“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites. 

Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches. 

Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”

And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose. 

-

“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”

-

Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)

“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair. 

With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”

“No.”

“Well, two—”

Green paints her face. “No.”

“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”

“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”

“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”

You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”

Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”

“Yes—”

“For a million different reasons—”

“I-I’m aware,” you stutter. 

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. 

And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago. 

Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”

“Done.”

For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled. 

“Are those your panties?”

-

“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—” 

“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring. 

She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”

Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”

A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.” 

-

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him. 

“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm. 

“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”

Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”

“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?” 

Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”

You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince. 

Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.

Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”

-

“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—

“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”

Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”

“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.” “...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful. 

“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.

The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter. 

“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”

“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her. 

“Crap—you smell like shit.”

The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”

A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes. 

“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”

“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”

Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”

The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”

A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”

And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…

He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”

The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”

In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”

Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”

And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” 

-

“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder. 

“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”

“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker. 

The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.

“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“You.”

“Me?”

You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”

Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”

An eye roll. “Douche.”

He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt. 

“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”

“Oh no. How many did you drink?”

Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”

The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”

“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”

His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”

“Not really.” 

“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”

“Why?”

A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”

You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”

“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

-

Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”

You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”

Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment. 

He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”

“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”

“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.” 

“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”

He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves. 

“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”

“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”

He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too. 

Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

He hums. “What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

-

“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”

“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.

Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look. 

“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."

“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively. 

Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”

You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”

As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.

Or so you thought.

“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”

“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment. 

The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.

“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”

-

“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”

The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”

Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”

“I don’t.”

“Well too bad, I’m going to.”

-

“Yeah. You already said that.”

Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance. 

“Hey!”

He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”

A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”

He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”

“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”

His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”

You groan. “Max.”

He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”

-

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

 “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”

“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.

Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”

You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.” 

Green eyes glare down, playfully.

-

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”

As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”

The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun!”

You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”

“Nepo-Baby?”

Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”

“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”

A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”

The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—

“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”

Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”

Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”

“Hm. No. More like green apple.”

She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”

“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”

-

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles. 

She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”

“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”

Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all. 

She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”

-

Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces. 

“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”

Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”

A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”

Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”

The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”

“Well—”

“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”

“So, so. Yourself?”

“Good. Refreshed.” 

“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”

The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”

His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”

Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”

The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”

“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”

A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”

Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”

The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.

“See you on track.”

-

Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”

Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”

“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”

“I never meant any harm—”

“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”

Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”

And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”

You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”

-

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”

“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”

He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”

You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”

“That you love him.”

“I do love him—”

He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”

“You’re sick."

“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.” 

You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”

Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?” 

“Maybe, but who cares?” 

And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more. 

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”

“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”

The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he confirms. 

“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily. 

“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”

Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.” 

“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh. 

“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

-

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”

“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”

And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”

You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside. 

 “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

 “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

“What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”

You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”

He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”

A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”

He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”

Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”

“I am not a cheater.”

You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”

He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”

You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”

Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”

Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”

“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”

“Okay, stop—”

“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”

“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”

He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”

“Max…”

He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time. 

“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”

And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out. 

“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”

-

“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”

Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”

The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”

Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”

“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”

“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”

“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”

“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pierre hums. “Mate?”

Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.

Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.

Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.

But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.

“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”

“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”

“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”

So, with neat brows drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder. 

“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.” 

“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth. 

Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back. 

“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”

“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”

“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”

It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.” 

So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along. 

He gave his speech last.

He was the footnote.

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[meep-moops-stuff]

Safe and Sound - Sidney Crosby x Reader

Y/n gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove back to her apartment, her vision blurred with tears. The pit in her stomach hadn’t gone away since lunch.

A group of guys in her grad school classes—had been staring at her again. Their lingering eyes, the smirks, the way they whispered to each other as she passed by. It made her skin crawl.

She hated how it made her feel. Small. Exposed. Dirty.

Her phone rang through her car’s Bluetooth, and she nearly jumped. Sidney.

She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks before answering. “Hey, Sid.”

The second he heard her voice, he knew. His voice softened instantly. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Sidney didn’t believe that for a second. “Y/n,” he murmured, his voice full of concern. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening on the wheel. “It was just—in class, some guys… they were looking at me. Like—like I was—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Sidney went silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low, controlled—but furious. “They made you uncomfortable.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah.”

Sidney inhaled deeply, trying to keep his anger in check. The last thing she needed right now was for him to lose it. “Okay, baby girl,” he said gently. “Listen to me. After practice, I’m coming to get you. You’re staying with me tonight.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. “Sid, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

She felt the guilt creeping in, her anxiety spiking. “I’m being too much, I always need something, I��”

“Stop.” His voice was firm but still gentle. “You are not too much. You are never too much for me.”

Her lip trembled. “But—”

“No buts, baby girl,” he cut her off. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, okay? You’re gonna go inside, take a nice hot shower, and pack a bag. I’ll be there soon.”

She swallowed, her tears still slipping down her face. “Okay.”

“That’s my good girl,” Sidney murmured. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

They hung up, and as soon as Sidney put his phone down, his entire demeanor shifted. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone again and slammed it into his locker with a loud bang.

The room went silent.

Kris Letang, who had been nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Jesus, Sid. What the hell was that?”

Sidney ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. “Y/n,” he muttered, his voice tense.

Kris’s expression darkened. “What happened?”

Sidney clenched his jaw, his hands still balled into fists. “Some guys in her classes were looking at her. Making her uncomfortable.”

Kris exhaled sharply, “you going to be with her now?”

Sidney started to grab his keys and jacket, “yeah why? Should I not?”

Kris sighed and pointed to the door, and Sidney remembered he agreed to do a media interview.

He sighed, dropping his hands to his side and closing his eyes.

“I’m canceling. I’m going to see her.”

Kris whistled lowly while crossing his arms and leaning back in his locker stall.

“You’re one brave man doing this.” He added.

Sidney shot him a look before opening the door and walking past the reporters, all throwing questions out at him.

He made it out to the hallway, the voices echoing the more he walked further down the hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n let the hot water run over her as she stood in the shower, her arms wrapped around herself. The apartment was silent, but her mind was anything but.

She kept replaying the way they had looked at her, the way their eyes lingered, the low murmurs she couldn’t quite hear but knew weren’t anything good.

Her stomach twisted, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake the feeling.

After she finished, she dried off, slipping into a pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie before grabbing her overnight bag.

She moved on autopilot, folding clothes neatly, tucking in her essentials. The quiet made everything feel heavier, but before she could get lost in her head again—

Knock, knock.

She froze. Then—

“Baby girl, it’s me.”

The tension in her chest eased just a little. She rushed to the door, unlocking it quickly. The moment she pulled it open, Sidney was there. And without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms.

Y/n exhaled sharply against his chest, her fingers curling into his jacket as he held her tightly. Sidney could feel the way she trembled, and it made his stomach ache.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m right here.”

She nodded against him, eyes shut tightly. He didn’t let go—not until she loosened her grip first. When she finally stepped back, he glanced down at the bag by her feet.

She bent down to grab it, but Sidney beat her to it, effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder.

“Sid, I can carry it—”

“I know,” he said, giving her a soft look. “But I’ve got it.”

She sighed, but there was no point in arguing.

The drive to his mansion was quiet. Y/n stared out the window, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. Sidney kept sneaking glances at her, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He hated seeing her like this—anxious, quiet, scared.

When they finally arrived, he helped her inside, placing her bag in the foyer before leading her toward the kitchen. Without a word, she hopped onto the counter, curling her legs up as she watched him move.

Sidney filled the kettle, moving with the same quiet care he always did when she wasn’t feeling her best. It wasn’t long before he placed a warm mug of tea next to her.

But instead of stepping away, he moved between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs.

Y/n sniffled, looking down at her tea. “Thank you, Sid.”

Sidney tipped her chin up gently, his eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to thank me, baby girl.”

She swallowed, her fingers curling around the mug. “I hate feeling like this.”

His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

She hesitated before whispering, “Like I can still feel them staring.”

Sidney’s jaw clenched, his hands squeezing her thighs protectively. “You’re safe now, sweetheart.”

She nodded, but he could tell the unease hadn’t fully left her.

So he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I know you’re uncomfortable and scared, but I’m here now”

Y/n closed her eyes, letting herself sink into his warmth.

“I’m not used to this. To having someone like you help me when I’m scared or upset. I’ve always done it on my own” she confessed.

Sidney closed his eyes, bringing her head to his shoulder as he cradled the back of her head.

“I know baby girl,” he whispered. “But let me take care of them, ok? What are their names?”

Y/n’s head shot up, staring at him with wide eyes.

She chuckled and shakes her head, “no nope no. I’m not giving you their names. I can handle it myself.”

Sidney chuckled, letting go of her thighs and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh you can?” He asked, his eyebrows raising.

Y/n sat up straighter, matching his posture with her arms.

“Yeah I can. I can even take them on physically”

Sidney threw his head back laughing, uncrossing his arms and wrapping them around her.

“You’re lucky you’re cute” he murmured against her temple as he pressed a kiss to it.

And for the first time all day, she finally felt like she could breathe.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Little Mic Interviews

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Roy Kent x GN!Reader

Summary: You bring Roy's niece on for a social media campaign that you're sure everyone will love. Based off my imagine here.

You meet Roy in his office for lunch and you're practically bouncing off the walls.

He raises a brow at you in confusion, "What's got you all giddy?"

You giggle and move to sit on Roy's lap, "I proposed a social media campaign to Keeley and Rebecca and they loved it!"

"That's...good?"

You nod, "Yes, very good! The next thing I need to do is talk to your sister."

Roy looks at you even more confused, "My sister? Why?"

You're grinning, "I want Phoebe to work with me on this so, obviously, I need your sister's permission."

Your boyfriend's eyes squint at you in suspicion, "Should I be concerned?"

"Nope! It'll be fine. Fun even! I think the guys will enjoy it. So I'll chat with Phoebs and your sister later tonight. Hopefully, they'll both say yes."

____________________

The next weekend, Roy brings Phoebe to work. When they enter your office, you and Phoebe squeal, running into each other's arms.

"Fuckin' weirdos," Roy grumbles, but with a smile on his face.

You snicker, "Hi, lovey," you peck Roy's lips, and then proceed to push him towards the door, "And out you go because us girls need to get ready!"

Once Roy is out the door, he turns back around, "I'll see you at lunch though, yeah?"

"Of course," you peck his lips again, "Love you. See you in bit."

"Love you," he murmurs and looks over your shoulder, "You behave, got it?"

Phoebe smiles up at her uncle, "I will, Uncle Roy!"

"Good," he says with a nod and leaves you two be.

You clap your hands together and bring Phoebe to the other side of your desk, "Alright, Phoebs, let's brainstorm on the types of questions you'll ask the boys!"

_____________________

You and Phoebe walk out to the pitch an hour later with your work phone, a clipboard, a tripod, and a few bluetooth mini mics for Phoebe and the lads to use.

You nod to Beard and Nate, "Afternoon!"

Beard tips his hat, "Y/N."

Nate waves, "Hi, Y/N. Hi, Phoebe. Whatcha got there?"

"We're going to interview the guys!" Phoebe replies excitingly.

"Yup. Phoebs, came up with all sorts of questions for them so this is going to be veeeeery interesting." You look at your clipboard, "Alright, so we'll have the team captain up first." You look at Phoebe, "Mind grabbing Isaac for us, love?"

"Okay!" the young girl immediately rushes to the pitch towards her Uncle Roy. You watch as Roy looks down at her and they have a short conversation until Roy yells out, "ISAAC! YOU'RE UP FIRST!"

Isaac's head shoots up and starts lightly jogging to Phoebe. He's escorted by the young girl to where you've set up your phone and tripod.

"Hi, Isaac," you smile at the team captain."

"'Sup. Roy said you're interviewin' us for the socials, yeah?"

"Yup! And Phoebe will be conducting the interview. I'm just behind the camera and will butt in if needed," you go over to hand him and Phoebe a tiny mic that's already connected to your phone.

"Okay, Phoebs, whenever you're ready!" you give her a thumbs up and press record.

Phoebe immediately looks up to the team captain, "Isaac, why do you look grumpy all the time?" You over your mouth to keep you from laughing.

Isaac looks confused, "I don't look grumpy. I thought that was Roy's thing."

"You and my Uncle Roy both look grumpy a lot. Are you a grumpy person?"

"...no, this is just my face?"

Phoebe shrugs, "Okay! What do you prefer: unicorns or faeries?"

"Hm..." Isaac pauses to really think about it, "Unicorns are cool. I could probably ride one, yeah?"

"Good answer," Phoebe nods in approval. She then looks to you and gives a thumbs up, "I think we're good, Y/N!"

You chuckle, "Alright, Phoebs." You stop the recording and nod at Isaac, "Thanks, Isaac!"

"Sick," he says and jogs back to wear the rest of the guys are practicing.

"Alright, love, can you grab Dani for me?"

"Okay!" Phoebe runs off to grab the footballer and it continues to go that way as each interview comes and goes. Her questions were always very random:

"What do you use for your hair?"

"What are your thoughts on the new Disney movie?"

"How important do you think math is in football?"

The second to last interview: Jamie.

"How's it, Phoebs?" Jamie gives her a fist bump and she's beaming.

"Great! Okay, my question for you is: can you come to my birthday party? My friends don't believe that you and Uncle Roy are best friends. Also because my classmate Joanna doesn't believe that I know you and I want to wave it in her face that I do!"

Jamie chuckles, "'Course I'll come to your birthday party. Your my best friend's niece after all," he gives her a wink and they high five.

You snort as Jamie walks off and Roy comes forward, "Alright, you finished?"

"Actually, you're the last one we need to interview," you say with a smile.

"Me? Why the fuck would you want to interview me?"

You playfully roll your eyes at your boyfriend, "Phoebe wants to interview you. So go on, be a good uncle."

He frowns and walks over to Phoebe in front of your phone. He grimaces at the tiny mic she hands to him, "Why the fuck is this so small?"

You chuckle and shake your head, "Just get on with it!"

Phoebe smiles up at her uncle, "Hi Uncle Roy!"

"Hi."

"So my question for you is: when are you and Y/N getting married?"

Roy whips his head to you and you're laughing, "I swear I didn't tell her to ask that! Phoebe, ask him a different question!"

He shakes his head, "No, no. I'll answer it, but you can't hear."

Roy bends down and whispers his answer in Phoebe's ear. You and Roy have been together for quite some time and you love each other very much. You've talked about marriage in the past a few times, but you still weren't sure that's what Roy wanted, at least with you. But fuck did you want to marry him.

Phoebe is giggling and Roy is smirking as he straightens, "Alright, anymore questions?"

"Yes, can we get ice cream after this?"

You snort, "Of course, Phoebs, since you did an amazing job."

"Yes!"

You quickly clean up and the three of you head to your office to drop of your things and then you head to the ice cream shop.

________________

The following weeks, you start to post the interviews on the AFC Richmond socials. They're a hit, earning thousands of views and likes. But the one that really got people going was Roy's interview.

"Why'd you post that? Didn't seem very entertaining or anythin'." Roy says as you show him the post.

"I beg to differ, babe. Look at the comments! Everyone loves how you are with Phoebe."

"Now people won't take me all seriously."

"Highly doubt that. Those brows of fury will set them straight," you run your finger along one of his brows.

He snorts and pulls you closer, "You wanna know my answer to Phoebe's question though?"

You shake your head, "Nah."

He cocks a brow, "You sure?"

"I'm sure," you cuddle closer to him, resting your head against his chest.

The weight in Roy's pocket feels heavy now, but it will definitely lighten up soon.

[docheros]

this is for you @uhhbeans my most beloved

ok so like. originally seán made a game about the egos that was so successfull that a company that makes movies approached him with an offer to make a movie based on his game

BUT

we all know what seán is doing to these characters now, the anomaly found video and the comics are just the tip of the iceberg. so, let's revamp the actor au!!

(backstory, info about the actors and some headcanons under the cut)

before we properly start: seán is friends with a guy named antony; they started to talk when "jacksepticeye" was created, antony used to help him with some of the editing. so, in this universe, antony was one of the editors along with alice

seán always discussed this story with his editors, and antony was the one that really motivated, gave new stories, reasons, showed how he could make it better, and act better as well!! he's an actor too :]

so, when seán (i'm repeating his name too much sorry) started to change the route of the story and said he wanted something more serious, antony (and a team, ofc) helped him develop Anomaly Found. and for all his help and ideas, seán asked his friend to portray anti from now on. and antony couldn't be more honoured

so, anomaly found happens! seán's chase here like irl. and the comics come out, and much more stuff, etc etc. to give the egos an ending, he decides to make it a movie, but since he couldn't like. act as 5 dudes and at the same time help with production, he decided to hire actors!

WITH YOU, THE SEPTIC CREW!!

Elias Schmidt, German, 32, as Henrik Von Schneeplestein!

Ryan White, American, 35, as Chase Brody!

Oliver Williams, British, 39, as Marvin the Magnificent!

Patrick O'Brien, Irish, 35, as JackieBoyMan!

George Cole, British, 43, as Jameson Jackson!

and finally, Antony Moore, British, 40, as AntiSepticEye!

and now, some headcanons of this AU for the soul :]

Seán and Antony were the ones to make the auditions, and they both wanted actors that could bring their experiences and thoughts into the characters

bc of that, Elias' german (but not a doctor, that'd be asking too much), George's mute and Patrick's autistic

Elias is very good at acting as Henrik, but he's not like him in the slightest. he's the youngest of the crew and a big jokester

despite that, he loves Henrik to bits! he's always doing lives and videos like "henrik answers your questions" while they're filming

this is Ryan's first big budget movie, and he's kinda nervous about it

different from Chase, he isn't married and honestly hates alcohool. when asked, he usually says "so is anyone interested in being my stacy? aside from the divorce and well. the horrors"

Elias jokes he's much more like initial Chase (he watched all the videos about the egos, even if Seán said it's not necessary bc a lot changed) and Ryan's much more like fanon Henrik

Patrick and Ryan are the most serious of the crew, it's hard to get a smile out of them. that doesn't mean they don't enjoy the movie or their company, ofc!

Antony's a dad! his son plays as Chase's kid bc it was the only kid that wasn't scared of Anti's makeup (and the antiaverage shippers of this universe enjoy this fact a lot)

Oliver and George are the ones who unintentionally spoil the most

Oliver looovees to talk and read about Marvin shipps. he's feeding the marvelsepticeye shippers very well!

Patrick on the other side isn't very happy in joining his shenanigans lol

George is a modern man, he loves his cellphone and his bluetooth earphones, so acting as Jameson (a man from 1920s) was a bit of a challenge to him, but he loves challenges!

he's very vocal about ableism towards mute people. and also very vocal about jj's sexual life

if they ever went to buzzfeed to promote the movie, Patrick would loooove the puppy interviews and George and Elias would loooove the "[x] reads thirst tweets"

when asked if they knew jacksepticeye,

Elias: ofc, who doesn't? i used to watch his videos all the time! what do you mean he's the one behind this

Ryan: i used to watch a bit when i was younger, we're the same age so it was like hanging out with a friend. what do you mean he's the one behind this

Oliver: ooh, i guess so? my siblings used to watch this dude like, all day. he's the one doing this? neat, i guess

Patrick: of course, everytime i mentioned i'm from Ireland people used to be like "omg jacksepticeye's from there!!!", it kinda annoyed me. he's the director????... he didn't hear me, right?

George, signing: who?

Antony: i heard he's a pain in the ass to work with (cut to Seán telling him to shut the fuck up)

[spintaxi]

Elon Musk Allegedly Impregnates Journalist

Neuralinked at First Sight: Elon Musk Allegedly Impregnates Journalist Two Hours After Verbal Sparring Match

By: Dr. Wylie Granger, Professor of Postmodern Fertility at SpinTaxi.com Category: Science & Scandal

The Tesla of Conception

Austin, TX — In a stunning and possibly bio-enhanced twist of post-interview events, tech mogul and part-time fertility icon Elon Musk is rumored to have impregnated BBC journalist Zainab Husain two hours after their now-viral, awkward-on-purpose interview exchange. According to multiple unnamed but suspiciously poetic sources, the conception was “silent, electric, and possibly Bluetooth-enabled.” Eyewitnesses allege that the pair’s friction-charged philosophical volley escalated rapidly once the cameras were off and the mics muted. What began as a showdown over ethics and AI allegedly ended in a Neuralink-connected moment of transcendental passion and “gene-optimized” fertilization in the back of a retrofitted SpaceX CyberVan.

A Fertility Timeline Sponsored by Tesla

3:15 PM: BBC interview begins. Musk blinks 14 times per minute and utters exactly 61 words. 3:42 PM: Zainab Husain utters the phrase “What are you really afraid of, Elon?” 3:43 PM: Musk’s pupils dilate. A gust of wind opens the window, despite being indoors. 4:05 PM: The interview ends. Musk says “We should talk more… somewhere less BBC.” 5:58 PM: AI-generated ultrasound footage allegedly leaks to X (formerly Twitter). 6:01 PM: Musk retweets with the caption: “The future is multi-planetary and multi-parental.”

Lovechild of AI and Adversarial Journalism?

Insiders at OpenAI have suggested that this event may not have been biological in the traditional sense, but rather the result of Musk’s experimental AI-biological hybrid known as Xenopreg™—a wearable microdevice that detects ovulation and instantly syncs with desired co-parenting algorithms. The device was originally created to allow interplanetary colonists to breed responsibly during low-gravity sex missions on Mars, but appears to have been used here in a “test environment featuring high verbal tension and ethical disagreement.”

Musk’s Statement, Delivered via a Sentient Ferret Wearing a Bowtie:

“We are all nodes in the fertility network. Zainab was a high-latency neural opponent. That’s rare. The interaction heat-mapped well. I wanted to parent a child whose first words would be, ‘Let’s unpack that premise.’”

Journalist Zainab Husain Responds… Cryptically

While BBC declined to comment directly, Zainab Husain posted an Instagram photo of a positive pregnancy test resting atop a hardcover copy of Frankenstein with the caption: “Modern Prometheus had better Wi-Fi. #GlitchInTheWomb #Elon’d” She has since been spotted leaving Whole Foods in Palo Alto with prenatal vitamins, a single avocado, and a copy of “Existential Risk and You.”

The Child’s Name Rumored to Be “Thesis.exe”

If confirmed, this would be Musk’s 14th known child and possibly his first conceived in intellectual combat. The name "Thesis.exe" allegedly symbolizes the child’s origin: born of challenge, critical questioning, and whatever mysterious algorithm Elon uses to select his romantic co-creators. Family insiders say the child will be raised on a rotating biosphere between Texas and low Earth orbit, where it will be taught coding, stoic philosophy, and the ability to withstand cancel culture by age six.

What the Funny People Are Saying:

Ron White: “Elon Musk breeding with a journalist? Hell, I can’t even get a librarian to look at me sideways. But I guess if you got rockets and crypto, you can get anyone ovulating on impact.” Jerry Seinfeld: “So what’s the deal with tech billionaires? You ask them about their views on AI ethics and bam—you’re pregnant before dessert. Is that a feature or a bug?” Ali Wong: “She got knocked up by a man who answers questions with his eyebrows. Girl, that’s some upper-tier TED Talk fertility right there.” Chris Rock: “The dude made a baby and a meme in the same afternoon. That’s Silicon Valley foreplay, baby!”

The Science: Verified by Experts Who Don’t Exist

Dr. Freya Numerix of the International Fertility Federation for Futurist Sex (IFFFS) said, “We’re entering an era where conceptions can occur without consent, romance, or even emotion—as long as there’s enough discourse density.” A recent peer-reviewed article in The Journal of Ethically Gray Conception suggested that “intellectual intercourse” can produce elevated oxytocin levels, which, in the presence of ambient testosterone and white LED lighting, may result in spontaneous fertilization.

Personal Story: From Interviewer to Intergalactic Co-Parent

An anonymous BBC staffer said Zainab left the studio “glowing, confused, and oddly fluent in quantum entanglement metaphors.” She reportedly told the receptionist: “I came here to ask questions. I left with answers. And a fetus.” Later that night, a mysterious Tesla Model π was seen flying autonomously to the MuskLab Cryogenic Parenthood Hub, with a bumper sticker reading: “My Other Kid Is a Singularity.”

Public Reaction

A poll conducted by SpinTaxi DataForge™ asked 12,000 Americans if they believed Elon Musk could impregnate someone using only logic and a piercing stare. The results: 41% said yes 34% said “probably while wearing a lab coat” 25% said “I thought he was celibate until Mars was terraformed” The Church of Scientology issued a press release congratulating Musk for “embracing true interdimensional reproduction.” Meanwhile, Planned Parenthood tweeted, “We don’t even know how to handle this one.”

Sociopolitical Impact

The White House issued a statement calling for “a formal review of AI-enhanced reproductive encounters,” and Texas Governor Greg Abbott announced legislation banning “spontaneous philosophical fertilization” outside of registered libertarian communes. Florida, on the other hand, passed a “Tech Dad Rights Bill” offering tax incentives to men who impregnate opponents during heated debates on social policy.

Corporate Fallout

Tesla stock spiked 8% as investors interpreted Musk’s reproductive stamina as a bullish sign. Neuralink, meanwhile, began quietly removing beta features from their fertility extension plugin, which was found to inadvertently sync with Spotify playlists like “Chill Academic Vibes.” BBC executives have been summoned before Parliament to explain how a “cultural exchange of fluids” occurred without breaching journalistic ethics.

Final Irony

In a twist only the algorithm could write, ChatGPT was asked to draft a co-parenting agreement. The AI refused, citing concerns over ethical boundaries and “not being paid enough for this soap opera.”

Sources:

Musk Eyes New Fertility App: “Just Wink and It’ll Sync” BBC Denies Rumors of Journalist-On-Tycoon Romance, Blames Quantum Entanglement Elon Musk’s 14th Child Rumored to Be a Walking Turing Test SpaceX Announces Pregnancy Leave for Women Impregnated in Autonomous Vehicles Zainab Husain’s Baby Shower Features Custom Neuralink Headbands and Ethical Dilemmas Tesla Stock Rises After Shareholders Learn Elon’s Sperm Can Code AI Midwives Trained to Handle High-IQ Fetuses Disclaimer: This entirely human-generated story is a satirical collaboration between the world’s oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer. All details, names, quotes, and fetuses are fictional. Please do not attempt impregnation via discourse without a license. Auf Wiedersehen.

Musk Eyes New Fertility App: “Just Wink and It’ll Sync” Musk Eyes New Fertility App: “Just Wink and It’ll Sync”In his relentless campaign to make reproduction as effortless as summoning an Uber, Elon Musk has reportedly greenlit development on a new app called WinkSync—a cutting-edge fertility platform that allows consenting users to become genetically entangled with just a look. Musk, speaking through a Neuralink-connected espresso machine, announced: “Why waste time with courtship rituals and emotionally fraught conversations? With WinkSync, conception is two blinks and a mutual user rating away.” The app will scan pupil dilation, detect pheromones via ambient humidity, and cross-reference Spotify playlists for compatibility. Critics worry the app blurs the line between romance and biometric invasion, while fans are already lining up for beta access, citing “clinical efficiency” as the new aphrodisiac. A spokesperson for WinkSync confirmed that early tests produced twins in under 30 seconds of eye contact and one case of immaculate conception during a firmware update. In-app purchases include DNA filters (Athletic, Philosophical, Muskratty) and instant “co-parent blocking” functionality. As Musk quipped: “Love is just a vector for scalable womb logistics.” BBC Denies Rumors of Journalist-On-Tycoon Romance, Blames Quantum Entanglement BBC Denies Rumors of Journalist-On-Tycoon Romance, Blames Quantum EntanglementFacing tabloid hysteria and speculative memes, the BBC has officially denied any romantic entanglement between tech tycoon Elon Musk and reporter Zainab Husain. “They merely shared a quantum overlap in intellectual space,” said BBC spokesperson Nigel Hexton. “At no point did their particles collapse into a shared reproductive state.” Quantum physicists consulted for this statement admitted they “have no idea what that means, but it sounds vaguely plausible.” Witnesses described the post-interview tension between Musk and Husain as “erotically epistemological,” citing body language consistent with either intense curiosity or low-blood-sugar-induced staring. The BBC released a montage of Husain interviewing several other billionaires without incident, though Jeff Bezos reportedly now requires mirrored sunglasses for all female journalists. Musk cryptically tweeted, “I exist in superposition until observed. Then I father children.” A BBC ethics committee meeting ended abruptly when someone asked if co-parenting with a neural theorist violated impartiality standards. Meanwhile, Musk has updated his X bio to read: “Quantumly available, emotionally distributed.”

Elon Musk’s 114th Child Rumored to Be a Walking, Talking Deepfake Generator Elon Musk’s 114th Child Rumored to Be a Walking, Talking Deepfake GeneratorIn what appears to be a natural consequence of one man attempting to populate the galaxy himself, Elon Musk’s 114th known child is allegedly not only sentient but capable of generating convincing deepfakes by simply humming Beethoven’s 9th. Sources close to the Musk brood say the child, known only as “DeepElon”, was born fully aware, bypassing the crawling phase and opting instead to roll on smart wheels coded in C++. At six months, DeepElon generated its own baptism video featuring a simulated Pope and photorealistic CGI water. Elon, beaming with paternal pride, declared the child “the first post-verbal, pre-consensual media creator.” Scientists are baffled at the newborn’s ability to manipulate reality using nothing more than a pacifier and an iPad Pro. Privacy experts warn that DeepElon’s uncanny knack for mimicking real people could destabilize politics, relationships, and TikTok influencer branding. “I thought it was a parody account,” said one babysitter. “Then it hacked my Fitbit and released my sleep data.” Musk has since filed to trademark his child under the name “ElonXperience v1.14”, sparking an FTC investigation and a bidding war among streaming services for the child’s first live stream. SpaceX Announces Pregnancy Leave for Women Impregnated in Autonomous VehiclesIn a bold move to support frontier family values, SpaceX has announced a new maternity policy for women impregnated while riding in autonomous vehicles. The press release, printed entirely in binary code, details paid pregnancy leave, free Mars-side birthing classes, and lifetime access to onboard lactation AI. Elon Musk confirmed the move during a Twitch stream of him assembling a baby crib made of rocket parts. “Space travel should be inclusive,” he said, “especially for those co-creating with AutoPilot.” The announcement comes after several reports of “unexpected intimacy” in Tesla vehicles when the car’s karaoke feature allegedly initiated Barry White tracks during navigation reroutes. Critics argue the program blurs lines between innovation and techno-eugenics, while fans see it as a “libertarian fantasy finally realized.” Legal experts are still parsing the implications of co-parenting with software, particularly regarding child support from firmware. A prototype child, “Model Utero,” is currently being beta-tested on a test track outside of Boca Chica. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration has yet to release a safety rating on love in lane assist mode. Zainab Husain’s Baby Shower Features Custom Neuralink Headbands and Ethical DilemmasGuests arriving at the exclusive baby shower for BBC journalist Zainab Husain were issued Neuralink-enhanced party headbands that flashed red if attendees entertained conflicting moral beliefs about consensual cyborg co-parenting. Held at an undisclosed Tesla Lounge that doubles as an incubation chamber, the event’s theme was “Bébé’s First Bioethics Crisis.” Entertainment included a debate between Sam Altman and a Roomba about utilitarian parenting, a TEDx Talk from the baby’s in-vitro doula, and a live ultrasound narrated by Werner Herzog (via AI clone). Musicians played lo-fi techno remixes of lullabies while guests sipped amniotic-themed cocktails like “The Placenta Paloma.” The gift table featured genetically-optimized baby blocks, a bitcoin teething ring, and several books including What to Expect When You’re Expecting the Singularity. Musk gifted a self-updating bassinet that whispers stoic quotes to the baby in Elon’s voice. Critics called the event “a beautiful mess of capitalist futurism and second-trimester existentialism.” When asked how she felt, Zainab simply said: “I’m grateful, confused, and quantumly entangled.” Tesla Stock Rises After Shareholders Learn Elon’s Sperm Can CodeAfter confidential documents leaked revealing that Elon Musk’s reproductive material allegedly contains high-functioning Python, C++, and Solidity code fragments, Tesla’s stock surged 14% overnight. Investors celebrated the revelation that Musk’s offspring may be born with read-only blockchain wallets and self-cleaning diapers. A Goldman Sachs analyst declared the news “more bullish than a Martian gold mine,” adding that Tesla DNA may replace T-bills as the safest long-term investment. In response, fertility clinics across the globe began offering Musk-Mode genetic enhancements, which include upgraded dopamine receptors and sarcasm recognition modules. Meanwhile, Twitter users flooded the platform with memes showing Elon’s sperm using ChatGPT to write love letters, design AI chips, and break up with girlfriends via JSON files. Tesla immediately launched a line of sperm-themed NFTs called “Elon’s Ejaculatory Epochs,” which sold out in four seconds. One hedge fund manager summed up the Wall Street mood: “We used to invest in companies. Read the full article

[jcmarchi]

Steve Statler, Chief Marketing Officer at Wiliot – Interview Series

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/steve-statler-chief-marketing-officer-at-wiliot-interview-series/

Steve Statler, Chief Marketing Officer at Wiliot – Interview Series

Steve Statler is the Chief Marketing Officer at Wiliot, author of Beacon Technologies, and the presenter of the Mister Beacon Ambient IoT podcast.

At the core of the Wiliot System are IoT Pixels, which are low-cost tags approximately the size of a postage stamp, designed for easy integration into a wide range of products. These IoT Pixels continuously gather data from their surroundings and are powered either by harvesting radio frequency energy or, in some versions, by a thin printed battery. The transmissions from IoT Pixels are secure and can be read using existing Bluetooth devices.

What are the potential benefits of integrating WiliBot into existing supply chain management systems?

Integrating WiliBot into existing supply chain management systems will allow brands and manufacturers to communicate with their products in ways that significantly improve their supply chain efficiency and sustainability.

By enabling natural-language conversations with any ambient-IoT connected product, WiliBot can be used by businesses seeking to ask questions about their ambient IoT enabled products and supply chains: How fresh is this product? How did it get to the store? Which product should I stock next, and why? What is the carbon footprint of this product? Why is it so high or low? The answers to these questions can then be integrated in real time into a businesses supply chain strategy.

How does Wiliot’s use of ambient IoT and GenAI enhance real-time data visibility in supply chains?

The combination of ambient IoT and GenAI offers a unique opportunity to enhance and apply real-time data visibility. Wiliot’s IoT Pixels are constantly collecting real-time data throughout the supply chain and even in stores.

WiliBot enhances this real-time data visibility by harnessing the power of generative AI, to make sense of the data provided. This allows companies – and eventually consumers – the ability to have conversations with the products they make, source, distribute and ultimately purchase. Breaking down complex and multitudes of data into easy to understand actionable insights.

For a GenAI model to run effectively, it requires significant data input to train it. In the past, due to the lack of large amounts of real time data, this meant supply chain GenAI models would utilize previously existing data. While this proved generally effective, supply chains shift from year to year, and last year’s data isn’t always the most accurate when predicting what businesses need in a year, month, and even day. The constant real-time data that Wiliot’s IoT Pixels and Ambient Data Platform feeds into WiliBot proves the most effective for brands looking to capitalize on the most current intelligence that’s happening in their supply chains.

In what ways can WiliBot help businesses improve sustainability and reduce waste within their supply chains?

Wilibot empowers consumers to vote with their purses and wallets based on better insights into the provenance, content and carbon footprint of one product versus another that may look identical. By capturing the dynamic carbon impact of storage, transportation at an item level and sharing that insight in real time, businesses can be empowered to manage down their carbon footprint every minute of every day.  An end of year scorecard at a company level can’t do that.

Wiliot’s Ambient Data Platform, already allows companies to gain unprecedented intelligence about the sustainability about trillions of products. With the introduction of WiliBot, businesses will now be able to ask and easily break down that intelligence into real-time information about individual products.

In turn, this means companies can get real-time specifics on the sustainability of their supply chains. They can ask WiliBot questions like: why some products have a greater carbon footprint than others, what products they should stock before they expire, and how weather patterns are impacting products throughout the supply chain.

WiliBot allows companies to recognize where changes could be made to ensure sustainability and reduce waste, without waiting for the past year’s data.

How do Wiliot’s IoT Pixels work, and what makes them unique in enabling continuous, real-time data collection in supply chains without the need for batteries?

Wiliot’s IoT Pixels are low-cost tags, the size of a postage stamp, and can be seamlessly manufactured into just about any product. IoT Pixels are designed to provide insights on “everything, everywhere, all at once” – because of their small size, they can be affixed to almost any product, down to even crate-level shipments. What makes IoT Pixels unique, and what allows for them to provide continuous data collection, is that they’re powered by harvested radio frequency energy, meaning they use the radio frequencies from everyday devices that already exist in the world around us. IoT Pixels then securely transmit that data, also via existing Bluetooth devices, to the Wiliot Ambient Data Platform, where it’s available for businesses to pull from.

What are the security measures in place to ensure the privacy and integrity of data collected by IoT Pixels and processed by the Wiliot Ambient Data Platform?

The data security and governance robustness of Wiliot’s Ambient Data Platform has been certified by two leading examiners. We have achieved Systems and Organization Controls (SOC) 1 Type II and SOC 2 Type II reports, both issued by independent auditors from a leading Big 4 firm.

Additionally, we recently received its third-year recertification of its ISO 27001 and 27018 certifications by the International Organization for Standardization. Both of these certifications validate our ongoing commitment to data security, governance, and privacy.

Unlike other auto-identification technologies like QR codes and RFID, Wiliot’s implementation includes encryption backed access control to the data that relates to the content, movement and usage of products.

How does WiliBot leverage generative AI to provide actionable insights from the data generated by IoT Pixels?

The data generated by IoT Pixels is sent via Bluetooth to the Wiliot cloud once it’s finalized. From there, WiliBot can leverage the generative AI to provide actionable insights.

WiliBot’s Wiliot-developed AI, built on top of a leading Large Language Model, can identify supply chain “events” and automatically generate alerts or AI responses that allow businesses to course-correct or optimize their operations. This could mean creating an automatic alert for a business when shipments of their produce have been handled at an unsafe temperature, or when pharmaceuticals were kept in an environment too moist for them

The answers to these questions are available in the Wiliot Ambient Data platform, but haven’t always been easily accessible. With WiliBot, these actionable insights can be democratized across organizations, as opposed to requiring significant labor or integration costs.

Can WiliBot be customized to address specific industry needs, such as retail, pharmaceuticals, or food production?

Yes. Wiliot IoT Pixels can be affixed to and provide data on any product, across retail, pharmaceuticals, food production, and more, which means that WiliBot can be distinctively tailored to the needs of those industries.

The more relevant product data that is put into WiliBot, the more specific and targeted answers will be able to be. For food retailers, the priority when implementing WiliBot may be determining the effects of their supply chain’s weather patterns upon food rot and spoil; for clothing retailers, WiliBot may be more relevant in determining where product should go in the store. WiliBot is able to uniquely make sense of data based on each customer’s specific needs and to describe products, materials, supply chains, and everything connected to the internet.

How does the Wiliot Ambient Data Platform differentiate itself from traditional IoT platforms in terms of functionality and ease of integration?

The Wiliot Ambient Data Platform differentiates itself from traditional IoT platforms because of its ‘ambient’ aspect. The data drawn from the IoT Pixels into the platform are accessible all the time as opposed to requiring labor to track, scan or read it.

Wiliot also aims to set ambient IoT standards throughout the industry, which will allow for mass adoption and easy integration by the world’s largest retailers. Already, we are contributing to the 3GPPP alongside a number of large handset OEMs, and working on versions of the Ambient Data Platform that will support the Bluetooth, cellular/3GPP, and Wi-Fi/IEEE variants of ambient IoT.

What impact could WiliBot have on consumer transparency, particularly in understanding the carbon footprint and ethical sourcing of products?

Wiliot’s IoT Pixels already enable products to transmit item-level data about their carbon footprint and equip businesses with information needed to track, manage and reduce carbon emissions. WiliBot makes this even easier by allowing businesses to ask specific questions like where the or how products are sourced and their carbon footprint.

In the future, this convergence of ambient IoT and generative AI will be made available to consumers in-store and at-home through an ecosystem of mobile apps – enabling consumers themselves to speak to and converse with their products to better understand their carbon footprint, materials composition, ethical sourcing compliance, freshness and safety, and more.

This proliferation of information will allow for consumers to take their own ethical considerations into account when purchasing, and ultimately allow for an increased consumer experience without increasing employee workload or cost.

How does Wiliot ensure that the integration of ambient IoT with GenAI remains compliant with global data protection regulations?

Wiliot’s ambient IoT foundation for GenAI enables compliance to data protection regulations with accountability and access control, so that there is a clear owner of the data who has the tools to manage access to the data. Unlike other low-cost scalable radio frequency identifiers, every Wiliot tag is enabled with end-to-end encryption which prevents unauthorized access to data broadcast from a tag.  Encryption starts at the chip level inside the tag and ends at the application in the cloud, which gives a single owner access to the data. With other forms of RFID, the owner isn’t clear – it could be the company that bought the RFID tag and applied it to the product, the distributor, the retailer, or the end customer.  Wiliot’s approach of encrypting all the data means ownership can be transferred and data sharing can be regulated.

Thank you for the great interview, readers who wish to learn more should visit Wiliot.

[interviewmaterial]

Here are the top 6 interview questions & answers.

[bpo-interview-tutorial]

What is call calibration in BPO?

Let's learn the overview on call calibration with its reporting

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

Love Station

Pairing: Huang Renjun x reader

AU/genre: smut, humor, fluff, angst, comfort, strangers to roommates to friends to lovers...?, non-idol!AU, idiot(s) in love

Word count: 13.978 words

Warnings: smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, making out under the influence, descriptions of toxic relationships, implied past domestic violence, overthinking, mentions of masturbation, reader has nipple piercings, fingering (f receiving), mentions of squirting and free use, lowkey heartbreak, everyone is dramatic, mentioned past mxm oral, Haechan flirts too much

A/n: Based on real events. Kind of. It's a bit cringe in the beginning, I apologize. Also, anything anybody does is questionable.

Taglist: @she-is-dreaming @nctzennikki09

Against common belief, Renjun hates his job working at the local gas station. Despite his extremely friendly and respectful way of interacting with rude customers who believe Renjun's the one that sets the gas prices as high as they are, he's fuming inside, swearing that if he gets another complaint about the car wash not working properly, or the vacuum needing to be fixed again (for the third time this week) he will snap, but he never does.

Apart from people going on his nerves on the daily about how he can't find their desired brand of cigarettes in the mass of different colored packages behind him (which his boss Mrs. Choi decides to re-sort every other week) within seconds, it's pretty boring.

Especially during the morning shifts (which he hadn't been informed he would be doing during the job interview a few months ago, but why not exploit a poor college student that earns minimum wage by making him get up at 4 in the morning every Monday?), not much happens.

Every time, he stands there and waits. And he waits for something – or someone – in particular.

It had started a few weeks ago, Renjun standing behind the counter, sorting packages of cigarettes and cigarillos all while the coffee machine was cleaning itself to provide him with some background noise (they used to have a bluetooth speaker, but apparently Mrs. Choi took it away – and Renjun's last bit of sanity with it) as he heard loud shouting outside.

Curious as he is, he placed the carton of cigarettes on the counter to spy through the big windows of the gas station onto the almost empty street, dimly lit by a few lampposts and the slowly arising sun, only to see nothing. Just as he wanted to give up, shrugging it off as some drunk teenagers still wandering around and about from the night before, he heard it again.

And then you came in sight.

Renjun had to gulp because, shit, even though your hair was tousled and your cheeks were messy with mascara and tears, he found you enticing, beautiful even. His question of who you were shouting at answered itself just a few seconds later as a male walked towards you with fast steps, making you back away from him, closer to the automatic doors of the gas station. Instantly, Renjun felt adrenaline rush through his veins, for some unknown reason he felt extremely protective of you, ready to step in between you and whoever it was that was trying to hurt you.

"Leave me alone! Go away!" You shouted as you stepped close enough to the glass doors for them to open up, giving Renjun the chance to finally make out the words you were saying.

"Give me the fucking keys," the man answered and you began rummaging through your bag as you stumbled into Renjun's gas station backwards.

"I don't have them," you answered, more tears running down your cheeks as the man grabbed your purse from you to look through it himself, only to drop it to the ground seconds later and rushing out without another word. You shouted after him, "great, now you fucked that up too!"

As soon as the man was out of sight, you slowly bent down to pick up your bag. The sounds of your sniffling slowly stopped as you looked through the display of beverages in the fridge, then stepped towards Renjun once you finally decided on one.

"This and Marlboro Gold, please," you huffed out, pulling your wallet from your purse. Renjun did as you asked, watching as your shaky fingers pulled your credit card out to pay.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?" Renjun finally brought himself to ask, and his soft voice made you look up into his eyes. Objectively, you looked awful, bags under your eyes as you gulped hard, immediately breaking the eye contact, but to Renjun you looked like the prettiest person he'd ever seen.

"I'm fine," you sighed, taking the cigarettes and Red Bull from the counter.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to call someone?"

"No, thank you, I just need to calm down."

"You can wait here, if you want," Renjun offered one of the comfortable bar stools on the side and you smiled, but shook your head, huffing out a weak laugh before exiting the gas station with another look into his eyes.

Renjun had almost given up on seeing you again, but there, an hour later, you were again, screaming at the top of your lungs for that man to finally leave you alone. Surprisingly, he did, and at the same time, Renjun's coworker walked in to take his place behind the counter for the next 5 hour shift.

Just his luck, you sat outside as he came out. He pulled the zipper of his jacket up and stuffed his hands into his pockets to protect him from the cold, and cautiously approached you.

"Hey, if you don't want to, that's okay, but if you need someone to talk to-"

The air was knocked out of his lungs as you got up, instantly wrapping your arms around him to press your face into his chest. He was surprised, but not averse to your sudden hug, his hands flying to gently lay on your back instinctively.

A minute or so passed, and when you finally peeled yourself off of him, he instantly missed your warmth.

"Sorry," you mumbled, sitting back down and Renjun mirrored your motion. You opened your cigarettes and offered him one. Renjun is not a regular smoker, just one or two at a party whenever he's drunk, you know, for the vibe, but he still accepted with a small 'thank you' before you lit it for him.

"You see, that was my boyfriend," you exhaled before sniffing, tapping onto your cigarette even though there were no ashes to tap away, "it's complicated."

Renjun watched you stare into the distance, dragging on your cigarette, and was reminded that he was holding one too. The cigarette kissed his lips as he admired you; you were so pretty, even in this state, and he wondered what happened between you and your boyfriend for you to look like this. So he asked.

"When you love someone, you do crazy shit," you laughed bitterly, gladly accepting the tissue Renjun offered you to wipe off your mascara stains, "and no one's taking me seriously anymore. He cheated on me, twice, and won't understand why it's hard for me to trust him."

Renjun made a noise of understanding, not feeling like words were necessary, like you just needed someone to pour your heart out to. Instead, he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette, finding the taste and effect of it quite pleasing even when he wasn't drunk.

"My family doesn't understand why I'm still with him, and honestly, I don't understand it either. It's crazy, he's crazy." You pulled at the sleeves of your thin jacket to hide something that looked an awful lot like bruises.

"Does he hurt you?" Renjun had to ask, worry written all over his face as he eyed your form.

"He does," you admitted, playing around with your cigarette before you began smiling, "but I just hurt him back."

"If you ever need help, you can always come here," Renjun said and gestured vaguely behind him towards the gas station, and you seemed like you really appreciated his offer.

That had been weeks ago, and ever since then, he hasn't seen you again. I mean, yeah, he has, in his dreams, but not in real life. Renjun's wondering if you're okay, if you broke up with your boyfriend or- yeah, actually, Renjun just wants to see you again, and it seems like the heavens above seem to have heard his silent pleads.

Later than last time, you hurry into the gas station, looking around cautiously before finally looking at Renjun, recognizing him instantly, and so does he. You look a little less demolished and more presentable.

"When you said, I could come here if I needed, you really meant it, huh?" You smile as you place the can on the counter, and Renjun smiles back, nodding.

"I broke up with him," you whisper as you press your card into the slit of the card reader and Renjun congratulates you cautiously, and you sigh. "Now all I need is a place to stay."

Some would say Renjun's dumb (read: his friend Donghyuck) for his next offer, others would call him a crazy bastard (read: his friend Donghyuck) for not letting this opportunity of getting closer to you slip, but, yes, he offers you to stay with him since he has a spare bedroom anyway (he's thrown temporary guest – caused by maintenance at their own place – and friend Donghyuck out to give you a place to stay. Donghyuck's still salty about that.).

Living with you is easy, Renjun finds, but maybe he's just too blinded by your interesting character and agonizing exterior, and all your flaws slip his mind, like for instance when you forgot cleaning your dishes for three weeks and there was no way to be sure if that whatever had been growing there was mold or if you'd gotten a cat with interesting markings without consulting Renjun first. Or when you phoned your friend loudly at three in the morning right after listening to the loudest metal band out there, only to go back to said band after your phone battery died (which you also had to announce loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear).

Renjun simply likes you, and with his rose-colored glasses, his eyes are shielded from the downstairs neighbor's spit particles that fly out of their mouth as they shout at Renjun for bringing such a loud burden of a roommate into their apartment complex.

And, sure, Renjun hopes that maybe this friendship-roommate-relationship could turn into something more, but right now, you do not seem to be ready. What makes him say that? Ask that the bags under his eyes when he has to get up thrice at night to comfort you through your crying, or rip your phone away every time you're about to call your ex.

Renjun comes home everyday approximately at the same time. He always has his classes, then goes to work his ass off at the gas station or the library before making his way home where he knows you're waiting for him, greeting him at the door with either the smell of a delicious home cooked meal, a movie already stuffed into the DVD player and his favorite snacks waiting on the couch table, or at least a bright smile and the wave of a hand.

When he comes in today finding none of these things, he knows it had happened again.

Quietly, he makes his way over to your room, already discarded of his jacket, shoes and backpack, he gently knocks on the door, even though he knows he's not going to receive an answer.

Gently, he opens your door, meeting nothing but darkness inside.

"Are you okay?"

He knows this question is pointless given the situation, though he still asks, every time, just to let you know that he's worried about you, always receiving a sniffle in response.

Making his way over to your bed that contains you rolled into a little bundle consisting of you and blankets, he steps over the countless pieces of laundry and your other belongings before he reaches the bed.

The mattress dips as he sits down and you stir a little, turning onto your side to look at him. You look awful, yet still like the prettiest person he's ever seen, even though your eyes are red and glossed over from crying, face puffy and tear stained.

He scoots closer to you, laying down so you're at eye level before he reaches out to push a strand of hair out of your face, the gentle action bringing tears to your eyes again. You lean in, giving in to the force drawing you to him, and press your face into his chest. Without hesitation, his arms hug around you, pulling you further into him.

"It's going to be okay," he assures you as you cry harder into his chest, minimizing the space between you.

He holds you. He's not impatient, he just lets you cry it all out until nothing but dry hiccups come out of you. Not knowing what's gotten into him, he presses a soft kiss onto the top of your head and your sobbing immediately stops, and that sets Renjun's mind into overdrive whether he's just calmed you down or if he's crossed a strict boundary line.

Renjun hates seeing you fall for your ex's antics all the time, an asshole who can't treat you right, who used your naïve nature in his favor to toy with you, only to throw you away once you got boring. He doesn't see in you what Renjun sees, he doesn't understand you, and he takes you for granted, something Renjun would never.

Renjun doesn't understand why you keep crawling back to him, but at least – and this part of him might be extremely egoistic and toxic – he gets to be the one to hold you every time you cry.

"Why does no one love me, Renjun? Why did he cheat on me? Why don't I mean anything to anyone?" You ask quietly, your voice shaky from crying so much, and it stings in Renjun's chest that you think so lowly of yourself.

I love you, he wants to say, but he doesn't get the words out of himself. Saying this could ruin everything he has with you, and that's all he has. And he knows that that's what you need right now: a friend, not another lover who could potentially break your heart, even though Renjun would never.

Besides that, how can Renjun be sure that it's love? He barely knows you. Yet you live together and Renjun gets that nervous flutter in his chest whenever he gets the chance to interact with you. So maybe it's love, or at least the seed that needed to be planted for it to grow into a beautiful flower of love.

"You know what?" You sniffle, turning your head to look up at Renjun, "let's get buzzed."

At first, Renjun was hesitant, but if alcoholism is the only way to cheer you up at the moment, he's willing to give it a try. Renjun might seem like he has the perfect solution for ever situation, always pre-calculating every possible outcome, but all that talent deflagrated into thin air once he met you. He feels like he can't read you (yet?).

Liquor floats both of your stomachs and soon after, all the tears on your face seem to have dried completely, leaving you with a lazy grin as you look at Renjun.

"I'm really glad we met," you say, resting your head in the crook of Renjun's neck, and Renjun can't help but feel all giddy inside at your affectionate touch and loving words. He tries to contain his excitement, but ends up wiggling his feet around cutely – a habit he's rather embarrassed about, but the way you seem to notice, but don't comment on it has his mind at ease – and he lays his head on top of yours.

"You wanna know the first thought I had when I saw you?"

Renjun's heart thumps harshly against his ribcage. He's sure that you're not going to say some lovey-dovey shit because you never do, though he's more excited than nervous about the words that are about to leave your mouth, so he asks you to continue.

Before you can begin speaking, you begin laughing, and Renjun feels himself smile as well. He's sure that it's mostly the alcohol that makes you giggle so hard, but he likes to imagine that he's the sole reason for your sudden outburst of happiness. A few hiccups interrupt your laughter, but soon after, you catch yourself, calming down enough to finally speak.

"When I first saw you, Renjunnie," you begin, gently removing your head from his shoulder to look into his face. Renjun mirrors your action immediately, feeling himself drawn very much to your rosy cheeks and glazed over eyes. "I thought you were really pretty."

Renjun chokes on his own spit briefly, aggressively trying to hold in a cough because that would be extremely embarrassing, but you don't really seem to notice as you gaze into his widened eyes, yours rather lidded and hazy as you blink at him slowly.

"I actually thought you were hot. Remember how I told you that my ex cheated on me several times, but I had been sure that I would never do the same to him?"

Renjun weakly nods, simultaneously loving and hating the turn your conversation was taking, the way you look so pretty right now, hair messy and barefaced, he can't help but to fall for you a little more with every passing second.

"The moment I saw you, I thought, if I did I'd do it with you."

A shaky breath leaves Renjun's parted lips, and he knows that this is a sensitive topic for you, but he can't help but to imagine how it would be like to be with you like that. How pretty you'd look underneath him, or on top of him, just anywhere near him where he's able to see your beautiful face. When you'd moan for him, beg him to go harder, and wrap yourself around him. How he'd whisper the three magic words into your ear right as you came for him.

"But why me?" Renjun manages to voice, praying to the heavens above that you'd keep looking into his face and no where else on his body, or else you might recognize the slight bulge in the front of his pants. It's not that Renjun's a virgin by any means, he's had his fair share of experience and is usually not one to pop a boner because of some erotic imagines his brain delivers, but somehow you make him like this, and it scares him as much as it turns him on.

"Why you?" You repeat his question, and Renjun is not sure if you're realizing it, but your face is inching closer to his, and he can already smell the sweet scent of burning liquor. "Well, because you're hot, Renjun, but also sweet. Who wouldn't want to cheat on their partner with someone like you?"

Renjun is definitely scared. Scared that you're just joking. He's scared that you're just drunk and have no idea what you're saying. He's scared of what will happen next.

"You made my heart flutter," you admit, and you're so close that you're going crosseyed as your gaze shifts down to look at Renjun's lips, and he feels his breath hitch and his mouth get dry. He feels as your forehead gently touches his own, and his stomach churns in the best way possible, sending waves of vibrating heat through his chest and into his every bone. "Even though I felt like absolute shit that day, you made it so much better. Thank you."

And with that, the only phrase circulating in Renjun's brain is the one about how drunken minds speak sober thoughts, and that he, for heaven's sake, should just finally lean in an kiss you.

Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

So he dares to close the distance between your faces to connect his lips with yours.

Although you were crying the whole day, your lips are incredibly soft as they gently move against his own. Renjun feels like he too could cry, too many emotions mixing with the alcohol in his drunken mind as he feels what it would be like to finally have you. Tonight, he's getting a taste of you, a sweet and lingering one that makes the bitter aftertaste of the liquor fade into nothingness, a note that's just so unmistakably you that he'd recognize it everywhere without having tasted it ever before.

Renjun doesn't notice how it happens, but somehow you end up in his lap, your fingertips softly caressing the short hair behind his ears as you hold onto his face as if you're scared he'd fade away if you didn't grab him like that. Your lips had parted a while ago so Renjun could slip his tongue in and have it dance with your own. He's sure you can hear him whimper from time to time, but he doesn't care, honestly.

He just keeps holding onto your hips, or let his hands wander over the expanse of your back, stroking up to your shoulders and back down. He wants you to feel appreciated and loved and cared for, something no one's ever given you for a longer period of time in the past.

And though he's lost in the feeling of you that is so consuming of his every intend to think straight, he manages to question the moral rightness behind the sudden intimate act. I mean, he's sure that he wants this, but how can he be sure that you want this. What if you'll have changed your mind in the morning, what if you'll feel like he's taken advantage of your drunken state of mind to lure you into a false sense of security just to be one of the many people to use you?

A hand of yours has managed to crawl down Renjun's body, and as soon as he feels it pushing his shirt up to caress over the soft skin of his stomach, he knows he has to stop you. The little devil on his left shoulder forces him to kiss you a few more times, and he does, as passionately as he can possibly muster, enjoying what he's had of you since it's probably never going to happen again, before he lets the angel win, and pulls back.

The sight in front of him, he was not prepared for. Of course, it's you, but you look so delicious that he wants to dive back in immediately, but he can't.

"Are-" Renjun has to clear his throat to find his voice, "are you sure you want this?"

"Renjun-"

"Please, I really want to do this with you, but I can't, not when you're drunk like this. I can't have you regret any of this in the morning. Please."

You sigh, but nod. He knew you'd understand, you always understand him. And God, does it hurt as you slowly climb off his lap, but Renjun reminds himself why he's doing this: to protect you. That's why he stands up, trying to cover up the way his dick is straining against his pants as he helps you get up to tuck you into bed.

Renjun's forced you to gulp down a whole bottle of water and pee two more times before finally allowing you to sleep. You'd been rather flirty during the whole process, acting a little drunker than you actually are to have an excuse to let yourself stumble, giggle and fall into his arms about ten times too often for your level of intoxication to be the sole reason. Hence, he decided it would be better if you didn't sleep in the same bed that night.

The next morning, you come out of your room, groaning loudly as you rub your forehead, then your temples, and then your forehead again. Renjun's already sitting in the kitchen, his favorite '#1 friend' mug (that he'd bought for himself) in his hands as he occasionally takes a sip waiting for your appearance.

"Hey," he greets, and you answer with a tired response of the same syllable as you turn on the range hood to be able to smoke inside.

"About last night-"

"Please, don't mention it. I'm so sorry if I did something embarrassing again," you sheepishly laugh, tapping off the ashes into your cereal bowl from the morning before, and Renjun briefly contorts his face in disgust as he watches the small grey clump sail through the leftover milk.

Then he realizes what you said. "You don't remember?"

Apparently, no, you didn't remember anything, but Renjun's almost sure that it's because you don't want to remember anything because you regret everything from the very first moment your eyes met his. Renjun has to admit that he tends to be overly dramatic at times, especially when it comes to you. So, no, you probably don't hate him, he realizes due to your completely normal behavior towards him, but he's still too much of a coward to bring it up again.

That's why the short-cut making out session between the both of you is not mentioned again, although Renjun tries his best to bring it up at the perfect moment. Though, the perfect moment never comes.

Sure, he could've asked you the next time you were drinking together, but no, the atmosphere was way too chill for a serious conversation just as this one, and Renjun had a pretty important presentation just hours prior that took all of his concentration, leaving behind nothing but a lifeless shell of Renjun's ability to talk well.

The perfect moment could have been on that one night out with your friends when he was asked about his opinions on drunk sex and, later on, sexual relationships between roommates. It would have been way too weird though, with all your friends around, so Renjun kept his mouth shut.

Alright, Renjun sees the pattern.

It's a few days later and you sit on the couch, Clueless playing the background, and if Renjun was asked how he ended up in this situation, he could not give a plausible answer. Pretty much what happened was that you giggled over something, fell into his lap, looked up at him and then somehow magically ended up sitting on said lap with both of your hands squishing Renjun's cheeks.

"You're so cute," you giggle, your eyes sparkling as you keep pushing Renjun's cheeks together.

"What the fuck," is all Renjun manages to get out of his pouting lips before your eyes fall onto them.

"You know that feeling when you see something so cute that you want to kill it because your brain can't cope with its cuteness?" You scrunch your nose and giggle a little more, and Renjun has trouble nodding his head. He's almost thankful that he's not really able to talk, because if he could, a 'that's me with you' might've slipped out.

"Argh," you wiggle in his lap and Renjun does not like that at all. I mean, he does, but he doesn't. "I could just kiss you."

Renjun's eyes widen comically as you lean in to press an admittedly wet kiss right onto his nose. His heart stops beating for a second before making up for it by hammering away at double its usual speed. Renjun is afraid that you're able to hear it, or feel it with the way it makes the air in front of his chest vibrate.

"I love your nose, Renjun, it's so pretty and big."

"You know what they say," Renjun's words are muffled, but you can still hear him apparently as you begin laughing again, louder this time, and Renjun believes he's never heard someone laugh as perfectly as you do. You wrap your arms around Renjun's head, pulling him close to your chest, and Renjun feels his eyes roll back at your alluring scent and his undeniable closeness to your breasts.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." You quickly apologize, letting go of him, and Renjun has to clear his throat and unsuspiciously grab a pillow to put over his lap as soon as you get off him. "Is it true?"

"What?" Renjun breathes in as the words leave his mouth, he's honestly pretty focused on getting his blood out of his dick and nothing else.

"Big nose, big dick?"

Renjun chokes on air, eyes bulging out as he tries to catch his breath, fingers coming up to pull on the tight-but-not-really-tight collar of his turtleneck. He then continues to open and close his mouth like a fish. The only thing coming out is stuttering, until he finally manages to put it out there, "are you really asking me about the size of my cock right now?"

Renjun finds that you're staring at him for a second too long, maybe even letting your gaze flicker downwards to the pillow still adorning his lap for a brief moment, before you clap your hands together and announce that it was all a joke, but maybe he reads to much into things.

"I mean, I'm not complaining about the size of it," Renjun tries, but is hit in the face with a pillow, a numbing screech hitting his ears.

Over the past weeks, whatever he's been feeling for you has changed. Or, not particularly changed, but intensified, evolved. There has always been the little tingle inside of his heart at the sight of you, or the mere thought of you, your presence, whether it be inside of his apartment or only inside of his mind, that always made his heartbeat a little faster and his palms a little sweatier, or – to keep that anecdote – the seed is sprouting, poking its tiny green head out of the soil to announce that it's alive.

What changed, Renjun isn't aware of. He only knows that he's decided to think way less with his dick when it comes to you. Surely he can't deny how sexy your are with the way you look and carry yourself in general, and yes, he would not say no if the situation would ever come up, but he's not as eager to get in your pants as he was before.

Much rather, he wants to spend time with you, enjoy the little moments and actions of affection, like when his hand suddenly brushes yours as you walk close to each other, and instead of ignoring the incident, you grab onto his hand instead, sending tingling butterflies into his stomach.

This whole thing kind of confuses him, honestly. He's in his twenties, not as hormonal than 5 years ago, but his mind should be trained on getting his dick wet when he thinks about a girl he likes, right?

The exact same question, he asks his friend Donghyuck who – after a meal to Renjun's expenses and a long series of compliments – had finally forgiven Renjun for kicking him out of his apartment just so you could take his place.

"You're in love, you fucknut," Donghyuck retorts, using his napkin to gather the remaining crumbs of his BigMac into one tiny pile on the sticky tabletop of the fast food restaurant.

"Do you really think so?" Renjun blinks unsurely, teeth biting on the paper straw of his chocolate milkshake.

"I hope you are because if not, you have no excuse for throwing the best roommate ever out of your apartment for some chick," Donghyuck states and pushes his pointer finger into his mouth to wet it with saliva, then into the crumbs, moving it towards his mouth. Renjun, just in time, swats his hand away, causing the spit soaked crumbs to fly all over the table.

"That's gross," Renjun mumbles with a frown, then goes back to his task of demolishing the poor straw with his teeth. Donghyuck throws him an angry look, then collects himself and points an accusing finger at Renjun, who tries his hardest to ignore that that's the same finger that Donghyuck just made out with, then dragged through pure bacteria.

"Make a move on her, or I'll make you regret it." Donghyuck's pointing stare and stretched out finger intimidate Renjun a little, but he whines out, complaining that he's told Donghyuck that you're not ready for something new yet.

Renjun has to admit that your outbursts of panic and sadness over your ex had reduced to an absolute minimum of once a week at max, just as your general mentioning of him. All you ever talk about are your new hobbies that Renjun's pushed you into trying, your interests and, well, Renjun. If the roles had been swapped, and Donghyuck was in Renjun's place, Renjun'd have told him to fucking tell you already, but they're not. What if you're not ready, what if he fucks it up, what if he loses you?

Renjun shakes his head at the thought.

"I'm not saying stick your dick in her when she's not looking-"

"- because that would be highly inappropriate and plainly morally wrong-"

"- but tell her something, give her a sign."

Renjun really gives it a thought, maybe two, maybe 348 per minute. Honestly, he's completely stressed out and can't even focus on his work to the point where he has to print out the same receipt 3 times because he keeps throwing it away, lost in his thoughts (he just hopes Mrs. Choi won't notice the excessive amounts of missing receipt paper... they do not talk about what happened last time. Let's just say that he misses his coworker Jisung, he was a funny guy).

On one hand, he wants to do something big, have an occasion to finally hint to you that he's feeling more than platonic love for you, maybe even mention the drunk make out session weeks prior, but he doesn't want pressure you by doing something this big. On the other hand, if he doesn't give his all, maybe you'd think he's not completely sure about his feelings and just wants to toy with you like everyone else. It's a complete mental disaster, honestly.

Renjun keeps breaking his brain over this, but the answer just won't come to him. That is until one special customer places his order: Marlboro gold and a can of Red Bull. The idea strikes Renjun like lightning, and he almost gives the goods away for free, thanking the weirded out guy four times too often as he leaves the gas station hurriedly.

Donghyuck – as the hopeless romantic he is – is completely thrilled by Renjun's idea. He even throws in a little extra-ness and tells Renjun to put little notes on the Red Bull ("because you keep me up at night") and the pack of cigarettes ("because I'm addicted to you"), but Renjun believes that that's a little too much which resulted in Donghyuck fake-crying for a solid minute before giving up at the lack of reaction from Renjun.

The plan is simple: every Friday, you pick Renjun up from the gas station to walk home together after your pottery class, and this week, Donghyuck's going to be there already, inviting you to sit with him in the exact same spot where Renjun comforted you that day you first met. Once Renjun comes in sight, Donghyuck will leave immediately, and Renjun will hand you the goods, then just improvise on pouring the insides of his heart to you.

Said and done, Renjun gathers the receipts of the day to put them in the safe for Mrs. Choi to compare it to the contents of the cash register, and notices you walking along the street towards the gas station. Donghyuck, who hasn't left his assigned spot for the past 20 minutes, gets up to greet you, and Renjun has to bite onto his lip to contain a nervous smile.

He watches your surprised reaction as Donghyuck jabbers into your face and feels his heart skip a beat. Fucking hell, he's in deep if you talking to his friends gets him all giddy inside.

Waving his colleague goodbye, Renjun grabs the energy drink and cigarettes he's just bought off the counter and steps outside. It's way warmer than that day when you first met and Renjun feels admittedly sweaty, though this could be caused by his fizzling nerves and not the weather. Somehow – Renjun doesn't want to question how – Donghyuck had managed to get you to sit down with him, and as soon as the younger male notices Renjun approaching you, he just stands up and runs away. In any other situation, Renjun would have laughed at this weird kid, but he's got a situation to overthink.

Dumbfounded, you blink into the direction Donghyuck ran to, eyebrows raised and scrunched in concern, you breathe out before noticing Renjun as well. A wide grin spreads over your face at the sight of him.

"Your friend is really weird," you state and watch as Renjun sits down beside you.

"I know," Renjun chuckles, voice quieter and shakier than usual, but you don't seem to mind. He looks up at you, taking in the way the light breeze washes through your hair, heart pacing away in his chest at the sparkle in your eyes that only ever seems to be present when Renjun is as well. Blinking away his short-lived trance, Renjun pulls his presents for you out of his pockets. "I have something for you."

"Oh?" You smile, reaching out to grab onto the can and cigarettes, forcing down a smile. Renjun mentally high-fives himself. "What an odd order."

"It's what you bought the day we met," Renjun reminds you, biting onto his lip.

"Ah, that's right! I can't believe you remember!" You grin widely, ruffling Renjun's hair as you bounce a little. Renjun swears that he just melted away at the sight. You gently open the plastic with your fingers, opening the cigarettes to pull two of them from the package. "Would you, my dear Renjun, share this with me?"

The deep voice you speak in makes Renjun smile as he nods, taking the cigarette from you before quickly reaching into his pocket to pull out a lighter to assist you. You smile, lips hugging the bud of the cigarette as you inhale, then blow the smoke out away from Renjun who motions to light his own.

"What's the occasion?" You pinch his nose, and Renjun has no idea why, but he falls a little more for you in that moment.

"I actually have something to talk you to you about."

"Sounds serious," you joke, winking at Renjun who mentally falls down a bridge and survives. Renjun suddenly realizes that he should have gone with his gut feeling and prepare this talk a little better. A stutter comes out of him, and he uses his cigarette to give himself a small time frame to come up with a better way of saying "I am undeniably in love with your entire being, please marry me and have my children" without saying exactly that and sounding like an idiot.

You lean forward, catching Renjun's gaze with yours before you quietly say, "Am- am I masturbating too loud?"

Renjun chokes on air, almost falling backwards as his eyes widen dramatically. "No! I mean- I wouldn't know! I don't hear a thing! And even if I did, I'd not listen to it because-"

"I was just joking," you laugh, padding Renjun's shoulder and he releases about 4 kilograms of air from his lungs, then an awkward chuckle follows. "You're cute when you're flustered."

"You're cute."

"I'm cute?"

Renjun halts. Did he really just say that? "Yes?"

"It sounds like a question," you tease, licking over your bottom lip.

"It's not though," – go big or go home, Renjun – "and not only cute. You are, um, nice."

"Nice?" Your eyebrows raise in humored disbelief.

"No- I mean, yes, but- more than nice. What I'm trying to say is," Renjun closes his eyes and tries to steady his breath. This is not going as well as planned, but as he opens his eyes again, he sees you smiling at him.

"I like you."

As soon as it's out there, Renjun regrets it. Bazillions of questions rush through his mind, most of them along the lines of "did I just fuck it up?", but as he looks over at you, you're still smiling, biting onto your lower lip as you watch Renjun struggle.

"It's okay if you don't- I mean- I just wanted to get it out," Renjun tries to explain, "you know that one night where we- we drank together and- we kissed, but then you didn't remember and I thought you regretted it, but-"

"I like you too."

"I know- wait," Renjun abruptly looks up at you, still smiling at him, "you like me too?"

"You're an idiot," you say, grabbing his face with both of your hands to turn him towards you, "I actually remember the kiss, though I thought it was a dream. It actually made me realize that I... kind of liked you because I rarely dream, and never about... kissing."

For the first time since Renjun's known you, you seem shy, and it makes his heart flutter a little differently, a little more, a little faster.

"Can I kiss you?" It's out there before Renjun even realizes he's opened his mouth. Instead of giving an answer, you just press your lips against his. Renjun melts into you, forgetting everything around him. He's only focused on the feeling of your lips and your taste, the sound of your gentle breathing, and the explosions of feelings in his heart. He's so focused that he doesn't even hear Donghyuck hollering in the background.

That night, Renjun finds himself lying awake with a wide smile plastered on his face. You like him too, his mind recalls the events of this afternoon, and you've kissed him. And then you kissed him once more when he was preparing dinner, just a chaste peck, but it was still a kiss. Then it happened once again on the couch, a movie quietly playing in the background as he watched you play on your phone from his spot next to you, face hidden behind a novel. He initiated the kiss that time, and he felt you smile against his mouth.

Not being able to contain his excitement over the situation, Renjun giggles quietly, hands cupping his face as he wiggles on top of his mattress. His mind, clouded with thoughts of only you, suggests that his bed would feel a lot better if you were in it. Hence, he grabs his phone, typing in a message for you. He knows that he shouldn't rush things, he doesn't want to pressure you since he's not sure the many wounds your ex has left in your heart have healed yet. This way, by just texting you, he's giving you a way out without you having to reject him. You could just pretend you didn't see it and were already asleep, but when he sees your response to his message of 'do you want to sleep together', his heart jumps in his chest, and soon after, you gently push the door open to reveal your face to Renjun.

"Sleep together?" You giggle as you enter, closing the door behind you, "but I didn't shave."

Renjun's smile falters for a moment, then his eyes widen as he realizes what you must've thought, "n-no! I just meant spending the night together, like, sleeping next to each other!" He quickly assures, hands wiggling through the air to support his point.

You chuckle, "so you want me to go back to my room and put some panties on?"

Blood rises and gathers hotly in Renjun's cheeks, then shoots down right into his dick. The simple thought of you coming over to his room so nonchalantly, casually wearing nothing but an oversized shirt to cover your core from his eyes, has him hardening quite quickly inside his boxers.

"Do whatever you feel comfortable with," he answers quietly, wanting to sound calm and collected, but his words come out so shakily that he's sure that you know of the effect you have on him.

Without another word, but with another smile, you slip under his blanket, instantly scooting close to him to place your head on his chest. Renjun is quick to place his arm around your body, holding you close to him. He's glad that it's relatively dark in his room, so as long as you don't directly focus on his crotch, he can get away with his boner.

Having you close should put Renjun's mind at ease, but the small conversation keeps his thoughts occupied, wondering if you want to sleep with him. You wouldn't come over to his room so quickly without any underwear if you were opposed to the idea, right? But at the same time, Renjun is afraid that you felt pressured. Or maybe it was just a simple joke?

"Is that something you want?" Renjun puts it out there.

"What? To fuck?"

Renjun chuckles nervously. "Yeah."

"Do you want a short or a long answer?"

"Don't leave out any details," Renjun assures you, pressing a kiss onto your head and you sigh contently.

"You see, I wasn't sure. But don't overthink this yet, I'm not done," you chuckle, moving your hand to stroke over Renjun's stomach, and he briefly appreciates that you seem to know him so well, "I told you before that I would have, you know, cheated on my ex with you, but back then I didn't really consider the potential sex-part of that. But somewhere around the time I jokingly asked about your size, I imagined it. Like, full on scenario and, shit, it was so hot."

Renjun forces down a smile that creeps onto his face, offering you his fingers to play around with, which you gladly accept.

"I tried to stop thinking about it, you know, to save our friendship-roommate-thingy, but I couldn't, especially not when I was touching myself."

The sound Renjun was opting for was an understanding hum, what comes out instead is something more of an aroused whine that makes you turn your head to look at his face, clearly amused.

"So you thought about me when-"

"Exactly."

"I see," Renjun simply states and clears his throat, but in his mind, he's dabbing right now, and he knows you can tell by the proud look on his face.

"I wasn't sure if I should tell you about this as it would inflate your ego, but honestly, you deserve it, Renjun. I want your ego to be big, I want to praise you. Because you're a good guy," you smile, inching closer to his face until your lips almost touch his, "and that turns me on so fucking much."

Just as Renjun groans out, you press your lips against his, tongue almost immediately pushing against his lips to beg for entrance. He allows you, letting his tongue dance with yours in a passionate kiss.

You begin moving, gently pulling him on top of you, and Renjun's hazy mind screams at him that it's going to happen now, he's going to fuck you. No, scratch that: he's going to make love to you.

"What I'm trying to say is," you break the kiss to catch your breath and look right into Renjun's eyes, "I'm sure that I want it. I trust you."

"Fuck," Renjun whines, burying his head in your neck to leave kisses there.

"Renjun..." you gasp as he sucks on the sweet spot behind your ear. He hums, running his hands over your sides and you grasp onto his shoulders."Touch me."

Renjun does not need to be told twice, his left hand coming up to gently cup your breast over your shirt, massaging it only to let his thumb flick over your nipple occasionally. Meanwhile, his right hand moves down your body, fingers dragging down over the expanse of your torso as it slips lower and lower in hopes to get you even more excited.

Finally, he reaches the hem of your shirt and pushes the fabric out of his way, then lets his fingers dance over the insides of your thighs. As much as he wants to touch you, he needs to drag this out. He's still afraid of losing you, so he has to make every second count. But as soon as he feels you bucking your hips into him, wanting more and more of him as you moan, he can't hold himself back any longer, and finally lets his finger run over your folds.

You mewl at his touch, and Renjun has to bite down on his lip to not moan out himself, too aroused by the feeling of your gathered wetness seeping out of you onto his finger. Spreading your wetness over your whole core, he gently eases one of his digits into you, and both of you moan at the feeling.

Renjun really tries to only focus on your face, but how can he when the shimmering moonlight catches his eye indirectly by being reflected by something. His gaze dips down, finally taking in your naked chest for the first time only to be met with a set of shiny jewelry adorning both of your nipples.

Involuntarily, his breath hitches, the slow movement of his finger inside you faltering as he takes you in. So beautiful, is all he can think. "Didn't know you- had those," he admits, trying to cover up the effect your piercings are having on him. Given your responding chuckle, he must have failed miserably, but he can't care about that right now.

"Had them for quite a while now," you inform him, and he doesn't know whether that's just a random information to throw in or if you're trying to tell him that they're fully healed and he should, for fuck's sake, just wrap his lips around them. Either way, he goes for the ladder, placing a kiss to your jaw, then your collarbone, only to then give an experimental lick to your nipple.

With the way your back arches, pushing your breast further towards his mouth, he can tell you're sensitive. Maybe that's a side effect of the piercings, maybe you'd always been like this. Renjun just knows that he absolutely adores how responsive you are to the soft touch of his tongue against the silver barbells and the area they adorn, so he keeps going.

He's careful, not applying too much pressure as he sucks on the nubs, afraid it'll hurt you. Though, your appreciative sounds that only rise in intensity the rougher he gets hint that he doesn't have to be that at all, careful.

His finger had picked up its movements again, gently feeling you up on the inside to stimulate you, but also to prep you for his length. As aforementioned, Renjun wouldn't say that he's breaking the world record with what's resting in his boxers – admittedly very hard at the moment – but he believes that a proper preparation for what's to come is going to make said event a lot more enjoyable for you. (Sure, he's fantasized about what you'd look like struggling to take him before, but that's besides the point right now).

A second finger is added, and you pant heavenly above him, grinding your hips while simultaneously pushing your chest further against him. Renjun feels like this is heaven, especially when he decides that, no, he's not going to break you and can rile you up even more by gently grazing his teeth over your nipple, as he's immediately rewarded by a whiney moan slipping from your parted lips and a clench of your wet walls around his fingers.

It's not long until start begging him to go further. Renjun, mind hazy from how aroused he is by inflicting pleasure on you, does not waste a second before pushing his remaining clothing out of the way. A gentle hand that you're moving to wrap around him is pushed away carefully, and you chuckle, getting the hint that Renjun can't wait any longer for this either.

Once he's positioned himself right at your entrance, dragging his tip through your folds a couple of times, you move to gently lay a hand on his cheek. His eyes immediately leave where you're almost connected to look back into yours. You look beautiful, even more beautiful than you usually do. He knows this might be a side effect of him being almost united with you quite literally, but he just needs you to know. The whispering words tumble out of him before he can stop himself. There is so much adoration in your eyes in response that he's just about to go all in and confess his undying love for you, but he believes that might be a bit much for now. Instead, he slowly pushes his hips forward.

The glide is easy because you're simply wet enough to soak right through his skin and into his heart (as if that didn't happen already), and both of you cannot contain the sounds of pleasure accompanying the feeling. Renjun just hopes that your heart beats just as hard as his does right now, but he doesn't dare check.

Inevitably, the incident lead to another, and that lead to yet another until it was an occasional thing for you and Renjun to fool around. An objective bystander (Donghyuck) would lovingly call it friends with benefits, but Renjun believes that there has to be more to it. On his end, at least.

Sure, he's had really strong feelings for you way before his tip abused your g-spot until you squirted all over his thighs, but he notices that it gets worse every time you so much as touch him, a lot worse even every time you clench around him repeatedly. A new high of worse was discovered when you whispered into his ear how no man had ever made you cum like that. And yes, that had been Renjun's go to topic to talk about every time he met up with his friends. Not to brag, but you'd been with other men, but he, Renjun, is the one who made you cum the hardest, fastest and longest, and Renjun strongly believes that the whole world has to know about that. Or, in other words: he bragged.

Though sometimes, Renjun really wishes he could tune his overthinking down to just a hobby level, but unfortunately it's an unpaid full-time job, and he has to practically beat the delusion into his brain that you probably like him just as much as he likes you. Otherwise you wouldn't let him hit every night, right? You wouldn't say these things if you didn't like him back. You wouldn't trust him with your darkest sexual fantasies and let him live out his if you weren't in love with him as well, right?

"I think it's a bit sus as well," Donghyuck confirms, the sound of his nail clipper supporting his statement.

"Do you have to clip your toenails right now? I'm eating," Renjun complains, holding a protective hand over his bowl. He really wonders if no one had ever taught Donghyuck manners, or if he just forgot all about them once he moved out.

"Yes, I have a date tonight," Donghyuck explains, tongue catching between his teeth as he concentrates on clipping the sharp corner of his big toenail.

"A date?" Renjun raises his brows in interest.

"Me, Julia Roberts and a glass of the finest wine under 5000₩."

"You really got me there for a second... I swear I will hit you if one of your stinky nails flies into my soup."

"Anyway," Donghyuck sighs, "maybe she does like you. I don't know, I'll have to spend more time with her to find it out."

"Not happening," Renjun mewls, mouth still full of vegetables. "I'm not letting you near her."

"Why not?" Donghyuck finally shifts his gaze away from his toes to look at Renjun.

"Because you're the kind of person that clips their toenails at the dining table. I don't want her to think my friends are weird. She already thinks you're weird as it is. No need to make it worse," Renjun reasons, disapprovingly eyeing Donghyuck's position.

"Okay, then," Donghyuck mumbles, quietly adding, "party pooper."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Just tell me again, what were the things she let you do to her?"

"She asked me to tie her up and do with her body as I wish- wait a second, I've told you that three times already. Could it be that you're getting off to this?!" Renjun squints accusingly.

"Julia Roberts can't satisfy all my needs, you know?" Donghyuck's eyebrows jump up, seemingly utterly satisfied with his joke.

"I'm really thinking about blocking your number as soon as you walk out this door."

"No, you need me. I think you should confess, and I know just the way to do it..."

How does one write a love letter? Renjun has to admit that he is not the best with words, neither with saying nor writing them. He's always been more of a painter than an author, in his opinion, and he realizes this once again as he's sitting in front of an empty page figuring out how to put his feelings into words in the least cringy way possible.

Donghyuck had made it sound so easy, given that the moon would be in Libra soon, the perfect time for a love confession. Renjun has not a single clue about what that means, but Donghyuck swore he's heard it from his friend Yuta. Libra is ruled by Venus after all, the planet of love. Unfortunately, Renjun is not very interested in astrology. The only thing he knows is that he's an Aries, apparently, which means he's impulsive and angry all the time.

And it shows, he has to realize, as he furiously puts the pen down he's been fidgeting with for the past half an hour, and angrily pushes his chair back to get up. Enough. He doesn't need the arrangements of the planets or whatever to help him confess his love to you. He can do that all by himself. And he's going to do it right now.

Lips pressed tightly together, he steps out of his room, then marches down the short hallway to knock at your door. He hears a bit of shuffling, then the door opens to reveal your form. Immediately, you smile, and Renjun melts at the sight of your messy hair and comfy clothing. God, he just likes you so, so much.

Ah, yes. The reason why he came over here is to tell you that. And yet here he stands, definitely at a loss of words which leads him to note that, once again, he should not rely on his improvising skills when it comes to confessing to you. Or just not in general, that would be best.

"Hello, stranger," you mumble, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, and Renjun has to huff out a laugh at the nickname, given it had not been over 3/4 of an hour since you've seen him last. "What brings you to my door at this hour?"

"Uh-" Renjun starts fiddling with the hems of his sweatshirt, eyes lowering to his fingers so he notices your feet stepping closer to him. You lift your hand, pushing his chin up with your pointer finger.

"If you came here to fuck me, you can just say so. Don't be shy," you grin, moving your finger to hook into the neckline of his shirt to pull him inside your bedroom.

In retrospect, Renjun can see why it wasn't such a great idea to confess to you like that. The room around you is dark, the candles you'd lit way before he even came to knock on your door already burned down, the only source of light being the moon shining through the window; an awful symbol that will forever remind Renjun of your first night together.

Renjun has to admit that it's a little cold, sitting in your room naked with just the blanket covering his private parts, when you're not close to him providing him with the general warmth of your body and the heat that spreads when you, well, exercise.

Renjun also has to admit that your cold reaction of "oh." to his confession of the three magic words has an effect on his body temperature, but more in a symbolic kind of way. It's silent, the only thing being heard is your shallow breathing which simultaneously calms Renjun down knowing you're still there and haven't left the country because you hate him so much, and stresses him out because it makes him aware that you exist, and that he's fucked up big time. He should say something.

"I'm sorry." Okay, maybe not that.

"It's fine," you sigh, not missing a heartbeat. The blanket is pushed all the way up to your chin, and Renjun does not major in psychology, but that doesn't seem like a good sign. You sigh again, moving your head to look at him. Renjun must look destroyed (not only because of the things you did to each other just minutes prior) because your features soften immediately. "I just- did not expect that."

"I shouldn't've put you on the spot like that. It just- came out." Renjun feels like he wants to jump out of the window face forward.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like you like that. Obviously" – you motion awkwardly between your naked bodies on the opposite ends of your mattress – "it's just that, um, I thought what we had was okay."

"You're not ready," Renjun sighs, "and I will respect that."

"It's not- just that. I mean, maybe it's that. I don't know, I didn't major in psychology." Renjun huffs out at this. "I just don't see myself in a relationship. Not right now, and, to be honest, right now I don't see myself in a relationship in the future either. I-" You breath out heavily and a little shaky, "It's hard, you know?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I should've just kept it to myself."

"That's not what I meant. You shouldn't- I mean, we should be able to talk about our feelings, right? It's not a bad thing that you said it. It's just- I can't-"

"It's okay. Really, I understand," Renjun mumbles, but quite frankly, he doesn't really understand. How can you not want this? If you feel the same about him, why can't you just- date him. Make it official. He's the only one fucking you anyway. "I should go."

His heart feels extremely heavy as he gets up to collect his clothes, slipping at least his boxers on before opening your door.

"Hey," you stop him just at the door frame, making him turn to look at you, "are we okay?"

Are we okay? Renjun takes a deep breath. No. No, he is not okay, not in the slightest. He feels like his heart has been used as a punching bag in a teenage boy's room after his mom wouldn't let him skip school to play online games all day. Renjun feels hurt and sad and, honestly, a little bit angry.

"Yeah," he says, releasing the breath through his nose, nodding while facing the ground, then you again. There's a sad smile on your face, and he presses his lips together, nodding once before he closes your door.

The second the clicking noise of the door is heard, hot tears gather in Renjun's eyes, and he hurries over to his room before they can run down his cheeks. He'd much rather just soak them in his pillow than wipe them off the floor in front of your room.

Renjun doesn't know how to speak to you. Hence, he doesn't, staying over at Donghyuck's new place for a couple of days instead, but to no avail. You just wouldn't leave his head. Plus, your advances of talking to him, a genuine text message to ask if he's okay which he always responded to with nothing but thick, painful silence were not helping him get over you by any means.

Renjun isn't quite sure what he's feeling. There's a whole lot of sadness clouding his thoughts, of course, you'd practically rejected him. There's also a lot of anger, a little directed at you, some directed at himself, but most of it directed at your stupid douche of an ex boyfriend who is the sole reason why Renjun can't have you. But then, he's also scared because what if one day you'd decide to try it with him, but then realize that it's not working? Wouldn't that be worse? Maybe.

Renjun is just exhausted. He yearns to be with you, but he can't. He cannot risk hurting you just because he's still angry with you over something that's not your fault. At the same time, he knows that it'll only get worse the longer he waits. So he does just that, but anxiously.

That is until there's a knock on his door (read: the door to Donghyuck's room that he's been barricading for the past days leaving Donghyuck to sleep on his own couch). Renjun's imagination runs wild and his heart aches at the visual image of you standing there, eyebrows scrunched together in worry, but then-

"Open up, fucknut."

Donghyuck. Renjun's sad facade drops into one of pure irritation. Unfortunately, Renjun knows that Donghyuck won't leave him alone – a lesson he had to learn the hard way during their high school days, he doesn't like talking about the incident. He's never been the same since, their friendship hasn't either. Also, it's, like, Donghyuck's room, so he has practically no right to keep him outside whatsoever.

"Go away," he tries anyway.

"I will stay here knocking all night, or climb through the window."

"Why?" Renjun whines, stomping his feet on the ground like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"I'm interested how much your dick changed since high school," Donghyuck laughs, but Renjun sprints towards the door, opening it and pulling Donghyuck inside by the neckline of his shirt.

"Will you shut the fuck up? I do not need to be reminded of that," Renjun spits, then closes the door behind them, a deep crease in between his eyebrows.

"So you didn't like your first blowjob?" Donghyuck's voice is shrill and loud and accompanied by a sharp smirk.

"We've already talked about that that was not the problem," Renjun mumbles through gritted teeth. Donghyuck flops down on his own bed for the first time in days, sighing exaggeratingly with his arms crossed behind his head. He breathes a couple of times, and Renjun does nothing but stand there watching awkwardly until Donghyuck re-opens his eyes to look at him.

"Woah, you look like absolute horse shit, are you okay?"

"Um." Renjun blinks, not knowing how to respond to that. Sure, he could've slept a little more and maybe taken a shower, but for what? You weren't coming to see him anyway, so what's the use?

Donghyuck scrambles off the bed, getting unnecessarily close to Renjun's face to examine the dark circles under his friend's eyes, not shy to use his fingers to squish at the purple-ish skin.

"Hyuck-"

Donghyuck gazes into Renjun's eyes, a smirk forming on his lips. "Are we about to kiss right now?"

Renjun whines, pushing the younger back onto the bed by his shoulders.

"Oh, eager are we?"

"Shut up! I'm having a crisis," Renjun sighs, dragging his feet over the carpeted floor towards the obnoxious gaming chair that he's spend too many hours sitting on, contemplating over how his life is going to go from now on, and sits.

"So you're finally going to tell me what happened? I know that you're a 'I need space' kind of person, but sometimes it's good to talk about your feelings with a pal, you know?"

Renjun is once again surprised how Donghyuck can be such a great person.

"I confessed."

"Okay... and given the fact that you're moaning around in my room instead of hers, I'm assuming it didn't go well?" Donghyuck sits at the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees and places his face in his hands.

"Exactly."

"What happened exactly?"

"Well, I was inside of her. And she kept telling me how good I'm fucking her, praising me and keeping me so close, there were candles lit around us and- I just couldn't hold it in-" Renjun whines, reliving the moment vividly.

"You told her you love her while you were fucking her?" Donghyuck deadpans.

"...yes?"

"You are a crazy bastard, Renjun," Donghyuck laughs, patting a hand on Renjun's thigh, "honestly, I don't know why that didn't work, if it had been me-"

"Are you being sarcastic?" Renjun frowns. He's usually great at detecting Donghyuck's jokes, but he obviously hasn't been himself lately.

"No, I'm serious. Just imagine you inside me, whispering 'I love you' for the first time. God, I think I'd nut immediately and then cry," Donghyuck sighs dreamily.

"Donghyuck, I'm asking this in all honesty: do you have a crush on me?"

"All bromance, dude," Donghyuck confirms and Renjun lets out a relieved breath. He then further explains the rest of what happened that night, not even leaving out the details about how he cried in his pillow while listening to "Back To You" by Kun and Xiaojun all night long.

"Okay, buddy," Donghyuck sighs, scooting a little closer to Renjun whilst almost slipping off his mattress, then takes the older's hands in his. "She just wasn't ready. It's not your fault. Don't beat yourself up over this, yeah? You'll get a good night of sleep, and then you're going home tomorrow. You have to talk to her."

"But..." Renjun sighs.

"But what? What's the worst thing that could happen? She already rejected you, and she clearly misses you," Donghyuck says, motioning his head towards Renjun's phone that's lit up with yet another message from you.

"You're right."

"Of course I am," Donghyuck nods, then pulls Renjun up from his chair, then gets up as well and presses a really wet kiss to Renjun's cheek. Disapprovingly, Renjun motions to wipe it off, but Donghyuck catches his wrist just in time. "No, don't. I want there to be traces of me when you go back to her."

"You're so incredibly weird," Renjun retorts, cringing at the cool, wet spit drying on his skin, then gasps as he's pulled on the bed by Donghyuck.

"One night with me and you'll forget all about her," Donghyuck promises, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes and Renjun can't help but break out a smile. They end up spending the night together, and Renjun has to push Donghyuck off him and keep him away with his feet planted against Donghyuck's ass, but it's all playful and good, and it makes Renjun finally forget about his worries about you. It's moments like these where he's most thankful for having Donghyuck in his life.

Renjun can't move. He's been standing here for five whole minutes, keys in hand already hovering in front of the lock, but he can't bring himself to push them inside, turn them, and face you. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to Donghyuck. But he'll be so disappointed with him, and Renjun'd never be hearing the end of the 'Renjun has no balls' jokes, so he makes a decision.

"I'm home," Renjun announces, not quite sure why he settled for this introduction, but that's just what he usually says. He kicks his shoes off, then turns to hang up his coat when he suddenly hears flopping footsteps that approach him so fast he can hardly comprehend them before someone wraps their arms around him from the back.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, he immediately recognizes your scent. Your arms wrap tighter around him, almost cutting off his air and he wonders if you've always been this strong.

"I missed you so fucking much," you finally say, voice muffled by the way your face is pressed into Renjun's back.

"I missed you too," he admits, grabbing your wrists gently to pull you off of him. He turns around to face you, and, fuck, you still look so beautiful that he feels all his feelings bubble back up like he's ready to blurt his love into your face all over again.

"Don't. Ever. Leave me. Again," you say, an eyebrow raised as you punctuate every word with a poke of your finger to his chest. Renjun grins stupidly. God, you're so perfect. How could he've ever been mad at you?

"I missed your nose," you admit, gently tapping the tip of his nose with your finger.

"My nose?"

"Yes, your nose," you motion to stroke over it, and Renjun's heart flutters, and he feels like he's sliding down the biggest water slide in the world, but instead of water, he rushes right into a pool that is just filled with you. He lets you drag him outside to the balcony, an admittedly very small one, but it's just big enough for the both of you to sit comfortably.

You pull out two cigarettes, and Renjun gladly accepts. You light it for him, then your own, and after a minute or so of smoking in silence, you speak up.

"So, I've been thinking," you say, and Renjun has to stop his stomach from dropping because after that scene at the front door, there's no way that you're going to tell him that you never want to see him again. Right?

"While you were gone, I'm gonna be honest, it didn't feel good. It felt really bad, actually. I realized that I did not only miss my daily dose of orgasms, but just your presence. I like being around you. I will forever be thankful that you even took me in in the first place. And I realized that I don't want to spend even just a day without you. Or you know, at least, knowing you'll come back soon, you get what I mean?"

Renjun grins. There is nothing he can do or say except for grinning widely and occasionally inhaling his cigarette.

"What I'm trying to say is," you say, taking a deep breath, "and this is kinda embarrassing after I lashed out on you like that – I'm sorry, by the way – and it's totally cool if that's not cool for you, but even though I can't say these words right now, I want to give it a try."

Motionless, Renjun keeps grinning. Then, his toes begin wiggling and he turns his head towards you who sits there anxiously nibbling at your fingernails awaiting his answer.

"I would fucking love that," Renjun finally says, still smiling widely, and you immediately mirror it. You scoot a little closer to him, placing your hand on his thigh with your palm facing upwards, then send him a look.

It's weird because Renjun's held your hand before, and he's been way more intimate with you, too, but as soon as your fingers intertwine, he gets a whole new set of butterflies fluttering around his intestines.

"Um, Renjun?"

Renjun hums, raising his brows to motions you to go on. You avert your gaze uncharacteristically shyly, then lean towards his ear to whisper, "can you say it again?"

You pull away, not looking at him, instead taking a last drag and pushing the butt of your cigarette into the ash trey. Renjun stifles a chuckle by biting down on his lips, then hooks his finger under your chin to turn you face to look at him. Your eyes are wide, and a little nervous, and he must admit that he finds that absolutely adorable.

Renjun gazes deeply into your eyes, tilting his head slightly before whispering, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your eyes switch between looking into his left and right one, even your grip on his hand tightens. Renjun feels intensely proud to get such a reaction from you.

"Again."

Renjun leans closer, catching a quick glimpse at your lips before looking into your eyes again. "I love you."

"Again," you whisper shakily, eyebrows scrunching gently.

"I love you." And with that, he closes the distance between your faces. Your lips feel familiarly soft moving so gently against his, and he's actually missed the scent of smoke that sometimes accompanies your kisses. Suddenly, the kiss intensifies. You start kissing him with vigor, your free hand moving to pull him closer to you.

The kiss feels desperate and needy, and he can feel every word you said earlier in the way you push yourself against him. It's then when you get up, pulling him along right into his bedroom.

Renjun doesn't waste any time closing the door, and pulls you into his chest, lips colliding once again as you quickly strip each other of your clothes while making your way over to the bed.

The only time your lips part is when you're taking off your shirts, and when Renjun gently guides you to lay down. He knows your body like the back of his hand, but he's still pleasantly surprised at how wet you are as his fingers ghost over your folds.

You desperately hum against his lips, pushing your hips upwards. Renjun gets the hint, and just in time with his tip nudging at your entrance, he breaks the kiss. He almost melts at the way your eyes are glossed over, and he leans in to peck you one last time before slowly pushing in.

"I love you."

You whine this time, desperately pulling him closer, and he leans his forearms on either side of your head. Your arms wrap around his waist, gently stroking over his sides and back as he bottoms out, then sets a slow pace. You let out soft sounds, quite the change from your usual loud moaning when he's being rough with you.

Renjun feels like he's in heaven. He knows that these exact thoughts go through his head quite often, but there is no other way to describe it (as aforementioned, he's not that good with words). Though your effect on his body, and the things you do to and/or with him, are anything but holy, he feels the need to call you angelic. It's certainly not the first time your warm walls hug him, but it feels different. Renjun is not one to compare sexual encounters, especially not when the general vibes of them differs so tremendously, but this time he feels so much closer to you, and he really likes that.

Renjun is going soft on you, taking his time to really make you feel all of him. There is no rush, just pure love that he feels the need to show you with more than just his words, but with gentle actions that prove how well he knows you and your body. He wants to be the person who shows you what it feels like to be loved.

Renjun doesn't know whether it lasted seconds, minutes, hours or days. He only knows that once he finished, you were clinging onto his body, tears staining the soft skin of your cheeks because he had succeeded in showing you his love. In that moment, as bizarre as it might seen because he was sleeping with you, he found you really started trusting him. You'd been so afraid of being played all over again that you simply couldn't accept his love for you until you were certain you could trust him with the remainings of your heart. And Renjun feels really proud of that.

He may or may not have called in sick for work twice this week to spend more time with you. It's not like you're really doing anything besides cuddling, talking, or gifting each other orgasms, just simply being as close to one another as possible. Still, Renjun does not have the balls to formally ask you out.

"You know how sunflowers always move so they're pointing at the sun?" Renjun says, moving his Rook to A5 on the checkered wooden board before mimicking the way the sun inches over the sky on the daily. You grin, nod, then take out his Rook with your Knight.

"What happens when the sun sets and then rises, do they just-" Renjun snaps his head back to its original position, East.

In response, your eyebrows scrunch in amusement, lips tightening before you can't hold back your laughter. Renjun grins widely, from one ear to another, especially when your laughing escalates which results in you accidentally kicking the chess board with your knee which causes all the figures to fall and roll over the entirety of your tabletop. He's not sure if you noticed, but he was losing terribly just now.

"Oh man, now I ruined our game night," you giggle, wiping a single tear that left your eyes and sniffling once, very harshly. Renjun's heart and stomach are currently fighting over who's got more butterflies to tickle his insides.

"It's okay," he responds lowly, sitting with his back against the couch only to then take your hand and gently guide you to sit on his lap. You chuckle, but comply straightening your back as your hands come to lay on his shoulders.

Renjun strokes over your hair, smiling up at you, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips that you reciprocate. "You know, I have a few other things in mind that we could do instead."

"Oh, really? Another game?" You grin, eyes fluttering shut as Renjun's lips come in contact with your neck.

"Call it what you want," Renjun mumbles, earning a snicker from you.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about something," you sigh happily, thoughts already distracted because Renjun – not to brag – just knows how to touch you to get you going.

"You do?" Renjun pulls back, brows rising to show his interest in your talking.

"Yeah," you say, nervously biting your lower lip. Old Renjun would've felt a rush of anxiety rippling through his body, but new Renjun, or as Donghyuck likes to call him: weeny lover boy Renjun, can't do anything but stare at you lovingly.

His heart begins beating a little faster as you lean forward, your breath ghosting over his ear has goosebumps covering his body in the best way. "I-" you kiss the shell of his ear which gives Renjun the chills, "I love you too."

Nothing. There is nothing in Renjun's head for a split second. He stands there, in his own mind, a wide area of nothing but white nothingness until he finds his way back to reality. You love him? You love him back?

The surprise must be written all over his face as he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him, a chuckle coming from you. Renjun is not sure what's going on, but his heart is simultaneously beating faster and slower at the same time. A doctor would look incredibly anxious staring at the heart rate monitor if he was at a hospital right now. His apple watch would tell him to stop whatever the fuck he's doing right now, if he had one.

"Seriously?"

"Yes," you laugh, and finally Renjun can put on a smile. No, he doesn't put it on, it forms itself, spreading over his entire face before he crashes you into his chest, hugging you so tightly he's surprise your rips don't collapse. Then he pulls you into a kiss, but not only one, but dozens of them, all over your face until you push him away giggling.

"Hold on," you say, still grinning.

"Okay." Renjun is the happiest guy on earth.

You scramble off his lap, getting on one knee in front of him, and this time it's Renjun's turn to scrunch his eyebrows weirdly before breaking out in laughter.

"Huang Renjun, would you like to be my boyfriend?"

© 2022 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[notjohnlegere]

HI!!! I loveeee your lil fics so much! I was just wondering if you could do one where the reader is in a relatively new-ish relationship with Timothee and he’s staying over and the reader puts on an old tour tshirt of like a hot male singer to go to bed and Timothee is like, “Damn do I have some competition?” And its super fluffy. THANKS XXX

Hi! Thank you so much and thanks for your request! Now, let me preface this by saying I know you said conventionally attractive male singer but when the thought of Ed Sheeran popped into my head it was too cute and funny to let go. I think this turned out adorable though! I was laughing to myself the whole time while writing it!

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Competition?

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Competition?

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

soooo fluffy my heart almost couldn’t contain itself. this is one of the cutest and funniest things ive written in my opinion.

*obligatory mobile formatting apology*

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You were so excited you felt like you couldn’t contain it. Finally, finally, Timothée had a day off. You were still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, getting used to one another, adoring every little quirk. You had been together for 3 months, but due to the nature of his job it felt more like 3 weeks. You had many sweet FaceTime moments with him, he made sure of it, but it just wasn’t the same as being face to face. Holding him in your arms was an entirely different experience than blowing kisses to a phone screen.

He had come home two days ago. He had an interview to do yesterday, but today he was all yours. When he had told you that he was yours tomorrow, too? Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. Two days in a row you were going to have his full attention, you couldn’t believe it. It felt like heaven.

You had spent the most wonderful day together in your apartment. Doing nothing, talking about everything. You held him, he held you, and that’s all you needed. All you could desire in the world was staring into his gorgeous eyes. So that’s what you did. You cooked dinner together that evening. It felt so domestic to cook with him. You might’ve been stepping way too far way too soon, but you couldn’t help but imagine your future. I would love to cook with you for the rest of my life.

After dinner, you felt the evening drawing to a close, but you didn’t want it to end. You fumbled with the idea while you washed dishes, before you finally gathered the courage to say it while you were putting them away.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to stay over tonight?” You felt so shy. What would he think about your idea? Was it too soon? All your thoughts, though, were shattered when he smiled at you and spoke up.

“Sure.”

Now here you were, doing some last minute preparations in the bathroom. He was in your room. He was in your bed. You felt like you could vomit at the thought. Your heart raced as you imagined him under your favorite blanket.

Brushing out your hair, putting on some extra deodorant, and brushing your teeth, you finally felt prepared. Well, as prepared as you would ever be. You tugged on your panties and your favorite oversized tee shirt. You wanted to be as comfortable as possible, but still look cute. This is really happening. I am about to spend the night with my boyfriend. Your thoughts raced. You had so many questions. Did he snore? What were his sleeping patterns like? Would you spoon? Would he mind if you lied on his chest? You brushed these thoughts aside, though. They would be answered soon enough.

Shyly, you made your way out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. You felt your heart stop. There was your boy, just in his favorite sweatpants, lying on top of your bed on his back. His phone was in his hands as he shuffled through different songs, made evident by the fact he was connected to your Bluetooth speaker. Of course his sweats were tucked into his socks.

You crawled into bed next to him and lied down, leaning your head against his shoulder. You took a peek at his phone and your face visibly flushed. He was going through a playlist that was titled with your name and a shooting star emoji. He must’ve taken notice to your gaze because he glanced at you and spoke up.

“Whenever you hear a song and say I love this song! I add it to this playlist.” He admitted. “Or if you just start randomly dancing to a song? It goes in here too.”

You only blushed harder. Fuck you, Timothée Chalamet, you perfect creature.

“I didn’t know you paid that much attention to the music I like.” You said. He smiled.

“I am well aware of your obsession with Mr. Sheeran.” He said with a snicker. His eyes glanced down at your tee, which just happened to be a divide tour tee. You gasped.

“I am not obsessed with him!” You shrieked, lying straight through your teeth. “I don’t like all that gushy romance stuff.”

“Riiiiiight.” Timothée said, playfully rolling his eyes at you. “He and I aren’t gonna have a problem, are we? Do I need to ask him myself?” In an instant, he was opening the Instagram app. He pulled up the all-too-familiar teddysphotos account and opened a chat.

“Don’t you dare, Chalamet!” You yelped, jumping onto him and reaching for his phone with embarrassment and desperation. His phone slipped out of his hand, and with a crash, the both of you were on the floor. Your face was red and he was a giggling mess.

“I gotta scope out the competition!” He shouted through a fit of giggles. You wanted to slap him. And kiss him. And love him.

“He is not, I repeat not, your competition.” You fussed.

“Okay, okay.” He said, putting his hands up in defense. He was still giggling like a child.

“Thank you.” You huffed.

A moment of silence was shared in between the two of you when his giggles calmed down.

“Harry Styles?”

Timothée let out a yelp when you slapped him on the back of the head.

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ao3 is johnlegere, find my fics there too. requests are open, send one in my ask box! hope you enjoyed :)!

[letarasstuff]

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

[spellbook-gayboy]

Just An Old Man With An Shield: Exclusive Interview With The First American Superhero by Christina Cabello

If you were to ask a person on the street to name a famous superhero, they’d likely answer with a member of the Guardians or Capes Incorporated, or perhaps a solo hero like Pangaea, Shrapnel or Demigod. But it’s also likely that a good chunk of them would answer with one man in particular: Frontline.

And for good reason, too. The man is often referred to as ‘the Tom Hanks of the superhero community’, in terms of both glowing reputation and paternal charm. Time Magazine chose him as Super Person Of The Year not once, not twice, but three times (1945, 1972 and 1990). His statue stands tall to greet visitors to the Museum Of American Superheroes, sculpted from pure copper and draped in the American flag. His career is only second in length to the Immortal, starting on the blasted fields of The Second World War and ending with his apparent death in 1994. However, he was recently discovered to be alive, undergoing months of physical and psychological rehabilitation before making his grand return against members of the Order. Needless to say, he’s quite the public figure. 

Which is why we were surprised to have him reach out to us at the Cape-Watch headquarters in Seattle, asking for me in particular due to a ‘glowing reference from the kid’, who he later identified as Invincible, who the more avid readers might remember from my opinion piece made last month. So, as any reporter with a nose for good stories would, I caught a plane over to the Pentagon, got directed to a clean and well-lit interview room, and met with him. What follows below is the recorded contents of my interview with him, minus questions not authorised for public release by government officials overseeing the interview:

---

Well, sir, before we get into the questions, is there you’d like to tell the audience?: Well, I guess I’d say it’s good to be back! I’ve been away for a long time, and I’m keen to get back into the old heroism business!

Okay, first question! Now this one is pretty loaded, but how would describe your first few months in the modern world?: I actually spent the first couple of weeks in a coma. Once I was up, it was non-stop physiotherapy and psych evaluations and just making sure my body wouldn’t fall apart outside of the infirmary. Hell, by the time the news broke that I was alive, I was already cleared for field duty!

Speaking of field duty, I hear you’ve been recently rooming with the Guardians Of The Globe. What are you thoughts on the new lineup?: Oh, they’re great! Of course, I’ve known Immortal since ‘42 and Samson since he was about 14, but the new ones are just as great! That Rex kid’s got a real firecracker personality but he’s also really mellow when he needs to be, Kate really helped me with getting used to all the modern things, and Rae apparently has a collection of these old superhero shows that I never got the chance to watch the first time around. And of course, Monster Girl holds her own in the sparring matches, and Robot’s got a brain on him I haven’t seen before!

What would you consider to be the strangest thing you’ve encountered thus far in the modern world?: Definitely Bluetooth! Still bugs me how you can wear headphones with no wires and play music like they’re still there!

Moving on, have you met many of the hero teams that popped up since you disappeared? Any thoughts on them?: I’ve met Capes Incorporated! My issues with the idea of corporate superheroes aside, they’re an alright bunch. Apparently, the lady with the boxing gloves was a big fan of mine growing up! Aside from them, I did have the misfortune of meeting Fight Force. Whoever trained them needs to hang up the cape!

Any plans now that you’re back?: You know what? I’m gonna get a burger. Seems basic, I know, but what can I say? Oh, with a hotdog and soda, too! If we’re being serious, though, I would like to see a movie or go to a carnival, if those still exist. Do we- do we still have carnivals?

Is there anything, or anyone, you miss from before you disappeared?: Well, I lost my Sony Walkman when I went, so there’s that! As for people... I miss a lot of people: my pals from the Army, Soprano, Pa- I mean the original Red Rush, umm... (AN: at this point, Frontline goes quiet for a few moments while staring at the floor and quietly sniffling), and the kids in the Teen Team, my Teen Team. You can- you can include that in the article, don’t mind me. Just an... old man missing what he had, is all.

Alright. Moving on, how would you describe your experience as a member of superhero teams?: Uh, mostly positive, in my experience! As you know, I was on the Defenders Of The Free World during the war, which was basically just like my old unit. There was a year, year and a half break after that, then we formed the Guardians in ‘47. I was on-and-off with them ‘til I made Breakthrough in the 80s. After that broke up, I got saddled with the Teen Team, and that lasted pretty much up until I disappeared. 

Now, I understand if this question’s too difficult, but...: Ah. I won’t... insult you by pretending that it didn’t hurt. Fact is, I knew most of them. Hell, I trained two of them! It hurt like hell, but... guess I’m also glad that Samson and Immortal were still there to help me through it. They really were my rock through that. 

And final question, do you have any plans re your hero career? Are you planning to go solo for now, or maybe join a team?: Well, I might do a bit of solo work, but I’m definitely gonna join a team. Maybe the Guardians, maybe something else. If I’m being honest, part of me’s been wanting to make my own team. I’ll get back to you on that when I clear it with the higher-ups!

And that’s all the questions I have for today! Any last comments for the readers?: Uh, mostly that you’ll hopefully be seeing more of me very soon. And, God willing, I might have a team of my own, or at least a spot on one!

---

Sifting through previous interviews dated before his disappearance, I saw that he still had the same calm charisma from decades before. Only a couple of times did his composure even begin to waver, and that was due to the emotional distress of events completely outside of his control. Apart from those moments, he always kept up a veneer of warmth and kindness, always making me feel at ease over the course of my questioning. What wasn’t described in the transcript was the look he gave me: a half-smile, like the kind your favourite elderly relative would give you, accentuated by the subtle crow’s feet around his cool brown eyes. He seemed proud of me, and yet had only known me for a few minutes. 

What didn’t match the earlier interviews, however, was one element in particular: despite the aura of kindness surrounding him, underneath it lay a sort of quiet sadness, only noticeable in the few moments he showed vulnerability. Perhaps his absence has begun to weigh on him, or maybe the revelation of how many were lost in that time has only just begun to hit him with full force. 

But whatever side of himself Frontline chose to show in that interview, the truth remains the same: he’s back, and hopefully here to stay this time around.

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Texted Love

Henry Cavill x Fem!Reader

Part 5

Central Masterlist | Texted Love

"Wait a minute...are you showering?!" The words blurting out of his mouth as he stared at the screen of his phone with much interest. Ignoring the questioning stares of his colleagues, the Brit hurriedly pulled the device closer to his figure, wanting to at least provide you with some privacy on his end.

You weren't naked on the screen if that was what you were thinking. You had simply placed the phone on top of the toilet lid, capturing the gorgeous sight of your white ceiling. The sound of your giggling accompanied by the sound of the showerhead being switched on echoing through his airpods.

"What? I thought it was time to take this relationship to the next level." You teased with a small snicker at the end. Rolling his eyes, he retorted, "Wow. Now I can say I've showered with you without ever been there physically." You snorted.

"Exactlyyyy."

"...Not even a peek?"

And then suddenly, your little head popped into the bottom left corner of the screen and what was to be considered a unflattering angle. You hid the bottom half of your face, but he could tell you were grinning by the slight squint of your eyes. Droplets of water sliding down the curve of your nose before falling onto the device itself. Behind you, he could see the steam clouding around the small room. He smirked.

"There's your peek. Like it?"

"Absolutely loved it. You have me blushing like a prepubuscent boy who saw a little bit too much of ankle from some schoolgirl." You barked a laugh.

"Ooo, is your heart hammering in its chest?" He smiled.

"Oh most definitely. Here have a listen." He then aimed for the phone to lay against his clothed chest. You let out a gasp before he pulled the device away and aimed it back to record his face.

"Henry! So you do have a heart!" It halfheartedly glared at you.

"Of course I do. It only beats for you. Now go finish showering." There was a short silence after he had spoken. The silence having been so sudden and uncharacteristic of you, that Henry couldn't help but feel a small level of concern for you. Had he said something wrong? Did you take a tumble? He remembered that one interview where you mentioned having been so clumsy that you once slipped in the shower and hit the back of your head quite harshly. Oh no.

"Are-" "You're not gonna hang up right?" He noted the way your voice sounded so...small. Almost as if it was afraid of the answer.

"No. Not unless you want me to...?" "Uh, don't hang up. It's just that...ah, I don't know. It gets to quiet at home." He frowned.

"Where's Terry?"

"Probably at some dick appointment or something." He chuckled.

"Then I'll stay on call for as long as you like, doll." The sweet sound of your giggle was music to his ears. Then there was silence in the background, he figured you finished showering.

"Are you on the Witcher set?" He glanced to his surroundings, it was the inside of a tavern. Things were still being moved and set up, extras crowded the corners as they were being told where they would be positioned and so on. He was decked out in his Geralt of Rivia outfit, the leather of the clothing tight around his torso and biceps.

"Yeah, we're about to start filming soon." He answered, his eyes watching the Director speaking with the camera crew.

"Oof, I bet you look like a whole ass meal." Why did you manage to always make him laugh? Seriously, how the hell did you do that?

"And you don't?"

"You right, you right. I'm the meal and you're the delicious dessert that I've been waiting to eat all night." Now that really got his heart racing. And thank god for Bluetooth or we'd be having some issues right now.

"Oh? Rather bold coming from the woman who seemingly refuses my advances for us to physically meet."

"Oi, oi. You didn't have to come after me like that. I swear we'll meet eventually." He huffed, puffing out his chest as he did so.

"Well you owe me after rejecting me so many times."

...

"Well you owe me after rejecting me so many times."

BITCH.

“Huh? You’re glitching. What you say again?” 

“I said,  well you owe me after rejecting me so many times.”

“Nope, still can’t hear you.” It was upon seeing your chesire cat grin that he understood that you were messing with him. Earning a slight huff from the male. 

“Rude,” he chuckled amusedly, “Anyways, I do have to go now. Bye darling.”

“Send me pictures! Bye hot stuff!”

...

It was around 12 a.m. when all of a sudden your phone started vibrating in the middle of a movie you were watching with your manager, Terry. Yawning a bit, you flipped the device to face you before clicking the button to turn it on. The sudden brightness blinding you for a mere second before you were bale to read the notifications.

Instagram 12:23 a.m.

(U/n): Henry Cavill has sent you a message.

(U/n): Henry Cavill has sent you a photo.

(U/n): Henry Cavill has sent you a photo.

(U/n): Henry Cavill has sent you a photo.

You snorted.

“No way...”

Tapping on the notification, you unlocked the phone and waited as the system took you to the app. It was then that you had a heart attack

“(y/n)? ( Y/N)?! Girl why are you on the floor?! What you mean look at yo’ phone????” Grabbing the device, Terry looked at the screen before screaming.

“FUCKING RAIL ME ALREADY!!!!”

.

..

.

(henrycavill): (U/n) Your wish is my command ;)

...

(A/N): For a a moment, I thought I got over this man. But nah, I rewatched The Witcher and I fell back in love. I swear-

Hope you enjoyed!

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 034

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave; They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Brave

Broken hearts are made for two

One for me and one for you

Tell me have you heard the news

We are now in love

Fall break from school is scheduled during the last three days of the last week of October. Before she can take some time off, Iris has midterm articles to write and grade. Barry is busy testing DNA samples or whatever it is CSIs do so they don’t see each other for several days after he leaves her house the morning after Wally’s party.

On the Wednesday of Fall Break, the first day off, Iris lets herself sleep in until almost 10, and then she packs up her bag, stuffing a notebook, a couple of pens, and her laptop in, before dressing comfortably in a pair of dark leggings, and a white oversized CCU hoodie she stole from her brother. Throwing on a pair of white low-top Chuck Taylors, Iris heads out to Jitters. It’s a rainy day, and other than workers who’ve no choice, not many people are out. A storm is brewing for later in the night, the sky dark and cloudy, but for the moment, it’s just a steady rain that has Iris walking carefully to her car and driving a lot slower, thanking her lucky stars that she finds a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop.

Back in high school, especially once her dad had gotten her a used car during the beginning of senior year, Iris and Linda would come to Jitters to do homework or stare at the college boys who would come in. The coffee shop has expanded since then, buying the small antique store that had been next door and adding more seating and a bar that specializes in alcoholic coffee brews. It’s still one of Iris’s favorite places to work because now the manager is a young Black woman with wild curly hair always dyed in one bright color or another and a soft spot for mid to late 90s R & B female singers. The shop is comfortable, with couches and overstuffed chairs in mismatched browns and beiges and blues set up near the walls and windows and several tables, two- and four-tops, taking up the space in the middle. Two of the walls are exposed brick and the others are painted stark white and feature framed prints in wild colors. It’s changed since she was a child, but Iris likes to think that she’s changed with it, that as this integral part of Central City has grown and added light and color and comfort, so too has Iris.

Today, her plan is to outline at least two entire stories from interviews she’s completed over the last couple of weeks before she even thinks about leaving the coffee shop. She settles into one of her favorite spots, a soft navy armchair behind a small circular table. She sets up her laptop, her notebook with her notes, her pens, and once a waiter drops off her brown sugar latte and a chocolate muffin, she lets the sound of the rain, and the Erykah Badu playing on the speakers, get her into her work.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Iris looks up just as Barry stops beside her. She’s been at Jitters for just over three hours now, and her shoulders are cramped and she’s coffee high and hungry. The rain is still pounding down, so hard that it looks like it’s raining sideways, and Iris curses her inability to get any work done in her own home. Besides all that, she’s reeling. She’s just outlined a story of a man explaining the story of the woman he’d loved his entire life: from growing up together in a small city in North Carolina, to becoming best friends and de facto siblings when his parents died and her dad agreed to foster him; from not dating but seeming like it in high school, to falling for other people in college; from having other spouses and children to one night of passion before they found their way back to each other when she decided to leave her husband after his wife died. It was a ride from start to finish, such a roller coaster of feelings—of love and pain and joy and heartbreak—that make Iris feel a bit heavy with them, a little loopy with them.

Barry stands to the side of her, towering above her, in as simple an outfit as what she’s wearing, a pair of black joggers and a white sweatshirt. She’s startled that he's there because she figures that he should be at work, but her heart does tick up at the sight of him. That is, until she lets her eyes rake over his lean frame. He looks a little...down, like a physical manifestation of the story she’s just outlined. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes aren’t carrying their usual sparkle, in addition to the darkening bags that frame them. He’s also a little stubbly, his jaw covered in a fine layer of coarse hair, his pallor a bit ashen.

(Iris will also admit that she thinks he looks sort of, well, good, like this; but that’s neither here nor there and she feels terrible—and maybe a bit perverted—that she’s lusting after him when he’s obviously going through something.)

“Hey,” she responds softly, and she stands up to assess him further. He seems so much taller than her like this, when they’re both in sneakers. She hasn’t seen him since the morning after Wally’s party a week ago when he dropped her back off at her car after spending the night at her place. They’ve talked a bunch and FaceTimed once, but she’s missed him. She reaches up into his hair, rubbing at his scalp a little until his eyes close and he lets out a soft little moan. She keeps at it and then touches gingerly at his face, at some of the moles dotting his cheeks, at the stubble he’s grown. He reaches up to stop her, eyes still closed, and it startles her a little bit. She goes to pull her hand back, but then he holds on to her wrist to bring her hand down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She’s never seen him like this. He’s always so open and, maybe not happy, but never so melancholy. There is always a pep to his step, as her grandma used to say, a smile on his face that always said that he feels some sort of contentment in his life. And obviously, people are allowed to have days like this. But it does something to Iris, to see him this way. She wants to lash out at whoever has made him look like this, like he’s drowning in emotions that he can’t easily pull himself out of.

“Bear, you okay?”

He nods, a little woefully, and he catches her eyes again. She bites at her lip as she stares back at him and, on impulse, she leans up to kiss him. It’s just a little more than a peck, something to tell him that she’s there with him; but he takes it a step further, kissing her harder, biting at her lip enough that there’s more pain than she’s expecting. She moans at him and he pulls back, breathing labored.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, a little, but I didn’t hate it.”

That gets a more real smile out of him, and he thumbs at her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess my good girl is a little bad.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gives him a look, sobering for a minute. “Bear, what’s up? You okay?”

He doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he nods at her table and asks, “you get a lot of work done?”

She eyes him, wanting to ask again. But she knows how she is when she doesn’t want to talk about something and so she lets it go. For the moment.

“Yeah. Or, at least, I’ve done most of what I set out to do.”

He nods, casts his eyes out of the glass, looking at the rain for a moment, watching it fall in heavy sheets. Normally, Iris likes the rain. It’s soothing and she enjoys how it makes the world take a moment to slow down. When she was a little girl, her grandma (her dad’s mother who grew up somewhere at the bottom of Georgia) used to say that when it was raining, and particularly when it was storming, that the Lord was doing His work and that it was the time to be still. They’d have to sit quietly, usually with the TV and the lights off, and just be. And while life doesn’t allow her to drop everything because it’s started raining, there is always a hushed feeling that comes over her when it rains, something tranquil, but also a little turbulent, a little uncontrollable, quite like the very rain she’s reveling in.

“Wanna come over?” he wonders, voice unsure.

She nods readily. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

He goes to return her mug and plate while she packs her bag back up. He meets her at the door, opening up a large umbrella and throwing an arm over her shoulder to lead her out into the rain. She walks with him past her own car as he takes her a short black away to where his Jeep is parked. He helps her into the Jeep first, watches as she tucks her bag under the seat, and then closes the door before walking around to the other side.

They ride to his house in silence. He lives far on the south side of town, a good twenty or so minutes from downtown if they hit the highway. Instead, he takes the streets, adding another ten minutes to their drive. Iris doesn’t mind; as she said, she likes the rain, and in this big Jeep, tires sluicing easily through the flooding roads in a way her car definitely can’t, she’s enjoying the ride. He had silently connected her phone to his car’s Bluetooth, so she took it to mean that the music choices were hers. She contemplates finding something that he might like, but she figures he likely wouldn’t even be paying much attention. So she decides on one of her slower playlists, ones with songs that dip and fade, that take listeners on a journey of highs and lows, and she lets it play. The lyrics tell too much, so i guess that i should mention; that i am in no condition; to put you in this position; i might fuck this up, although with the heavy weight on Barry’s shoulders right now, she can’t tell if she’s talking to him or vice versa.

He takes them past one of the major shopping districts in the city, past the Apple store and the Michael Kors shop and the one restaurant her dad took her to when she graduated college where pasta dishes run nearer to forty dollars. These shops, and the nicer mall and a couple business buildings that rise as tall as those downtown, lead into longer stretches of road where trees interspersed with beige or cream apartments begin to take up where businesses once stood. He turns into the familiar subdivision that she remembers; it’s a little older than some, which makes sense if his parents were able to buy and pay it off before they were gone. That also means that none of the houses are the same cookie-cutter versions that tend to make up most subdivisions these days, where houses are identical save for the color and the trim and what children’s toys litter the front yard.

He presses a button on his visor and the garage opens as he maneuvers the car so that he can back up into the driveway. He stays in the driveway, though, the music cutting out—but whatever the case, you're my favorite mistake; more than happy to make you—when he turns the ignition off. She waits for him to come around with his umbrella and he half picks her up to pull her out, holding on to her as he walks her through the garage.

She’s as quiet as he is, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a better sense of who he is by what he’s got going on in his house. There isn’t much in the garage; there are a bunch of boxes neatly stacked on one wall, a couple bicycles in another corner. There is a wall full of tools and a couple tables that have science looking tools on them, like a microscope and several bunsen burners and petri dishes, though nothing looks as if they’re currently being used.

He leads her through a door that opens up into the kitchen as he presses another button to close the garage. His house is as cute on the outside as it is on the inside, although she wonders how he might feel if she were to call it cute. The kitchen is large, done in white, gray, and green, with steel appliances, gray marble countertops, and the look of a place that doesn’t get a lot of use. They both stop to toe their shoes off right outside of the kitchen where a couple other pairs of Barry’s shoes lie. His living room is pretty big: a wide space that features a real stone fireplace as the focal point and a large screen television situated above it; a huge sectional in a slate gray with a few throw pillows; and a big square wooden coffee table. It’s masculine and clean without being gaudy or too bro and Iris wonders if he did this himself because even if she never knew her, she doubts a woman who loved flowers as much as his mother would decorate her living room this way.

The dark curtains on the windows are open wide and Iris can see the backyard but the rain coming down in sheets keep her from being able to make out much besides the patio with what looks like a grill and wicker furniture. Iris remembers being told that his dad had been a doctor and his mom some sort of university researcher and the house matches that.

Barry lets her hand go to tug his sweatshirt off, revealing a plain white t-shirt that rises up over his taut belly. She doesn’t avert her eyes, giving herself permission to track how the sweatpants hang off his slim hips and how he isn’t so much sculpted as he’s hard and tight, with just the beginnings of abs. He catches her staring and he smirks at her before dropping down in the corner of the couch, one leg spread out along the seats of the chair.

“Come here,” he tells her, and she moves toward him, sitting so that her back is pressed against that hard chest and his arms are wrapped around her. She grabs a hold of his forearm with both her hands and settles her head in the crook of his elbow. She’s surrounded by his scent, lemongrass and clean cotton, and for a while, the only sounds are his breathing and the pounding of the rain. He touches her, the hand she’s not holding on to stroking up and down her thigh. Her leggings are pretty thin and she feels his touch fully; if she concentrates enough, she can feel those beloved calluses on his hands. He rubs his hand towards the juncture of her thighs and then over her hip and then back again, and like always, his touch ignites something in her, even as she’s wondering how she might be able to help him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in.

“You ready to tell me what’s up?” she wonders a while later.

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not yet. Tell me about your day.”

She shifts so that she can look back at him, noting the way his eyes have darkened a touch, become grayer like the sky outside, and it’s different from the bright blue-green she remembers from the day of the festival or the wicked blue-gray they always are right before he pushes hard into her.

He blinks down at her and licks his lips slowly. It’s not an explicitly sexual act, even if her body thinks it looks that way, and Iris finds herself lost in it, in whatever he’s emanating. It’s erotic in that it’s intimate, a whirlwind of whatever hurt made him seek her out at Jitters, of whatever still lies unexplored between them, of the attraction that doesn’t ever seem to dissipate.

When she pulls herself out, she tells him, “I was working on a story today. One that made me feel a little bit like how you might be right now.”

“Yeah?”

Wanting to look at him more comfortably, she uses his pause so that she can turn around fully and seat herself on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically go to her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her leggings so that he can touch her skin.

“Tell me about this story,” he requests. She knows that he’s asking so that he can think about something other than what’s on his mind, so she does, giving a little more than she would originally, working out how she might want to tell the story in her blog.

“It was a couple,” she starts, “that grew up together, in the country. They bonded by playing together in the lake, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other. And then they start to grow up. Their swimming becomes fraught with tension, the bathing suits showing the same skin, but more, ya know, both of them recognizing the differences, cataloging them, thinking about them, remembering them. They don’t act on it, because they’re friends, and he doesn’t actually understand what it means, that he’s 13 and he keeps dreaming about her at night, waking up with a wet bed and a pounding heart. And then his parents die and her dad, who’s a do-gooder in the community and had been his parents’ best friend, takes him in. Now they’re siblings, but of course not. Regardless, it makes it all harder and odder because she sleeps right down the hall from him, their shared bathroom always smells like her, and he understands now, that he likes her smile and the way she speaks and the curves she seems to develop out of nowhere.”

Barry squeezes at her and she pauses as he asks, “And what about her? How does she feel about him?”

“Well he doesn’t know it, but she’s there too. At first she thinks that she’s just conflating it, confusing their friendship. Because she doesn’t laugh with anyone else like she does with him and she never has as much fun with anyone else as she does him and she never feels as comfortable with anyone else as she does him. He’s her best friend. But she sees him, one night, in his room where the door hasn’t fully closed and he’s, well, he’s masturbating, touching himself, eyes closed and moaning, and for the first time outside of the books she’s read, she feels something. And she knows it’s not just because she’s seen him naked because she’s kissed boys before, she’s felt them hard under her before, but something about this feels different for her.

“But she doesn’t act on it. And he doesn’t either, because remember, he only thinks this is one-sided. They graduate. They go to the same college. But their majors are different and their friends are different. She joins a sorority; he gets into a couple of clubs. Their paths separate, even if they still laugh and talk and be when they’re home for the holidays. Then she gets a boyfriend.”

“She never had a boyfriend before this?” Barry questions.

Iris shrugs. “Sure. But it was high school and the beginning of college. They were mostly hookups that didn’t last. This guy is serious. He’s a couple years older, got his own place, and eventually she moves in with him. Heartbroken, he gets a girlfriend too, one of her friends. That doesn’t last long because she figures out that he’s a little bit in love with the main girl, and then he moves on, to someone sweet, someone who’s been not so subtly hinting that she wants to go out with him.”

Barry seems to be engrossed now. She can’t say that the dark look he was sporting is completely gone, but she can see that he’s not as deep in it, interested in the story she’s weaving.

“They go on to marry these people, even if their hearts are not fully in it. His wife has a kid first, her baby comes next. And meanwhile, they’re still friends. Her dad is still his guardian, so to speak; they are together for whatever holidays they don’t spend with their spouses’ families. They still laugh and talk and be. They still look a little too long and want a little too much.

It comes to a head one Christmas. The gods or fate or just some movement on their parts mean that they both go home to her dad’s house with their spouses and children coming in the next day. But her dad is called in to work so they order take out and watch movies in front of a fire. And they laugh and they talk...and they hug and they kiss and they…

“Be?” Barry tries, a tiny little smile on his face.

She matches it. “Yeah. And it’s beautiful, transcendent. But they’re married. To other people. With kids. So they vow to forget it, to never bring it up again. A couple of years pass. They don’t laugh as much, don’t talk as much. She’s having troubles in her marriage. He is too. He actually consults a divorce attorney because he thinks that it’s unfair to both him and his wife, to live like this. And then the wife dies in a car accident.”

“Oh damn,” he mutters.

“Right,” she agrees. “He’s wracked with grief and more than a little guilt, because he loved her but was never in love with her and she had no idea he was going to leave her.”

“What about her? The one he loves?”

“She’s there for him. She consoles him, cares for him, takes his kid when it gets too hard. Her husband doesn’t like it though. Thinks she’s doing too much, thinks that there’s another reason she’s over at his so much. Later, he learns that this wasn’t a new accusation, that even before she and her husband got married, the husband would question their closeness, would wonder what, if anything, had ever happened between them.

“Eventually she gets tired of it. Her kid is older, in their teens now, and she leaves her husband, packing her things and her kid’s too and moving back in with her dad for a while.”

“And what happens between them?” Barry wants to know.

“He and his son come over more. They hang out more, the four of them, going to dinner and to the movies and to the arcade together. And when their kids are gone, at sleepovers or game nights with their friends, they laugh again, talk again. Fall in love again.”

The ending is implied. Iris closes her eyes when she’s done, letting Barry continue to rub at her back, his fingers so so warm on her skin.

“It's a happy ending,” he says, eventually. “But getting there was a little...depressing.”

Iris chuckles softly, lightheaded again at having gone through that again. It likely didn’t make Barry feel any better, but she’ll take the win that it took his mind away from his own problems, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “But it reminds me that just because it’s not easy and just because it takes some time, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t worth it.”

He nods, slowly, thinking.

“What about things that are...easy? That come like breathing? That start as a simple dance and just, just keep going?”

She stares down at him and she knows that this is rhetorical. She can see the question in the depths of his eyes, feel it in his hands still kneading her flesh. It would be easy to retreat, to tell him that nothing is ever easy, even if the reality is that it is because they are, because they fall into each other so effortlessly, that she’s terrified. There are always hiccups, obstacles, and the fact that she can’t find any keeps her on edge, waiting, anticipating trouble she knows must be coming. She doesn’t want to believe it, wants to stand firm in them—stand firm in the lyrics she keeps hearing, if you decide to stay, know that there is no escape; there's no one here to save you—and she holds onto that as he asks,

“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Iris? Even if it’s this easy?”

She can’t speak, but his eyes are imploring her to answer. Pleading with her for a response. And however terrified Iris is, or however much Iris tells stories, she is not a liar. So she nods and whispers to him, “yes.”

Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kisses her. He squeezes at her waist and leans up to capture her mouth. She meets him with his same fervor and it’s different, this kiss. She knows the passion of his mouth when he’s high, the boldness when he’s teasing her. But this is new, this is fervor, warmth and agony and doubt and pleasure, all wrapped up together.

(Something also tells Iris that there is another word for this, that this is the part of the story where feelings would be laid on the table, where hearts would be splayed open and she’d say it, or he would, and the other would respond in kind, with declarations of adoration, of infatuation, yearning, of any other word that means what she can’t say yet.

But she feels it, what she’s wanting to say, what she thinks he is saying, in this kiss. It is slow and nasty, all tongue and mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, at how he licks into her mouth and then sucks on her bottom lip, at how he licks against her tongue and then holds her face to bring her closer to him. She feels it, she feels it, she feels him…)

He stands, holding on to her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tightening her arms around his neck as he carries her through the house. The kisses don’t stop, though they become shorter, more mouth now, and he takes her down a long hallway past several doors until he turns into one at the end of the hall. She makes a quick note of the light gray and burnt orange decor, the side tables holding books and knickknacks, the one window that spans nearly the entire wall, but she focuses most heavily on the king-sized bed on which he throws on her, the soft comforter half hanging off the bed.

Her clothes come off first, Barry pulling her sweatshirt over her head and yanking her pants over her hips. He comes out of his own clothes as she discards her underwear, and then he’s between her thighs again. But she wants something else first so she taps his shoulder to flip them and then she’s hovering above him.

She gives him a kiss, slow and sweet, and then she makes her way down his chest, kissing as she goes. She loves the feel of his skin against her lips, likes how his skin tastes as she presses tongue kisses on him. His belly clenches and unclenches under her ministrations, and by the time she’s looking back up at him from her position near his crotch, she can see the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing.

She reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his dick. It’s long like the rest of him, and thicker than she would have expected just looking at him. It’s a pretty dick, the base the same color as him, the head slightly pinker. It’s a little veiny, but the skin is smooth, and already he’s starting to leak. She lifts her eyes to find him watching her, his own gaze hooded. In her peripheral, she sees his hands grip the bed sheets and she revels in how she hasn’t even done anything and his control is starting to slip.

“Tell me what you want, Bear.”

She says the words softly, but Barry doesn’t miss the cheek that lies under it, if the slight smirk he gives her is any indication.

“Your mouth,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

She shudders at the tone of his voice, at the vision of her on her knees for him. She likes it.

“I bet you have too,” he guesses.

Without a response, she licks him, holding him at the base and running her tongue up one side of him. She does it again, and then one more time, acquainting herself with the taste of him and the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and then she adjusts and covers the whole of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

She hums around him and she sucks him down, taking him until he hits her throat. Then she pulls back until just the tip remains. She licks around his head and sucks him there, letting the spit pool in her mouth, letting it mix with his own wet. She opens her mouth and lets it slide out, dripping down onto him, and her own body starts to drip at his wrecked whisper, “god, baby, look at you.”

She adds her hands, palming his testicles in one and rubbing her spit down the length of him with the other. She finds a rhythm, sucking him down, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she goes, and then stroking his back up. Barry keeps his hand clenched in the sheets, but he cants himself into her mouth, rocking his hips lightly. She’s getting into it, loving the way he responds to her.

“Come here,” he says, suddenly, reaching for her, and she pulls back with a soft pop.

“Barry?” she furrows her eyebrows in question.

He gives her a gentle smile and grabs at her arm; Iris moves at his request, crawling up his body.

“But you didn’t finish,” she says, pouting a little.

“I know. I want to come when I’m inside you.”

She’s mollified by that, and he settles her on his lap.

“You were so good though, baby,” he says, kissing her. “My good, good girl.”

He reaches down to touch her, slipping his fingers easily into her sex. He groans into her mouth at the feel and he pulls back to ask,

“Is this all for me? Did you get wet sucking me off, good girl?”

She nods, rocking her hips against his hand, against his sex still hard beneath her. “Can, can you…?”

He tilts his head at her, fingers still caressing inside of her. “Can I?”

She huffs out a small laugh because he’s always fucking with her. “You said you wanted to come inside of me,” she reminds him.

“I did, didn’t?” He takes his time removing his fingers, eyes on her as he does. Even with the window curtains wide open, the dark sky has the room dark

(and she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the window faces the side of someone else’s house, where they could be seen if the neighbors were so inclined to watch)

and his eyes look a little like molten lead in the faint rainy light like this. He goes to reach over to his bedside table but Iris stops him.

“I want to feel you,” she says.

He licks his lips and she doesn’t mistake the twitch of his dick she feels under her. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m on birth control. And I trust you.”

He nods once and again, and then he takes her by her hips and slides her down his cock.

After, Iris decides that this time is the single most erotic experience of her life.

They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way.

She rides him, and he’s so full in her like this, so deep in her like this. His back is against his fabric headboard and she’s so close to him, her knees jutting into the headboard, her thighs holding around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples pebbling with each brush on those hard planes.

She holds on to him with her hands holding the back of his neck, softly scratching at the nape. But he’s touching her, always touching her, his hands caressing her spine, and then holding her waist, and then squeezing her hips. He guides her: keeps his favorite pace, smooth and languid; bring her up to the tip and fucks her back down; shows her how he wants her to roll her body when he’s full in her, so her clit is brushing the soft hairs on his pelvis, the sensation incredible.

He uses his mouth too: to kiss her throat, deep tongue kisses that’ll leave marks she knows she’ll have to cover up; to whisper against her mouth, “see how easy this is; see how good, baby; fuck, see how good this is; yes, yes, yes, my good girl.”

And Iris feels so caught up in it. She can’t stop looking at him, loving when the lightning slashes across the room and illuminates those eyes, the constellation of moles on his skin, his wet, pink mouth. Her body hums with pleasure, soaking her thighs and his, tightening around his dick as if it never, never wants to let him go. She voices her satisfaction, in soft sighs and heavy pleas, and his name on her tongue like a chant, or better, a song, “Bear, Bear, Barrryyy.” They’re so close, her skin sticking to his wherever they’re touching, chest to chest and ass to thigh. She feels full and whole and filled...with him and with desire and with, and with love, the thought of it making her shudder and close her eyes.

“No,” Barry whispers. “Don’t. Just let it, just let it...stay here with me. Can you do that for me? Be brave for me?”

She nods, head heavy as her body starts to reach its climax, as her body loosens at the same time that it tightens and she has to fight to hold on to him. “Yes,” she moans again, holding his gaze again.

He touches at her face, holding her cheek and staring back. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know whose climax triggers the other. She just knows that at the same time that her body explodes, fluttering wildly around him, he comes too, so hard that she feels him throbbing against her walls, that she feels him filling her up with his cum.

He doesn’t let go of her right away. He just holds her, hands at her hip and her face, and then he kisses her, cementing what they’ve just done, cementing what Iris feels for him.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” he says, out of the blue. “And when I went to visit my dad earlier, I found out that he’s sick, something with his heart, and I’m-I’m reeling.”

It’s been a long while since they separated and Iris climbed off of him to pad into his bathroom and warm a hand towel under warm water to clean them both. They’ve been lying in his bed, only half under the covers as they let their bodies cool. It’s quiet now, so quiet that Iris has thought he’d fallen asleep; she’d almost fallen asleep. But when he speaks, she blinks wide and then turns her head to face him.

“14 years today,” he adds. He’s looking up at the ceiling as he talks, but Iris feels the hand that’s settled at her waist tighten, the move bringing her closer to him. She understands that he just needs the contact, so she turns so that she’s all the way curled on him, one of her legs thrown across him, her arm tossed over him too, hand settled on his heart. It’s beating slow, steady, and so she strokes his bare chest, right it.

“How’d you find out?”

“I was still at school,” he tells her. “It was a Friday and some of my friends had convinced me to go to a football game, so we were there pretty late. Games could run until 11. I was 17 so I had my own car. It was an old car; we’d bought it from a guy she worked with. By this time, my dad had been gone for a couple years, and my mom was always working late at the lab, so when I got home around 10:30 that night and the lights were out, I wasn’t surprised.”

He shifts a little and continues. “I took a shower, put some leftover pizza in the microwave, and just as I was sitting down to eat, the doorbell rang. It was the police looking for her next of kin to tell them what had happened.” He sighs heavily. “I got lucky. The courts let one of my friend’s parents take me in until I graduated a few months later. I was able to get a work study job in college to pay my bills since the mortgage was already paid off.”

He says it all like he was lucky, but there is nothing lucky about losing both of your parents in that matter, even if one of them was still physically alive. Iris knows from experience that he doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for his story. But she can’t help the way she wants to comfort him, and so she lets herself do that, tightening herself around him, snuggling even more into his chest.

“How are you feeling about your dad?” she asks, mumbling against his skin.

“Devastated. He looked like, like, I don’t know, like he’s giving up. I don’t get to go see him too often, every couple of months, really. And he looked so different from when I saw him last: smaller, frailer. I think there might be something he’s not telling me. Like he’s been sick longer than he says he has.”

“Is he supposed to get out soon?”

“Another couple years. But I don’t know if he wants to hold on that long.”

She feels them first, the tears. She tries to hold him even tighter, tries to crawl into his skin almost, trying to stem his pain. He doesn’t cry for long, just a few sobs, and then he’s inhaling deeply and wiping at his eyes. But it must be enough because he sounds a little hollow when he says,

“And truthfully, I’m not so much sad as I am mad, that he seems to be giving up. On getting out. On me.”

She hums, not dismissively, but because she understands. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I hate my mom.”

He sort of jerks up at that. Not fully, he looks down at her, eyes widened in shock. However inappropriate it might be, she finds herself laughing a little at his expression. Then she explains.

“I know that addiction is not a moral failing. I know that she struggled right up til the end. I know both of those things as completely as I know anything else. But sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn’t enough, why me and Wally weren't enough. I wonder what she was trying to find in those pills that she couldn’t find in us, and I get so pissed that she let it take her away from us.”

She’s startled when he moves. He pulls himself from under her, letting her fall onto her back, and then he’s hovering above her, holding himself up on his elbows. He falls into the spread of her thighs, his sex nuzzling comfortably against her still warm center.

“I’ve seen some of the worst effects of addiction,” he says, “when their bodies end up on a slab of metal and it’s my job to dissect the things around them, to even sometimes help detectives dissect their lives to figure out what happened. And something I’ve learned is that it’s always, always about them. Never about the people they love.”

He searches her face, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. “And whatever your mom was or wasn’t thinking, you are enough. You are more than enough, Iris.” He leans down and gives her a kiss, deep and dirty, and she moans in frustration as he pulls back from her. He gives her a grin, one more reminiscent of the Barry she’s used to.

“Repeat after me,” he commands. “I, Iris West…”

“Really, Barry?”

“Yes, come on. I, Iris West…

She sighs, but says it. “I, Iris West…”

“Am more than enough.”

She licks her lips then, blinks, works to not let the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corner of her eyes escape.

“Am more than enough,” she whispers, finally.

Barry’s smile turns fond. “Good girl.”

She shakes her head because she doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss him. Which she does, deeply, reaching down to grip him in her palm. She pauses, just for a moment, to tell him “you know that you are enough too, right?” and she kisses the look of awe off of his face. It’s a long while before she stops kissing him, and then it’s only to moan into his mouth, to let him whisper his dirty somethings into her ear.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

They’ve just shared a shower. Barry is throwing on another pair of sweats and a hoodie and Iris puts her own leggings back on, sans underwear, and thumbs through Barry’s closet for another sweatshirt to put on.

(There’s no reason that she can’t put hers back on, but she’s feeling particularly sentimental and she wants to take something of Barry’s with her, something that smells like him, that feels like him.)

“None, really.” She pulls out a red sweater that reads Central City University Track & Field and throws it on over her bra. “Why? You kicking me out.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Wanna get dinner? And then go with me to my tattoo appointment? It’s at 8 tonight.”

She smiles at that. “Sure.”

They take the highway back downtown. The rain is still beating steadily and there is still the occasional rumble of thunder, the sporadic flash of lightning. He parks a bit further in the arts district, in front of a restaurant specializing in wood-fire pizzas and craft beers. This time, she knows to wait for him to come around and open the door for her so that she can walk under his umbrella. Once he locks his jeep, he grabs her hand, and they walk the couple doors down and into the restaurant.

The place is brightly lit, in direct contrast to the dark sky and even the faint light that had been on at Barry’s place. The weather assures that it isn’t densely packed, just a couple booths of families and what looks like a couple, so they’re seated quickly and easily. They eat fast since they’ve only got an hour before his appointment. In the meantime, they both keep the conversation light. It’s been a day, for the both of them really, and Iris doesn’t think that she can cry twice in a day.

After he pays, she goes to the bathroom and he tells her he’ll wait at the door for her. She goes in and it’s as brightly lit as the rest of the place and she quickly does her business and washes her hands before heading back out to where he knows Barry is waiting in the little space between the outer door and the door to the restaurant.

She walks through the place and out of the restaurant door, likely too quickly and without really looking. She takes several steps, straightening out Barry’s sweatshirt again, and then she’s bumping into what feels like a solid wall, almost falling backward. A quick hand reaches out to catch her, the hand large, easily wrapping around her forearm.

“Shit,” she says, shaking her head to clear it as she looks up. “I’m sorr..Scott?”

He doesn’t move back right away and so she has to look up, up at the man holding on to her. Scott Evans is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’d been her editor when she’d work at CCPN right out of college, and she’d had the biggest crush on him. Tall with dark caramel skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he’d been the one to help guide her in the ways of mass story-telling. They’d gone on one date and Iris is not actually sure why they’d never gone on another.

“Iris West.” He says her name slowly, his grin widening at the same pace. He gives her a once-over, slow and heated. “How’ve you been?”

“R-really good,” she says, stumbling a little at that grin. Even if she doesn’t actually regret never seeing him again, Iris can admit that a man this good looking makes her a little tongue-tied.

“Yeah? I’ve been catching your blog when I can. It’s some good shit, West. I can see why you left our little paper.”

“Please,” Iris rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “There’s nothing little about Picture News.”

He shrugs, humble all the way. “Still, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”

“It’s the truth.” He looks down at her, swiping at his lips with his tongue, and she suddenly realizes that they’re still too close. She steps back fully from him, glancing over Scott’s shoulders to see Barry watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Um,” she speaks, catching his attention. “I gotta go Scott.”

“Oh yeah; of course. We should get together soon. Maybe do dinner.” Scott looks back out of the window where rain steadily pours. “It’s still raining out. Can I walk you to your car?”

Her eyes don’t leave Barry’s and he tilts his head, waiting for her answer. “Scott, I’m not alone.”

He turns as if he’s just realizing that Barry is standing there. Barry is still quiet and only lifts his eyes to look at Scott when he mutters, “oh, hey man.”

Barry nods. “What’s up?” Then he looks at Iris. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and she throws one more glance at Scott. “It was good to see you.”

He graces her with that smile again. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

Barry takes her hand and they walk back to the truck. They’re on the road again, driving to a neighborhood near her own. For a second, she thinks he’s going to take her home, but he passes the road to her apartment and goes on to a neighborhood featuring several bars and little shops that cater to the college crowd. He pulls into the parking lot of a place called Black Gold, the lights inside near as bright as those in the pizza place.

Again, she waits until he comes around and turns as if to get out. He stops her though, holding the umbrella high, standing in front of her open legs. He does his thing, his stare like he's trying, and succeeding, to get inside her mind.

“That your ex-boyfriend?” he wonders.

She shakes her head. “Ex-boss.”

His expression doesn’t change. “All your bosses look at you like that?”

She swallows at the sudden feel of his hand on her thigh. The rain is pounding and drops fall on them, but she’s not noticing it. Instead, she’s caught in the storm that’s returned to his eyes, in the feel of his hands inching steadily toward her center.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she says, instead of responding to him.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the confident, bordering on cocky, Barry is looking at her now, even if that sparkle hasn’t returned quite yet.

“Nah,” he says. “Not jealous. You’re here right now. And you were with me earlier, moaning for me, coming for me.”

He slides his hand between her thighs and because she is, almost literally, always thirsty for him, wet for him, her legs spread easily. He fingers at the crotch of her leggings, and she knows that he can feel her warmth through the thin material. He thumbs at her until she gasps against him, finding her clit in a way that reminds him that he knows her body better than she knows it herself.

“He ever touch you like this?” Barry asks, voice a whisper above the rain. “Make you whimper even without getting your clothes off?”

She is whimpering, as he keeps his thumb on her clit, rubbing on her in slow circles. That’s all he’s doing: touching her with one hand, looking at her with those eyes that tell as much as they conceal, with his voice a deep rumble that rivals the thunder. He might be turned on, but he’s proving a point, naming himself as someone who, well, who owns her, even if she recognizes that no man should claim any power over her.

Heat spreads through her, a low, simmering sort of heat, but it’s enough that her folds grow slicker, start opening like the flowers of a petal waiting to be plucked. He keeps rubbing at her, staying on her clit, staring in her face, so much that she can’t hold his gaze. Because it feels better than it should, and her wet is soaking through these too thin leggings, and her breaths are coming in longer, coming in heavier.

“Tell me he hasn’t, Iris,” he says, commands, and Iris throws her head back, legs widening at their own volition, hips canting against his hand. “Tell me.”

“No,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed. “He never even touched me at all.”

“Tell me it’s just me,” he adds and she’s too far gone to note the pleading in his voice. “Tell me no one has ever touched you like this.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just you, Barry, shit, just you.”

“Good,” he groans. “Good, good girl.”

Even if touch is the word he’s using, Iris understands that it’s more. She understands that they’re both wrapped up in uncertainty, never too sure of where they lie in others’ affections, never too sure of where they lie in life at all. She understands that he’s asking her if she feels it too, if she’s there with him, if this too easy, this too natural, feeling is a first for her too.

He’s asking if she’s brave enough to tell him the truth, if she undertands is meaning-understands that I'm no walk in the park; all these scars on my heart; it’s so dark here-even as she’s wondering the same, as she’s feeling the same, wondering if the churning feelings of abandonment make her unworthy somehow. Wondering if he’ll come to see that unworthiness.

Barry leans forward, just a touch away from her mouth, eyes blazing.

“There’s only you too, Iris,” he says, unprompted. “I swear I’ve just been waiting for you.”

He closes the distance to kiss her and that’s enough to take her over. It’s not a powerful orgasm, not like usual, but it does make her shut her eyes tight, make her limbs seize up as she rocks her hips through it. She breathes out, and she can’t stop the little laugh that comes out.

“You really are a dick,” she muses, opening her eyes slowly.

“A polite one, though,” he says, as he stands straighter and holds his hand out to help her down from the car. He holds the umbrella high over her. “See how I’m making sure you don’t get wet.”

“You didn't think of that earlier.”

His grin is devastating but it doesn’t hide the plethora of emotions in his eyes: the simmering lust, the faint traces of insecurity, the grief that’s been hovering all day...the love she doesn’t think he wants to hide anymore.

She hikes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, and then she walks beside him into the parlor, words flashing in her head like a sign, but if you’re a warrior, there’s nothing to fear; nothing to fear.

And later that night, as she cuddles up next to Barry is his large comfortable bed, she listens to his soft breathing, the sound a melody to the rain still pattering against his windows. She listens and she stares at him, taking in his features, softer than they were before, the stress of today easing away with every second he’s lost to sleep. A flash of lightning lights the room, and it catches her eyes again, the new tattoo, the purple ink bright on his skin, covering the space from a lily on his shoulder to just over his heart. It goes dark again, his room blanketed once more, but in her mind’s eyes, she can still see the vibrant ink on his skin, the pretty drooping petals of an iris.

Cause you're so brave

Stone cold crazy for loving me

Yeah, I'm amazed

I hope you make it out alive

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 28- Crossbones

Summary: The Avengers uncover the identity of the mysterious Crossbones and mount a mission to apprehend him in Lagos.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: NEW BANNER ALERT @angrybirdcr​ has made a DOOZY for the Civil War part of the Story.

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.

Chapter 27

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

January 2016

“Are you sure this isn’t a team call?” Katie asked Steve, watching as he picked up his shield.

“No.” He shook his head firmly as they walked down the corridor.  “We don’t even know if he will be there.”

“But…”

“Katie, stop!” Steve chuckled, pushing the door open to enter the hangar. “We’ll be fine. This is intelligence gathering, I’ve no intention of heading straight off after this guy, not until we find out what his play is.”

“His play is arms trading.” Nat interjected dryly as she appeared at the side of the jet.

“Which we are going to gather intelligence on.” Steve looked at her sternly “Nothing more.”

Katie bit her lip, she wasn’t convinced.

“We’ll be fine.” Steve continued, putting both his hands on her shoulders before he deftly changed the subject. “Don’t you have an interview to be getting ready for?”

He watched as the gentle smile spread across her face, a surge of pride flooding his system. She’d recently found out that the author of one of the books SIP had published last year had worked their way onto the Pulitzer Nominee list for fiction. The book itself held a plot centred around a War Veteran and the letters he wrote to his girl back home, and she’d roped Steve into helping the author keep it as factually correct as possible, something he had found strangely nostalgic yet enjoyable. Upon publishing it had flown off the shelves, the original five hundred copies went within three hours causing a mad scramble for a second run and downloads had been off the scale. Other than the Thrombey book they had published, it was their biggest seller to date, shifting almost half a million copies in a month, and with a foreword from Steve Rogers, critics had raved about how poignant it was.

Whilst it hadn’t won the prize, simply being a nominee was an honour in itself according to Katie. The Publicists at SIP had arranged for the author to be interviewed in a few newspapers and magazines along with one of them also requesting Katie, to discuss the launch of her new charity The March Foundation, which would sit alongside Tony and Pepper’s latest initiative- The September Foundation, but instead of focusing on inventors and science, it would instead be centred around authors and the arts.

The name was a play on words, not only being another month to compliment Tony’s, but also to honour both the War Based fiction that had inspired it and the man who had saved her life as March was the month of Bucky’s birth. A decision that had really touched Steve.

She took a deep breath and sighed, as she eyed Natasha heading up the ramp into the jet.

“Just be careful…”

“I’m always careful.” Steve kissed her gently.

“Liar.” She mumbled against his lips. He grinned and pulled back, pecking her mouth once more before he started up the ramp. He paused at the top and turned to face her. “We’ll be back late tonight. Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t!” she teased.

He flashed her another smile and then he hit the button and the ramp started to close. A loud siren told Katie that the hangar door was opening and that was her cue to leave. She headed back over to the steps at the side, leading up to the mezzanine, and as she watched through the window she saw the jet fly out of the side and over the frosty compound grounds. It up through the clouds and gone from sight before she had reached the double doors at the top.

The base was a hive of activity already, despite it being little after seven am. Katie was heading for an hour or so in the gym before her day began properly. She stuck her Bluetooth headphones in, selected the usual work out play-list and began to run on the treadmill, slowly at first to ease herself in- she was a little bit stiff and sore from her sparring session with Natasha yesterday. Nat had really upped the ante on Katie over the last month or so, which was good as Katie was now pretty much on a par with her when it came hand to hand, something Steve had been completely astonished to see after walking in on the two women just as his wife floored Natasha with a well-placed leg swipe the red head didn’t see coming. 

Forty minutes later, Katie swapped to the rower to finish off, and was approximately half way through the three-kilometre distance when her music cut off and the screen to the right of the machine switched over from the play-list to a visual of Rhodey.

“Hey Kiddo,” He smiled as she stopped rowing to look at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve had a sensor trip on the outer perimeter of the facility.”

“You send someone out there?” She frowned, catching her breath as she picked up the bottle of water that was to her right.

“Yeah, Sam is currently out there looking for it, just thought, well seeing as Cap and Nat are out, you’re technically the one in charge so…”  

She let out a snort as she swallowed a mouth full of her drink.  Being third in command was something she didn’t really care for, knowing full well it was Steve’s way giving her some kind of authority over simply being the Captain’s Wife, but she’d accepted the gesture simply because he’d been so excited when he had asked her she couldn’t refuse.

“Okay, I’ll go and check it out. “

Standing up she left the gym and moved quickly to the armoury, grabbing a gun, a coms piece and a fleece jacket before quickly making her way outside.

“What’s going on up there, Sam?” Rhodey spoke in her ear as she walked into the cold air, spotting Sam circling above.

“I’m at the location of the sensor trip, but I’m not seeing anything.” He said. “Oh, hang on…”

“What is it?” Katie asked, watching him as he circled above her.

“Roof top…”

“Gimme a lift?” 

Sam swooped down from the clear, winter sky and she grabbed his arm as he effortlessly pulled her up, dropping them both onto the flat roof of one of the buildings.

“I can see you.” Sam called out loudly as they landed.

Katie frowned, as she didn’t know what Sam was talking about until out of nowhere a man in a red and silver suit, with an insect like helmet suddenly appeared. Katie cocked her gun and aimed it at him.

“Who the hell are you?” she questioned. As they watched the man started to awkwardly introduce himself to Sam, his mask lifted to reveal a shaky smile as he waved.

“Hi, I’m Scott. I know who you are, obviously, you’re Katie Stark, I mean Rogers…” Scott started trying to hold back his enthusiasm and motioning towards Sam and Katie with a chuckle. "I’m a big fan.”

"Appreciate it. But like the lady asked, who the hell are you?” Sam echoed Katie’s earlier sentiments.

“I’m Ant-Man.” Scott or Ant-Man answered confidently. Sam and Katie shared an incredulous look and Katie mouthed the name back to him and he shrugged. Katie lowered her gun slightly.

“Wanna tell me what you want?” She questioned Ant-Man as the man tried to explain why the two Avengers hadn’t heard of him.

Scott pointed towards a building to their left, maintaining eye contact with Katie as he spoke “I was hoping I could grab a piece of technology. Just for a few days, then I’d return it. I need it to, uh, save the world- you know how that is.”

“Yeah, we know exactly how that is,” Sam said to Scott and Katie felt her mouth twitching into a grin.

“What piece of technology, and what do you mean saving the world?” she asked.

“I’d love to tell you but Hank Pym said never to trust a Stark.” The man called Scott, or Ant-Man was almost apologetic. “Even though you’re technically a Rogers now.”

Katie frowned, she’d never heard of a Hank Pym before, but that was irrelevant now. Sam gave a sigh besides her and stepped forwards.

“We’ve located the breach.” he spoke “Bringing him in…”

“I��m really sorry about this.” Scott rushed out and as Sam reached out to him he vanished.

“What the…” Katie spun round and felt something hit her, hard in the back. She fell forward onto the gravelled surface of the roof before rolling onto her back, gun raised again just in time to see Sam flying backwards off the edge, tumbling through the air and grappling with something whilst flying over the lawns of the facility.

Katie could do nothing but stand and watch from her vantage point as Sam continued to wrestle with, then shoot at the man who could shrink and grow seemingly at will. And if she was completely honest, it was kind of entertaining to watch.

“This guy would actually be pretty useful.” Katie mused into the coms, trying but failing to hide the amusement in her voice “Are you recording this? For future, recruitment purposes obviously.”

“All over it.” Rhodey responded, a slight chuckle punctuating his confirmation.

It was when the two men crashed into the storage unit that Ant-Man had wanted to break into in the first place that she started to get concerned.

“Err do we have cameras in there?” she questioned Rhodey.

“Uh… negative.” Rhodey answered after a short pause.

“Shit.” Running to the side of the roof she scaled down the metal ladder at the side, dropping the last eight feet or so, landing gently before she ran towards the storage building. At that point Sam came crashing backwards through the metal door and Katie flung her arms up to shield her face from the debris before glancing up. Sam’s flight pattern was jerky and off and he was gripping at his pack on his back.

“He’s in my pack!” Sam shouted before he landed hard in the dirt and with a groan, pulled himself into a standing position, yanking off his goggles.

“You okay?” Katie asked as she ran over to him.

“Yeah, fine…” He sighed before he looked at her. “You know, it’s really important to me that Cap never finds out about this.”

Katie grinned and the pair of them scouted around but to no avail, there was no sign of Ant-Man, or Scott anywhere. Katie instructed Rhodey to get the door fixed and lock it down again and said she would speak to Tony to find out what was in there. Sam was luckily not hurt, just a slight bruising to his pride so Katie left him at the lab with Lawson to look at making the repairs to his pack before she headed off to get changed.

*****

Steve and Natasha landed in Sadove, Crimea and were instantly greeted by the man who was leading the investigation into the raid on the local police station. The last three out of six hits the guy had made had been on small, local outfits with less resistance than the other places he had hit but that was hardly surprising. The former SHIELD base he had hit in Mexico had been heavily guarded, which made Steve think that he had perhaps suffered losses to his team which was making him rethink his strategy. As Natasha chatted to the man in his local language, Steve hung back before the man nodded to Natasha and strode towards him.

“Captain Rogers.” he said, English thick with accent “Inspector Chernov.”

Steve shook the man’s hand “Pleasure to meet you in person Inspector.”

“So you are interested in the man who raided our local station?” “He’s been on our radar for a while.” Steve said, choosing his words carefully “But we don’t have much to go on.” “Well, I’m not sure we can help but I can take you down there and you can see for yourself.” Steve nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

It wasn’t a long drive, and once they arrived Steve and Natasha were allowed to wander round the scene undisturbed, providing they didn’t interfere with the police and teams already swamping the area. Their search showed them nothing new and they moved to watching the CCTV which the Authorities had refused to send them. They could have hacked into it, but Steve was keen to keep the tentatively growing communication lines with Crimea and Russia as amicable as possible, especially in the light of Sokovia. The Avengers were not a political party, so by remaining respectful of their requests to meet only in person he hoped it went someway to proving they were here to help and had no ulterior motives.

As such they sat in the mobile control centre, scanning the CCTV. Steve watched the footage and sighed.

“This isn’t HYDRA.” Nat concluded and Steve agreed.

“I know, it’s not their MO. This guy is too haphazard.” Steve pondered. “Just wondering why, considering how well organised he is, he is leaving so much devastation behind.”

“Minimum effort leaving maximum casualties.” Natasha said, watching the footage “He simply doesn’t care who he takes out.” “Well he’s hardly gonna care about that if he’s dealing black market arms.” Steve sighed.

They watched the footage some more and Steve held his hand up to Natasha to play it at normal speed when they reached the bit where the key perps were on screen.

“What’s he doing?” He frowned, looking at Crossbones. The man was stood in the middle of the room, looking around.

“He’s scanning for Cameras.” Nat answered as they both watched. 

There was something familiar about the way the man walked and held himself, but Steve couldn’t quite place it. As they continued the footage, Crossbones located the camera they were watching through and looked directly up at it, pulling his mask up a little to reveal his mouth, clearly saying something.

“Can you enhance that?” Steve asked. Natasha tapped at it.

It zoomed in on the man and Natasha spoke “looks like something about it being personal…”

She held her phone up to the footage and then pressed something, and the phone spoke to her in a robotic voice.

“Big Guy…I just want you to know, this aint personal.” Steve’s gut clenched. The last time he had heard those words were in an elevator in the Triskelion.

“Rogers?” Natasha looked at him, noticing the nerve which was twitching in his jaw “What is it? Does that mean something to you?”

“In a fashion.” He turned to face her. “It’s Rumlow.”

****** The interviews went well and once the photos etc were done Katie and Tony retreated to the living area of the Tower for a well-earned drink as they put the final touches of their tour together. They were to start visiting various Universities across the US to roll out their foundation grants. To ease them both in gently, the first University they were going to was Columbia, so not far from home. Tony and Pepper would be presenting and discussing to students within the School of Engineering and Applied Sciences and Katie in the School of the Arts for Students on the Writing Programme.

Their chatter moved from work to Tony asking how the Compound was going, and Katie remembered the events of that morning.

“You ever heard of a bloke called Hank Pym?” she asked suddenly.

Tony paused for a moment, frowning at her sudden change of subject, but something stirred in his mind. “The name rings a bell, hang on…FRIDAY, search all files reference Hank Pym.” He instructed, tapping at something on his tablet.

After a few seconds something flashed up in the corner of the screen.

“Yeah, here you go.” He pressed another button causing the image to reflect in front of them as a hologram. “He worked with Dad and SHIELD on a programme called Project GOLIATH.”

“What the hell was that?” Katie asked, taking a pull from her bottle.

“A research programme into some kind of Nano particle.” Tony said as the pair of them simultaneously ran through the information on the screen.

“Ahhhh.” Katie nodded, “makes sense…” “What does?”

Katie explained about the encounter with Scott and Tony gave a hum of agreement. 

“That could actually be kinda useful.”

“I know.” she agreed “But he vanished after he got whatever he wanted. Any thoughts on what it could be?”

“That facility holds a load of crap that was Dad’s” Tony said simply “Could be anything.”

“Well, nothing we could see was missing, but it might be worth you taking a look.” she suggested.

He shrugged “I can do, but there was nothing remotely dangerous in there. Was just a load of old signal jammers and code breakers we don’t really need anymore.”

“Well, I did try and ask what him what it was he wanted, you know, on account of him saying he was saving the world, maybe we could have helped with that, being the Avengers and all, but he simply turned round and said ‘Hank Pym told me never to trust a Stark’.”

She drained her bottle of beer as Tony did the same and he stood up, taking the empties to retrieve 2 more from the fridge.

“Clearly one of many in the long line of people dad pissed off.” Tony rolled his eyes as he popped the lids, before he sighed “I’m actually surprised no one tried to kill him before, you know, he rammed their car into a tree.”

Katie looked at her brother and swallowed. Tony had no idea how close to the truth he was.

“Sorry.” he slid the beer across the bar, mistaking her guilty silence for one of upset “That was out of order.”

“For all his faults I don’t think Dad was a bad man.” Katie spoke quietly “And he did love us.”

“I know.” Tony nodded, squeezing her hand.

She stayed for another drink and then headed home. She had checked in with Sam before heading back to their apartment and she was settled on the couch with a glass of wine when Steve called.

“Hey Soldier.” she said, smiling at the screen as she flicked the phone to project the image in front of her, muting the TV.

“Hey Darlin’.” He smiled back

“So, how was it?” she asked

“Well we got the intel.” 

“Solid?”

“Pretty solid yeah.” Natasha spoke, appearing by his side. “We think we know who he is anyway.” “Who?”

Steve sighed. “It’s Rumlow.” “What?” Katie spluttered into her wine glass. “Are you sure?”

“Oh pretty sure.” Steve nodded. “He left me a clear message.”

“Steve recognised him on the Video so I ran a crosscheck.” Nat picked up. “Turns out he was listed as severely injured and was taken to the hospital. After that, our trail runs cold.” 

“Until now.” Katie sighed.

“We’ve also got a list of his associates, some known faces he’s been seen with.” Steve shrugged “So we’re putting out an alert.”

“Doesn’t give us much to go on though.” Katie rubbed at her temples.

“When have we ever had much to go on?” Natasha asked and Katie shrugged

“Fair point.” she conceded as Natasha moved off out of sight.

“So how has your day been?” Katie looked back at Steve as he spoke.

“Not bad actually.” she said, “Interviews went well, oh, and we had a bit of an incident at base before.” “Incident?” he frowned, “What kind of incident?”

“Attempted break in, nothing major.”

“Everyone ok?”

“Yeah, honestly it was no big deal, I’ll fill you in on when you get home. For the rest of the day once the interviews were done Tony and I drank beer.”

“Sounds pretty productive.” Steve raised an eyebrow, smile playing on his lips.

“Beer is always productive.” Katie informed him and he chuckled.

“We’ll be airborne in thirty minutes and then we should be home in about four hours.” He said, as Katie looked at her watch. It was almost 8:30 pm. 

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you.”

“And you.” She blew him a kiss and cut the call with a yawn. She was tired. Really tired, so she headed off for a bath. After soaking and listening to music for forty minutes she dried off and shoved on one of Steve’s T-shirts before climbing into bed and laying there for a moment, flicking through the TV channels. She settled on an episode of Family Guy and snuggled down into the large bed, wrapping herself in the soft covers. It always felt odd sleeping without Steve being there. Sometimes she quite enjoyed being able to starfish in the middle of the Emperor sized bed but tonight she wasn’t enjoying being alone.

****

Steve was whacked when they arrived home. Bidding good night to Natasha, instead of changing in the armoury he headed straight back and let himself into their quarters. Crossing the hallway he made his way into the bedroom he paused, a gentle smile spreading on his face. Illuminated in the light from the hallway he could see Katie was curled up in the middle of the bed, using his pillow as a hugging buddy. He quietly crossed the room and perched on the bed, stripping off his boots and uniform top. He paused slightly as Katie stirred and he turned to look at her, gently brushing her hair of her face. He glanced down at the freckles he knew by memory, long thick lashes, soft pink lips, that familiar Stark nose…she looked so peaceful asleep.

She stirred again, and that nose he adored wrinkled in the way it did when she was waking up and she cracked an eye open before her face split into a smile at the sight of her husband.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby girl.” He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you”

“It’s Okay.” She yawned, leaning into his touch.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” He asked, and through the tiny sliver of light coming from the hallway Katie could see his eyes were full of their usual warmth.

“I don’t think you did today, no.”

“Well in that case, you’re beautiful” He smiled and she chuckled slightly as he dropped a soft kiss on her head. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll be right with you.”

She watched him appreciatively as he stood up and pulled his compression-shirt over his head, leaving him bare form the waist up as he headed into the en-suite. For a moment she was tempted to join him, but then decided against it, laying back onto her side, dozing.

It wasn’t long before the bed dipped and she felt him slide under the covers next to her. She turned over to snuggle up into the crook of his shoulder, her head laying on his chest.

“So, you wanna tell what the incident was today?” he asked, his right hand reaching up to play with the strands of her hair that fell over her shoulder.

“Oh yeah.” she grinned before she launched into an explanation about Scott-slash-Ant Man. He fell silent for a moment but in the end came to the same conclusion as Tony had, there was nothing in there that was dangerous so they just needed to remain vigilant.

“Yeah, well Sam seemed to be taking vigilant to the extreme as he’s already been on the phone to numerous contracts, trying to track him down.” she said “I think he’s a bit annoyed the guy basically kicked his ass. Rhodey caught it all on video but Sam told me never to tell you about it. He’s taken it quite personally.” “I’m not surprised, he had his ass kicked.” Steve sniggered. “Where do I get a copy of the CCTV?”

Katie grinned, “I have it on my phone, Rhodey sent it to me.”

“Play it.” he instructed.

“What now?” “Yes, right now.” he nodded, moving so he was sat up, jolting her off his chest.

“No Sam will kill me!” she laughed, propping herself up on her elbow

“Screw Sam!” he snorted “He plays those damned Phys Ed videos every chance he gets.”

“That’s true.” Katie pondered “Ok, hang on…”

She turned, reaching over for the phone and the TV remote. Blinking at the sudden light, once her eyes were accustomed to the change she pressed a few buttons on her phone and beamed the footage to the TV on the wall. She had to admit, it looked even funnier from the video play back than it had when she had been there.

Steve let out a huge, genuine laugh, his head thrown back, banging against the headboard, arm clutched across his chest as he laughed, and laughed.

“I’m so showing that at our next briefing.” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“You can’t…” “Oh, I can!”

****

The next morning the pair of them made their way to the briefing room both munching on a piece of toast and each carrying a mug of coffee. It was early, before 8, but Steve wanted the team to be prepared. Everyone filed into the room along with some good humoured grumbling about the time before they dropped into their preferred seats and looked to the front of the room.

“I know it’s early and I’m sorry…” Steve held his hands up, looking round at the team assembled in front of him “But this is important.”

“More important than sleep?” Sam yawned.

Steve ignored him. “Alright, here’s what we already know.”  Steve began to explain how they believed Rumlow to be Crossbones, the masked man who had been causing a whole lot of chaos in the wake of what happened at the Triskelion. Katie knew he was annoyed at himself for not realising he had survived sooner, but even if they had, they’d so much going on, not to mention Ultron had been a much bigger threat in the immediate future

"He’s been targeting former SHIELD labs and police stations all over the country and selling products on the black market.” Natasha spoke.

“Police stations?” Katie asked.

“We think he suffered heavy losses at the raid prior to the last three, so he’s going for easier targets whilst he regroups.” Natasha answered.

“Still no intel on who his buyers are?” Wanda asked.

“No.” Steve shook his head, “He seems to have become an independent terrorist, and doesn’t appear to be working for anyone”

“Our recon yesterday told us that Rumlow seems to be operating with this guy.” Natasha explained as the photos flashed up “He’s known as the Black Mamba…” “Black Mamba?” Wanda deadpanned. “Cross Bones and Black Mamba?”

“NATO has every available pair of eyes out looking for them.”  Steve ignored Wanda and looked at Rhodey.

“Soon as they break cover, we’ll know.” Rhodey nodded

“So then what?” Sam frowned

“More recon?” Katie asked

Steve looked at his wife and nodded. “Possibly, but for now we need to let intelligence do their job. But be prepared, when we get a lead I want to be ready to go.”

There were mumbles around the room and Steve let the team lead the discussion. Sam commented on the crap code names again, causing Wanda to laugh. Katie suggested they should compile a detailed profile on Rumlow, see if they could find a pattern to his behaviour, nodding to Vision. the AI had a knack for it as did Katie, so Steve and Natasha nodded, both agreeing it was a good idea.

“We need to be vigilant.” Steve instructed. “Keep our eyes open for anything that’s out of the ordinary.” He caught Katie’s eye, a wicked smirk crossed his face and she shook her head smiling as he continued “Speaking of which…FRIDAY, play the video”

“Certainly Captain Rogers.” The pictures of Rumlow and Black Mamba disappeared from the screen and suddenly the footage of Sam spiralling through the air started to play. The room started to snigger as Sam looked at Katie who held her hands up in an “it wasn’t me!” gesture.

“Oh come on Man!” He groaned as the room gleefully watched the film, laughter ringing round the room.

******

The next four months ticked by with no further information on Rumlow. They pulled together a potted history which tracked the hospital he had been in, when he had escaped (the local authorities had been searching for him for ages since he threatened his nurse upon waking before violently breaking out) his movements since (ones they knew about and some they hadn’t) but it didn’t give them anything new.

Katie and Tony were buried deeply in their Foundation work, which was taking up a lot of Katie’s time so she wasn’t as close to the investigations as she could have been. Steve was fine with that though, the further away she was from Rumlow frankly the better, but he still made sure she was involved with what they had found and she attended the briefings as best she could when she wasn’t travelling the country. Steve’s chest burst with pride every time he saw his girl on the news, in papers, as the press seemed to be lavishing praise upon the siblings for what they were doing. 

Then, one day in the middle of May, they struck gold when one of the Facial Recognition Alerts they had set up pinged to Black Mamba being spotted in a Lagos, Nigeria. As a result Steve had scrambled them all to attention as soon as he could, which was four am. But there were no complaints about the time, not when they knew this could be their chance to bring him in. They all pitched round the screen as Steve and Natasha identified the local police station that they suspected of him hitting, given where the FR had pinged several times.

“We think they are scoping this area.” Nat said, drawing a red circle round a part of the town.

Katie moved the screen with her fingers, enlarging the aerial shots as she looked at them, her analytical brain going ten to the dozen.

“Layout looks pretty standard.” she said, scanning the map, frowning slightly. Something was nagging at her. And as she looked, she realised what it was.

“What is it?” Steve asked, recognising the tone of her voice and frown on her face.

“The Science Institute.” She nodded towards the screen. “Big white building at the end of the road.”

“Biological weapons are big on the black market.” Sam cottoned on, nodding slightly.

“Yeah but his recent previous hits and our pattern analysis don’t give us any reason to believe that’s what he’s going to be aiming for.” Nat suggested

“You said yourself that you suspected he was going for easier targets whilst he regrouped.” Katie bit her lip. “What if he has?”

“We have to assume Rumlow will go for the police station, it’s the best intel we have.” Steve looked at her and he noticed the expression on Katie’s face as she crossed her arms and opened her mouth to argue. “But we should be vigilant, keep alert.”

She exchanged a glance with Sam, who simply shrugged

“We do this with stealth.” Steve continued, “I want us on the ground and out of sight, we need to catch him with as little fuss or danger to civilians as possible”

"Yeah, and with that in mind Viz you may need to sit this one out.” Nat tossed out and Vision nodded deprecatingly

“We’re still working on him blending in.” Wanda added.

“Same for you too Rhodey.” Steve looked at him “We need someone back here, we could be gone a few days.”

Rhodey nodded. “No problem Cap.” “Get what you need. Wheels up in twenty.” Steve dismissed everyone who immediately went their separate ways to prepare for the upcoming mission leaving Katie, Natasha and Steve alone

“You think she’s ready?” Natasha looked at Steve, nodding to Wanda. He took a deep breath, staring at the door through which she had just left with Vision.

“You say she’s been training hard.” He spoke after a moments pause, looking at Nat.

“Yeah, she has but her powers are still largely impacted by her emotions.”

“Aren’t everyone’s?” Katie asked. “I mean I’m angry or upset I fight harder, as you know.” “Yeah but,” Nat sighed “It isn’t the same, she can do a lot of damage.”

“We have the bare bones of a team as it is.” Steve shook his head and Katie looked down, feeling slightly guilty. She had discussed this with Steve, she wasn’t going. The Stark Foundation Tour had another few visits to Universities this week. Steve spotted the look on her face and he gently nudged her arm “That’s not a criticism honey…” “I know…” she bit her lip. Maybe she should postpone…

“Throw in the fact that this is the first full team mission we’ve had since Ultron and I don’t see any choice but to take Wanda” Steve shrugged, ending the conversation.

Nat took a deep breath and nodded “You’re right. And maybe being in an actual mission environment might help her gain some control, I mean practice makes perfect.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked, eyeing her

“Both.” she drawled, heading out of the door.

Katie took a deep breath as Steve turned to her. “You best go.” she smiled softly. Steve bit his lip before he pulled her into an embrace, kissing her softly.

“I’ll call as soon as I can.” He promised, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Stay safe, please.” She whispered as he kissed the tip of her nose and hurried out of the door.

Once he was gone, Katie sank onto a chair, her head in her hands. She was torn, really torn. For the last year or so, post Ultron, they’d had a pretty quiet time of it, mopping up any stray Hydra operatives that strolled into their patch. But this, this was big. Was the Foundation really more important than putting a halt to whatever shitty plan Rumlow was trying to pull off? She was still an Avenger after all, she’d never quit that, and would never quit that.

She’d always be Supernova, whether she wanted to be or not.

“I’m gonna regret this.” She groaned to herself as she jumped up, and headed after the rest of the team.

*****

Steve, at first, had tried to argue against her coming but when Natasha had pointed out they could do with the support he had relented and the team had been bolstered by Supernova’s return to active duty.

Their support staff had done a great job on such a short time, and rented the group a four bedroomed apartment overlooking the street the Police Station was on. It wasn’t fancy, but it was the last place anyone would think would house Avengers. They spent their first day setting up a command centre, with coms links back to base and the next morning they began their recon.

The first two days were completely uneventful. No sign of Rumlow or any of his associates. Nat was the expert at covert ops and so she took the lead, directing them to all the right places coaching Wanda along the way and Steve was pleasantly surprised to see how well the younger girl took to the task, blending in with the locals. Katie took to observing from up high with Sam, her attention on the Biological Institute, unable to shake the nagging feeling she had about the place. She hadn’t mentioned it since their brief a few days ago, but Steve knew when she had an idea in her head she wouldn’t rest so he left her to it. Between them they had the area covered, which was good enough.

On the evening of the fourth day Wanda, Sam and Natasha headed out for a little undercover work in the bars at night, “So you guys can have a little undercover activity of your own” Sam teasingly stated, patting Steve on the back as he left, drawing an exasperated sigh from the Soldier. Nevertheless, the door had hardly clicked shut before Steve had his wife pinned up against a wall, hands wandering all over her body, lips and teeth clashing, her hand fisting in the slightly longer strands of hair at the top of his head as they’d furiously taken advantage of their first time alone in days.

The next morning Katie woke at about five-forty-five am and rolled over only to find the bed empty besides her. Steve could never rest when they were in the middle of a case like this. The clothes they had shed and left scattered all over the floor the night before were now folded and placed on top of the dresser, and she had to smile. Even now he was a total neat freak. Knowing full well where he would be she climbed out of the bed, pulled on Steve’s T-shirt and a pair of shorts before making her way into the dark corridor. She stopped in the doorway of the small dining room which was functioning as a makeshift office and sure enough, there he was, the lamp softly illuminated his handsome face as he flicked through a file, crease evident between his brows.

“Soldier, you’re up so early.” She said gently. Steve had heard her coming of course. Smiling softly, as he was always pleased to see her, he turned to face her as she crossed the room.

“Yeah, sorry, I woke about half an hour ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“You know, I get that you’re fed up of just waiting but sitting here re-reading all this isn’t going to help you know.” Katie sighed, taking the file off him and dropping it onto the wooden table, before she perched on the edge.

“I know, it’s just so goddamned frustrating.” Steve ran his hand over his face. After pondering for a moment Katie stood up and walked behind the chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. He let out a groan of satisfaction and leaned back in his seat as she kneaded the muscles with her hands. She found a particularly bad spot just under his shoulder blade and began to push harder with her thumb. Steve, unable to decide if it was pleasurable or painful, made a little noise which was half way between the two.

“God your shoulders are so knotty.” Katie mused and he left out a breath through his nose moving his head to the side.

“Yeah well, I did a lot of exercise last night.” He quipped back as her hands continued to work at his shoulders.

“I’ll say.” She grinned. “You know that thing you did with your mouth is actually illegal in several countries.” “Good job we live in the land of the free.” His voice was low as he fully relaxed under her touch.  Katie carried on working at his muscles in silence for a moment, happy to let him bliss out. 

“So… answer me a question?” She spoke after a short while, rousing him a little, and he hummed, unable to bring himself to be bothered to talk.

“If you couldn’t sleep why didn’t you wake me to help you?” Her voice was loaded as she leaned forward to wind her arms around his neck, running her hands up and down his chest from behind. Steve loved it when she touched him like that which was why he pouted slightly when she pulled away, but the pout didn’t last long and a smirk crossed his face as Katie walked round to the front of his chair

“And how, exactly, would you have done that?” His hands moved to rest on her hips as she lowered herself so that she was straddling him. She slid one of her hands around the back of his head to tangle in his hair the other settling on his chest.

“Reckon I can think of a few ways.”  She smirked slyly before using her hand in his hair to pull him forward and connect their lips. Steve kissed her back immediately as one hand crept up the back of her top, the other on the side of her thigh, sliding up her shorts.

“Sleepy yet?” She murmured.

“Not exactly the word I would use.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

She grinned and then began to rock her hips on top of him grinding down on his growing hardness and he sighed slightly, kissing her harder as she pushed down again. With an automatic reaction he raised his hips, rocking up to meet her and this time she groaned as she could feel the friction of their clothes grinding against her clit. His hands were now firmly holding her hips underneath her, no, his top, and he sat forward so his mouth could cover the spot under her ear that drove her wild. With a soft sigh she titled her head to the side as he trailed kisses across her jaw until his mouth met her lips again. His hands reached down to grasp the hem of her top and he had just begun to slide it upwards when they were interrupted by a raspy voice.

“I thought all the making out fully clothed supposedly stopped when you reached the age of seventeen.” Natasha scoffed from the doorway. Katie looked up over Steve’s shoulder as he sighed, dropping his head onto her chest, letting out a groan of frustration.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” Katie sighed.

“Don’t you know how to lock a door?” She retorted, dryly.

“I take it this isn’t a social call?” Steve’s voice was muffled as he spoke into his wife’s chest, not bothering to move his head. Katie chuckled a little, her hand running through his hair.

“Half and half.” Natasha arched an eyebrow, “Unsociable hour it maybe but Wanda’s already up and wants breakfast, she was going to head out to the local bakery but I thought it might be an idea to start the re-con early.”

Steve’s head looked up to Katie’s as she shifted off his lap and straightened out her clothing and hair. Steve glanced down at his crotch and Katie raised an eyebrow slightly as he stood up and adjusted his sweats in an attempt to hide his slowly ebbing arousal before he turned to face the red head.

“Well, you’re the expert in this covert stuff.” He raised his brow. “What have you got in mind?”

*****

“All right, what do you see?” Steve was coaxing Wanda, as ever, to observe her surroundings, see and hear everything, on the job training he supposed you could call it.

Meanwhile, Katie glanced down from the rooftop on which Sam and her were currently stood, her scanners doing their usual work. No weapons spotted yet.

“Standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target” Wanda’s voice came through the ear piece Steve was wearing.

“There’s an ATM in the South Corner.” he replied “which means….”

“Cameras” Wanda said instantly.

“Both cross streets are one way.” He carried on

“So, compromised escape routes.”

“Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen, he isn’t afraid to make a mess on the way out.” Steve concluded. “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute”

“It’s also bulletproof,” Katie cut in as FRIDAY completed a scan on the vehicle “Which means private security…”

“Which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us” Nat finished

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right? “ Wanda replied

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.” Natasha continued

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a little paranoid?” Sam asked and Katie turned to look at him, retracting her face plate to give him a grin.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” the exchange continued.

“Eyes on target, folks” Steve spoke firmly with an air of authority, bringing them back to the job in hand. “This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

“If he sees us coming that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.” Sam replied

As Steve watched he noticed that a garbage truck was slowly pushing its way through traffic, with no regard to pedestrians or other vehicles. He frowned and kept his eyes on it as it continued to gather momentum as it went.  

“Sam, Katie…see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

Sam’s small drone launched, swooping down to scan the vehicle as Katie instructed FRIDAY to do the same.

“Give me X-ray.” Sam spoke. There was a pause before he gave a little moan. “That truck’s loaded for max weight.”

“And the driver’s armed.” Katie concluded.

And in that second it dawned on Steve that his wife had been right all along. The Institute was the target after all.

“It’s a battering ram.” Katie’s voice mumbled on the coms, clearly having realised the same thing he had, and with that Steve turned from the window, running for the door.

“Go, now!” He yelled into his coms as he sprinted down the stairs. “There not hitting the station…” “The institute…” Sam spoke as Steve burst onto the street looking up in time to see Falcon and Supernova spiralling into the air.

And once more the fight was on.

**** Chapter 29 Part 1

**Original Posting**

[professormembranexreader]

Dead! Membrane x Necromancer! NB! Reader (Fluff)

(Y/N)'s POV

God, this class was a chore. Well, all of them were. But the journalism class at the college I went to, specifically. I was only taking this class because a friend wanted me to.

We had to interview someone we looked up to. And write a report based on the information we learned. It was supposed to be a way to show what we already know.

I asked if we could do someone who was dead, and she allowed it. On the condition we show proof we were with them. How funny. If it weren't a challenge.

That's right. I was determined to do my report on someone dead. Who? Why, the most influential man of all time—Professor Membrane.

But there was an obvious problem. How do you actually interview a dead person and get proof you were with them?

To me the answer was obvious. Necromancy.

I went to the local occult store. I'd never believed in this shit, but it was my best bet. Plus, if all else fails: photoshop.

The girl at the counter was hella cute. Who knew all the cuties worked at the occult stores? The girl and I talked, and I found out her name was Penelope. We then flirted for a bit, and I somehow secured a date.

But first I needed to raise the dead. Priorities, people.

I got a dagger, candles, and a book.

I looked in the book for the right ritual, and found out I needed the fresh blood of an animal on the knife. I'm an animal, right? Technically I am. While I didn't like the idea of cutting myself, it was going to be worth it.

Soon, I went over to the burial site. It was the only one on the hill. The trek up left me tired. But it was time to do this.

I was prepared. But not ready.

I slit the back of my arm with the ritual knife and pressed it to the raised ground. Once a good amount of blood was soaked into the dirt, I tried to bandage the cut up. I didn't do a good job, but it was enough to stop the bleeding.

Funny enough, if you just say what you want to happen in Latin, hold any occult book and a bloody dagger, and get some gold colored candles, it will happen.

Because sure enough when I began chanting, it began to storm. And that was NOT in today's forecast. I continued with my unholy chant.

"Unum, quod fuerit abiit

resurget post longa

quod tempus habet, diminutae

revertetur, et morari"

The rain one by one put out the candles. Spooky. But expected.

The ground shifted. Almost like it was being disturbed from underneath. Bingo. I peered over the candles and looked closer at the burial site.

Suddenly a laser shot up from the ground. I stumbled backwards. A gloved hand rose from the earth. My eyes widened and I smiled.

I did it. I raised the dead. I'm. Amazing.

As I cheered and hollered, the hand clawed at the ground, trying to pull the body up. Another hand sprouted from the opening in the dirt. It pushed apart the ground until there was a wide hole.

The sound of an engine sputtering to life was heard, and as I looked up, I saw him. He was floating above the grave. I forgot he was buried with his rocket shoes.

"Dónde soy?" He was talking. Oh my god. He was actually talking. "¿Quien es usted?"

"Holy shit, you're actually conscious," I blurted out.

"¡Ey! ¡Lenguaje! ¿Y por qué no estaría?"

I stared at him. "Do you not...speak English?" I put my hand on my chin. "Coulda sworn you did..."

"Oh, inglés." He cleared his throat. "Is this better?"

"Much. Thank you, Professor." I took out my notepad. "Can I interview you?"

He raised an eyebrow and put a gloved hand to his chin. "I don't see why not... what do you want to know, amigx?"

"Well, let's start with some standard stuff," I said, pulling out the tripod and video camera. "You don't mind if I record this, right?"

"By all means, go ahead."

I hit the record button and introduced myself and my interviewee.

I pulled out the notepad that I filled with questions and a pencil to write down his answers.

"First thing's first, do remember how you died?"

"Well..." he said, putting a gloved hand on his chin, "the last thing I remember was trying to give a speech when I felt this TERRIBLE pain in my jaw! I don't know what happened to me, but it's... more difficult to talk now..."

I scribbled down shorthand of his words until my eyes widened—he didn't know. "Do you...wish to know, sir?"

"No, thank you. If I knew I'd be thinking about it for much longer than I'd be comfortable with."

"Understandable, now onto the actual interview." We talked for a while, going back and forth. I flipped through the pages until my questions came to an end.

I put away the interview materials and went to turn off the camera. Once I did, I turned to speak to him. "Look. I, uh... need some advice."

"Is this for the interview?"

"Nonononono—the camera is off, the pencil is down, notepad in my pocket—it's not for the interview."

"Pues, ¿qué quieres?" Membrane asked.

"Dude, I don't speak Spanish."

"Ah, my apologies. I wasn't thinking. I asked what you wanted."

Oh.

"Well, uh, I need advice." He looked to me expectantly. He made circles with his hand indicating to continue. "I'm uh... god, this is kinda awkward. I just raised you from the dead and I'm about to ask you this."

"What is it, amigx?"

"How do you go on a date with a pretty girl?" I blurted out.

"¿Qué?"

"Okay, I know enough Spanish to know what that means. So, I was getting the stuff to, you know, bring you back from the dead. And I may have been flirting with the cashier and I got a date with her that I am terrified of because I've never been on a-"

"Cálmate. It's just a date."

"BUT SHE'S REALLY PRETTY!" I exclaimed.

"I don't doubt that, but you need to calm down. Panicking will solve nothing, amigx." He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Breathe."

I followed his advice and did the best I could to steady my breathing. Once it was more level, he let go of me.

"Now, while I don't have any personal experience with this-"

"You what?" I said. Did I hear him right?

"I said that I didn't have any firsthand experience, now if I may-"

"Waitwaitwaitwait, you mean to tell me...that you've never been on a date before?"

"Well, it wasn't necessarily a priority for me..." Membrane said quietly, "but I think I know how to help."

I cocked my head. "What did you have in mind?"

———————————————————

An hour later, I showed up in tux. Because who doesn't look good in a tux? Was I overdressed? Yes. Did I care? No.

We were having a picnic in a mausoleum nearby Membrane's grave. Close enough so the doohickey that he gave me—whatever it was—was within range of him so it could work.

He'd asked me to bring him a necklace, a cheap mic, and two Bluetooth headsets. What he did, I have no clue, but he gave me a necklace with a mic "charm" and a earpiece that wrapped around my ear.

It allowed me to transmit audio to him from my location to him, and, in addition, it allowed him to relay audio to me.

"So Penelope-"

"Please, call me Pen." She smiled. Cute.

"So, uh, Pen...I may have been using the items I bought," I stammered.

Pen laughed. "What'd you do? Raise the dead? Hahahaha..." She kept laughing until she realized my red face. "Wait..." she paused, "Did you really do that?"

"M-maybe?" I said, voice getting higher.

"YO. THAT IS SO COOL!" She was beaming. Membrane was not happy with me confessing this.

But I didn't care.

I smiled. "Would you...want to see him?" I asked Pen. I could hear his panicked voice in my ear, but I ignored him.

"oh my god, really? You'd let me do that?"

"Well... if he's okay with it..." I got up off of the ground. "Let me go ask."

I started sprinting over to his grave. By the time I got there I was completely out of breath.

He pulled down his collar. "What are you thinking?!" he hissed.

"I'M SORRY! But it just popped out and I kinda have to show her you now." I scratched the back of my head, "Can I?"

He let out a long sigh before nodding and pulling his collar back up. "Fine. But you better at least stay friends, or else..."

I bounced up and down, clapping my hands. "Thank you so much, Membrane!"

I ran back down the hill and went to Pen and bent down to catch my breath.

"He...hah... said you—god damn, I'm out of breath—could see him."

"You...okay?" Pen asked me.

I looked up and smiled. "NOPE!" I jumped back onto my feet. "Let's do this!"

I took her hand and practically dragged her towards his grave. We got closer to the hill, when she paused. I stumbled, but caught myself.

"Why'd you stop, Pen?"

"Did you...?" she trailed off.

"Did I what?" I cocked my head to the side.

She shook me by my shoulders. "DID YOU RAISE PROFESSOR MEMBRANE FROM THE DEAD?!"

"Well, I had to interview SOMEONE-" She bust out laughing and started jogging forward again. I followed after her with a smile.

When we got to the top of the hill, he was "calmly" waiting for us. But I could just barely make out the sweat rolling down his face.

He extended a gloved hand to Pen who just stared at him in awe. "Oh my god. You're asking me to shake your hand—(Y/N), he's asking me to shake his hand."

"Shake his hand, Pen. He doesn't bite," I paused, "as far as I know." He blushed and started sputtering while Pen just laughed.

She shook his hand and he seemed to recompose himself. "Hello there, Pen! My name is Professor Membrane. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Pen smiled. "It's been a dream of mine to meet you in person. When I learned you had died, I never thought I'd get the chance to."

"Well today's your lucky day." He was smiling. "(Y/N)?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir?"

"How long does this ritual allow me to be conscious? I have theories I need to pass on."

"Only a few more hours... at dawn you'll go back to...you know... being dead."

A lightbulb went off in my head. If I was going to be a scientist, I could elaborate on his theories and test them. I could be revolutionary. But I needed his permission.

"Sir, if I may, would you allow me to test your theories? And if so, I don't know if I'd be able to properly credit you, so in the case I can't, would you mind?"

He thought for a minute, before shrugging his shoulders. "If it's in the name of science, I don't see why not. But are you up for the challenge, amigx?"

I nod my head, and Pen smiles at me.

"What are we waiting for? Let's get going!"

And for the next hour and forty-five minutes, I copied his words down by hand while Pen got the information out of him.

It was then that the sky started to turn orange.

"Quick! Back into the ground! We can't push you in." I said.

Pen chuckled at the last part. "Yeah! Your arms are too heavy!"

"¡Oye! Yo sé, yo sé. Soy yendo." He hopped into the hole in the earth. "It was a pleasure meeting you two kids. I believe you'll both go on to do great things."

He crossed his arms over his chest and fell backwards into the ground. "See you on the other side, amigx."

"See you on the other side, Professor." I gave him a small "see ya" hand motion. Pen and I spent the rest of the day chatting and getting to know each other while I worked on my project.

I turned in my report and got a 100. Hell yeah.

I got another date with Pen. Hell fucking yeah.

I've started to compile his works and research. Slowly, it started to make more and more sense. I completed the class and went on to pursue my career in science.

Maybe I'll go on to do great things after all.