#pack agent carter

[okteavia]

Marvel Peggy Carter - MCU Agent Carter - Margaret Carter icons - Feel free to use on any platform - Please leave a like or reblog if you save.

[xsunnyrain]

Peggy cárter / Hayley Atwell

By: Natilla

*If you use it, i would appreciate the credits on twitter @xsunnyrain*

[darkbluekies]

GOLDEN TRIAL

Yandere!mafia x yandere!female!mafia x female!yandere x yandere!king x yandere!doctor x male!detective!reader

Summary: Its 1935 and you've been sent on the Liner Normandie to retrieve a stolen painting. You have six suspects and the clock is ticking — you only have four days before the ship reaches New York to find it. But soon, you find yourself caught up in something even more serious than you could have believed.

Warnings: getting hit in the head with a bottle, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, stalker behavior, light misogyny(?), guns, needles, violence

Word count: 11.7k

DAY 1 — Debark

The ship towers over you like a mad giant. Gray smoke rises from the two forward funnels. It’s the biggest in the world, bigger than any man made object that can float. You shake your head. Focus. You’re not here for pleasure. You continue your way over to the terminal. The agency sent you in hopes of finding the lost painting, no one else. You need to stay focused, they’re counting on you.

Without questioning, you give the fake ID to the man behind the desk. When you had started out as an agent, you were always nervous that your covers would be blown and you would be found out. Nowadays, you’ve noticed that if you look nervous, risk are that you’ll be asked questions. 

You walk over the gangway with your bag in hand. You have just above four days to find the painting — a very famous portrait of a woman with her head slightly turned to the viewer, wearing a big, blank pearl earring. It was stolen from the Mauritshuis in the Netherlands two weeks ago, and details have revealed that it has been taken to France, and will be moved to America on the SS Normandie. The painting itself isn’t insanely big, but the fuss about it’s disappearance is. You have to find it at all cost. 

Before you got here, you had time to take a look at the passenger list. There are six people you recognise, where of five could be your potential smugglers. 

Silas Achilleos, a mob boss wanted by the police, and his second in command. A man like him was probably not interested in paintings, but he could have clients who did. And those could pay him heaps of money. 

Edmund of Vesanus, a young king who likes the bachelor life. He surrounds himself with loads of women and alcohol, partying like nothing matters. He would take the painting because he doesn’t want anyone else to have it. He’s traveling with his doctor, a certain Karl Kry who you don’t know much about. 

Hedwig Carter, a young heiress who’s father is noble, and who's mother is famous in the acting business is traveling with a young woman named Jerry Kim, someone you guess is Hedwig’s chaperone. Hedwig is known for getting whatever she wants with a snap of her fingers, and if she wants a painting … she will get it. Jerry, however, does not have much information out in the open. Everything about her before she started to work for Hedwig is wiped away. You want to know who she is and where she comes from, and what she would want a painting for.

You walk down the stairs to your cabin on A-deck and start to pack up, using the second bed in the room to store your bag. After settling in, you decide to take a look around this magnificent vessel to get familiar with it. You make your way up to the promenade deck and give the open cinema by the stairs a quick look. You guess that they’re going to put on movies once the ship reaches open water. If you’re lucky you’ll see something interesting. And hopefully, you have the time to watch it. 

The promenade is enclosed decorated with a gray floor, comfortable deck chairs and clear windows. A line in the tricolor fashion runs along the floor, as if to show where to walk. You walk on the line, flashing a little childish smile. You’ve left Le Havre and are on your way out towards the Atlantic’s open arms. The clock is ticking. 

Your eyes lock onto someone walking towards you and you immediately realize that it is Hedwig and her chaperone, an east asian girl … wearing pants and a long sleeved shirt. You don’t realize how obvious it is that you’re staring until the woman opens her mouth and you realize that they’ve stopped right in front of you. 

“What are you staring at, sir?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and putting her hands in her pockets. “If you want to say something, do it.”

“No—no, sorry”, you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Tell me, do you approve of women who wear pants?” 

It sure looks weird, but is it? When you think about it, aren't pants just pieces of the same fabric as skirts, just sewn differently?

“Uh, I … suppose so.”

To that, Jerry nods approvingly.

“I don’t see why only men should wear pants”, she says.

“Well, I don't feel comfortable wearing them”, Hedwig chuckles nervously and smiles softly. “But they fit you, Jerry. They really do.”

“You must be miss Carter”, you say, as if you don't know, and shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, please call me Hedwig! Who are you?” 

“I’m Axel Ainsworth, I'm in the art industry.”

Hedwig’s smile widens. “That is very interesting, I love art. Especially portraits. Capturing humanity’s differences and details are magical. Don’t you think so, Jerry?”

“I’m more for that new thing — surrealism, I think it’s called — where everything is here and there and weird to believe”, Jerry says, shrugging. “But portraits can be okay too, depending on what type.” 

Hedwig has turned her eyes to you, glued them onto you as if you are the only thing she could ever see. “Are you traveling alone, mister Ainsworth?” she asks. 

You have remembered your entire forged background and learned it skillfully. Even your fake name rolls off the tongue as smoothly as if it was your real name. You're traveling alone because you're on your way home to your fiancé from a business trip. 

“I see”, Hedwig smiles and turns to the woman next to her. “Let me introduce you to my chaperone, miss Jerry Kim. You're always welcome to sit with us during dinner. We'd be more than happy to accompany you.”

“I'm grateful to know that, miss.”

With that said, the two women walk away. You frown and sigh. Hedwig seems like a very sweet young woman, it’d be a shame if it was her who was the culprit. Her chaperone, on the other hand, gives you weird vibes. Something about the look in her eyes … as if she’s looking right through you, scanning you. 

You continue down the promenade until you turn into the Winter Garden, a half moon-shaped room full of plants and lamps and big, wide windows, overlooking the special shaped bow that has given Normandie the speed it has. Passengers have already started gathering in the Winter Garden to talk to friends and family and watch how Normandie makes her way out onto the Atlantic. None of them resembles the men you’re looking for. You continue your way through the ship, eventually finding yourself in the smoking room on the embarkment deck, where you had stepped onto the ship. You had only glanced at the room before, but now when you’re standing in the smoking room — and very well the lounge since they’re connected — you realize how stupid you must have been to miss it. There must be ten meters up to the ceiling, you think, and bigger than a concert hall. A long, grey staircase leads up to the outside deck. The art deco interior is modern and sleek, but the whip overall has a classic, conservative design that reminds you of the great liners of the old age. You sigh while thinking of the Mauretania and the Olympic, Britain's biggest rivals which now are laid up in Jarrowtown, side by side, ready to be scrapped. There’s something melancholy about it all, and at the same time something beautiful, starting as enemies and now ending it all under the same flag, together. 

You shake your head. Focus. Your eyes catch someone standing by the windows, someone very familiar. Silas and his right hand man. You move closer, trying to hear what they’re talking about.

“I’m not complaining, I just think that it is annoying that it has to take four days to get to America”, Silas mutters and takes a whiff off his cigar. 

“Any other ship would take double the time, sir”, his second in command says apologetically. “I doublechecked.”

“I don’t like being in one place for too long.”

“See it as a vacation. You’re deserving of it. Let’s enjoy some good food, alcohol and some company. It’ll do you good.”

“I don’t like to be in one place too long. Especially when we know that they're on board!”

You furrow your brows. Who?

“Nothing will happen.”

Silas hums and smokes again. You’ve stood by the windows a few meters away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. Silas turns his eyes to you. 

“You, sir”, he says, pointing at you with his cigar. 

You look away from the ocean. Both Silas and his second in command have turned to you, their dark eyes looking right at you. 

“Yes?” you ask. 

“Is it true that the Normandie keeps her speed?” Silas asks. “No matter the weather?”

“I believe so, sir.”

Silas nods in satisfaction. “Good.”

You decide to try to get some information out of him. You know who he is, but he doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know that you’re out to get him. To him, you’re just another first class passenger. 

“Are you in a hurry?” you wonder. 

“You could say that”, Silas sighs and turns his eyes out the window again. 

You hold out your hand. “I’m Axel Ainsworth.”

Silas second in command gives him a short look before his boss shakes your hand. His grip is hard, firm. 

“You can call me Silas”, he says. “No need for a surname.” He takes another blow on the cigar. “What brings you out on the ocean like this?”

“I’ve been on a business trip, but now I’m going home to my fiancé”, you say, pretending to smile at the thought of your made up fiancé.

“What business are you in?”

“Art.”

Silas lifts one of black his eyebrows. “Art?”

His second in command straightens his back. 

“Yes, sir”, you say. 

“Are you a … painter?” Silas wonders. 

“God no, I can’t handle a brush even if my life depended on it. I’m an art trader, I help people sell their paintings for the right price.”

“I see. Well, one can’t do everything.” He blows a cloud of smoke. “Have you traveled on this ship before, Axel?”

“No, it’s my first time. But I’m not unfamiliar with the ocean, I used to travel a lot on the older ships in my younger days.”

“Then I suppose you have a favorite?”

You think for a second. “I did like that Cunarder, the Lusitania … such a shame Germany sunk it.”

“You never know which ships are safe or not, just look at that Titanic fiasco. They thought it was the safest ship afloat. Yeah, sure it was.” Silas shrugs. “Wouldn’t surprise if this peace of junk also sinks. Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well …”

Silas’s second in command taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Silas frowns and nods before turning to you. 

“It was nice speaking with you, but I have some business to deal with”, he says shortly. 

“Have a good day”, you say. 

Silas nods politely and leaves. You follow him and his second in command with your eyes until they’ve left the smoking room. He was nicer than you had anticipated. 

Your next suspect, you find in the dining hall that evening. You’ve met up with Hedwig and Jerry in the reception. Hedwig is wearing a pink evening gown with pink gloves. Her honey blonde hair is curled and put up with hairpins. Jerry is wearing a dark purple, sleeveless dress, showing a couple tattoos. In her short, black hair, there’s a little decoration that reminds you of a flower. She's wearing dark lipstick, in contrast to Hedwig who wears a Hollywood red.

“They wouldn’t let me in unless I dressed ladylike”, she mutters. 

“I think that you look gorgeous, Jerry”, Hedwig smiles and takes her hand. 

“I guess that it isn’t that bad.”

“I like your tattoos”, you say. “Where did you get them from?”

“A tattoo artist, of course.” She then twists her arm to show something on the inner side of her bicep. “Okay, I made this one myself.”

You step closer, seeing a small heart tattooed on her arm. 

“That’s cute”, you smile. 

“Thank you”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Hurts like hell though.”

“I can imagine.”

The stewards allow you into the dining room and — for what feels like the thousand time today — you’re amazed by the interior. Silver walls with golden ceiling and art decor wherever you could see. In the middle of the long dining hall, there’s a gigantic, golden statue of a woman. 

Hedwig and Jerry leads you to a table and sit down. That’s when you see your last suspects. They’re walking through the dining hall, dressed in tuxedos. The king can’t be more than twenty years old. His doctor is a minimum of fifteen years older. 

“You son of a bitch”, he says suddenly and looks at the table you’re sitting at. “Hedwig?”

Hedwig’s eyes widen in shock.

“Edmund, what are you doing here?” she asks with a smile. “Sit with us, please.”

The king and his doctor sit down at your table. 

“Good evening”, the blonde doctor says and shakes yours and Jerry's hand before introducing himself. “I’m Doctor Kry.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Axel Ainsworth”, you say. 

“This is king Edmund.”

You’re about to shake his hand, but Doctor Kry removes your hand. 

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t shake people’s hands”, he whispers. 

“Oh, I see”, you say. 

The king gives you a bored look. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty”, you tell him politely. 

“How do you know Hedwig?” he asks shortly. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“We met today”, Hedwig smiles. “Axel, Edmund is my relative. It’s been months since we last saw each other.”

“I’ve told you to visit.”

“I know.”

“Are you that much of a hypochondriac that you need a doctor to accompany you while you’re traveling?” Jerry chuckles. 

“What are you doing here, Jerry?” Edmund mutters coldly. 

“She’s my chaperone”, Hedwig explains.

“Oh fuck me.”

“Your majesty, maybe you should think about your language”, Doctor Kry says. “We are around others.”

Edmund rolls his eyes before looking at you in a bored manner. 

“Tell me”, he says, “where do you come from, mister Ainsworth?”

You ramble your rehearsed background. Edmund nods along with you.

“I’ve always wanted to visit that place”, Doctor Kry says. “I’ve heard that it is a beautiful city.”

“It is”, you say. 

“And now you’re going to America”, Edmund says. “What were you doing in France?”

“I was on a business trip.”

“What type?”

It strikes you as odd. He doesn’t sound interested, but still he asks you curious questions. 

“I’m in the art business”, you say.

“What for?” Edmund wonders.

“Art is beautiful and should be getting what it is worth.”

“I like art”, Doctor Kry. “I would do anything to see the Mona Lisa.”

“Why didn’t you visit it when you were in France?” Hedwig wonders. 

“We didn’t have time … Edmund didn’t want to go there.”

“Why should I squash together with other people to see paintings?” Edmund scoffs. “If I want to see a painting, I get it for myself. That’s that.”

“But do you like art, your majesty?” you ask. 

“Everyone likes art”, Edmund replies nonchalantly. “That’s what gives life meaning.”

“Have you read a certain story, Edmund, called ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’?” Jerry asks with a teasing smile. “Thought that it’d fit you.”

The story is about a man who wants nothing more than to remain youthful … to the point where he has a painting of himself where all of his sins can be seen. In the end, the picture is as gruesome as can be, but Dorian himself is as youthful as he started.

“Oh, shut up, Jerry”, Edmund mutters angrily. “One day, I’ll teach you manners, believe me.”

Jerry smirks. 

You eat dinner together with the young king and the doctor. Afterward, to soothe your aching stomach, the five of you walk up to the outside promenade deck to get some fresh air. You strut under the lifeboats, under the stars. Above you, a big luminous sign spells out the name 'NORMANDIE’, casting a soft light on you. Doctor Kry has lent his blazer to Hedwig, and you’ve tried to offer yours to Jerry who refused before you had the time to open your mouth.

“Ladies, I think it’s time for you to retreat”, Edmund says, sounding sweeter than before. “It’s starting to get late.”

“The evening is young”, Jerry insists. 

“I’m tired”, Hedwig yawns.  

“Jerry, be a good girl and bring Hedwig to your cabin”, Edmund grits. “Please. I’m not fighting with you again.”

Jerry rolls her eyes, removes the doctor’s blazer and tells you goodnight. Hedwig gives you and Edmund a hug. Her flowery perfume clogs up your nose, dulls your head for a moment. The three of you wish the girls a pleasant evening and continue walking. 

“Hedwig is a stupid girl”, Edmund says, strolling slowly. “One can’t help but want to take care of her.”

“She seems very sweet”, you admit. 

“She is. Just very naive. I’ve promised her father that I’m going to take care of her whenever I meet her.”

“Her chaperone is … interesting”, Doctor Kry remarks. 

“God, yes, I hate her!”

“What is it about her that you don’t like?” you ask curiously. 

“I do not like girls like her. Did you see her tattoos? She often walks around in man’s clothing and I don’t think it’s fitting for a woman — especially someone that is close to my relative. I don’t want her influencing Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you have to worry, your majesty”, Doctor Kry says calmly. “I think Hedwig is going to be okay.”

“If there’s one thing I’m glad for, it is that Hedwig is predictable.” He groans. “I need a cigar. Let’s go to the smoking room.” Edmund turns around to give you a look. “Axel, are you joining?” 

“I don’t know”, you reply. “It’s the first day, I’m still tired from embarking.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re going to bed now.” He looks at his expensive watch. “The clock is ten. Stay one hour.”

You give up and follow them to the smoking room. Maybe it is for the best. If you want to get close to them, you’ll need to spend as much time observing them as you can. 

Sitting with them in the smoking room, you find that Silas and his second in command aren't here among the other men. You frown, thinking that they would be here since they were earlier. 

When you’re allowed to leave, two hours later, your mind is fogged up by smoke and whiskey. You make your way through the empty corridors to your cabin, closing and locking it behind you. Tiredly, you sink down on your bed and sigh out. You have observed them, and talked with them the entire day, and yet you haven’t figured out who could be hiding the painting. They all seem interested in art. They all could have taken it. 

There's so many questions. What kind of doctor is Kry? Where did Jerry come from and why is there no information about her? Why would someone like Hedwig hire her as her chaperone? And who is that person that Silas doesn't want on board? Is there someone you haven't accounted for, someone else that can have stolen the painting?

You hide your face in your hands and groan. Three days left.

DAY 2 — Sea

You wake up early, get ready and head out into the corridor. You lock the cabin door behind you, feeling the handle to make sure that it is locked and make your way to the Winter Garden to have a cup of coffee. The large windows give you a wide view of the calm ocean. The sun rises up from the blue water in a magical sense that has you hypnotized. It's all so very quiet and relaxing.

After your cup of coffee, you stretch your muscles, and contemplate going down to the swimming pool to take a few laps, to warm up your muscles and clear your head for the day's work. You pay the purser and make your way down to the swimming pool on D deck. The tile walls are covered with art that reminds you of ancient Greece and the new, abstract type of paint. The pool itself was formed as a long rectangle with curved corners, green steel ladders, and a steep and a shallow part. Throughout the shallow part, there were thick, dull spikes, likely to stop children from going out into the deep end. 

Despite being the early hours of the first morning on board, someone is already in the water. Doctor Kry.

“Good morning”, he says. “You’re up early.”

“So are you”, you reply.

“I always need to clear my head before starting the day.”

“What about the king? Is he swimming too?”

“Don't kid around. He doesn’t wake up until nine. I wouldn’t be able to get him out of bed before that anyways. He’s a very deep sleeper and hates getting woken up.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. 

“Where do you have your cabin?” you ask. 

“On the promenade deck, one of the suites. A-54.”

Bingo. 

“Why do you ask?” Doctor Kry wonders.

“I was just thinking that since the king doesn't want to be disturbed, choosing the right cabin place is important.”

“Did we choose a good cabin then?”

You nod, despite not knowing a single thing about cabin placements. The only thing you're aware of is to be as far away from the noisy engine room as possible.

Perhaps if you asked the purser, you could get the number of the other cabins. He, if anyone, should have the passenger list. 

You glance back at Doctor Kry who's still hanging by the side of the pool. This is your time to investigate him. You slowly get into the water.

“Such a shame that you didn't get to visit the Mona Lisa”, you say as you start to swim. “It's a very pretty painting.”

“So I've heard”, Doctor Kry says slowly.

“My favorite painting is ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’, have you had the opportunity to see it?”

He's quiet for a second.

“I haven't”, he says, sounding low. “I guess that, an art trader like you, must be troubled by its disappearance.”

“Of course”, you answer.  

At this point, a detective and an art trader don't seem like different things, especially since both would be looking for the same thing.

“Can I ask you something?” you wonder.

“It depends”, Doctor Kry says. “Go ahead.”

“Forgive me for being nosy, but why doesn't his majesty like Jerry?”

“He is very old fashioned. He doesn't think that women should be dressed in pants or have tattoos. Edmund is very self centered, yes, but he's also very possessive of the ones he holds dear — example being miss Hedwig. As you may know, his parents were murdered by enemies to the monarchy and ever since, the only relatives that have been in his life have been Hedwig and her family. They're very close in age too — Hedwig being eighteen and Edmund nineteen — which has been a very important thing for him. He sees her as a friend, maybe his only friend. So having someone that could potentially blemish his friend and only family is a threat to Edmund.”

“Then why does Hedwig have Jerry?”

“I don't know. It could be because of a teenage revolt. Jerry is different to everything that Hedwig has ever known … and now that she's eighteen she might want to try something new.”

“Do you think that Edmund is worried about her? Because of Jerry?”

“I wouldn't say worried, because the only thing the king worries about is himself, but I think that there's something along those lines. I think that he sees Hedwig as an extended part of himself rather than her own person.”

You nod carefully.

“I wonder where Hedwig found Jerry”  you say. “How someone like her could get the job as Hedwig’s chaperone. Do you know where she comes from?”

Doctors Kry suddenly laughs.

“You ask an awful amount of questions this early in the morning”, he says and gets out of the water. “I'm sorry, I don't have more answers for you, Axel.”

You look up at him, where he stands on the tile floor. He looks down at you with a small smirk.

“You remind me of a little boy”, he says and lowers his eyes onto your physic. “You're awfully trained to be an art trader. One could think that you were an Olympian.”

“Shouldn't a doctor be pleased that I am taking care of myself?”

“I am. You look good, healthy.  Just found it humorous.” He wipes away a few drops of water trying to go into his blue eyes. “I suppose that I will see you later. Goodbye, Axel.”

“Goodbye.”

You decide to do a few more laps around the swimming pool before getting up and drying yourself. Tomorrow morning, you will sneak into Edmund’s and Doctor Kry’s cabin to see if the painting is in there. But for now, you need to go to the purser. 

You change into your suit. In the front pocket, you keep a little commonplace book to take notes. You  make your way back to the pursers office. The man behind the desk gives you a service smile and asks how he can help you. 

“Do you happen to have the passenger list?” you ask. “I would like to know where some people’s cabins are located.”

“What is your name?” the purser wonders. 

“Axel Ainsworth.”

“Who are you wanting to find?”

“Hedwig Carter and Silas Achilleos.”

The purser disappears into his office. You wait impatiently, suddenly feeling watched. Carefully, you glance over your shoulder, but the only ones in eyesight are two men who are conversing. The purser returns. You fish out your notebook, ready to note it down. 

“Miss Carter has cabin B-23 and Mister Achilleos has cabin A-11.”

You write it down. “Thank you.”

With that said, you leave to go to the staircase. You’re not sure where to go, so you decide to take a stroll down the enclosed promenade while thinking. Doctor Kry knows more, you think, but he doesn’t want to tell. 

You sit down on one of the deck chairs to write down what you have gotten to know, so that you won’t forget any important information. You write down the suspects' motives to steal the painting, Silas’s weird enemy, their relation to each other — which only connects Edmund, Kry, Jerry and Hedwig — as well as the answers that you have gotten from Doctor Kry earlier today. Who has the painting? Your first instinct says that Doctor Kry doesn’t have it, because he’s not interested in that painting. Had it been the Mona Lisa, things would have been different, but this painting doesn’t interest him. That doesn’t mean that the painting couldn’t be in his room, though, because Edmund could still want to have it. 

You stand up after a while and continue walking. Your eyes fixate on something in the distance. A woman dressed in pants talking to a man in a suit that seems to be hiding in the corner of the promenade. You frown. 

What does Jerry have to do with Silas's second in command? 

You want to move closer, but you don’t want to expose yourself. You’ll have to change the relations in your notes, because there’s clearly something more than you’ve been led to know. 

What if Jerry’s lack of background has something to do with the mafia? It would explain her tattoos … that or being a sailor. But because of what you've just witnessed you can most likely scratch the latter. A shiver runs down your spine. If Jerry is dangerous, then Hedwig could be too. You stop in your tracks. Hedwig? Really? Edmund said it himself, she's a stupid, naive girl. Could she be dangerous?

You walk up to the open deck in the stern of the first class accommodations where you find a few kids playing something reminding you of curling. You sit down on the zig-zag benches placed out on the deck and watch them. They notice you looking and ask you to join them, so you do. You decide that maybe you can pleasure yourself in a harmless children's game for a few minutes, and continue the mission after.

When lunchtime rolls around, you make your way down to the dining hall. It's emptier than yesterday evening. You find Silas and his second in command sit by a table. Silas notices you and waves you over. Your feet bring you to him.

“Sorry to cut our talk short yesterday, Axel”, he says politely and gesticulates at the chair in front of him. “Sit down. Let me buy you lunch.”

And so, he does. You sit down and try your best not to glance at the second in command who’s black eyes burn through you. Your stomach twists. 

You both get lamb, something you have eaten many times before. Still, it tastes better at sea.

“What did you say that you were here for again?” Silas asks suddenly as he’s cutting his meat.

His voice sounds different from yesterday. You clear your throat to make sure that your voice won’t shiver.

“I’ve been on a business trip”, you say. “And now I’m going home.”

“Yes, yes, I know that. What I mean is that you didn’t tell me why you were in France. What kind of business trip was it? What did you do? I know that you were there for art, but what do one do on an art business trip? You have to forgive me for being curious.”

“I was meeting some people from the Louvre.”

“I see. About what?”

“Art’s future, how to make sure they don’t break or smudge or get tainted by the sun. And how to protect them. You must have heard about ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’ missing?”

“Yes, of course. Isn’t it weird that someone would steal that painting? Why not a Monet painting? Or the Mona lisa?”

“I don’t know. Maybe taking one of them would be too big of a deal. Maybe the one taking the painting thought that since it isn’t one of the most cherished, they’d have an easier time taking it … that the commotion about it would die out sooner or later.”

“Perhaps.” 

You’ve noticed that you haven’t heard the second in command’s voice at all, beside the talk he had with Silas yesterday. He doesn’t speak to anyone else than Silas … and Jerry. You still don’t dare look at him, scared that he will see right through you and know that you’ve seen him talk to her. You wonder what they were talking about.

“Did you have a good time yesterday?” Silas asks.

“Yes, I did”, you reply.

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, I didn’t. I chit-chatted with some people here and there, but kept mostly to myself.”

“You do good in that. You never know who you can trust on a big ship as this. You never know who wants you good or not.”

“Why are you traveling, Silas?” you ask innocently. “You said that you were impatient to get to America. Is there a reason?”

“Of course. Everything has a reason. But I don’t think I can share that with you. At least I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Silas turns his black eyes to you and smiles slightly. His hungry gaze makes you freeze. He had seemed so sweet yesterday, but you finally see a slice of what makes him so terrifying. 

“Because someone like you shouldn’t know that”, he smiles. 

“I understand”, you say and take a piece of food into your mouth, to avoid speaking further.

“You have to excuse my man here”, Silas says and nods at his second in command. “He’s the shy type. He goes wherever I go, so you have to get used to him.”

“Is he your bodyguard?” you wonder. 

“You could say that. But I’m always prepared in case someone wants to attack me.”

He opens his blazer, showing you a revolver tucked into the fabric. You have your own in your suitcase. Walking around with it feels too risky, but maybe you’ll have to go get it. In case anything happens.

After lunch, you’re left with a weird feeling in your stomach. You have talked with him for an hour, about everything between heaven and earth … and yet it feels like you have been having two conversations in one — one on the surface and one real. 

You walk to your cabin and press down the door handle and walk into the room. The first thing that strikes you as odd is that there’s a new smell in the air. A flowery scent. You can swear that you have felt it before. Without a second to waste, you open your bag and pick up your gun, putting it in your suit. Quickly, you turn around, realizing something. Didn’t you lock the door when you went out this morning?

That evening, you spend dinner with the two girls and stay in the smoking room with Edmund for what feels like an eternity. Edmund wants to play a deck of cards with you. He seems a bit more relaxed than yesterday and even smiles a bit. 

After your games against Edmund, you decide to retreat. You walk down the long, dimly lit corridor. The narrow spaces feel almost ominous at night time, although barely any daylight reaches here at daytime either. You glance over your shoulder every tenth step, hesitating, can't help but feel watched. Your hand reaches for your gun, but before you have time to get it, someone reaches up behind you and smashes something heavy in your head. Everything turns black.

DAY 3 — SEA

“He's waking up.”

Your eyes feel like lead, and your head is even heavier. It takes a few tries to open your eyes and when you finally manage to, you want nothing more than to close them again. For a few seconds, you wonder if you're dreaming. They're all here, looking down at you. You look around and notice that they've tied your hands and feet, and left you on the floor at the end of the bed, with your back against the footrest.

You catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. Just a bit past one in the morning. The third day has begun. You have been blacked out for three hours.

Your head is pounding, making it hard to think clearly.

Jerry bends down, grabs your chin and turns your head back and forth to inspect the damage caused on your head.

“He'll live”, she says and gives your cheek a quick, but harsh, tap.

“Well, well, Y/N”, Silas says, smirking. “You're a bit nosy aren't you?”

The mention of your name causes you to twitch and widen your eyes. In your dulled stage, you wonder if you've heard wrong, but the smirk in their faces confirm that you have, indeed, not lost your hearing.

“So, you were the agent”, Silas continues and shrugs. “I gotta admit, I was hoping that it wasn't you.”

“You were smart-”, Doctor Kry starts. 

“But not smart enough”, Edmund cuts him off sharply with his arms crossed over his chest. “‘Art dealer’, yeah, sure. A detective dealing with art. That's not the same, Y/N, if you didn't know that.”

Silas picks up something from his pocket, a small commonplace book. 

“‘Suspects are all interested in art, could be any of them’”, he reads out loud. “‘J involved with S? Talked with SIC.’ Jerry? Involved with me? Talked with my second in command? You seem to have it all written down.”

“I was involved with Silas”, Jerry says. “I know his second in command very well.”

“How—How did you … know?” you ask, baffled. “Were you all in on it?”

“Not from the start, no”, Doctor Kry says. “I only knew Edmund and had met Hedwig before. I didn’t even know Jerry, Silas or his second in command.”

You quickly realize that Jerry is the linking chain between them. She linked Hedwig, Edmund and Kry to Silas and his second in command. 

“I had already been informed and knew that there would be someone on this ship out to get me”, Silas says. “I heard that Jerry was on board and caught up with her. She told me that she and Hedwig had met you. It was her that thought it was weird that you asked all of us about art. My men dug, and found out your real identity. My men saw you speaking with the purser, hearing you ask for our cabins and decided to tell it all to me and my second in command, who told Jerry … who told the others.”

“You have more men?” you ask and can’t hide how shocked you get.

“Of course. You don’t think I would go on board with only one man? Do you think I'm stupid, darling? You, on the other hand, probably should have had someone, at least.” 

“Awfully inconsiderate of your bosses, don't you think, to send you all alone?” Jerry says.

“You were looking for this, weren’t you?” Edmund asks and pulls out something from a wooden box behind him. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. The painting.

“Who—Who had it?” you can’t help but question, gulping between the first word. 

“Me, of course”, Edmund says with an offended, yet proud scoff. “It will do nicely in my castle.”

“Now, little Y/N, you know”, Silas says. “Are you happy now? Your mystery is solved.”

Your head hurts too much to answer. You’re not sure if you’re happy. You have learned where the painting disappeared, but you’re tied and hurt, and in the enemies’ grasp. A mixed bag, so to say. 

“I can’t watch the blood”, Hedwig suddenly says and stands up from the armchair she's sitting on. 

She has been the only one that hasn’t smirked at you and seems genuinely apologetic that you're here, but you don't trust that damsel in distress look anymore. She pushes through the others to reach you with a wet handkerchief in her hands. Carefully, she kneels down in front of you and wipes the wet cloth against your forehead. She wipes away the dried blood gently.

“What are you going to do now?” you spit, coming your head to the side. “Throw me overboard?”

“Not exactly”, Silas says, smiling menacingly. 

“Not yet, at least”, Jerry says, grinning.

“If I don't meet my contact in New York, people will know that something has happened to me”, you say coldly. “They'll hunt you down.”

“Oh, will they now? I didn't realize that we had stolen their golden boy.” Silas's cruel smile widens. “Well, Golden Boy, plans seem to have changed.”

You glare at him in confusion. Silas pets your head twice and you hiss at the painful touch. Whatever they hit you with, it must have caused a gigantic bruise.

“Seems like we have to keep you for a while”, he says. “But you will have to stay in here, I’m afraid. You probably understand that we cannot let someone like you wander around the ship.”

You glare at him.

“Do you really think ropes will stop me?” you ask. “I'll be out of here in no time.”

“I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free.” He gives you a testing look before turning to his new companions. “Oh, and one more thing …” He picks up a familiar revolver, spinning it around his hand. “... thank you for the free gun.”

You want to curse at him, but keep quiet for your own sake.

“It's late, the ladies should head to bed”, he says, gesturing for Hedwig and Jerry to leave. “We need to keep someone here to make sure that our little Golden Boy won't free himself and run around, causing trouble.”

“I can take the first shift”, Doctor Kry says and golds up a syringe filled with a translucent liquid.

“Do not harm him, you hear me?” Silas tells him warningly. “I want him alive, coherent and unharmed.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Edmund questions angrily. “In this cabin? Now that I'll have people staring at me?”

“You and Doctor Kry will take Y/N’s cabin”, Silas says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Stop being so spoiled, your majesty.”

“Won't that be suspicious?” Silas’s second in command questions. “If they see the young king exit and enter someone else's cabin instead of his own?”

“No one knows his cabin”, Silas says as if things were obvious. “Besides, we're in New York tomorrow anyways. It won't be a problem.” He turns to the others. “Scatter.”

The five of them walk out, leaving you and Doctor Kry alone. The doctor sits down in one of the two armchairs in front of you with a long, tired sigh. In his hand, he twirls the syringe.

“What is that?” you mutter.

“Something that will make you go to sleep if you're trying to escape”, Doctor Kry says simply, as if he was talking about watering flowers.

“Why did you hit me in the head if you had that instead?” you ask bitterly.

“Because it wasn't me, it was the second in command and Jerry.”

“Did you lie down in the swimming pool? About not knowing where Jerry came from?”

“No, Y/N, why would I? I told you that I didn't know anything. I didn't get to know until this afternoon.”

“And yet you're quick to jump the wagon to get me killed. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice.”

“I’ve never said that I was nice.”

“What do you gain from this? Why do you want to engage in collusion with people like this? What kind of doctor even are you?”

“Still, with all these questions … look, Y/N, it’s late. You’d do good in trying to get some sleep.”

“On the floor? With my head pounding in pain? With my hands and feet tied?”

“Suit yourself.”

There’s a deadly silence after that. You listen to the sounds the Normandie creates, and somehow wishes that she could save you, but you’re trapped within her, there’s nothing to be done. You rest your head back onto the edge of the footrest and sigh heavily. Doctor Kry looks at his syringe as if it is the most interesting thing he has ever witnessed.

“I'm thirsty”, you say after a while. 

Doctor Kry stands up, walks over to the dressing table where a crystal carafe is waiting and pours you a glass. He returns to you and holds the glass to your lips, making you drink. You gulp it down and breathe heavily. Doctor Kry returns to his armchair. 

You don't know how long you've been sitting on the floor before you start to fall asleep. You thought that you wouldn't, not in this position (figuratively and literally) but you somehow fall asleep. 

“Wakey wakey, Golden Boy.”

You feel someone poke your head to the side multiple times and open your eyes to see Jerry hold a stick in her hand which she's using to poke your head.

“It's morning”, she says.

You groan groggily. She imitates you and chuckles.

“Did you have a pleasant night?” she teases.

You decide not to answer, not to humor her further. Your eyes draft onto a silver tray on the table.

“Yes, that's your breakfast”, Jerry says and lifts the tray, putting it on the floor in front of you before sitting down. 

She picks up a piece of toast and holds it to your mouth. You take a bite, feeling more humiliated than ever. If only you knew that this was where you'd end up when you stepped on board in France.

“We will be in New York tomorrow”, Jerry says, holding the toast to your lips. “And we'll sneak both you and the painting past your contact.”

“It's just a painting”, you say cluelessly. “Why do you all want it so much?”

“I’m not particularly interested in the painting, but I know that Edmund and Hedwig are.”

“Why?”

“Art nerds.”

“Is it even selling for much?”

“It is — if you give it to the right consumer.”

“And you? What do you gain from this?”

“The thing isn’t about what I gain, it is what I lose … in case I let you roam freely. I don’t trust what you will do with the painting or it’s contents. Plus, you know who I am. If you wouldn’t have stuck your nosy head in everything, you wouldn’t have any problem with me.”

You suddenly realize something. 

“Jerry, I need to go to the bathroom”, you say. “I haven’t been to the bathroom since before you knocked me in the head.”

She sighs heavily. “Alright, come here.”

Before pulling you up on your feet, she unties them. You stumble, almost falling on Jerry. 

“Watch it, big boy”, she warns you. “If you knock me down I’m kicking you between your legs until you can’t have children.”

“If you hadn’t tied my feet, I would actually have blood in them. I can’t feel them.”

She unties your hands bitterly. You make your way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Hedwig had wiped away some of the blood, but there were still traces of it in your scalp. You sigh heavily. What should you do? Finally, your hands and feet are free, but you aren’t yet. And — after a quick look around — there’s no way out. The only way out is through the door which Jerry is guarding. 

You could perhaps get out by defeating Jerry, but you have something against fighting women. But, then again, she had knocked you with — what you guess was — a glass bottle. You look around for something that can help you and lay your eyes on a metal bar over the bathtub, used to pull one up. Without a second thought and will all your might, you rip it off. You give it a few squeezes, feeling if it could be strong enough to be used as a weapon and trying to find a comfortable, yet strong, grip. 

You open the door quickly and swing the metal bar towards Jerry. She tries to grab it out of your hands but you push her off and knock her to the ground with the bar. You're not sure how hard you are hitting her, but it's enough force to keep her down. Quickly, you make your way past her and storm out of the cabin, almost crashing into the opposite wall in the corridor. You look around quickly, trying to think of where to go. After what Silas said, that he has more men than just his second in command lurking around, you're not sure who you can be seen by. You need to find an officer. You need to get higher.

Shit, the painting!

Your heart is beating loudly in your chest as you scurry back into the cabin. Jerry is lying on the floor, unconscious, and you almost feel bad for knocking her, but you know that it had to be done. It was her or you. Quickly, you open the wooden box and fish out the painting, tucking it under your arm. You can't hide it in your cabin, not when they know about it. You have to dispose of it somewhere safe.

Every step you take is careful, planned and mortified. You clutch the painting tightly, as if it is life itself.

Moving through the long corridor, you're certain that someone will jump out behind a corner and knock you out, like yesterday. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, almost making you nauseous. You continue through the corridor, over to the hall with the staircases. Your suit has dried blood on it, you look (and feel) manic, will anyone take you seriously?

You freeze as you see a pair of eyes on you. Kry. His blue eyes seem to darken as he notices you, and the painting.

Quickly, you throw yourself into the elevator, and press a random button, wanting the doors to close before Doctor Kry reaches you. And they do, but when you look at the display beside you, you're going the opposite to where you need to go. New plan, you think, I have to sneak into tourist class — or third class, whatever gets you furthest away.

While standing in the elevator, you take a look at the painting to make sure that it hasn’t been damaged in this mess. You turn it around to inspect the canvas and notice something stuck in the corner of the wooden brackets. Carefully, you reach your fingers in and pull out a folded paper. Tucking the painting between your arm and your waist, you unfold the paper to find a list of names and locations … some of which you recognize. They’re all wanted criminals and you guess that the ones you don’t recognize are criminals as well. And the locations …

Your body goes cold and stiff. For a few moments, it feels like the entire world has stopped spinning. This is suddenly more serious than you could ever expect. Quickly, you put the paper in the pocket of your black pants.

You make your way through corridors you haven’t been in before, through doors you’re sure you’re not allowed through. You can’t help but look around at the new environment. Despite being one of Normandie’s lower classes, the attention to detail had been given to every centimeter of the ship. 

Focus!

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you need to find someone that can help you. You consider giving it to a random passenger and ask them to give them to an officer, but in your entire training, you have been told not to pull innocent civilians into your job. They could get seriously hurt and it would be completely your own fault. 

You make your way through tourist class, making sure not to be seen by anyone. If Silas have more people than you thought, why wouldn’t they be in multiple classes? You’re not even sure why the painting have caused this big of a commotion, but there’s no way you can give up the painting now — not after everything you’ve gone through. Your head is still pounding from the glass bottle and your heart beating out of your chest by the sight of Doctor Kry. He knows that you’re roaming freely, and soon, they all will know … and they will look for you. Silas’s words still ring in your ear; “I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free” — well you surely don’t. But where can one run where the space is limited? It’s not like you can grab a lifeboat and sail your way to safety. The sea can be just as dangerous as the people you’re dealing with. 

You look around for someone in black uniform, desperately wanting to find someone to help you before you get a bullet through your head. Finally, you find a steward carrying a metal tray. Like lightning had struck through you, you barge forward and grab his arm. 

“Sir, you have to help me!” you hiss and pull him into an empty corridor. 

“What are you doing-?” he gasps. 

“Please listen and listen quickly”, you whisper in pure panic. The words fall out of your mouth incoherently, but you somehow manage to create the sentences you need for the steward to listen to you. “I have to get to the Captain! Like … now! It’s really, really urgent! Please, just trust me!”

You look around with wide eyes, heart now pounding in your throat. The steward nods in confusion and signals for you to come with him. You’re not sure why he decides to trust you, but you’re ever so grateful for it. He takes you through hidden passages used for staff so that none of the paying passengers will have to see them, up a couple of steep stairs and through some more doors. You hug the painting tightly against your roaring chest. Every corner makes your heart stop, terrified that someone will stand on the other side and knock you out the second you turn. 

The steward points at a door with a golden sign on it — ‘Officers’ quarters’. You pound on the door until you’re sure your knuckles bleed. A stern looking man in neat uniform opens, giving you a dark look. 

“Who are you?” he questions. “What do you want?”

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m an agent of the crown and this is the missing painting that has been all over the news … you have to keep it secure until we reach New York.”

The officer looks confused as he takes the painting in his hands and lets you into the quarters. 

“You’re bloody, what happened to you, sir?”

“There’s six passengers — Mr Achilleos and his man, His Majesty Edmund of Vesanus, Doctor Karl Kry, Miss Hedwig Carter and Miss Jerry Kim. They knocked me out and kept me in a cabin the entire night. They’re working together. They want this painting …”

… and probably my life by now.

“ … keep it safe”, you beg the officer and feel your voice quiver. “Please. If i can’t meet you at the harbor when we dock tomorrow, please give it to my contact — I will write down his name —  and tell him that he can find further information on board the ship.”

“I will tell the captain about the passengers, they will be taken care of and kept in arrest until we reach land where the police will deal with them”, the officer says.

“Thank you. A lot. Really.”

“You can stay here if you want.”

You feel for the note in your pocket and shake your head. “I have to do something first.”

The officer nodded. On shaky legs, you open the door and walk out into the corridor again. The steward is long gone and you’re alone in an unfamiliar corridor. You suddenly feel exhausted and decide to stay close to the door for a few moments to catch your breath, as if the officers’ quarter was a safe place. 

The note has to be hidden somewhere across the ship so that your contact can find it in case you don’t make it out alive. The note is more important than the painting and can, under no circumstances, go in the wrong hands. These names have to reach your contact. The group will look for the painting in belief that the note is still there, so the note has to be hidden separately so that they won’t find it. 

You make your way through the corridors slowly, making sure not to be caught with the list of names on you. In a weird, panic filled daze, you make your way through corridors, through lounges and dining halls where you hide the note. Underneath a chair, stuck to the corner. You deice to find your way back to the officers’ quarters and somehow find yourself out on deck. The wind is grabbing at you, pulling you left and right. You have a hard time keeping yourself on your feet. No one else is outside and you suspect it has to do with the fact that it’s early in the morning and the dark gray sky above you threat of rain.

“Y/N, don’t move.”

You turn to see the second in command with a gun in his hand.

“If you shoot me you'll ruin your life”, you say to him as confidentially as you can muster, but you can't help but worry if he's going to pull the trigger. 

“Do you think I care?” the second in command questions with a scoff. “I serve my boss until my last breath, I couldn't care less about other trivial matters. Where's the painting?”

“You don't care for the painting. Ask me instead where the note is.”

His eyebrow twitches.

“You know about the note, huh?” he says, eyes narrowing. “Seems like I'll have to get that out of you.”

“Why don't you have your boss do it? Or is he in arrest?”

“Don't worry about him, he always comes out on top. Come with me now or I will shoot you-”

“Shoot me then. The note is hidden and the painting is with trusted people.”

“Idiot. Do you think I was born yesterday? If I shoot you, I can't get the note. You may be stupid, but i dont think youre careless enough To sacrifice yourself for such a trivial thing. Get over here. Now.”

You're unarmed and alone, but if there's one thing you've been taught, it is to not give up without a fight. Your eyes catch onto an officer patrolling the upper deck and whistle. As the second in command takes his eyes off of you, you dive head first into the swimming pool. From his perspective, you don't think — wish — that he sees the man above him. The water wraps around you like a cold blanket and for a few seconds you can't even feel the wetness, only biting cold that almost makes you gasp under the surface. Somewhere, you think that you can hear a gunshot and see something whooshing past you in the water. And then another, and another. And then nothing.

You don't return to the surface until you're sure that the bullet rain has stopped. Your burning lungs gasp for air and you grip the ladder to your left. The second in command has been wrestled down on the deck by the same officer you saw. A smile tugs at your lips as the second in command glares at you from the floor, smashed against the planks.

“Sir, are you alright?” the officer asks, panting.

“I'm okay”, you reply, panting heavier.

An ice cold wind cuts right through you.

“Go inside”, the officer tells you.

“Y/N!” the second in command shouts as you've started to walk. “Don't forget that there are more. You barely know half of the people we have on board. Don't think for a second that you are safe!”

You pretend not to hear him and make your way inside for warmth. Unsure of where to go because of the second in command’s words, you return to the officers’ quarters.

That evening, you make your way down to the arrest. There are still two questions you haven’t gotten an answer to. You've gotten your gun back from a steward and have tucked it in your blazer. Nausea is eating you up from the inside as you walk into the room, watching the cell and its habitants.

“Look who it is”, you hear Jerry snicker. “Change your mind, Golden Boy? Do you want us out?”

You don't even bother to answer.

“The painting is in a safe place, and so are the note”, you say. “I suppose that Jerry, Silas and your second in command wanted the note and not the painting … and Edmund and Hedwig wanted the painting … but what did the Doctor want?”

“Me?” Kry asks coldly and walks over to the bars with his arms crossed. “What I wanted?”

“Yes”, you reply.

“You, of course. Imagine, my own little lab rat that I could do whatever I wanted with … no one would even bat an eye if both you and the painting disappeared.”

“You won't get any of it.” You let your eyes wander over the six people. “Not the painting, not the note, and absolutely not me. Jail is what you will get.”

You can hear Hedwig start to sob in the corner of the cell. She has sunken down along the wall with her head hanging between her knees, body shaking with sobs. Edmund sighs and walks over to her side, grabbing her shoulders and trying to pull her up on her feet.

“Don't cry”, he says quietly. “We won't go to jail, I will make sure of that. I won't allow it.”

“Did you just come down here to revel in our misery?” Silas asks you. 

You're not sure why you came down here. Did you want to make sure to yourself that they were behind bars? Or make you feel more powerful? Or even just get to see them?

“You do know that we will have our revenge, don’t you?” Edmund says and looks at you. “This is not the end.”

“I hope that you like being a dog, because that's what you're going to be, leash and all”, Silas scoffs.

“Tattooed”, Jerry adds on with a tilted smile. “Marked. Would Golden boy like that?”

You ignore her, and walk over to the cells bars, eyes glued onto Hedwig. 

“What were you doing in my cabin?” you ask. 

She freezes, looking cluelessly at you through her teary eyes.

“What?” she asks in shock. 

“Your perfume was all over my cabin”, you say coldly. “Why were you in my cabin?”

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N!” she cries and runs over to the bars, reaching out for you. 

You back away.

“I’m sorry, I-I … I looked through your things. I couldn’t help it, I just … I really, really wanted to hold you. I didn’t take anything, I promise! Please believe me, Y/N, I just wanted to- … it doesn’t matter. Forgive me.”

You don’t answer. Maybe Hedwig isn’t as sweet and innocent as you thought. 

DAY 4 — End of voyage

After your hell night last night you couldn't be more grateful for the somewhat pleasant night you had. Every single sound and movement woke you up, preparing you to see one of the six criminals or their acquaintances. And since a ship is in constant movement and makes sounds only God knows about, you barely slept for an hour straight. But at least you were in a warm bed.

You can't eat anything during breakfast. You stare at the sandwich and steaming coffee in front of you with a twisted stomach. The room is filled with passengers, like normal, but the bright room can’t be more dark and sinister. It is as if someone has drained it of color. Any of the smiling guests can be one that want to put a bullet through your skull, and is waiting for you to rise from your chair and follow you outside.

When a waiter comes over to your table, the coffee has stopped steaming. 

“Good morning, sir”, he says politely and places a silver tray with a silver cloche on your table. 

“What is this?” you ask in confusion. 

“A gentleman told me to give this to you. He has paid for it and everything.”

With that said, he smiles and walks away to continue his job. You glance down at the dome looking metal and feel your heart sink. Although you don’t want to, your heart reaches out to pull it away and reveal whatever is lying on the silver tray underneath. You’re not sure what you are expecting but a small, folded paper is certainly not it. As if on autopilot, you open the paper to see only a line. 

“We will be waiting for you when we dock, you won’t get past us. We are watching you.”

You were right. A knot appears in your throat. Your legs go numb. You will be killed. 

The air is hard to breathe in and you have to get out before you suffocate. You get out on the deck with the lifeboats hanging above your head and lean against the railing. In a few hours, Normandie would dock and you would be caught. You’re not sure that the steward who had helped you before would be able to save you, and you don’t want to put him in more danger … but you can’t step off the ship in New York’s harbor. The lifeboat above your head gives you an idea. A stupid, right out ridiculous idea … 

You look around you before your shaking hands release the lifeboat from its holds. You have been taught the most outrageous things to rescue yourself — including lowering an ocean liner’s lifeboat. The davits slowly bring the lifeboat downwards and you climb in, lying down to avoid being seen. Your body trembles with fear, unsure of what this will bring you … or where it will bring you. 

There's nothing on the ship that you should bring with you. There's no guarantee that the lifeboat will reach the harbor safely, but its a try. The painting will be more secure with the steward. 

You feel a ‘thump’ from when the lifeboat hits the waves underneath you. You see how Normandie towers above you, the black steel never seeming to end. A pair of heads stick out from the side and something hits the water beside you. Quickly, you cover your body with your arms and legs, curling up until all vital organs are covered. Hitting you with bullets on this distance are harder than one can think, but not impossible. The second you’re sure that they can’t reach you, you get up and start to paddle. If the men tell a steward about the missing lifeboat, they’ll steer their ship over here to get you. 

Your arms quickly grow sore. From now on, you’re entirely alone. There’s no one to save you in case anything happens and you will have to find your way to land by yourself. But it's better than being on board the ship.

The sea around you feels abnormally calm. There’s no distinctive sounds apart from the waves hitting the side of the lifeboat. 

You sit for a moment, taking the time to think. This case has been different from all the others you have done. More personal than you could ever have anticipated. You’re not sure why, but something with this case told you that things wouldn’t be over if they got their way. It was more than just materia, they want you too … to use as they please. Doctor Kry was right. Who would bat an eye if you disappeared along with the painting? They wouldn’t call it a kidnapping, it would be a disappearance that could be explained by the painting. And now they have none of it. Not the painting, not the list of criminals and not you. Pretty successful, you think. Maybe you succeeded this mission after all? 

You hiss as you touch your sensitive head. You’ll have to find a doctor in New York.

Hours go by. You row, you rest, row, rest, row, rest. Throw up. Damn if you have gotten a concussion, you think, but it’s probably just the sea air making you nauseous. 

How things had turned out. You thought that you would have had to deal with one or two criminals … not six. Ad how Silas had seen right through you … 

It’s over now. It will be over soon. Is it over?

You continue to row. 

in the distance, you see a fishing ship pulling up their net and you wave with your arms in hope for them to see you, which they inevitably do. Your exhausted, cold body is picked up and wrapped in an old blanket. 

“What were you doing out in a lifeboat like that?” one of the old sailors asks. “Which ship has sunk?”

“It’s the Normandie!” another one says as he reads the name on the wooden planks. “Has the Normandie sunk?!”

You tell them that it hasn’t suck — in fact, it’s steaming on better ad stronger than ever — but that an accident had happened, which resulted in you all alone in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. 

They give you a yellow rain coat that you use to hide in and join the sailors to New York’s harbor that evening. In the distance, you see the different ocean liner piers. Cunard-White Star Line, United States Lines, HAPAG, Italian Lines, Swedish-American Lines … and finally, Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. Normandie was towering above all the other liners and you stood there on the pier, looking at it. Four days ago, you had been standing in the harbor at Le Havre and been excited to step on board. But now, that you are looking at it from afar, in the dim lights, there’s something unsettling about the her. It looks like she’s apologizing to you for everything that she allowed to happen between her walls. You almost start to cry. 

You turn around and walk without giving the ship one more glance, hoping that it will be the last time you get to see the Normandie. 

You meet up with your contact in a small warehouse that following morning and tell him what you have hidden on the ship. He promises to retrieve it. He already has the painting and has secured it, had gotten it from the very steward you had left it with. 

“I have something else too”, he says and gives you an apologetic look. 

“What?” you ask and watch him closely as he takes out a paper from his pocket. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You open the paper and feel your blood go icy cold. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the nickname you see written in black …

“Thought you could lock us in? Think twice, Golden boy, we’re already out. We’ll find you, be so sure of that. Don’t think that we will let you slip away. You will look good in a leash.

S.A”

You fold the paper just as quick and breathe out a shaky breath. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, you will be protected”, your contact promises. “It will not be any problem, I assure you.”

With the six people’s contacts and power, you doubt that your protection will do much, but you nod. The painting is safe and the note is safe. They may have escaped jail and are looking for you, but you succeeded with your mission. And that is all that matters.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 14- Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Summary: You and Javi celebrate your first Christmas together in Laredo

Word Count: 11.3K (could be worse?)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), oral (f receiving), face sitting (awh hell yes), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink, mentions of food/eating, mentions of grief/death (but it's sweet), children being assholes (I'm a teacher, I'm allowed to say it), our favorite idiots Carter and Miller making a brief appearance (I missed them), Javi being so sweet with kids (this does deserve a warning, I'm sorry) Javi being so kind, patient, thoughtful, amazing UGH he is too good for this earth 🥹😩

A/N: Thank you for your patience as I finally get this chapter done! Life has been absolutely crazy these past two weeks, so I'm hoping now that things have settled down, I can get back to working on chapters at a more regular schedule 🥴 If you're a Christmas girlie (gender neutral) like me, this chapter is for you, because even though it's only October, I really can't help myself (and like these two idiots celebrating Christmas together for the first time?! C'mon 🥺)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

“So you’re leaving early today to do arts and crafts? That’s a new one.” Agent Miller snickered, leaning over his desk to slap his partner, Agent Carter, in amusement as they watched their boss begin to organize his desk and pack up his briefcase, already rolling his eyes in annoyance at the grief he was about to get from his co-workers for his early departure. 

“I’m not the one doing the arts and crafts. I’m just going into her class to help, you idiot.” Javi sighed, glaring at Miller as he finished sorting the rest of his paperwork piles. 

Last week, you had asked Javi if he would be able to come into your classroom one afternoon when he wasn't busy, to help with the project you were planning for your students to give to their parents as a Christmas gift before they left for winter break. You had quickly realized that for the sake of your sanity,  what you had planned was nowhere near a one man job, and because it was a surprise gift for their families, you didn’t want to ask any parents to come into help. Javi had happily accepted, even with your adamant warnings of the case of Christmas Crazies your class had with only days left before winter break. 

“…. To help do arts and crafts. Just callin’ a spade a spade here, Peña. Does that mean we’re gonna start having craft time here, too?” Miller and Carter chuckled to themselves, smirking at Javi, now slinging his briefcase over his shoulder, making his way out of his office. 

“Listen, Miller. Give Peña all the shit you want, but I would way rather be cutting and gluing shit and throwing fist fulls of glitter in the air than working on these fucking reports.” Carter huffed, waving the file folder Miller was supposed to be working on in his face before throwing it back down on his desk. 

“Fair enough.” 

“I wouldn’t trust you dumbasses with scissors and glue if my life depended on it.” Javi groaned, raising an eyebrow at the pair before picking up one of the finished reports off of Carter’s desk, using it to point at the two on his way out. “These better be done by the time I get back tomorrow.” 

“But I’m gonna need extra time to decorate them for you, Peña!” Miller grinned, he and Carter playfully swatting at each other in hysterics, Javi flipping them off as he headed out the door. 

After his mom passed, Javi would have never thought Alma Pierce Elementary School would be a place that would hold any more relevance to him, let alone be a place that he would frequent, now that his future wife worked there. He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled into the parking lot, thinking about the joy it would have brought Lucia to see that her years of having Javi help her with her own classroom were still going to good use with you. He also couldn’t help but smile to himself as he grabbed the coffee sitting in his cup holder he had picked up for you on the way over from the station, also knowing his mom would have had some choice words to say to him if he showed up empty handed to your classroom.  

After checking in with the office, he made the now familiar route down to your classroom, weaving through the tiny bodies patterning down the hallway, screeching and squealing with what had to be uncontrollable Christmas excitement. He gently tapped at your door before opening it, a grin growing across your face as you looked up from your desk as you saw your fiancé with an extra large cup of coffee in his hands at the doorway. 

“Oh my god, you brought me coffee? I owe you my life, you are the best. Thank you.” The sigh you let out felt like the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders as you shot up to run over to Javi, giving him a big hug before snatching the cup out of his hands and taking a long swig of the caffeine you knew you were going to need to get you through the afternoon. 

“I figured you could probably use it.” Javi chuckled, pressing a kiss into the top of your head before looking around, noticing that you were the only one in your room. “Where are the kids?” 

“They’re at lunch, I was just about to leave to go pick them up. They’ve been absolute psychopaths today. I know it’s wrong to say I wanna drop kick a child out a window, but I’m real close.” You grumbled, taking another long sip of your coffee. “I don’t think I would have made it out alive today if you didn’t come in to help, so I apologize in advance for their behavior. I may or may not have told them that because you work for the police you keep track of what kids are well behaved or not to try and scare them a little.” You grimaced, knowing that the comment you had made earlier to your kids when you told them Javi was coming into help wasn’t the most ethical, but you were desperate for anything that would even remotely help control the chaos in your classroom with only 2 days left before winter break. 

“Any kids in particular I need to be on the lookout for?” Javi asked, laughing to himself as you leaned over to set your coffee on your desk before heading towards the door to go pick up your class from the cafeteria. 

“Oh… you’ll know them when you see them.” 

You closed the door behind you, giving Javi a quick wink, leaving him alone in your classroom to wait for the arrival of the promised circus show that was your students. He wandered over to your desk, peeking through the piles of papers, sticky notes of to-do’s and drawings your students had given you. On the wall by your calendars, there was a photo of you and your family, 2 of you and Javi, and a note that he had written you one day and stuck in your lunch box, scribbled down in his rushed handwriting 

Te amo mucho, hermosa. Have a great day.  

-J 

He thumbed gently at the wrinkled note, smiling to himself, still in awe of how the pieces of him seemed to follow you in everywhere you went. The sweet moment was quickly interrupted by the sounds of little voices bursting through the doorway, chattering away as they rushed to go sit on the carpet at the front of the room. 

“Who’s that guy?!” A boy’s voice asked, pointing in Javi’s direction before balling up his body and doing a literal somersault across the carpet. 

“It’s Mr. Peña! Do you not remember when our teacher told us before lunch that he was coming, dummy?” A girl’s voice responded, rolling her eyes at the boy, now laying face down on the floor. As more and more kids came over to the carpet, the more and more voices began to chime in. 

“Don’t call him a dummy, Angela, that’s mean!”

“Well he is!” 

“Why does that guy have a mustache?” 

“My uncle has a mustache!” 

“When are we going home?” 

“Miguel tried to kick me in the nuts at recess!” 

“I did not!” 

You buried your hands in your face, letting out a deep sigh, shaking your head before looking back at Javi, quietly mouthing “I’m so sorry.” across the room before making your way to the front of the class. 

“If you can hear me, clap once.” 

3 or 4 half hearted claps followed over the chatter. 

“If you can hear me, clap twice.” 

More students began to join in, curious to see that Javi was now also following your directions. 

“If you can hear me, put your hands on your head and turn off your voice.” 

Finally, the volume of your room began to ease, all of your students, and Javi, quietly looking at you with their hands resting on top of their heads. 

“Okay, 3rd graders. Right now, we are going to work on our holiday presents for our grownups we’ve been talking about all week. Remember how I told you this morning that we have someone special coming in to help today?” The class nodded, eyes glued on Javi. “This is Mr. Peña. Can you guys say hi?” 

“Hi, Mr. Peña!” The class waved at him, Javi now smiling and waving back at them. 

“Mr. Peña is taking time out of his day to come help us with our project, so we need to show him what a respectful, responsible and safe class we are, okay? If we can follow directions and everyone gets their project done, then we will have time for extra recess at the end of the day.” Javi snickered at the silent grins and high-fives on the carpet in hopes of bonus time outside. “Once you glue your picture on your plate to make your snowglobe, you can come see me to put the snowflakes inside, and then take it over to Mr. Peña and he’s going to hot glue it for you.” 

A tiny hand quickly shot up, waving it back and forth. “No, Miguel. You cannot use the hot glue gun. It’s a grownup's only job.” You tried your best not to roll your eyes as Miguel frowned and put his hand back in his lap, knowing damn well he would be one to try and hot glue his hands together. “Do we have any questions before we start?” Almost all of your class’s hands shot up immediately, all beaming at Javi, frantically wiggling their arms in the air. You laughed to yourself, knowing that none of them had any questions about the project, and just wanted to talk to Javi. “Are these all just questions for Mr. Peña?” The class nodded, now squirming in their spots. “Okay, we can do 3 questions right now, and maybe if we have time at the end we can ask him some more questions. Is that okay, Mr. Peña?” 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.” Javi smiled, trying his best to keep from smirking at you and your teacher voice that seemed to be having a much stronger effect on him than he had intended.  

“Okay, Mr. Peña is going to pick 3 people who are sitting on their bottom and are waiting quietly and patiently for a turn.” You couldn’t help but smirk back at him as he stepped next to you on the front of the carpet, nervously running his thumb over his knuckles to prepare for his interrogation from 8 and 9 year olds. He pointed over to a girl at the back of the group, nodding to her to ask whatever was on her mind. 

“So you’re marrying our teacher? Do you love her? Have you ever kissed her before?” The entire class erupted with giggles as Javi’s face went red with embarrassment. 

“Uh,  yeah. I love her a lot and that’s why we’re getting married.” Javi leaned over to whisper in your ear as the kids continued to snicker. “Am I allowed to answer the last part?” 

“We’re not gonna talk about kissing at school, okay, Maya?” You laughed, giving Javi a little nudge as he pointed to the next student, picking a boy this time, in hopes that he wouldn’t have intense questions about his love life. 

“Our teacher said that you work at the police station. Have you ever arrested anyone? Do you catch bad guys?” One of the boys asked, the rest of the class leaning in with intrigue. Javi rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, trying to maneuver another hard hitting question. 

“Well I uh, I help train the guys who catch the bad guys, I don’t actually go out and catch them.” 

“SO YOU DON’T THROW PEOPLE IN JAIL?!” Miguel shouted out, barely letting Javi answer his question. 

“I’m gonna throw you in jail, Miguel…” you muttered under your breath, hiding your face behind Javi’s shoulder, the both of you trying to contain your laughter. 

“No, I don’t. Uh okay, last one.” He pointed to another girl who had been patiently waiting with her hand raised the entire time Javi had been sharing. 

“One time, my grandpa punched my dad in the face, and they kept punching and punching and so then my mom called the police, and then he had to go to jail and my Grandpa kept yelling you motherfu-.” 

“OKAY, on that note we’re gonna start with our projects, everything is already on your desks. Come see me for snowflakes and Mr. Peña for gluing both pieces together.” Your eyes widened in horror, jumping in to try and cut her off before she could finish the rest of her thought. It had thankfully seemed like the rest of the class had been oblivious, racing back to their desks to work on their projects. You pinched the bridge of your nose before rubbing your fingers against your temples, trying not to wither away from the embarrassment your class had decided to subject you to with their questions for Javi. 

“... I am so sorry.” You sighed, shaking your head as you looked over at Javi, trying his best to keep from laughing at the antics your class was already up to before they had even started working on their project. 

“Is this what it’s like every day?” Javi’s eyes widened as he looked out at the classroom, already overwhelmed by the noise and bodies moving everywhere. 

“It’s normally not this bad, I swear I’m a good teacher. With it being 2 days before break, as long as everyone makes it home alive, I’m calling it a win. Thank you again for coming to help, Jav. You okay to man the hot glue station?” 

“Of course, Osita.” He smiled, giving your hand a little squeeze. 

“Miguel will legitimately try to glue his hands together, so just be… extra careful when he comes around.”  

You couldn’t have been more thankful that Javi had agreed to help you with your project, because passing out confetti snowflakes alone was enough to make you lose your mind, let alone try and glue things together, too. Through the chaos, you and Javi found yourself exchanging quick glances, quietly laughing to yourself at the craziness. You couldn’t help but stare a little longer as you watched Javi your students, patiently helping each of them, listening to them share about who they were planning on giving their handmade gift to, complementing them on their work,  and carefully monitoring to make sure no one (especially Miguel) got too close to the hot glue gun. You’d be lying if  you said it ever got old watching how goddamn sweet he was with any kid he talked to, making your heartbeat a little faster at the thought of how much sweeter he’d be when it was one of your own. 

By some miracle, everyone had finished with their gift before it was time for gym, glady sending them on their way to go burn off some excessive energy to help you through the last few hours of the day. Javi’s mom had clearly trained him well, coming back to find him helping to clean up the leftover mess from your crafts after dropping your class off. 

“You don’t have to help clean up, Jav. You’ve already done more than enough.” You sighed, sitting yourself on top of the desk Javi was next to, reaching out to grab his hand. 

“Osita. If this is what you do every fucking day all day long, the least I can help you do is clean up. Jesus Christ, this was fucking exhausting.” 

“Well, I really threw you into the worst of it, so I apologize. Thank you again for helping. The kids really liked you. They kept asking the whole way to gym when you were going to come back. I told them when they stopped acting like a pack of wild monkeys, maybe you’ll consider.” You and Javi laughed, Javi gently resting his hand on your knee, thumb circling against your jeans. 

“I’ll come back any time, Hermosa. Getting to watch my hot, future wife kick ass at her job is way better than having to harp on Carter and Miller to run the reports I ask them to every goddamn day. I’m more than happy to stay if you need more help, but I figured since I took the rest of the afternoon off, and I have a genuine appreciation for a fraction of how fucking hard your job is, I would go home and make whatever you want for dinner and finish up shit around the apartment so we can spend tonight doing whatever you want.” You smiled up at Javi, reaching your hand under his chin, pulling it closer to you to plant a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Someone’s really trying to make sure they make their place on the Nice List before Christmas.” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at Javi, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You deserve it all, Osita. It’s seriously the least I can do. Although, the things I wanna do to you later are definitely gonna end me up on the Naughty List.” He gripped his hand around the meat of your thigh, giving it a long squeeze as he placed a tender kiss on your lips, trying to use every ounce of self control to remember he was still at your work, let alone an elementary school where an 8 year old could come busting through the door at any moment. 

“You’re such a fucking dork. You’re lucky I love you so much.” You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at him. “Thank you, Jav. You really are the best. Can we do breakfast for dinner?” 

“I had a feeling that was what you were gonna ask for.” 

“Breakfast is the superior food at all hours of the day, and no one can convince me otherwise.” 

“Pancakes or waffles?” 

“Surprise me.” 

You pecked a quick kiss onto Javi’s cheek before sliding off the desk, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a hug, pressing your face into the fabric of his dress shirt, savoring the familiarity of his sweet and spicy cologne that had become the scent that smelled like home. “Alright, as much as I don’t want you to leave, I probably should be a good teacher and print the rest of the things I need and salvage a survival plan for the next two days before the gremlins get back.” 

“I’ll see you at home, Hermosa. Love you” 

“Love you too.” 

With one last squeeze, and a wave as he headed out the door, Javi left you in your empty classroom, looking out at the disaster left in your student’s wake. Christmas couldn’t come fast enough. 

Anything that you had planned for the afternoon had quickly gone out the window after your class had returned from gym, your plans for an extra long recess turning into an even longer recess, and part of a movie before sending the kids on their way home. Some way or another, you were able to drag yourself home, the promise of breakfast food keeping you afloat the entirety of your drive home. 

As you walked down the hallway of your apartment, you could hear the quick pops and sizzles of the bacon Javi was cooking over the muffled Christmas music in the background. Turning your key in the lock on the doorknob, you pushed the door open, immediately dropping your school bag and kicking off your shoes, practically falling to the floor from exhaustion. Before you could even turn around to greet Javi, you felt his arms reaching under your legs and around your shoulders, making you squeal as he scooped you up, carrying you across the entry way towards the living room. 

“Hi?” You laughed, looking up at Javi in confusion as to why you had barely made it 2 feet into your apartment before he was picking you up and carrying you away. 

“Hi.” He smiled down at you, giving you a little shake in his grip. 

“Can I ask why you’re carrying me? Am I not allowed to walk anymore?” You guestrued down at the ground, watching your legs dangle with each step Javi took. 

“Because you work harder than anyone I know, and after today, if I’m fucking tired, you must be fucking exhausted, and my amazing, beautiful future wife deserves to relax.”

 He paused, tilting his head down to give you a kiss before turning his body the opposite direction. You had been so focused on Javi as he carried you from the doorway, you hadn’t even realized what was set up in the living room until he had shifted his position, facing you towards it. You looked over to see a blanket fort built between the ends of the couch, TV paused and ready to watch “It’s A Wonderful Life”, and the Christmas tree the two of you had decorated together lit up and twinkling, casting warm shadows on the walls. “Pajamas are in there, so change, lay down and I’m bringing you breakfast while we watch the movie.” 

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you looked out at the living room and back up at Javi. “Javi, you didn’t have to-” 

“I know, I didn’t have to do anything. I wanted to. I know how much you love Christmas and how we haven’t done much to celebrate since you’ve been busy with work, so I wanted to do something for you.” A grin grew across Javi’s face, watching your jaw hang open in shock as he set you down, letting you go over to examine his blanket creation. You stood there, shaking your head in disbelief, wondering to yourself how the hell you had gotten so lucky that someone cared enough about you to make you dinner after a long day, let alone plan something special for you, even if it was just in your living room. Before you could even respond, Javi was heading back to the kitchen to turn off the beeping timer of the oven, gesturing over to the fort. “I’ll be in there in a second.” 

“Javi, you set this all up for me, at least let me help with dinner or-” 

“Osita. Go put on pajamas and lay down. I swear to God, you’re the only person I’ve ever met that needs more convincing to go sit and relax than get up and do things.” He laughed, pointing at the covered couch, demanding you to get in. You held your hands up in defense before kneeling down to peek under the blankets Javi had draped over the top to see your comforter, all the pillows and blankets you owned, and your favorite sweatshirt and sweatpants of Javi’s folded neatly on top of everything. You quickly stood back up, unzipping and shuffling out of your jeans, trading them out for the sweatpants before stripping yourself of your shirt and bra, peeking around the corner to see Javi biting down on his bottom lip, eyes glued to you as you slipped his sweatshirt over your head. 

“I should have known better than to think you would have put out clothes for me to change into for any other reason than your own selfish gain, Javier Peña.” You jabbed, Javi shrugging as he grabbed two plates of the breakfast that he had finished cooking, bringing them back over to you. 

“Me? Wanting to watch you change on purpose, knowing damn well you were gonna take your bra off before you put my sweatshirt on? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Osita.” He smirked, a devilish grin growing across his face as he ducked into the fort, giving you a quick wink. 

“You? Wanting to see my boobs? Yeah, you’re right, how silly of me.” You groaned, voice oozing with sarcasm as you followed him, snuggling yourself under a blanket as Javi handed a plate over to you. “In all seriousness, this is really sweet of you, Javi. Thank you. Didn’t picture you as a big blanket fort kind of guy.” You giggled, giving him a little nudge. 

“I would make them all the time when I was little. Especially with my mom. I’d play with Hot Wheels in there, or my mom would read with me- I don’t know, maybe it’s from being with you at school today, and thinking about her, but I got home and thought you’d like it. You seem like someone who made their fair share of blanket forts as a kid.” Javi’s face beamed with a soft smile, the dimples of his cheeks creasing as he grinned over at you. 

“That’s really sweet. She sounds like she was the best mom. That’s a lot sweeter than my memories of building forts. My brothers and I had a pretty much permanent one set up in the basement made from old hockey sticks, but it was referred to in our house as Pound Town. We would go in and beat the shit out of each other with pillows until it collapsed on us and we’d have to pause, try to build it again, and beat the shit out of each other with pillows as we argued about if we were building it right or not. My parents let it slide because we weren’t annoying them, until one day when Patrick and I got in a huge fight about which couch cushions to use and he took one of the hockey sticks and hit me in the face and gave me a black eye. Pound Town was no more after that.” You grimaced, taking a bite of one of the  chocolate chip pancakes Javi had put on your plate. 

“I’m pretty sure at this point, you could tell me that you and your brothers robbed a bank and I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“We were always well behaved during December, though. My parents definitely played into the threat of being on the naughty list as soon as Thanksgiving was over. At least they got a few weeks of peace each year. I honestly think that my parents were just as excited for Christmas movies as we were, because it at least gave them an hour and a half of semi-silence.” You laughed, nodding your head towards the TV. 

“I’m gonna be honest, Osita. I don’t blame them.” You sighed, leaning your head against Javi’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with each small huff of laughter. “We don’t have to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” either, I just know you said you liked it and we didn’t get to watch it yet.” 

“No, this is a perfect pick. It’s one of my favorites. You wanna start it?” Reaching over for the remote, you smiled at Javi as he nodded, pressing play as the title credits began rolling across the screen. Javi had quickly come to learn that if you liked a movie, not only were you willing to watch it a million times, you knew just about every line, like you were putting on a one man production of whatever it was you were watching. Although you always quoted everything to yourself under your breath, something about it made Javi’s heart melt, spending more time looking over at you, whispering the lines of the movie to yourself, rather than watching whatever was on the screen. In between bites of breakfast, Javi watched your cheeks turn rosy as you watched a little George and Mary on the screen, eating ice cream at the drugstore, Mary leaning down to whisper in George’s ear. Javi had only seen the movie a handful of times, knowing it nowhere near as well as you, but well enough to know the line you mouthed to yourself wasn’t quite right. 

“Javier Peña, I’ll love you ‘till the day I die.” 

The two of you munched away at the rest of your breakfast dinner, Javi taking both of your empty plates back to the kitchen before nestling back under the blankets, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you laid your head against his chest. Now watching George and Mary throw stones through the windows of the old, abandoned house, making wishes of what they hoped their lives to be, you snuggled closer to Javi, draping your arm over his waist, twisting the ends of his t-shirt between your fingers. 

“I can’t believe they’re actually gonna start building the house in a few weeks.” You looked up at Javi, beaming with excitement. After Javi’s proposal, both to be his wife and to build the two of you your dream home, you both had been working to draft up and finalize plans for construction to physically start happening. All of the design process had been smooth sailing so far, you and Javi easily agreeing on things you wanted for the house- layouts, designs, sizing- the only thing that was stopping you from moving forward with progress was deciding how many bedrooms the house was going to have. 

“Not too late to tell Danny we need to add another bedroom.” Javi teased, gently squeezing your arm. 

“I think 5 bedrooms is plenty, Mr. Ambitious. If we have more than 4 kids, we might as well add enough rooms to house a baseball team.” 

“I’ll give you a football team’s worth of kids, if you want it.” 

“I know you would, but you’re not the one who has to push a football team’s worth of kids out of you.” You laughed, playfully swatting at Javi before he wrapped his arm around the small of your back, flipping you so that your chest was caged with his, bodies laying pressed against each other. 

“I’m happy with 1 kid or 10. Whatever you want, Osita, I’ll give it to you.” Javi smiled softly, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face before cupping your jaw in his palm, thumb delicately circling across your skin. 

“What if I want you?” You whispered, stretching your head up to nibble at his chin, planting kisses along his face and neck, each one more desperate and hungry than the last. 

“You have me, Hermosa. Forever.” He reached down, grabbing your left hand, carefully twisting the gold and diamond band around your finger in his. It wasn’t long before his hand had left yours, beginning to roam down your shoulders and back before slipping under the waistband of your sweatpants, grabbing handfuls of your ass as you pressed the weight of your hips further into his, feeling his bulge starting to grow underneath you. Working his hands back up around your hips, he pushed your sweatpants and underwear down your legs, slightly raising your lower half to help Javi strip them off your body, leaving your lower half exposed. Javi’s grip tightened around your thighs, suddenly locking his arms around them, scooting you closer to him, now sitting on his chest. 

“Javi, what are you-” You protested, taking a second to realize what Javi was prompting you to do. 

“Wanna take care of you, sweet girl.” He rasped, continuing to pull you closer towards him, now sitting on him near his collarbone, as he cut you off. 

“Are you sure, Jav?” You asked, biting down on your lip, looking down at Javi, lust pooling in the dark brown of his gaze, a devilish smirk stretching across his lips. “I’m always worried I’m gonna suffocate you when we do this.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? Baby, if I die between your thighs from you sitting on my face, I’ll die a fucking happy man. Please?” 

“Okay, okay.” You nodded, letting out a little, breathy laugh as Javi tugged you one last time, your already dripping heat hovering over his face. You began to slowly lower yourself down, Javi’s fingertips gripping the flesh of your hips, forcing you to shift your weight onto him, making you moan as you felt his strong nose brush against your clit. You could feel the width of his tongue dragging along your cunt, slowly and deliberately working himself along your sensitive bundle of nerves. His face nestled between your legs, he took his time with each lick, taking extra time to press harder on the spots he knew made you weak, loving how wrecked he could tell you already were as you rolled your hips over his face. You could practically feel his smirk buried in your pussy as the movements of his tongue became more precise, flicking at your clit making you whimper as you braced yourself on the edge of the couch, grasping at the cushions. 

“Javi… Fuck, oh my god.” You whined, feeling the tension begin to build in your belly as Javi wrapped his plush lips around your mound, sucking feverishly as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down harder, the hairs of his mustache brushing against your thighs. You could feel him hum in approval against your cunt as your back began to arch, a familiar tingle growing at the base of your spine as his mouth latched firmer around your clit, desperate to make you come undone. 

“Fuck, baby- oh shit- Javi, don’t stop, fuck, fuck, I’m so close. Fuck, I’m- mhhhmmmmmm.” Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning Javi’s name as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh, holding you against him as he continued to work you through your high.  Your body went slack, draping your upper half over the edge of the couch as you felt Javi scoot out from under you, looking down to see his face glistening in your slick, accompanied by a boyish grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he gazed back up at you. 

“Goddamn, Hermosa. Fucking soaked me. That feel good, pretty girl? You want more?” You nodded frantically at him, still at a loss for words as your chest heaved with each shaky breath. Gently grabbing your waist, he shifted you down so your back laid buried in the comforters and head rested against a pile of pillows, planting soft kisses down your body as he quickly pushed his sweatpants and boxers down his legs, freeing his painfully hard cock, its tip already dripping with precum, staining the fabric of the pants and underwear it had been straining against. He reached down, stroking his dick as he lined himself up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, already soaked with your slick from your last orgasm, before slowly pressing inside you, letting you savor every inch of his length buried deep inside you. His hips flushed against yours as he bottomed out, his fullness stretching you open with the sweet sting that had become one of your favorite feelings in the world. “Always so wet for me, Osita. Fuck, I can’t believe this perfect fucking pussy is mine forever. You’re mine forever.” He mewled, slowly pulling himself back before pressing deep inside you again, each stroke making you feel even fuller than the last. 

“Forever.” You whispered back, your voice trembling as his cock pushed further into your cunt, practically hearing the lewd noises of wetness between the both of you as he thrusted in and out. Sitting back on his heels, Javi hooked his arms under your legs, pressing them to your chest, gently rubbing circles against your already throbbing clit before sinking back into you, the stretch of the new angle and added sensation of his fingers making you whine as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingernails digging into your back. “Fuck, Javi. You feel so big, fuck, it feels so good.” 

“Fuck me.” Javi hissed, the rhythm of his hips hitting yours beginning to become more rapid and desperate as he watched you writhe under him. “You’re fucking perfect, Osita. Gonna be a perfect wife, a perfect mom, fuck- I can’t wait to marry you, live in our house- oh shit- Fill it with our kids. Fuck, te lo daré todo (I’ll give you everything).” 

Everything was making your mind go blank- his words, his fingers rubbing against your clit, his cock pounding into you, over and over in the spot that had you seeing stars. The coil in your belly began to build as Javi buried his face in the nape of your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point, his words hot and heavy on your skin. You could feel your cunt beginning to clench tighter around his length, your heart beating fast as your orgasm began to build with each push and pull out of your heat. “I know you’re close, baby. Give it to me, Hermosa. Cum all over my cock. Gonna fuck myself so deep inside you, shit, can’t wait until I can fuck a baby into you, wish I could make myself stick, fucking get you pregnant right now.” 

Just like that, something inside you snapped, your body tensing as you felt yourself squeeze around Javi’s dick, soaking him as your orgasm ripped through you. A string of expletives and his name fell from your mouth, your brain short circuiting from the overwhelming intensity, sobbing into his shoulder as you came. It wasn’t long until Javi was close behind you, rapidly chasing his own high as he pounded into your heat, dripping with your slick. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl. Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer. Meirda- so wet and tight for me. Oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, holy- ahhhhhhh.” Javi gritted his teeth as he thrusted one last time, spilling deep in your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop as he slumped on top of you, your chests rising and falling in unison as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Jesus Christ…” You laughed to yourself under your breath, reaching up to run your hand through Javi’s curls, dark and damp as they stuck to his forehead. “Javi, if you keep saying shit like that when we fuck, I am gonna end up pregnant before we get married.” 

“And that would be a bad thing because…” Javi smirked, pressing a tender kiss against your lips, feeling his grin on your mouth. 

“Javi!” You giggled, rolling your eyes and playfully swatting at his bare chest as he hovered over you, gently twisting his fingers through the messy ends of your hair. “We have talked about this! Once we’re married and the house is all the way finished, then I’ll toss my birth control in the trash. But until then, you’re really making it work unpaid overtime, you menace. I hate to break it to you, but keeping your dick inside me isn’t gonna do anything for you right now.”

“Like you don’t like it.” He chuckled, the both of you letting out a little hiss at the loss of Javi being buried inside you, feeling the mixture of your spend drip down your thighs as he laid back down next to you, wrapping his arm around your back, pulling you closer as you rested your head on his chest, hiking your leg up over his hip. “I’m just saying, Osita, Christmas is only a few days away, you could just throw it away early and-” 

“JAVI!” You scolded him, giggling as he raised an eyebrow at you, giving a little shrug. “You will get plenty of other presents. That one’s gonna have to wait, as much as I don’t want to either. The house should be done right around the same time as the wedding anyways, so you won’t even have to wait that long.” 

The two of you had very easily decided that you didn’t want a big wedding by any means, bringing Chucho endless amounts of joy when you had asked him if you could have your celebration at the Peña ranch. The thought was the first thing that came to both you and Javi’s minds- something small and simple, really only wanting your close friends and family to join you on your big day in a place that held such importance to the both of you. While you and Javi had agreed that you would have married each other tomorrow, you had compromised with the middle of June, giving you a few weeks after the school year had finished to let you have some time to prep or plan anything else that needed to happen, without the end of the year school stressors on top of it.

 After working with Javi’s cousin, Danny, (who finally received your finalized floor plans a few days ago after finally compromising on your bedroom count), he was able to guess that given that the winter was normally less busy for him and his crew, he would also hopefully have the house done by mid to late June, planning to have the majority of the work completed after you came back from your Honeymoon,  you and Javi offering to finish up any last touches that he wouldn’t be able to get to after you returned. 

While the both of you had agreed that you would wait until you were married before your birth control prescription was canceled, never to be seen again, you managed to talk some sense into Javi, telling him the house needed to be finished before you started trying, God forbidding that something went wrong, leaving you who knows how pregnant in an unfinished house. Regardless, it hadn’t stopped Javi from the moment that ring went on your finger to play into just how badly he was ready to give you the family you deserved, making it very hard for the both of you to stick to your plan. 

“I know, I know.” He sighed contently, picking your arm up, draping it over his chest so he could play with the ring on your finger, delicately thumbing at the stone and gold band. “Knowing I get to spend the rest of my life with you is the only fucking Christmas present I’ll ever need for the rest of my life.” 

“You’re really trying to make your way back onto the Nice List, huh?” You giggled, biting down on your lip as you reached up to grab Javi’s face, giving it a little shake. “You’re all I’ll ever need, too, Javi.” A cheeky smirk spread across your face as you looked up at Javi, pressing a hot kiss against the skin of his neck before you spoke. “I gotta shower and clean this mess up, you wanna come with me and hang out on the Naughty List just a little bit longer?” 

“I’d take coal in my stocking any fucking day for you.” 

Someway or another, you managed to make it through the last two days of school, bribing your class with more play time, recess, and movies than you’d like to admit. You and Javi were planning to spend the second half of your break with your family in Chicago, giving you two a few days to celebrate your first Christmas in Laredo together, now that you were on break. You had agreed to spend Christmas Eve celebrating with Chucho, the 3 of you gathering at the Peña ranch in the afternoon, offering to help Javi’s dad with chores around the farm since he had graciously given everyone else the day off to spend with their families. It took no convincing on your end to go out and help Javi feed the animals, one of your favorite chores on the farm, especially when it came to the cows. 

“I can’t believe how big they are.” You cooed, scratching one of the not so baby cows you had met for the first time a few months ago along its nose, giggling as it gave you a little lick. 

“They don’t stay little and cute for very long.” Javi chuckled, throwing the last bale of hay over the fence into one of the troughs, wiping his hands along his plaid shirt before resting his arm around your waist, standing next to you as you continued scratching and petting the rest of the cows that had gathered looking for attention. 

“Excuse you? They are still incredibly cute! Apologize to these sweet babies!” You gasped dramatically, holding your hand over your chest as you swatted at Javi. 

“Hermosa, they’re cows. They’re loud and annoying once they’re full grown, and last time I checked, I don’t think they can understand what I’m saying.” He laughed as you looked back at him with fake disgust, taking a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. Before you could argue back, one of the cows let out a long, loud mooooo, pointed in Javi’s direction, turning to look back at the cow before looking back at Javi. 

“I think that’s cow for fuck you, I am cute.” You smirked, giving Javi a little shrug as you nodded back at the cow. 

“Whatever, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at you as the two of you grabbed the rest of the feed buckets, heading back to the truck. 

The two of you finished your rounds and  you and Javi made your way back to the house to find Chucho humming away in the kitchen, chopping and dicing up vegetables to throw into his simmering pot of broth for the Pozole he had promised Javi for their Christmas Eve meal. 

“Chucho, do you think that cows are cute?” You questioned, kicking off your shoes at the door, Javi following behind, shaking his head. Chucho chuckled to himself, wiping his hands along his worn apron before picking up his wooden spoon to stir his stew. 

“Why are you asking?” He asked, looking over at you as you made your way into the kitchen, popping a leftover piece of pepper into your mouth, talking between chews. 

“Because your son doesn’t think they are, and had the audacity to tell the cows to their face they were, in fact, not cute.” You glared over at Javi, trying to hold back your laughter as you pretend to be stern. 

“They’re cute when they’re little but once you have to deal with them every day, full grown, they’re a pain in the ass.” Javi sighed, following behind you, sneaking between you and his dad to take down some bowls out of the cabinet, setting them on the table. 

“That is because Javier never pays attention when he walks through the pasture, and always ends up with a boot full of cow shit. I think they are cute, Mija. Not as cute as some other animals, or as cute as human babies…” He paused, raising an eyebrow at the two of you, smirking. “But yes, still cute.” 

“Told you so. You can’t blame the cows for your shit shoes, that’s on you, Jav.” You giggled, hitting him in the chest before grabbing spoons and napkins to set down next to the bowls Javi had placed. “Do you need help with anything else, Chucho? It smells delicious, I’m glad your cow bashing son requested it tonight.” 

“Cabrón (asshole).” Javi groaned. “Mamá would always make pozole and tamales for everyone on Christmas eve. She would put all of the cousins to work kneading the dough and assembling the tamales. She would hold the piñata hostage until we helped her finish, which I can’t blame her for. Her tamales were delicious, but I always think about having her pozole and eating a shit load of candy before crashing on the couch trying to stay up, waiting for Santa when I think about Christmas.” 

“Before Lucia died, every year we would host our whole family here for Christmas eve. Dios Mio, there must have been 30 crammed in here each year, singing and dancing, making more tamales than anyone could count. No matter how hard he tried, Javier would always be the first to fall asleep on the couch, and we would have to carry him to bed. I think he would get so excited he would wear himself out.” Chucho smiled, turning off the stove, bringing the pot of the pozole to the kitchen table, the two of you pulling out a chair to take a seat. 

“She sounds like she was such a fun lady. I wish I could have met her. And eaten her tamales, because I bet that they were amazing.” You beamed, looking over at Chucho and Javi, Javi now settling into the seat next to you, draping his arm over the back of your chair as Chucho stayed standing, letting out a content sigh as he placed a hand on his hip. 

“Well Mija, I was planning on giving your Christmas gift to you later, but now that you bring it up, now seems as good a time as any.” Chucho smirked, waddling his way over to the living room, as you and Javi glanced at each other in confusion, waiting for his return. A few moments later, Chucho was back, carrying a small, red package with a white ribbon wrapped around it, outstretching it towards you. 

“Chucho, you didn’t have to get me anything, I-” You protested, not accepting the gift until Chucho was sliding it across the table, placing it right in front of you. 

“It is a gift for both of you. I know that Lucia would have been so thrilled to know how happy you have made our Javier. How happy you have made both of our lives. She would have loved you so dearly, hija, and would have wanted you to have these as you and Javier start your own family.” Tears welled behind Chucho’s eyes as you carefully took the package in your hands, resting it between you and Javi as the both of you gently ripping away the wrapping paper and bow to reveal what was inside Chucho’s gift. You held a small, leather bound book between you two, Chucho gesturing to have you open it to see what was inside. As you flipped back the cover, you revealed the first page, a picture of a young Lucia in the very same kitchen the 3 of you found yourself in, smiling at the camera as she stirred a pot of something on the stove, apron tied around her waist. Below the photo were bold, shaky cursive letters, reading “Lucia’s Recipes.” 

“Pops…” Javi whispered in shock, delicately touching the page, gazing up at his dad.  

“Your mamá would have wanted you to have all of them. She always told me that she couldn’t wait for the day she could have a daughter to share all of her cooking secrets with. She would have been even more excited to share them with you Mija, knowing the wonderful woman that you are.” 

Carefully turning the page, you could feel your lip quiver as you looked at Chucho, feeling how watery your eyes were now becoming. “Chucho, this is- I don’t- thank you, Chucho. This is so special. I’m honored you want them to share them, I- I know how important these are to your family.” 

“You are family, hija.” Handing the book off to Javi, you pushed up out of your chair, making your way over to Chucho to wrap him in a tight hug, Chucho quickly reciprocating, squeezing you back.   

“Thank you, Chucho.” You whispered into his shoulder, trying your best to keep from sobbing as Javi pushed out of his chair, joining the both of you in a group hug, holding the two people he loved most in the world in his broad grasp. 

“Thanks, Pops.” 

“Los amo a los dos (I love you both).” Chucho sniffed, pulling away to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Now, let’s eat this pozole, I can hear Lucia yelling at me for letting it start to go cold.” 

The 3 of you spent the rest of your night full of pozole, Javi finishing off at least 3 bowls as you talked at the kitchen table, sharing stories of your favorite holiday traditions and memories. Chucho broke out at least 4 different photo albums to share photos of Christmases past, filled with lots of ones of an adorable Javi and his bright, toothy grin as he opened up presents. Chucho was thrilled with the present you and Javi had gotten for him- a new work jacket for out on the ranch, Javi noting that he probably was still wearing the same jacket he did when Javi was first born. 

You and Javi had insisted that you let Chucho help you clean up around the kitchen after making you dinner, practically having to force him to sit down in his chair to relax while the two of you got to work collecting and cleaning dishes in the sink. You got to work washing as Javi dried, taking time to turn on the radio in the kitchen, raising the volume as he tuned in to the local station that had been playing nothing but Christmas music for the past week. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”  began playing from the speakers, immediately beginning to sing along, swaying your hips, scrubbing the last of the pots and pans. Javi snuck up behind you, snaking his hands around your waist, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder as his chest pressed against your back. 

“Dance with me.” He whispered, placing his hands on your hips to spin you around, making you giggle as your sponge splashed in the sink, playfully drying your wet hands against his flannel before interlacing one of your hands with his, the other one resting on his shoulder as he wrapped his free hand around the small of your back. The two of you gently swayed in the dim light of the kitchen, the soft sounds of Frank Sinatra’s voice humming in the background. 

Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more. 

As the sweet and syrupy melody of the song played on, Javi held up his hand, prompting you to spin under his outstretched arm before pulling you back in, resting his hand on your back, the other holding your face as he dipped you down, his lips curled in a tender grin against yours as he leaned in to kiss you. 

Through the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow. Hang a shining star upon the highest bough. And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

“I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you more, you dork.” 

You rested your head on his chest, smiling into the worn fabric of his button up, soaking up the sweet simplicity of the moment- how right then and there, it felt like there was no one in the world but the two of you, slow dancing in Chucho’s kitchen, arms wrapped tight around the man you loved. It felt like holding everything you’d ever need. Everything you’d ever want.  It felt like holding your home. 

 If there was one thing you were not, it was patient, especially when it came to waiting. You never had been, and at this point in your life, you were very much convinced you never would be. Ever since you could remember, you were always the first one up in your house on Christmas, frantically waking up your parents and brothers to let them know presents were stacked under the tree at an ungodly hour, forcing your parents to implement the “If you don’t stay in your bed until 6 A.M. you won’t get any of your presents” rule to try and save some ounce of their sanity for the chaos that ensued after the 4 of you were really wide awake. Even as an adult, you couldn’t help but wake up giddy on Christmas, feeling as bright eyed and bushy tailed as you did all those years ago as a kid. While Javi was very aware of your love for Christmas, he wasn’t aware of the fact that it meant that you would be wide awake, waiting for him to wake up this early in the morning. 

“Merry Christmas!” You squealed, trying your best to contain your excitement as you watched Javi finally begin to stir, his sleepy curls peeking out from under the covers, eyes squinting and blinking heavily as he let out a big yawn, draping his arm over your waist, half awake. 

“Good morning.” He grumbled, rubbing his hand over his face, practically still asleep.  “What time is it?” 

“6:45…” You replied, grimacing sheepishly, wincing at the early hours plastered on your alarm clock. “You can go back to sleep if you want to, sorry if I woke you up.” 

“6:45? Jesus, how long have you already been up for, Osita?” He sighed, propping himself up on his elbows, running his hands through the messy ends of his hair. 

“Not that long…” You muttered, looking away from him, hoping it would deter him interrogating further. Javi said nothing- he only cocked his head to the side and stared with that look he gave you when he knew you were hiding something, knowing damn well his tired, puppy dog eyes would pull the truth out of you. “Fine…” You huffed, turning back to him. “I’ve been up since 6.” 

“6 in the morning? Jesus Christ, hermosa.” Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to lay against his bare chest. “I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. What the hell have you been doing since you got up?” 

“I made coffee, took a giant shit after I drank the coffee, turned on the lights to the Christmas tree, put Christmas music on in the living room, and then I came back to bed and I’ve been trying to read while I was waiting for you to wake up.” 

Javi could do nothing but let out an amused sigh as he pressed a long kiss into the top of your head. “You’re insane, you know that?” 

“You’re the one who proposed.” You sassed back, holding your ring in Javi’s face, a playful smirk growing across your face before giving him a little poke on his chest. His response to your witty remark was grabbing you by the waist, flipping you on top of him as he tickled your sides, pecking quick kisses along your body, making you flail and squirm as you erupted with giggles. “Let go, pendejo! You’re gonna end up with a black eye for Christmas if you don’t stop!” 

“I’d like to see you try.” He grinned, releasing you from his grasp, giving you a little shove. “Alright, well I’m fucking awake now.” Reaching his arms over his head, Javi let out another loud yawn. 

“I made you coffee.” You shrugged, trying to provide at least a little peace offering to him for your early morning wake up. 

“I’d fucking hope so.” The two of you laughed as you shuffled out of bed, Javi lazily throwing on a t-shirt and pajama pants before you both wandered out of the bedroom, you at a much quicker pace than Javi. 

As much as Javi wanted to give you a hard time about your over exaggerated enthusiasm this early in the morning, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter as he walked into the living room, seeing you sit curled up on the couch, clutching a mug of coffee, beaming at Javi as Christmas music played softly in the background, the walls dimly lit by the twinkling lights of tree, being hit with the realization that every Christmas for the rest of his life, would be a Christmas spent with you. 

“For you.” You smiled, holding out Javi’s mug, steam dancing off the top of the bitter brown liquid. “My family always opened presents before we did anything else, but if you have something else that your family always did, or you don’t want to, we can-” 

“Osita, I know you wanna open presents first, it’s okay.” Javi snickered, kissing your forehead before you shot up off the couch, running over to the tree to grab one of the several neatly wrapped boxes stacked beneath it. 

“Okay, thank God, I think I would have spontaneously combusted if I had to wait any longer to give you your gifts.” Hurrying back over to the couch, you placed your boxes on Javi’s lap, snuggling back up next to him as he began to tear away at the wrapping paper of the smallest package. 

“You don’t have any photos on your desk, so I figured I’d get you one. That way you can stare at my ugly mug all day long.” You joked, nodding toward the picture frame Javi was holding with a picture from your cousin’s wedding a few months back. 

“Shut up. Thank you, I do need more pictures of us in my office, and you look so hot in this picture.” He smirked, giving you a little nudge before picking up the next gift in your pile. “Thank you, Osita.” 

“Says the one who’s in the fucking tuxedo in that photo.” You rolled your eyes, watching Javi shake the wrapping paper off the next box. 

“Fuck, I’ve been needing new boots. Thank you, Osita, these are so nice.” Javi grinned, holding up the dark leather shoes, letting the bottom of the box drop to the floor. 

“I know you have, and you refuse to buy yourself new ones, so I figured I’d upgrade them for you.” You crossed your arms over your chest at Javi, wondering how he’d ever convince himself that he wasn’t just as stubborn as you. 

“Jesus, this is heavy.” He laughed, working away at the wrapping to reveal a plain, cardboard box, giving you a confused look. 

“It didn’t come in a box and I couldn’t wrap it how it was. I promise you your first gift isn’t a heavy cardboard box.” The two of you laughed as Javi tore the tape holding the top together, digging through the tissue paper, eyes going wide at the contents of the box. 

“Osita…” He warned, pulling out the bottle of his favorite Texas branded whisky he would only order for himself on nice occasions, knowing 1- how hard it was to find, and 2- that it was not cheap. 

“Don’t even try to start with me. It’s Christmas and I love you and you deserve all the nicest things in the world. I know how much you love this stuff, even though it tastes like pure gasoline, and that you would never buy it for yourself.” You smirked, grabbing under his chin, squeezing his cheeks. 

“Thank you, Osita. Where the hell did you find this stuff?” Javi looked at the bottle in disbelief, examining it before setting it carefully back on the ground. 

“Steve knew a guy.” You shrugged, only pausing for a moment before pushing yourself off the cushions, only to be stopped by Javi’s grasp around your wrist, pulling you back down. 

“These are all perfect, baby. Thank you so much. You're too good tot me. My turn.” Javi grinned, grunting as he got up off the couch, looking through the boxes to find the one he wanted, snatching it up and handing it over to you, immediately beginning to shed the box of its paper. “If you don’t- if you don’t like it or don’t want it, that’s okay, but I figured-” 

“Javi, I’m sure whatever it is, I’ll love it.” Taking a pause from your unwrapping, you reached over to give Javi’s knee a squeeze, smiling at him before shuffling the lid off the top of the long box. “Oh no way! Are you serious?!” You squealed, holding up the emerald green and black Dallas Stars hockey jersey. “Javi, what the fuck, this is so cool! Thank you!” You dropped the jersey in your lap, leaning over to give him a tight hug. 

“Thank god, I was worried you were gonna be pissed it wasn’t a Blackhawks jersey, but I think you already have 2 here, and like 3 more at your parents house, so I figured, you might like one for the Stars, too.” Javi sighed, relieved that his gift wasn’t about to stir up any unwanted hockey tensions. 

“I will wear it every game, except for when we play the Blackhawks- Then I will bury it deep in the closet.” You giggled, picking it back up to stare at it, oblivious to the fact that Javi had already gotten up again to get you another gift.

“These two go together.” He smiled, handing you over the much smaller box as you tilted your head in confusion. You quickly unwrapped the second box, a smaller version of the box for your jersey you had just opened. Still unsure of how something so tiny could go with your new jersey, you suspiciously lifted up the lid, your jaw dropping as you saw what was inside. “Holy fuck, Javi, are you serious?!” You gasped, pulling two tickets to the Dallas Stars vs. Chicago Blackhawks game, clutching them like you couldn’t believe they were real. Taking a second to actually read the ticket, your mouth gaped even further. “Jav, holy shit, these seats are-” 

“Against the glass.” Javi smirked, watching your eyes dart back and forth between the tickets and his smug grin. 

“But what about- how are we, wait- wouldn’t we have to-“ you mumbled to yourself, trying to process the gift while figuring out the logistics of getting to and from a night game in Dallas from Laredo. 

“I’ve got it all taken care of. The game is on Friday in February, the other 3rd grade teachers said they would do whatever to help you take that Friday off, our flight leaves at 2, we land in Dallas at 3:30, and I have a hotel booked for Friday and Saturday. Figured we could make a weekend of it.” 

“Javi- You can’t- Javi this is too much- baby, are you serious?” You whispered, breath shaky as you looked up at his beaming face, leaning in to kiss you. 

“I can, and I will. You deserve it. Merry Christmas, Osita. There’s one more thing.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow at you, grabbing one last present from under the tree and setting it in your lap. 

“Javier Peña, you do not need to get me anything else, I swear to God-” You protested, giving Javi a stern look as you stared at the present in your lap. 

“It’s not anything big, I saw it when I got the jersey and couldn’t help myself. Just open it, please?” He sighed, picking it up and bringing it even closer to you. 

“Okay, okay.” You shook your head, quickly tearing away the wrapping paper to reveal the box underneath. Lifting the lid, you dramatically rolled your eyes at Javi as you lifted up the red, lacy, lingerie that was tucked away in the tissue paper it had been delicately folded under. “This looks a lot more like a gift for you than a gift for me, Mr. Peña.” You laughed, giving Javi a playful nudge. 

“Well, if you put it on and let me unwrap you like the pretty little present you are, I’m sure I can find a way to make it a gift for the both of us.” Javi rasped, leaning over to nip at the exposed skin of your neck, making you let out a breathy moan, before coming to your senses, immediately darting up off the couch towards your bedroom. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Javi asked, laughing at you as you sped off, lingerie in your hands. 

“Changing so you can unwrap your last present!” You winked, wiggling the lacy outfit in the air before ducking into the bedroom. “Hey!” You shouted, your voice slightly muffled from behind the bedroom door, creaking it open to pop your head back out. 

“What, hermosa?” Javi laughed, awestruck smile glowing across his face as he stared at you. 

“I love you, Javier Peña. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Osita. I love you more.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @blackfemalenerd @deppydelta @beware-my-thorns

[impala-dreamer]

Now Available at Barnes & Noble and Amazon

INSTAR MEDITATIONS by Rebekah Jordan

Young women around the country are going missing and the only one who seems to care is unlucky FBI agent Nora Hammond. Not even her partner, ladies' man Jason Carter, thinks it's worth looking into.

Meanwhile, the TruLove Corporation has a new line of luxury sex dolls that will truly love you back - for a price. When the dolls start attacking their owners, the FBI is called in to investigate and things with Nora and Jason get a little sticky...

Kidnapping Investigations, Sex, Hypnosis, Corporate Intrigue, Technosexuality, and Love... All packed into this awesome new story by Rebekah Jordan!

Get it now at now at Barnes & Noble or Amazon on paperback and ebooks!

More titles by Rebekah Jordan can be found on her author page on Amazon.com

[lambilegs]

Lee who takes care of you after she comes home really late from work one night after unexpectedly being asked to stay longer and you’re just absolutely beside yourself because you have anxietyTM and were convinced something terrible had happened when she wasn’t home when she said she would be and wasn’t answering her phone

lee comforting you after she unexpectedly returns late one night (angst + hurt/comfort)

awe :(( this is so sweet and angsty I'm in love (tysm for the request!! I loveee angst and hurt/comfort, so this was so tender to write :''))

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ✩₊˚🧸.⋆☾⋆⁺₊💤✧

when lee enters the elevator in the bureau, bidding a farewell to agent carter, she immediately sags against the wall, her legs nearly aching. she hasn't had such a packed, tight-scheduled day like this in a while. she got in, and immediately, was flooded with photographic evidence and documents that she had to spend hours pouring over and making notes of. she took a short, twenty minute lunch break, which consisted of making coffee, calling you and eating a quick granola bar. after visiting the library and spending hours on even more research, carter then asked her to stay back to visit one of the victims' homes with him. of course, she wanted, and needed, to say yes, curiosity burning in her to discover more about the recently deceased man and provide answers for his family.

but, she's now weary to the bone. the urge to yawn keeps swimming up her throat, mouth wet with the drool from it and eyelids heavy. she forces herself to remain upright, walking cautiously through the parking lot, eyes scanning around. upon entering her car, she leans her forehead on the wheel, sucking in a deep breath, trying to shake herself out of the exhaustion so she can focus on the drive home. after squeezing her eyes open and shut, she finally starts on her way home to you.

upon entering her cottage, an unsettling feeling washes over her. she checks her watch -- it's late, sure, but you're usually up at this time, doing some work of your own or on the couch, watching television. but, her home was eerily silent. she quietly locks the door, slipping her shoes off and neatly placing them on the rack, before venturing further.

she calls out for you, her chest beginning to tickle with nerves when you don't answer. she silently makes her way to her bedroom, door creaking as she pushes it open. "babe?"

her breath hitches when she sees the state of you. you're curled into her blankets, eyes teary, mouth tight with anger. when she steps in, you practically glare at her, and the sharpness of your stare is enough to have her freezing in place. "what is it?" she asks, voice hushed, the teeth of worry beginning to sink into her gut and sending her muscles contracting.

you sniffle, mouth quivering, and she feels herself frown. god, you look so distressed, and at once, both betrayed and immensely sad. the complications of such an expression has her unnerved, and she tenses up, waiting for your answer.

"do you remember what time you said you'd be home, lee?"

immediately, it clicks, the memory of her call with you making its trail through her brain. in the footsteps, she remembers her words, promising to be home by 7:30PM. when she had just checked her watch, it was 10:28PM.

her eyes shift to the ground, shame coursing through her at the broken promise, fingers thrumming on her thigh as she tries to formulate a response -- anything, really, it just had to be the right response. you deserve that much. "I... I'm sorry. carter asked me to stay back, and I couldn't say no."

"well, did he also ask you to not call me?" you ask sarcastically, your words containing a bite that she isn't accustomed to receiving from you.

"no, he didn't," she answers truthfully, though part of her suspects your question was rhetorical. "that was my fault. it slipped my mind, that I had promised to be home early, that I should've called you." her voice lowers, thick with shame at her own irresponsibility. "I'm sorry."

your face softens, eyes drinking up the way she avoids your gaze, the way her voice sounds so small, losing the natural straightforwardness it usually possesses, and the movements of her hands clumsy, folding in on themselves. "I was just so worried, lee. you said that this guy you've been investigating has a violent history, and has made threats to the FBI. and I..." you breathe in shakily, fresh tears beginning to well in your eyes. "I was terrified something had happened. I tried to reassure myself, but I couldn't do it. everything in my head was panicked and was moving a mile a minute. all the possibilities of what could've happened to you felt even worse than just saying them out loud. and, and you didn't pick up."

she nods quietly to your words, wanting you to have the space to express what her actions caused. she knew you dealt with anxiety, and was well-aware of how her being an agent could impact that. yet, still, she managed to screw up. what is wrong with her? guilt latches onto her gut and tightens its grip, and she feels her fingers, slippery and clumsy, continuing to fiddle. "I understand. I'm really sorry, baby. I promise, it won't happen again." when she looks up at you, your lips part at the sight of her eyes sheen with tears, eyebrows scrunched together in determination. "it won't happen again. I'm sorry it did, though. I know the circumstances, and it was messed up for me to forget to call you again. and I'm just -- I'm sorry." she feels a tear slip down her cheek, and her hand flinches to wipe it away before deciding against it, not wanting to draw attention to it in case you missed the sight of it in the dim lighting. "I've just been so caught up in work, and this case, and just got lost in it today. and I was so tired, and carter asking me to help him was just so rushed that I didn't get to even think, and..." she falters, realizing she's rambling, trying desperately to explain herself and make this up to you. but, she knows no amount of excuses will ease your hurt. only her promise to do better will. "I'm sorry."

she swallows down the urge to cry, wanting to remain focused on you. but, you're quiet for so long, and the silence of the room causes anxiety to unfurl in her, the sudden feeling making her shift.

finally, in her peripheral vision, she sees you move, and tentatively looks up to find you sitting up in the bed, arms stretched out.

relief flushes through her, as welcome a feeling as a gust of wind on a humid summer day. she immediately walks towards you, sitting down on the edge of the bed and burying her face in your neck, arms clinging to you, desperate to feel your touch, your forgiveness. "baby, I..." her words catch on a broken breath, the urge to cry choking at her.

"I know," you whisper, hands combing through her hair. "I was just so scared. I tried to call, but you didn't pick up."

"I'm sorry," she says, voice muffled against your skin. "I was out with carter, but I should've told you." her arms tighten around you, and through that motion, you feel the guilt whirling inside her, the love threatening to spill from her lips.

"yeah, you should've," you say, pausing as a small sob bubbles up in your throat, tears beginning to leak as you remember the anxiety that had plagued you just minutes ago.

she hears it, immediately pulling away to watch you, mouth clamping shut, worry creasing her temple, as you start crying again. for a moment, she just watches you, devastation gnawing at her from seeing how pained you are. she should've done better, she knows that now, but the guilt is ceaseless. she never wants to cause you such worry, such hurt.

her arms wrap around your waist, long fingers drawing gentle circles into your back, as you weep into her chest, soaking through her dress shirt. she silently lets some of her own tears fall, paying no mind to them as she strokes your hair and quietly listens to your broken words and croaking hiccups, murmuring apologies into your hair, which still smells fresh from your shower.

"I-I'm sorry, too, for snapping," you gasp out through your sobs. "I was just scared and anxious, and it made me antsy and upset with you, but I know it was an accident. I shouldn't have snapped, I'm sorry."

something inside her softens at your apology, the earnestness of your words enough to comfort her. you taking a harsh tone with her always feels unfamiliar and unsettling, and to hear you take it back helps her more than she'd like to admit.

after you calm down, the hiccups slowly beginning to subside, she combs your hair back from your sweaty forehead and damp cheeks. her eyes, wide and earnest, explore yours and you nearly shrink under the intensity of the gaze. the feeling is moulded into a sweet longing when she presses her lips to your cheeks, softly kissing away your hot tears. "what can I do?" she whispers against your skin, her touch so light and delicate.

you shrug, voice still raspy from your cries. "just, stay with me. and, I don't know, can we hang out?"

her eyebrows draw together, face firm as she gives you a hard nod. "of course. I want to." she pauses, eyes glancing to your lap as she swallows. "you know that, right? I want to be here with you."

you nod, not trusting your voice. everyday, she eagerly greets you upon her arrival at home, and even on days when she's weary and drained, her head immediately lays in your lap, face nuzzling into your thigh. you know she wants time with you. despite her quietness, her actions show that. the way she almost always keeps her promises as to when she'll return, her consistent calls when at work, your long talks before bed. you know it.

she holds you for the rest of the night, turning on one of your comfort shows when you admit still feeling uneasy in spite of her return home. she makes each of you a cup of tea, bringing it to bed, and carefully placing it in your hands. she rubs your back, whispering gently, "I'm here, I'm home," (the words ease her as much as they do you, the comfort and safety of having someone to return home to making her overcome with emotion and gratitude) pressing kisses to your brow. but, she doesn't rush you, she never does. she just stays near you, ready to wait however long needed, so long as it meant you could breathe easily.

when you both fall asleep that night, you immediately sink into a slumber, the exhaustion of the anxious night wearing you down. she watches you for a while, brushing her knuckles against your cheek, a protective urge surging through her to stay up in case you woke up, for she knows how difficult it can be for you to rest easy on such nights. but, as her eyes get heavy, she curls closer to you, her knees lifting in her usual fetal position of sleeping. your hand lays next to yours, and she cups them, quietly kissing your fingertips. when your eyes briefly flutter open, heavy-lidded and bleary, she smiles, her stomach feeling like it will burst at the sight. "wake me if you need anything, okay?"

you lazily grin, nodding into the pillow. "okay."

she pauses, eyes searching yours. "I love you, okay?"

"I love you too, lee."

with the quiet confession whispered and lost into the night, you both sleep, minds, at least momentarily, at ease from the assurance.

[tenderjock]

like the moon moves the tides [agent carter werewolf au]

part ii. teeth bared

Daniel thinks Peggy Carter is a werewolf.

He doesn’t know for sure. There are a series of clues that lead to this conclusion, seeing as it’s not something you talk about in public, really. That being said, while he doesn’t have anything as clear as proof, she’s also not the subtlest person out there.

It’s a handful of things: the way she inhales sometimes, like she’s smelling something in the air that he can’t. The way she sorts through the SSR’s cheap cutlery to avoid the one nice spoon that one of the phone girls left once. The way she doesn’t turn on the lights in the storage rooms, just picks through files in the dark.

Mostly, it’s the thing with Thompson.

Daniel had been working with Thompson for a little over a month before he started to suspect there was something going on under the surface.

Thompson has always been a dick, but, in his defense, not especially a dick to Daniel. The guy picks on people’s flaws to make himself look good, and that means a certain amount of gimp jokes; but he wasn’t like Krzeminski, always targeting Daniel’s weakness. Thompson seems to be less of a true bully and more of a mean-spirited opportunist.

He's also some sort of big, fat war hero. Privately, Daniel thinks that maybe Thompson just did whatever it was he did in Okinawa to make himself look good, rather than as an attempt to save lives. But that’s not the sort of thing you say in public, either.

Anyway, Thompson loves attention and he loves praise, but he doesn't talk much about the war and while he doesn't care who he hurt, he usually doesn't go out of his way to be hurtful.

Until Agent Carter joins the office.

The office gossip is that Thompson’s head over heels for the pretty, prickly secretary that Dooley hired. Daniel doesn’t really think that any part of that sentiment is entirely accurate; Peggy’s an agent who served on the front lines of the European theater, and he’s not sure that Thompson’s deal with her can be explained by a mere crush.

Since day one, Thompson’s been weird about Peggy. He watches her when he thinks she isn’t looking. Peggy’s shoulders are always tense, up around her ears when the two of them are in the same room. Thompson alternates between trying to talk to her, to get her attention with a compliment, stepping close into her personal space, and then flips to skewering her with a cruel, off-color barb.

Once, when the three of them were the only ones in the office, Daniel sees Thompson crowd in close to Peggy and lay a hand on her back. She whirls on him, lips pulled back from her teeth, and he scurries back, a frantic whine in his throat.

So. The two of them are werewolves, and it’s part of why they can’t get along, he figures. Daniel doesn’t know a whole lot about werewolf behavior, but he knows they have packs like dogs and, like dogs, can be temperamental when it comes to working with others of their kind that they don’t know.

When Thompson takes Li, Ramirez and Peggy to Belarus, the office predicts that she’s gonna push him out of the cargo plane somewhere over the Atlantic. That, or that they’re gonna finally fuck in a tent in the Russian wilderness. Money’s being laid down; Daniel doesn’t participate, consumed with the silver bullet wounds on Peggy’s shoulder and the sinking suspicion that everything he thought he knew about her was a lie.

She got him, hook, line and sinker. Daniel wonders if this is what waking up feels like.

As it happens, no one wins money. Li’s dead and Ramirez says that Thompson and Peggy weren’t alone long enough to spit, let alone get heavy with each other. He also says that Agent Carter – he calls her Agent Carter – saved their bacon, that all of them would be dead if it weren’t for her and her Howling Commandos.

But Thompson and Peggy are different. They look at each other differently, they move around each other differently, and Thompson even goes so far as to invite Peggy out to drinks with the guys.

She accepts, and Daniel thinks, ah. She got Thompson, too.

Daniel looks at Peggy’s retreating back – the line of her shoulders, the way she holds her head and arms, the muscle of her ass under her skirt – and compares it to the photo of the blonde.

He can’t sniff out a suspect, not the way a werewolf could. But he’s got a feeling about this one.

part iii. belly exposed

(Jack looks away, the line of his throat and the fall of his hair and his scent aching with guilt-pain-fearsubmission-tiredtiredtired. The only thing keeping Peggy from scooting forward and tucking his head under her chin is that she thinks that he wouldn’t like it.

That, and the fact that there are two humans in the belly of this cargo plane with them who probably wouldn’t understand.

“After,” he says, sounding hesitant. “I nearly got myself killed. In Okinawa, on the beach. One of the guys in my unit, he was a wolf, and he – he bit me, I guess. Saved my life. Don’t remember it much. We got split up a few weeks later, I got sent home, and I ended up with the SSR.”

Peggy looks at him. A lot of things about Jack are suddenly making sense. “Your family are human,” she says, just to confirm. He dips his chin the slightest bit. If he were in wolf form, his ears would be drooping.

No wonder he was so bloody bad at being a wolf. The first twenty-eight years of his life he had spent human, surrounded by humans, and he’d never been given the chance to have a proper pack or even a lone packmate. If he had opened with this story, she thinks to herself, a touch frustrated, they could have avoided months of antagonism.

But of course he wouldn’t. He was running on a man’s brain and a wolf’s instincts. Talking to her about his feelings was probably the last thing Jack would have ever anticipated himself doing.

They spend the rest of the flight back to New York in a sad, quiet sort of mood. Peggy doesn’t try to say anything to Jack, but when all four of them disembark, she makes a point of pressing her shoulder against his for just a moment.)

[not-that-syndrigast]

Stucky fanfic recs

below you can find some of my all time favourite Stucky fics that have ruined my life 💕 not really sorted except for the first three which are my all time favourites

creative | canon adjacent | AU | modern AU | small steve | sexual content

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015)

The Associated Press @AP

Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE

(Creative, canon adjacent)

End OTW Racism | Steve Rogers at 100: Celebrating Captain America on Film

“Heil Hydra,” the enemy agent shouts.

“Heil this, motherfucker,” says Captain America, shooting off a rocket.

Steve and Bucky find out Hollywood has been busy since they went away. A historical survey, including but not limited to: one set of exploded genitals, a brief interlude in France, Mel Gibson and other masterworks of casting, eight Academy awards, several dinosaurs, and something Tony Stark has ominously dubbed “the masterpiece.” Art included.

(creative, canon adjacent)

A long winter

In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore.

In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter.

In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

(AU)

Just say you do

Steve just wanted a job. He wasn't expecting a marriage proposal. And he certainly wasn't expecting to accept.

(Modern AU, small Steve)

ain't no grave (can keep my body down)

It's six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone.

For a second paranoia takes over, and he kicks the flowers a little, waiting for them to explode. They don't. They also came with a card, which he picks up. The front of the card has a tasteful picture of the Brooklyn bridge at sunset. It's very nice and sedate, like the kind of card you would buy to give to your boss. On the inside someone has written a short message in big, shaky block letters.

I AM SORRY FOR SHOOTING YOU.

Steve sits down hard on the steps.

(Canon adjacent)

casual encounters

“You have never once been careful in your entire life.” Bucky huffs out a laugh. He looks away. “Maybe I’m offended you didn’t think to ask me.” He says it like a joke, but he can’t bring himself to laugh again.

“Bucky,” Steve says, scandalized. “You’re my friend. I’m not gonna use you to experiment sexually.”

(Modern AU, small Steve, sexual content)

If they haven't learned your name

Steve gets out of the hospital in two days, but just barely. “I’m fine,” he tells Sam, Nurse Eunjung and the phalanx of doctors assigned to make sure Captain America didn’t bleed out and die and get bad PR all over their nice clean hospital. “I have an advanced healing factor. It’s fine. See? I’m standing.”

“That is not standing,” Sam tells him.

“You’re bending the IV stand,” Nurse Eunjung adds pointedly. “Let go and sit down, they don’t grow on trees.”

aka Steve and Bucky's Global Honeymoon Revenge World Tour.

(Canon adjacent)

choices we're given

Steve Rogers is a good man and a good agent. There's really no excuse for the assassin in his bed.

(Modern AU, sexual content)

through the woods

There’s a legend in Mansewood, nearly as old as the town itself, about a pack of werewolves that once lived in the forest. They say only one survives; a monstrous and snarling beast with fur like a blizzard and fangs the size of daggers. They say it guards the lands and all creatures in it, and no hunter has faced it and lived to tell the tale.

Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He only wants to know if it prefers T-Bone or ribeye, and would it please stop tracking dirt through his house? He just mopped the floor.

(Modern AU, sexual content)

[heathersdesk]

THIRD PARTIES IN AMERICAN POLITICS ARE POINTLESS AT THE FEDERAL LEVEL AND IF YOU VOTE FOR THEM IN 2024, YOU'RE A CLOWN

All right. Civics for Dummies from the American History nerd. Sit down. If any of you suggests voting third party anywhere near me between now and November, I'm going to throw chalk at you. And we're going to talk about why right now, so there's no more confusion.

The Electoral College makes voting third party the stupidest, most unproductive thing you can be advocating for right now.

To become president under the system we have now, you need to reach 270 electoral votes. It is physically impossible for a third party candidate to do that with two other parties at the table. It's not that it won't happen. It's that it CAN'T happen.

As long as we have the Electoral College, voting for third parties for president is a waste of a vote. You might as well stand outside of your polling place and piss on a wall, for all the good it does anyone.

There are two ways forward if you're tired of the way things are. You're not going to like either one of them because they're both hard.

1. Get rid of the Electoral College

2. Get rid of both of the parties we have and replace them with different ones who will do what we want instead of engorging themselves on our money like the corrupt, bloated ticks they all are.

Get rid of the electoral college?

You need a Constitutional amendment to do that. You need 2/3 of the states to hold a Constitutional Convention, then 3/4 of either the Conventions or the state legislatures to ratify and pass it.

Make the list right now. Go ahead. Find me 38 states that would pass an amendment to get rid of the electoral college, so you can vote for whichever socialist is promising you they can somehow get people in red states to listen to them without starting a civil war.

Go ahead. I'll wait.

Y'all can't even agree on which socialist without a snowball's chance in hell of winning you expect people to vote for instead of Joe Biden in November!

You've had since October 7th of last year to come up with one and you haven't done it! It's over! Pack it up and call it a day! We don't have time for this! Start picking who you want to replace Biden in 2028, if we're not in the middle of a civil war by then.

Why do I keep saying that? Because I went through a Civil War phase and we've been checking the boxes off one by one for years now in how that war started. Down to states trying to remove the opposition candidate from the ballot in an election year.

Anyway, Constitutional amendment sounds too hard? We're going with the party dunk tank approach?

Cool. This is the one I actually think we could achieve in the next 20 years.

Before you can get a third party candidate to win, you need a party that has mass appeal that people would actually want to join, then have it usurp and replace an existing party. Then that party runs a candidate that could win in a national election. But at that point, they're not a third party candidate anymore.

Ever heard of a Whig? Seen one on a ballot? Exactly. We have a history in the US of ditching parties that have outlived their usefulness. It's been a few centuries, but at least there's a precedent for it.

I don't know if y'all recognize what you're looking at, but this is already happening within the Republican party. They've been infiltrated by fascists and foreign agents, and any Republicans who aren't down with their corruption are currently getting tossed out of the cuckoos nest. Republicans can't win elections through democracy anymore, so they're just going to get rid of democracy now.

WHEN THE LDS CHURCH STARTS TELLING YOU IT'S OKAY NOT TO VOTE FOR REPUBLICANS, Y'ALL NEED TO WAKE TF UP AND REALIZE THAT PARTY IS GONE NOW, AND IT'S NEVER COMING BACK.

So the Democratic Party is what we have left now, and they suck. We know they suck. They've sucked since Jimmie Carter, and even then the poor guy was in over his head. Their leadership is full of hypocrites and liars who are too busy taking Israeli PAC money, putting kids in cages at the border, letting Facebook engage in genocides across the globe, and banning TikTok to have a conscience. They squander every opportunity they have to truly fight back effectively against anything, and they're never going to change. I've lost all respect for Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer. If they won't let go of power, it's time to take it from them. I agree with that sentiment 100%. I mean, I think it's better to primary the old guard, but y'all want radical change! So let's talk about it!

You want to usurp the Democratic party with another party? You need a well-funded coalition of people in every state, fully mobilized with quality candidates they can run locally, to get the ball rolling. That needs to go on for many years. It needs to be a party that attracts the disaffected from the left and right, and has a platform they all can agree on. What Republicans and Democrats won't do, this party would need to do. It would need celebrity endorsements. It would need to be something that the vast majority of Americans would pull out their wallet right now and give money to because they believe it's capable of change that will actually help them.

You want to replace the Democrat and Republican establishment with something better? You put it together correctly and it can be done. Like I said, I think y'all could get that done in the next 20 years.

You don't have 20 years?

Exactly! You're not getting any of that done before November! I don't care how hard you try.

Fastest amendment to ever be ratified was the repeal of Prohibition. 3 months and 10 days. This ain't that. No one wants to vote for your inexperienced socialist candidates as badly as they wanted to drink during the Great Depression. To give you some perspective, it took 41 years to pass the women's suffrage amendment. THAT'S a more realistic timeline.

As for forming a party... why do you think the opposition is doing a hostile takeover of the Republican party instead of forming their own and starting from zero?

Because it's easier and faster!

People on the left who are still talking about third parties in this country will literally do anything but build a coalition with those they consider morally inferior to themselves. But the problem is, they can't do anything with the microscopic group of people they consider to be morally acceptable. They can't pass an amendment to get rid of the Electoral College. They can't form an alternate party to replace the Democrats. They can't do a hostile takeover of the Democrats. They can't unite behind a single candidate and get them funded to win campaigns except in the bluest districts of blue states. And they're totally unprepared to take any idea they have on the road to the Midwest or the South where they'd truly have to deal with people who don't trust them.

All y'all have to offer is the same dysfunctionalism we already have.

There's no way forward into the future where you get the kind of policies you want AND to opt out of being in community with people you don't like. You have to pick a struggle. If you don't have the skill set and temperament to work with Democrats, you don't have what it takes to replace them either. You just don't. Not in this economy. Not in any economy. Not on this timeline or any other.

I don't care how much you don't like Joe Biden. That's who we're voting for in November because there's no one else. Y'all waited until Gaza was on fire for the umpteenth time to become a single issue voter, and you want all of us to jump off the cliff of the moral high ground with you?

Nah. I've decided I'm going to live through this.

I'm strategizing what to do if Biden dies in office and how to primary Kamala Harris as a potential incumbent in 2028. And if (God forbid) Trump wins, I'm picking out people at church who would hide me in their basement when the round ups start. Because I live in the purple section of Boise, surrounded by nothing but Klan members and neo-Nazis in the middle of the desert. It's nothing but Confederate wannabees for hundreds of miles in every direction.

When you're ready to get serious, you're welcome to join.

[l0velyrand0m]

Old Soul - The First Avenger

Chapter four of thirteen, i hope you enjoy. There's been a lot more interest on here than on wattpad and its kind of funny. But i appreciate all the notes and reblogs nonetheless, i'm glad theres a few people who don't think my writing sucks!

As Always: chapter one is pinned on my blog, and the full story can be found on wattpad.

Eliza watched as they took another syringe of Steve's blood. He was obviously annoyed, and Eliza knew he never much liked blood.

"Think you got enough?" he chided, getting incresingly more ticked off with every needle they stuck in his arm.

"Any hope of reproducing a program is locked in your genetic code," Peggy shook her head. "And without Doctor Erskine, it could take years."

Eliza cast her gaze downward at the mention of Erskine. He'd been killed only hours ago because of a HYDRA agent infiltrating the observation room. Steve chased him down and he killed himself with a cyanide tooth.

"He deserved more than this," Steve said sadly.

"If it could only work once, he'd be proud it was you," Peggy assured him, which elicited a smile from Steve.

"Colonel Phillips, my committee is demanding answers," Senator Brandt says, coming into the room, mildly angry.

"Great. Why don't we start on how a German spy got a ride to my secret installation in your car?" Phillips turned to Stark, who was working in the submarine the HYDRA agent attempted to escape in before Steve caught him and he met his demise. "What have we got here?"

"Speaking modestly, I'm the best mechanical engineer in this country. But I don't know what's inside this thing or how it works," Howard explains. "We're not even close to this technology."

"Then who is?" Brandt questions him, his patience for the man running thin.

"HYDRA. I'm sure you've been reading our briefings," Phillips says.

"I'm on a number of committees, Colonel."

"HYDRA is the Nazi deep science division," Eliza tells him.

Peggy nodded. "It's led by Johann Schmidt. But I'm sure he has much bigger ambitions."

"HYDRA is practically a cult. They worship Schmidt," Phillips adds. "They think he's invincible."

"So what are you gonna do about it?" Brandt asks.

"Spoke to the President this morning. As of today the SSR is being retasked."

"Colonel?"

"We're taking the fight to HYDRA. Pack your bags, Agent Carter. You too, Stark. You're flying to London tonight."

"Sir, if you're going after Schmidt, I want in," Steve tells Phillips. Eliza's eyes widened. As if the serum working wasn't enough shock.

"You're unstable..." Eliza muttered, knowing he wouldn't listen. "You're not in the condition to-"

"You're an experiment." Phillips looked from Eliza to Steve. "You're going to Alamogordo."

"The serum worked."

"I asked for an army and all I got was you," Phillips said flatly. "You are not enough."

•••

Eliza was dying of boredom watching Captain America march around recording a commercial for selling bonds.

Bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazis, bing bang boom, you're an American hero.

She thought this was all a bit much. She was bored out of her mind without Peggy to talk to, or Howard to stand there looking busy. But instead, she followed around her brother, who sold bonds as girls in indecent outfits - if you could even call them that - strolled around him.

It was sickeningly boring.

"The Star-Spangled Man With a Plan", or as the song repeatedly called him, "Captain America", was Steve's new job. Paired with an idiotic costume and ridiculous lyrics to a theme song to sell bonds, this couldn't get any more humiliating.

And all Eliza had to do was sit back and make sure Steve didn't die or something. Which was easier said than done when all he did was run around. However, seemingly without breaking a sweat.

This serum was ridiculously intuitive, and Eliza was learning more about it every day from the various books and journals that Erskine had kept on it.

His cells were regenerating at an incredible rate to constantly heal him. It made him stronger, faster. The serum amplified everything about him.

And at the same time she was learning more about Johann Schmidt, and how his serum worked.

The serum enhanced every aspect of yourself. Good becomes great, but bad becomes worse. Johann had bad intentions. Someone who only knew power couldn't respect it. But someone like Steve, who had nothing, respected the power and held it with a righteous fist.

In short - both men were now indestructible. And that was terrifying.

•••

Eliza had been flown to Italy with Steve for a performance. However, a returning infantry required a lot of medical attention, and she was requested to help.

Suddenly her brother and Peggy Carter ran into the infirmary tent.

"Well, if it isn't the star-spangled man with a plan," Phillips greeted Steve in annoyance. "And what is your plan today?"

Eliza drew her attention away from the gauze she had finished wrapping around a man's leg to snoop her way into the conversation.

"I need the casualty list from Azzano," Steve requests.

"What's on the list from Azzano?" Eliza quietly asked Peggy, slightly scaring her.

"Christ, Elizabeth," Peggy breathed. "It's the one-o-seventh. He flipped out and ran over here."

"Wait, what?"

"I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the hundred and seventh."

Eliza's heart dropped to her stomach.

Phillips glared and pointed a finger at Peggy. "You and I are gonna have a comversation later that you won't enjoy."

"Please just tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

"I can spell." Phillips stopped him, and briefly sifted through some of his papers. "I've signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But that name does sound familiar. I'm sorry."

Eliza didn't believe it. Phillips didn't even look. There's no way to know for sure.

"What about the others?" Steve asks. "Are you planning a rescue mission?"

"Yeah! It's called winning the war."

"But if you know where they are, why not at least..."

"They're thirty miles behind the line," Phillips explains. "Through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save. But I don't expect you to understand that, because you're just a chorus girl."

"I think I understand just fine."

"Well then understand it somewhere else," Phillips says. "If I read the posters correctly, you've got somewhere to be in thirty minutes."

Phillips walks away, and Steve starts analyzing a map showing where the men are. "Yes, sir. I do."

Eliza narrowed her eyes at him and sighed. "I can't believe I actually agree with you."

Steve starts walking towards his tent, Peggy and Eliza following behind him. He starts throwing stuff into a bag as soon as he gets there.

"What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?" Peggy asks him.

"If that's what it takes."

""You heard the Colonel, your friend is most likely dead."

"You don't know that," Eliza shrugged.

"Even so, he's devising a strategy. If he detects-"

"By the time he's done that, it could be too late!" Steve says sternly. He walks out to a Jeep and throws his bag in. "You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?"

"Every word."

"Then you gotta let me go."

"I can do more than that."

•••

"The HYDRA camp is in Krausberg. Tucked between these two mountain ranges, it's a factory of some kind," Peggy informs Steve.

"We should be able to drop you right on the doorstep," Howard tells him.

Stark was currently piloting the plane that Peggy, Steve and Eliza all sat on, flying to the HYDRA camp that Steve believed Bucky and the rest of the one-o-seventh captives to be in.

"Just get me as close as you can," Steve tells them. "You know, you three are gonna get in a lot of trouble back at the lab."

"And you're not?" Eliza asks him sarcastically.

"Where I'm going, if anybody yells at me, I can just shoot 'em."

"They will undoubtedly shoot back," Eliza scoffs.

"Miss Rogers, if we're not in too much of a hurry I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue?"

Peggy looks awkwardly over at Steve, who looks at Howard with a stern expression. "Stark's the best civilian pilot I've ever seen. He's mad enough to brave this airspace, we're lucky to have him."

Steve looked to Eliza, holding the same expression as he did to Howard. "So are you two..? Do you..? Fondue?"

Eliza got up and walked towards Howard's spot at the cockpit, desperate to leave that exchange.

"This is your transponder," Peggy says, handing Steve a small device. "Activate it when you're ready and the signal will lead us straight to you."

"Are you sure this thing works?" Steve questions, looking to Eliza and Howard.

"It's been tested more than you, pal."

Suddenly the plane shakes. "Hey, we're being shot at," Eliza muses sarcastically.

"Really? Didn't notice." Howard mumbles back to her.

"Get back here! We're taking you all the way in!"

Eliza whipped around to see her brother ready to jump out of the plane. "Steven Grant Rogers-"

"As soon as I'm free, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!"

"You can't give me orders, I'm your sister!"

"To hell I can't! I'm a Captain!"

Steve looks at his sister with a smile and jumps out of the plane.

"If he lives through this, I'll kill him myself."

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 21

I was not prepared for the onslaught of emotions overwhelming me, so I froze. It felt wrong to kiss Bucky with Steve sleeping just a few steps away. I loved two men, and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting either of their feelings. It seemed inevitable, like a train barreling toward me that I couldn’t escape. Bucky felt my hesitation and pulled back, searching my face for answers.

I blinked out of my reverie. “I can’t do this, Buck. It has nothing to do with you, but…”

Bucky looked hurt as he let go of me. “Steve…I know.” He looked at the floor and took a step back. “This sucks. I don’t know what to do, Doll. I just know we can’t keep playing this game of hide and seek. You have to tell him the truth…about everything.”

The next morning, everyone packed up, and we made our way to the SHIELD facilities in London. Steve and I were busy helping to locate the rest of the Hydra hideouts, while Bucky did his best to avoid me. It was difficult, given that both of us were part of Steve’s new team, the Howling Commandos. It was a colorful group, made up of the soldiers Steve had saved from the Hydra facility where he had found Bucky.

We all gathered in a dimly lit pub, and despite the ongoing world war, the atmosphere was surprisingly cheerful—maybe they were just drunk. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but I enjoyed the company of these men, who seemed to appreciate me. Most of them I knew by name, considering that I had been the one patching them up. I sat between Dum Dum Dugan, an American soldier, and a British guy named James Falsworth. James was charming, and whenever he got chocolate in his rations, he would share it with me as a thank you for mending him up.

Steve and Bucky were at the bar, deep in conversation, but it was too loud for me to hear what they were saying. Suddenly, the room fell silent, and everyone turned their attention to the door. I craned my neck, trying to see what the commotion was about, and then I saw her: Agent Carter in a red dress, walking straight towards Steve. She looked stunning, like a Hollywood starlet, and even Bucky and Steve seemed to be impressed. A pang of jealousy hit me, and I needed some fresh air. The pub was too stuffy, and the cigar smoke was overwhelming.

I excused myself and went outside, leaning against the lamppost in front of the pub, trying to calm the jealousy simmering inside me. Before long, I heard footsteps, and Bucky stepped outside, his eyes scanning the area until they landed on me. He smiled as he approached.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his concern evident.

I didn’t feel like talking, and I didn’t want him to see this vulnerable side of me, so I just nodded. Bucky didn’t seem convinced. “She asked him to dance, and he told her he wasn’t interested, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he explained, noticing my silent turmoil. When I didn’t respond, he began to pace in front of me, frustration clear in his steps. “This can’t go on like this. We need to talk to him about everything. We’re at war, and all I can think about is you, Steve, and this goddamn situation.” His eyes pleaded with me, as if he was waiting for a salvation that only I could provide.

“You’re right…I know. I’ll tell him. I promise. I’ll tell him tomorrow,” I said, the unease in my gut growing heavier. It was a daunting task, but it was probably for the best.

When tomorrow came, I walked to the SHIELD office, knowing Steve would be there since Howard Stark had said he had something for us. I was curious about Stark’s request, but I was even more nervous about revealing the truth to Steve. He was already waiting in front of Peggy’s desk when I arrived. He was talking to a female SHIELD agent who was clearly flirting with him, though he seemed nonchalant, or perhaps oblivious, to her advances.

Swallowing my jealousy, I walked up and greeted them both, leaning on Peggy’s desk. Stark was running late, and as I waited, I started to look around and noticed my file on Peggy’s desk. I picked it up and flipped through it, finding my medical information and details about my past—where my family came from, that I was an only child, my parents’ names, and where I grew up.

I landed on a document about my health and vitals before and after the injections. It was standard information until I came across a line that stopped me cold. “Subject before infection: pregnant. It will be interesting to see how the injections affect gestation.” Across from it, it simply read, “Injections were fatal to embryo.”

I felt dizzy, and my stomach churned violently. I dropped the file and clung to the table as I dry-heaved. Steve must have heard me, because he came over and took my hand, his face filled with concern. “What’s going on? Are you alright?” he asked, shock in his voice.

I grabbed the paper basket next to the table and threw up. I was so absorbed in my sickness that I didn’t notice Steve picking up the file and reading it.

When I finally looked up, I saw the shock in Steve’s eyes as he read the document that had made me sick. He put the file back and helped me sit in a nearby chair. “I don’t understand…this is your file…how…when?” he asked, his voice trembling.

I wiped my face with a tissue from Peggy’s desk, my own white complexion mirroring my inner turmoil. Steve began rubbing my back, trying to soothe me, though I knew he was full of questions I wasn’t ready to answer. I wanted to talk to him, but this wasn’t how I had envisioned it.

After a long, tense silence, Steve finally said, “Talk to me.”

And I told him everything.

Next Chapter

[wiypt-writes]

Rawhide

Chapter 13: Put On Your Red Shoes And Dance The Blues

Summay: It’s the clash of the titans as Hydra and Shield finally face off, but as Rumlow and Steve come to serious blows, you realise that the only way to end it all might be to sacrifice the thing you value the most…

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, angst, language…more angst…death…ooooh but who???

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction. I do not own any characters contained within, bar the reader and any other OCs that may be mentioned. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted/translated to any other site. Please comment, like and reblog.

W/C: 5.4k

A/N: So here it is, the penultimate chapter! Thanks to @spectre-posts for reading and adding in her thoughts...

Main Masterlist // Rawhide Masterlist Chapter 12

Rumlow blazed around the office he was in, kicking the chair over as he went. Langley, long used to his friend and leader’s temper tantrums, merely took a deep breath as he waited. 

“I will not have your Omega sister and her weakling pack get the better of me!”

“Look, if it wasn’t for Carter…”

“How the fuck did you not spot that she was a double agent?”

“Well, technically she was kind of a triple agent.” Bryce’s nostrils flared. “I mean, if she’d been Hydra pretending to be Shield, that would have made her the double agent, wouldn’t it? But she was Shield, pretending to be Hydra pretending to be Shield I mean…” He was cut off as Rumlow gripped him round the throat. Langley automatically landed a punch to the side of Rumlow’s face, and the man dropped him, recoiling from the blow a little. “Know your place, Brock…” he hissed, massaging his neck. “My family put you at the top of Hydra, remember that.”

Rumlow snarled before he sank down into the chair. “And we have no idea where they’ve gone?”

“If we did, you think we’d be here?” Bryce scoffed, “We’ve spent the last two weeks searching. Problem is, Shield have mobilised now they know that we’re gearing up for a fight. Up until your…experiment on my sister, they had no real proof. Now they do. Blue states up and down the country are taking up arms. Even those people that maybe hovered between accepting some of our views but not all of them are swinging to their side because they don't support another war. Montana is now basically impenetrable thanks to Odinson and Stark…”

“They won’t be in Montana, that’s too easy.” Rumlow shook his head. “Locking the state down…that’ll be a diversion.”

“I know that!” Bryce snorted.

“Boss?” 

Both men looked towards the door, where Rollins stood, an excited look on his face.

“What?”

“We might have a lead. One of our sources has seen two people, matching the description of Y/N and Rogers, in Bristol. Church Street Wharf to be exact.”

“Is it legit?” Rumlow demanded.

The guard nodded, “he’s a solid source, and what’s more so, he’s taken a recording on his phone so that we can verify it. He’s sending it through now.”

*****

The more you tried to pull your arm away from Steve, the stronger his grip was. The tears were now pouring down you face.

“Steve…let me go…”

“I can’t do that Omega, I need to keep you safe.”

“You can’t!” You sobbed, “I’m sorry, I love you, I really do but…Rumlow, that stuff he shot me with…”

“Was fake…” His voice was desperate, and you shook your head, sadly.

“I wish it was, but he did something to me…there’s something going on and all I know is I can’t fight the Omega part of me anymore…it’s wants him and it disgusts me! Why do you think I ran? Huh? I can’t trust myself!”

“Please, baby…” Steve’s face broke and a piece of your soul did too, and he released his hold on your wrist. “Just please, ‘Y/N get on the ferry… Banner is working on it as we speak, we can fix this. I know we can. We’ll go back until he figures out how to reverse whatever it is that it’s done. You don’t need to leave!”

“You know he ain’t gonna be able to,” you shook our head. “This is breaking my heart and it hurts so much because I love you…I know I do, but…it burns inside…every time you kiss me it really burns because my body is telling me I’m his now, and…”

“Don’t…don’t say that…our bond…” Steve’s eyes were full of tears.

“It’s fading…” you swallowed, hand pressing at the mark on your neck as you cast your eyes down, “don’t pretend you haven’t noticed…” At that your fingers moved your collar aside to show him. Steve studied the once prominent infinity bond on your skin, and he felt his chest ache and throat as he studied it. You were right, it did look a little lighter.

He took a deep breath, his voice cracking.  “Please… just please, come back. Give it a month, or a week. Let Banner try…”

“You have Hydra to…”

“Fuck Hydra!” Steve snapped, his hand running through his hair, before both his large palms covered his face. With a groan, he dragged his fingers back down through his beard and shook his head. “I don’t care about them, not anymore. I love you, I can’t live without you…you gotta give us a chance…”

“You know what the awful thing about all this is?” You whispered, wiping the tears from your face. “You haven’t once tried to Alpha Command me to do as you say.”

“I don’t want to…why-“

“And we both know why.” You smiled sadly, “you don’t want to because you’re scared it won’t work. Scared that I won’t answer to you anymore.” From the look on Steve’s face, you were right. You looked around, your arms hugging your chest, before you took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll…I’ll come back..but…I can’t…I can’t promise…”

“I know…” His lips brushed your forehead, “but we gotta try, huh?”

You nodded, and looked at his hand as he held it out. Tentatively, you slipped your palm into his, fingers twining together. Steve pulled you into him a little, casting what he hoped was a surreptitious look around, before he led you back towards the ferry.

Neither of you noticed the man a few yards away, with his phone out, pointing the camera in your direction…

*******

As the video cut off, Rumlow scoffed. “Pathetic. He’s actually begging her…”

“Where does that Ferry go?” Bryce looked at Rollins.

“Prudence Island. Secluded enough for a safe house.”  He smirked.

There was a pause as Rumlow and Langley digested that news, before the latter broke the silence. “It could be a trap.”

“I don’t think so.” Rollins shook his head. “They were taking great pains to hide from the CCTV, if it hadn’t been for our guy being there, right place right time…”

“Rogers ain’t that smart.” Rumlow shook his head, “and it aint his style. He’s a soldier, like me. But he’s also persistently blinded by his need to do the right thing, the honourable thing, meaning he doesn’t always see the bigger picture.” His fingers drummed on the desk as he mused through his thoughts. “You know, I’ve been waiting for his Alpha Challenge for the past two weeks, fighting to defend his little Omega Whore’s honour, but it never came. And now we know why.” Rumlow then chuckled. “He’s had bigger issues, because the serum worked.”

“Looks that way…” Langley arched a brow.

“So there’s nothing to make us assume the Alpha one won’t.” Rollins cut in, and Rumlow pointed at him, nodding.

“Guess not.” Langley spoke again, his voice flat.

“What is the matter with you?” Rumlow looked at him.

“I don’t know, I’m just not sold…”

“More like you want to take the serum yourself, because you can’t stand the fact that soon you’ll have no chance against me in a fight.”  Rumlow rose from his seat as Bryce scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, neither will Rogers. I almost had him beat last time, and that was without the serum. If it hadn’t been for his guard dog… “ he trailed off and looked at Rollins. “Tell everyone to ready the lab…I want it doing this afternoon. In the meantime, get some of our troops out undercover, see if we can locate this safe house.” He moved out from behind the desk, stopping as he smirked once more. “Shouldn’t take too long, Prudence Island ain’t that big… “

******

“You think this plan is gonna work?” Clint asked from his vantage point in the tree that sat on the boundary of the property. 

“Not if you keep talking.” Bucky mumbled back. 

"Not for nothing, Steve's thrown it together quick and our girl in there seems a bit...."

“She’s nervous, wouldn’t you be?” Natasha spoke over the comms. “Stop talking and keep your focus. They could be anywhere.”

"Yes, ma'am, Widow ma'am." Clint snickered.

“Amateur.” She replied sardonically

Sam cut through, "knock it, we've got incoming."

Clint scanned the horizon, his sharp eyes licking up t hee movement of a vehicle. The headlights off. “I see it. Can’t tell if it’s  them…”

“Who else is it gonna be?” Bucky snarled.

“A lost civilian…” Clint replied.

“Quit stalling, light ‘em up Hawkeye.”

"With pleasure."

Clint reached for one of his arrows, clicking the small button on the side to arm it. He took aim, and let it fly. It landed perfectly, five foot or so in front of the vehicle, exploding upon impact with the ground.

The car swerved and came to an abrupt stop. Two men exited, armed and scanning the area.

“He he he,” Sam chuckled, “I love it when they do that.”

Clint selected another arrow, “let’s see if this gives them the message…”

This time, upon hitting the ground, it sent off loud crackles of gunfire. The two men were quick to duck and dive back into the car.

Bucky sent a round of ammo their way, watching as it pinged off the bonnet of the car as the driver put it hastily in reverse. It down round, and Bucky continued to shoot until it was out of sight.

“Well, that saw them off…” Sam stated.

“They’ll be back, that was just the scouting party.” Bucky sighed, “I’m gonna head up to the house. Natasha, Clint, any more trouble holler.”

"You got it," Nat replied, her comms giving a crackle as she did so.

Bucky made it back within ten minutes. Steve and yourself awaiting news. "Scouting party cracked through, I'm estimating we'll have about thirty before enforcers show."

Steve didn’t miss the spike of fear that shot through you, your hand instantly moving to your bond mark, but it stopped short of touching it.

Rather, you rested your fingers against your collarbone and tucked your other wrist under your bent elbow. "We should be ready. Rumlow will send everyone, then he'll follow. I don't doubt Bryce will be by his side. He's not the enforcement type."

"Well it's taken them longer than we anticipated." Steve looked at you then to Bucky. "How far out s Fury and the rest of back up? "

Bucky called it in, "Hill says ETA thirty."

"Steve..." You whispered.

"I know. But it's a fight we have to take."

You stood numb. You knew that Steve was right. Rumlow wouldn't stop at anything not until he had you. "Stick to the plan." Steve looked at Bucky then turned to you. “Please, stay hidden in the storm shelter. Banner will be there…”

Your breath shook as it left your lungs. "I..."

“Omega…”

“I’ll take her.” Bucky said, “c’mon, Doll…we don’t have much time.”

Your pleading eyes looking at Steve for a final chance, but he just stared. A snarl to his features. You steeled yourself and turned away, following Bucky out the back door.

*****

The sound of gun shots, the unmistaken yells and grunts of fighting rang out in the air in the grounds surrounding the safe house. Hydra had come, and come in numbers.

For the most, Shield held their own. Fury, Hill and Coulson directing their troops, as Steve commanded his. 

But he had one person on his mind, Rumlow. And so far, he was nowhere to be found.

Fury's team had wounded and casualties. Steve and his team, few scratches, close calls and oh there would be bruises. But it was no longer just a battle, this was an all out war. The open fields gave little cover. The tree lines smoked and burned.

Steve dispatched two agents easily, Bucky to his left as they charged through the ranks.

“Where the hell is he?” Steve yelled, “where is Rumlow?”

“I haven’t seen him…” Thor replied, swinging his arm as he took out three agents at once. Steve then raised his shield and sent it flying in an arc, the familiar whoosh and clang almost soothing to him as it flew back to his arm having ricochet off numerous soldiers.

"I'm getting a little tired of," he paused to throw his shield into the neck of a goon, "playing these games."

“Yeah, as far as games go I’ve played with better odds.” Tony’s voice cackled on the comms.

No sooner had Tony spoken, a loud rumble sounded and Steve instinctively looked up to see a large black and red helicopter approaching from the distance.

“Hydra?”

“It ain’t ours!” Fury yelled back.

"It's about time," Steve growled.

The Hydra troops seemed to pull back and part as the chopper circled. Fury and Hill yelled at their soldiers to fall in as Steve stood still, watching as it touched down in the middle of the field.

Steve's steel gaze stared as Rumlow exited the doors, fourth in line. Bryce preceded him as did two armed men. Sam's comms broke the deaf air.

"I got three more this way," he grunted as others piled out from the other side.

“I see them…” Steve muttered. His eyes then turned back to Rumlow.

There was a snide, almost prideful smirk on his face as he stared back at Steve.

“Where’s your little bitch?” His voice rang out across the battle lines.

Steve wasted zero time sending his shield in reply. He wasn't in the mood for talking.

Rumlow managed to grab one of the soldiers to his side, pushing him into the shields path. He gave a yell and a grunt as he fell to the floor, the shield bouncing back to Steve’s arm.

“Oh, okay…well, doesn’t really matter. Once I’ve killed you, she’ll be mine anyway. That is, if she isn’t already.”

At that Steve audibly scoffed. “What do you mean by that? Course she isn’t yours, she’s mine. We share a Soul Bond.”

Rumlow scoffed, “cut the shit, Rogers, we both know that’s a load of crap. Her mark is fading, I know all about it!”

Steve’s face visibly faltered, even if his stance didn’t.

“Guess that serum I injected her with worked better than I thought.” Rumlow continued to goad Steve. “But, how about we put the one I took to the rest, huh?”

Steve sent his Shield in Bucky's direction, the former soldier catching it quickly. He cracked his neck and his knuckles, "let's dance."

“He’s mine!” Rumlow yelled out, as he advanced, “kill the rest of them but leave him to me!”

The private protection spread out, leaving Rumlow alone; including Bryce.

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” Rumlow picked up the pace as the rest of the Hydra army also began to rush forward once more.

Like a clash of titans, the two came at one another. Steve made first contact, his right hook sending Rumlow a step or two back. Rumlow cracked his neck as he went in with a punch of his own. Steve was quick to duck, flying in with a left hander to Rumlow’s gut.

Rumlow bent forward and Steve's well padded knee met the Hydra head's nose. He dropped down to the decaying grass with a thud, his back finding no cushion. As Steve drew his hand back for another punch, Rumlow rolled to the side and the captains fist connected with the floor where seconds before, his opponents head had been.

It gave Brock the opportunity to get to his knees and wrap a forearm around Steve's neck. But with his fast reflexes, Steve flung Rumlow over him and onto his back again.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, you son of a bitch."

Not even winded, Rumlow cackled and fixed a hooked knee over Steve and pulled his right arm through for an arm bar in defense.

With just a split-second of freedom before his arm was straightened, Steve grabbed onto his lapel with his trapped right arm. He slid his left elbow under Rumlow’s right leg and began shuffling his own legs around to the side. His hips under Rumlow’s foot, he began to twist and roll, eventually turning his entire body inwards which allows him to sneak his head out of the vice like grip. 

Rumlow lost his grip entirely on the Shield Captain and he flexed his back and popped right up. He dove at Steve's midsection but, his tackle failed and Steve was able to suplex him again to the ground.

"Serum's a fail, you fuck."

Rumlow laughed, “shows what you know.“

"I'm waiting."

Rumlow stood straight, grinning as he seemed to be weighing something up. And then, Steve saw the flash of a blade as it slid down the mans sleeve.

“So much for a fair fight…” Steve arched his brow.

“Fuck fair,” Rumlow gripped the blade in his right hand, “I came to win.”

Steve knew his hand to hand combat was already top game, but he knew how quick Hydra could train with a blade. But Steve did as Steve always did, and didn't back down. Instead, he stuck his arm out and extended his hand. He opened and closed his fist, inviting Rumlow to come at him again.

Rumlow slashed at the air in front of him, causing Steve to jump back. Again and again the blade swiped him, Steve dodging in what felt like some kind of perverse dance. Left, right, back, forward, twist…

But, a stray bullet hissing by caused Steve to dodge that ultimately setting himself up for a prick to his side from the blade. He hissed, jumped backwards, and as he did so he heard a yell to his right.

A familiar voice.

Despite himself, he turned and saw Natasha crumpled on the floor, blood pouring from a wound in her neck.

"Nat!"

He saw a whirl as Bucky flew past, diving at Langley who had administered the blow, taking him down in a tangle of limbs. The two men began to grapple, flashes of metal arched through the air, Bucky using Steve’s shield to deflect the blows from a now rabid Langley.

Steve stood, watching his friend for a split second, but it was a split second too long. It was the distraction Rumlow had needed, and before Steve had time to realise what was happening, he felt a searing pain in the back of his thigh.

Rumlow had taken advantage and plunged the blade into his leg.

Steve dropped to one knee, and then the blow to his face from Rumlow’s foot caused him to crumple backwards. “You know, that’s always been your weakness, Rogers. Your friends. Loyalty. You care too much. It’s the reason you could never be a ruler, never be as great as Hydra has made me.”

Steve spat the blood out of his mouth. He moved to get up when another blow hit him in the face. 

“You can’t see the bigger picture, can’t see that sometimes you gotta make sacrifices for the greater good…” Rumlow leered over him as Steve lay, the blood from his nose trickling down his throat.

Then he saw the blade as it moved in Rumlow’s hand. And the he gasped as the man’s knee pressed into the middle of his chest.

“Imma enjoy this…almost as much as I’m going to enjoy breaking in Y/N. My only regret is you won’t be there to see it.”

Steve swallowed, attempting to buck Rumlow off, but it was no good. His eyes tracked the blade as it moved towards his neck, and then your voice filled his head.

“I got you, Alpha…”

Before he could even scan the area for you, your shout rang out loud and clear.

“Enough…Brock! Enough…”

Rumlow's head snapped in your direction, distracted and amazed.

“Call them off.” You swallowed, “let Steve go and…you can have me.”

Steve's eyes went wide. "No!" He argued.

A sadistic laugh rumbled Brock's chest, "Oh, 'Mega, I'm gonna enjoy this."

A final harsh blow to the side of Steve’s head left him seeing stars as you felt the tears prick your eyes. Your gaze then flicked to Natasha. Bruce (who you’d arrived with) was now tending to her, attempting to stop the blood flow.

Everyone seemed to have stood still, Hydra and Shield alike. Bucky and Sam took the opportunity to head over to where Steve was laid, unmoving on the floor, whilst Pete, Tony, Thor and Clint all gathered round Natasha and Bruce, shielding them from any attack which may or may not be oncoming.

“Little Bird…” Thor began but you shook your head.

“This isn’t worth it…I’m not worth it.” You whispered, your eyes flicking from him, to Natasha who was thankfully conscious, and then to Steve. Steeling yourself, you took a deep breath, and looked at Rumlow as he advanced towards you. “You got what you wanted. Just call this off. Please.“

As he stood in front of you, his hand gripped your wrist painfully and his eyes studied your neck. “Well, well…not so infinite, huh…”

The way he pronounced the word, like it was something dirty, made you choke a little as you licked your lips. “Oh, it was…until you…you injected me. It’s been fading ever since. If it wasn’t for that, you wouldn’t have stood a chance. And you’ll always know that, no matter what you do to me. That you couldn’t ever have taken me, or defeated Steve, without that Serum. Because you simply weren’t strong enough.”

A stinging blow landed to your face and you heard a roar from Steve, who was now staggering to his feet. He swayed, as Bucky and Sam held him up.

“Rumlow…I’m…”

“You’ll what?” Brock laughed, “I have her, she’s here. Begging for me to take her and save you.”

Steve looked at you, and you blinked back the tears. “Steve…”

“Please don’t…” he whispered.

“Please don’t...” Rumlow mocked, “God, you really are fucking pathetic. That all you got, ‘please don’t’? You can’t even stop your Omega from sacrificing herself…” He looked down at you, then to Bryce, and finally to Steve. “I mean…one Alpha command from you would stop this but….oh, yeah, silly me…I forgot. Your bond…it’s worthless now.”

Rumlow yanked you closer towards him. Steve made a move, a snarl rippling from his chest but Bucky and Sam were quick to hold him back. They knew that they were beat, and Steve wouldn’t make it two steps towards you before being gunned down.

A hand gripped your hair and your head was yanked painfully to the side, exposing your mating gland and the faded gold infinity bond. Smirking, Rumlow’s  gaze on the defeated faction, his tongue fell from his mouth and laved up your neck.

You winced, your eyes filling with tears as they locked onto Steve’s face. His expression was sheer devastation.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, those blue eyes you knew and loved were swimming with tears and you couldn’t look anymore.

With a sigh, you closed your own. And then, as Rumlow’s sharp teeth latched onto your neck skin, the sound of your beloved Alpha’s bellows of distress were the only thing you could focus on. You waited with your eyes screwed shut, every nerve in your body was on fire, the adrenaline coursing through your blood as you fought the instinct to scream.  You could hear nothing but your pulse thudding in your ears, Rumlow’s pants and groans of delight as he laved up the blood on your neck.

And then, you felt him pull back, a frown on his face.

“What’s the matter, Brock…” you whispered, as you opened your eyes, “don’t I taste good?”

For a moment, he merely blinked, and then he moved his hand, pulling the thin, flesh like strip from his mouth. “What the…”

“One of Erskine and Banner’s inventions.” You spoke softly, as he looked at the two puncture marks where his teeth had bitten into the curious item he now held in his palm. “Still in the prototype phase, doesn’t have a name yet but…oh, and speaking of Erskine… the serums were both fake. Shield switched them out before you raided the lab.”

You saw his gaze slide to your neck, and his features slid from puzzlement, to shock, to anger in a matter of seconds as he saw your Soul Bond was there, as bright and as vivid as it always had been.

“Gotcha,” you smirked.

****

24 Hours Ago…

After your little scene at the ferry port, you and Steve made your way back to the safe house. You followed your alpha to the door, where it was opened from the inside. Bucky, Sam and Clint waiting for the pair of you.

“Banner not here yet?” Steve asked as you headed in.

“No, he’s still putting the finishing touches to the, well whatever you wanna call it. As soon as he’s done then he’ll be on his way with Tony and Thor.” Sam informed.

“And he’s confident it’ll work.”

“It’s a potent neurotoxin.” Bucky nodded, “the only reason we’ve never used it before is because there’s no known antidote.”

Steve took a deep breath, “well, let’s just say I’m very glad Hydra didn’t get their hands on that…”

Client's eyes drew up, "how'd it go? Play the part?"

“Oscar worthy.” Steve smirked, and despite yourself you grinned.

“Think they’ll find this place?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, we made sure our vehicle was noticeable.” You nodded.

"Now, we wait." Bucky nodded.

As you waited, you went through your plan, over and over again. The first part was already in play. By pretending that the serum had worked, that you were feeling its effects and as such, your bond to Steve was fading, it would give Rumlow false confirmation that the Alpha serum would make him stronger. This, you hoped, would cause his arrogance to win out, have him mobilise and break cover, and more over leave him complacent on the battlefield.

Whilst Steve was still intent on ripping Rumlow’s head off, he had acquiesced and listened when you’d pleaded with him that you needed a plan B. And, after days of deliberation and plotting, that plan was finalised. Should Rumlow get the drop on Steve, then in you’d come, acting the part of the subservient Omega, all the time having a deadly poison concealed on your body. Concealed in plain sight, a small invisible pouch right over your mating gland. You knew Rumlow wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taunting Steve, that he’d try to bond you there and then, and when he did, his teeth would pierce the pouch, unleashing a fast acting, deadly neurotoxin, that would leave him dead in a matter of minutes.

Steve wasn’t completely happy about it, and you knew that he would do his absolute utmost to not even let it get to the point of needing to use you, but you also had no intention of letting any of your friends die. No matter what, you’d be walking onto that battle field and offering yourself up. Because, for some reason, you knew it had to be that way. You knew it had to be you.

A few hours post your return, Steve’s phone went and it was Natasha.

“They’re in the area, just picked two of their goons up. Following the route your car did.”

“Alright, hang back…” Steve took a deep breath. “Inform Parker and have him call me when they pass his watch point. Then we’ll know for sure they’re following the trail.“

"You got it, Cap," she said.

Steve sensed the smirk in her voice.

With a scoff he cut the call, then looked at Bucky and Sam.

“You know the plan. The scout party needs to escape, notify Rumlow they’ve located us.”

"Got it," Sam replied. Bucky merely nodded. 

Clint picked up his bow and smirked. "'Bout time."

“Wait for my signal. As soon as Parker calls I’ll let you know.”

"Yup," Clint followed Sam and Bucky out.

You eyed Steve with a look of major worry. "I hope this works.

“Well, if Mohammed can’t go to the mountain…” he shrugged, “I know it’ll work.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Steve looked at you, before he smiled softly and pressed his lips to yours. “It’s your plan.”

*****

“You fucking bitch…” Rumlow snarled. Those Omega skills you’d been honing with Nat kicked in as you saw the blow coming a split second before he went to make it. You ducked under his arm and twirled around, backing up quickly towards where Steve was stood. Rumlow advanced on you but only made it three or four steps before he stopped, his eyes widening, as he struggled to take in air.

He grasped at his neck, clawing at the collar of his uniform as his face was rapidly turning a puce colour.

“Pretty potent neurotoxin.” You stepped back towards him. “I estimate you’ve got about thirty seconds left.”

You watched as Brock fell to his knees, scratching at the skin on his neck, and you looked down at him, your eyes locked on his, relishing the fact that his pupils were now blown with fear.

“Wanna know the really, really funny thing about all this?” You looked at him. “When I came up with our little plan, it was Thor that had the most faith in it working. Because he’s always said that it would be Hydra’s inability to embrace things that you cannot understand, those which you simply refuse to believe that would eventually be your downfall. And here we are.” You smiled, “I bet you never in a million years would have believed that a lowly Omega could even dream of such a plan, let alone enact it like I did. And, to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have been able to had it not for those extra little abilities my Soul Bond seems to have given me. You know, such as shielding my mind and emotions from you. Had you done your research, give any sort of credence to the fact that this-“ you ran your fingers over your mark, “-might actually be what the myths and legends say, you might not be about to die.”

At that point, Rumlow began to foam at the mouth, his body convulsing as he lay back. Blood was trickling from his nose and his eyes, as he lay looking up at you, the veins in his neck and temple popping. A gurgling noise rose from his throat, before he suddenly stilled, his head lolling to one side. Unseeing eyes looked out of his head, around at the Hydra troops who stood motionless, looking down at their now dead leader.

It was as if time had stood still, no one moved, no one said a word, that was until you heard a familiar voice screeching at you. You wheeled on the spot sharply, as you saw Bryce raise his gun in your direction.

And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion, Steve’s shield arched through the air, knocking the gun from his hand, as Bucky, Sam and Tony ran forward. Whilst Fury barked orders, you watched as the three men surrounding Bryce pushed him to his knees.

“I’ve told Hill and Coulson to clean up.” Fury spoke, as you kept your eyes locked onto your brothers, eyes that were so like your fathers. “They’re beaten, they know they are. We can get the back to our camp and then contact the World Security Council. We’re going to need their help if we want to unite the states…”

“Hydra will never be beaten…” Bryce shrieked his voice almost hysterical, “cut off one head…”

“Shut up.” Sam groaned.

“He has a point.” Steve spoke, looking at Fury. “As long as Hydra have someone to rally around, someone spouting their bullshit cause, they’ll never be gone. And, as such, neither will Shield. We agreed, neither faction can survive. This blue vs red…it has to stop.”

“Then we get rid of him.” Bucky stated, “what was it Rumlow said, you have to make sacrifices for the greater good…”

“Buck, we can’t…”

“Can’t what? Kill him? I assure you, we totally can…”

A heated debate then broke out, the phrase war crime being uttered once or twice, all the time you kept your eyes locked on your brother.  In that split second, a hundred memories from your previous life flooded your mind. The cruelty you'd suffered at his hands, the pain and anguish you'd felt when he had killed your first Alpha.

As you saw Colin's face flash to the forefront of the metaphorical slide show, all you could see was the fear in his face as he told you to run, before he turned back to what he knew would be his certain death, to give you chance to escape.

With a slow movement, you reached out your right hand…

Moments later, a loud bang echoed around the field, causing the arguing party to jump. Bryce slumped to the floor, a perfect shot landed right between his eyes. You were aware of everyone staring at you as you tossed Natasha’s gun to the floor and took a deep breath, simply staring at your dead brother’s body.

“Fuck Hydra, and fuck him.”

**Chapter 14**

[uwmspeccoll]

Milestone Monday

On this day, August 7, 1960, American actor David Duchovny was born in New York City. Beloved as FBI agent Fox Mulder on the long running television series The X-Files, Duchovny inspired audiences worldwide to want to believe in the supernatural. With the congressional UFO hearings fresh off the news cycle, if there was ever a moment to lean into Mulder’s ethos, it’s now! 

As part of Special Collections' extensive comic collection, we hold several of The X-Files comics (a gift from our friend James Lowder) published by Topps Comics between 1995-98. The comics are a spin-off of the first season of the television series and are packed with all the dramatic pauses, spooky plot twists, and witty banter viewers are accustomed to. Topps intended to adapt every episode, but never made it into season two citing challenges with The X-Files creator Chris Carter who diligently scrutinized rough drafts.  

The X-Files comics had a renowned staff of artists including Gordon Purcell (known for his Star Trek work), Charles Adlard, and cover artist Miran Kim. Our issues were written by Stefan Petrucha, John Rozum, and Wisconsinite Kevin J. Anderson. Their artistic interpretations of the series capture the actors’ deadpan humor and Scooby-Dooish stories, staking their claim within the comic world and placing The X-Files within publishing history. There is no shortage of collectibles for The X-Files fandom, but we are happy to share our few contributions with you in celebration of David Duchovny’s birthday.

We couldn't resist placing this David Duchovny action figure on the moon. The figure belongs to our department head Max, who keeps it in his office along with other dorky items, and the backdrop is a chromolithographic page spread from our copy of Bilder-Atlas der Sternenwelt, published in Esslingen bei Stuttgart by J. F. Schreiber in 1888. Photoshop credit goes to our department manager Alice.

THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE

View more Milestone Monday posts.

--Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[daily-coloring]

Best of 2023 - TV Series

I think I watched over 50 TV shows this year and most of them were great which means, the making of this list was hard and took me a few days and I'm still not sure about the order.

01. Deadloch - Season 1. - "Welcome to the Tasmanian town of Deadloch! It’s the site of a simmering culture war between the blue-collar, old-school residents and a recent influx of lesbians who’ve put the place on the map, bringing performance art and gourmet nose-to-tail dining with them." - Vanity Fair

02. The Woman In The Wall - Miniseries - "People think that this couldn't happen again. Then they forget that the last laundry closed in 1996. It wasn't medieval times. The f**king 'Macarena' was in the charts." - Philippa Dunne

03. Nolly - Miniseries - "This show follows Nolly through the very public sacking and its fallout, and paints a sympathetic and adoring picture of the woman behind the headlines. Bonham Carter sails through this as if on the campest of clouds, but also beautifully articulates the grief behind the glamour. Nolly is part of the old guard, the oldest of guards in fact – she was the first woman ever to appear on colour television. " - The Guardian

04. The Newsreader - Season 2.

05. Heartstopper - Season 2.

06. Mood - Miniseries - "Like Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag and Michaela Coel’s Chewing Gum, Lecky’s Mood started life as a one-woman show on the London stage; she debuted Superhoe at the Royal Court in 2019, with the Standard describing her performance as “a revelation”. That’s probably where those comparisons should end, though, as Mood is a very different beast, and not just because of the aforementioned musical interludes. The darkness in this story isn’t necessarily mined for laughs (though our deadpan lead Sasha can be savagely funny, just like some of her brutal song lyrics) and there’s a real sense of precariousness at its heart." - Evening Standard

07. Workin' Moms - Season 7.

08. Blue Lights - Season 1.

09. The White Lotus - Season 1. and 2.

10. Ted Lasso - Season 3.

11. Starstruck - Season 3.

12. The Following Events Are Based on a Pack of Lies - Season 1. - "The show touches on some serious themes around abuse, misogyny and gaslighting, but it is so compelling because it doesn’t forget how much fun there is in the art of the con." - The Guardian

13. The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart - Miniseries

14. The Night Agent - Season 1.

15. The Dry - Season 1.

16. Foundation - Season 1. and 2.

17. The Change - Season 1. - "Bridget Christie writes and stars in The Change – her sitcom debut – as Linda, a much put-upon wife, mother and retail worker who reaches a crisis point at her 50th birthday party. It’s not just the menopause. It’s also the cluelessness of her husband (Omid Djalili), the open disdain of her teenage children and society’s general denial of the full humanity of older women that pushes Linda over the edge." - The Guardian

18. Sex Education - Season 4.

19. Fleishman is in Trouble - Miniseries

20. Slow Horses - Season 1. and 2.

21. The Last of Us - Season 1.

22. The Fall of the House of Usher - Miniseries

23. Fisk - Season 1. and 2. - "You can tell Fisk is an old-fashioned sitcom just by looking at it. That goes beyond Fisk’s awesome brown pants suit; the visuals here are firmly in service to the story (and to the jokes) rather than feeling like a cinematographer’s audition reel. The locations are basic – an office, a café, Fisk’s temporary Air B&B home – and filmed in a straightforward way that never detracts from the comedy. For audiences used to expensive production values and flashy locations this may take a little getting used to, but the effort is most definitely worth it." - ScreenHub

24. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel - Season 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

25. The Diplomat - Season 1.

26. Gen V - Season 1.

27. Secret City - Season 1. and 2.

28. Severance - Season 1.

29. Wolf - Miniseries

30. The Crown - Season 5.

31. Shrinking - Season 1.

32. Three Pines - Miniseries

33. Beef - Miniseries

34. The Sixth Commandment - Miniseries - "Evil characters can be just as one-note and boring as the good, but Hardwicke manages to infuse Ben with such a disconcerting blend of calculation, charm and quiet, almost hidden glee in the harm he inflicts that it is impossible to look away. You will want to. It is harrowing." - The Guardian

35. Swarm - Miniseries

36. Bodies - Miniseries

37. The Long Shadow - Miniseries

38. Wellmania - Miniseries

39. Boat Story - Miniseries

40. The Morning Show - Season 3.

[scarfacemarston]

Yelena Fluff Alphabet

This can be read as x reader or with Kate Bishop. It can be viewed as queer platonic.I headcanon her as asexual as she is in the comics.

A - Affection (how do they show affection to their s/o) She loves playing with hair or gussying up that matches with your gender identity. It doesn’t matter if it’s casual or something more formal, she’d love to dress you up and do make-up if you wear it. Quick kisses on the cheek, the largest of smiles that light up her eyes, hand holding - sometimes in public, letting you win in Mario Kart or giving you the fruit you need in Animal Crossing, hiding at least one treat and one drink to make an emergency pack if you ever have a “hangry” moment. She also likes to buy little trinkets she finds on her travels.

B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?) She makes for a great friend. She’s very extroverted, and while she does have a bit of a wall, she is happy to make friends if it feels natural to her.. She knows when to joke around and when it’s time to be more serious. She knows when to lift you up, but when to bring you (or Kate) to Earth. She’ll show up at your workplace/university with a cup of coffee or tea just because she can. Did your partner break up with you? Well, do you want him dead or eat ice cream in our PJs, or both? (Then she remembers she can’t kill people like that anymore.). Expect shopping trips and walks with Fanny. She’s fine to veg out or have a fun night out.

C - Cuddling (do they like to cuddle? And how would they do it?) It takes some time for Yelena to become accustomed to positive touch again. As a child, she was clingy and cuddly, which was stamped out in the widow training. She loves cuddling with her dog on the couch, and while she’s not supposed to be on the bed, she sometimes ends up there. She’s not used to cuddling with people so she’d have to be introduced to it. It takes some time to warm up, but far quicker than Natasha.  She likes to wrap her arms around someone’s waist and lay her chin on their head or shoulder. 

D - Domestic (do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning) Yelena never thought domesticity for the sake of it was something in her cards, but she fell back into it quickly upon reuniting with Melina and Alexei, and it’s something she craves. It’s stabilizing and a great comfort. Black Widows are taught how to care for a household, as seen in Agent Carter. Yelena lived more off of MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) and protein bars, but again, she’d branch out to whatever she could find. She’s not the most tidy of people, but more so than Kate. She enjoys her Mac n Cheese but also comforts from home. She thinks chicken nuggets are the oddest things. Taco Bell is also odd to her.

E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) She’d be brisk and professional as though she was breaking up with a business partner. She doesn’t want to think about the emotional aspect. However, she would be heartbroken inside. 

[mthofferings]

DeeHellcat

See DeeHellcat’s existing works here.

Preferred contact methods: Email: theleewit@mindspring.com

Preferred organizations: - Anything from the list of approved organizations

Will create works that contain: N/A

Will not create works that contain: N/A

  -- Craft or Merchandise --

Auction ID: 1028

Will create works for the following relationships: Avengers fandom any gen - Any Universe Iron Man fandom any gen - Any Universe Captain America fandom any gen - Any Universe

Work Description: One pair of hand-knitted fingerless gloves sized to fit the high bidder. Styles available are: Iron Man, Rescue, War Machine, Captain America, Winter Soldier, Thanos Infinity Gauntlet, and Stark Infinity Gauntlet. Yarn can be wool or non-wool, depending on the bidder's wishes. Shipping from the US. I will get a shipping cost estimate for you when your item is done. Once you pay for shipping, I will pack and mail the item, and send you the tracking number (US) or customs number (international) as soon as it's on its way!

Ratings: Gen

Can pods bid on this auction? No - I'd rather not be bid on by pods

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Craft or Merchandise --

Auction ID: 1124

Will create works for the following relationships: Agent Carter fandom any gen - Any Universe Avengers fandom any gen - Any Universe Black Panther fandom any gen - Any Universe Captain America fandom any gen - Any Universe Captain Marvel fandom any gen - Any Universe Doctor Strange fandom any gen - Any Universe Guardians of the Galaxy fandom any gen - Any Universe Iron Man fandom any gen - Any Universe Spider-Man fandom any gen - Any Universe Thor fandom any gen - Any Universe

Work Description: One hand-crocheted doll of any Marvel character. I know MCU best but can work with you on any other timeline/variant! Dolls are about 7 inches tall and made with vegan non-allergenic yarn and stuffing. Shipping from the US. I will get a shipping cost estimate for you when your item is done. Once you pay for shipping, I will pack and mail the item, and send you the tracking number (US) or customs number (international) as soon as it's on its way!

Ratings: Gen

Can pods bid on this auction? No - I'd rather not be bid on by pods

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Craft or Merchandise --

Auction ID: 3007

Will create works for the following relationships: Avengers fandom any gen - Any Universe Captain America fandom any gen - Any Universe Captain Marvel fandom any gen - Any Universe Black Panther fandom any gen - Any Universe Iron Man fandom any gen - Any Universe Spider-Man fandom any gen - Any Universe Thor fandom any gen - Any Universe

Work Description: A crocheted dragon in your choice of Marvel hero-themed colors! your dragon will be about 3 1/2 inches long from tail tip to snout, and about 3 inches tall from feet to horns, and will be crafted with vegan non-allergenic yarn and stuffing. Shipping from the US. I will get a shipping cost estimate for you when your item is done. Once you pay for shipping, I will pack and mail the item, and send you the tracking number (US) or customs number (international) as soon as it's on its way!

Ratings: Gen

Can pods bid on this auction? No - I'd rather not be bid on by pods

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

The auction runs from October 22 (12 AM ET) to October 28 (11:59:59 PM ET). Visit marveltrumpshate.com during Auction Week to view all of our auctions and to place your bids!