No Caption Just Him

Only bars keep us apart - Chpt. 2

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x femReader

Word Count: 4280

Summary: Over the past few weeks you keep on catching yourself thinking of Crane more than you should. You two get to know each other better, and he knows exactly what impact he has on you. At least you're safe with him behind those bars...right?

Warnings/Tags: angst, teasing, protective!Crane, minor mention of blood

A/N: I am truly sorry that it took so long🥲but the second part is finally here! It's not yet the end of the story but I hope I'll finish the next part quicker than this one XD. Have fun reading😊💜! ~✨Star

PART ONE

You’ve been working at the Asylum for three months by now and you’d be lying claiming that you didn’t like the attention he gave you. How couldn’t you now that you saw him every day and were allowed to have longer talks with him? You’ve been interested in him from the start but over time just like the trees outside your interest in him blossomed into something beautiful. He was intimidating but somehow it gave you a sense of safety to have the bars between the two of you at all times. His smart ocean eyes that bored right into your soul read you like an open book. His smooth, deep voice sent shivers down your spine and made your heart flutter. You’ve never met someone like him before and still, there was something drawing you in.

You had gotten used to your daily schedule by now; Get to the asylum in the morning, check in with your boss before talking to a few of the more harmless inmates. Then you had lunch and finally, it was time for your daily conversation with him. The only thing that changed was that with every day that passed, you walked down the hallway of his cell a little slower when it wasn’t quite time to see him yet. You lived for these few more seconds you could feel his eyes on you. For these few more words that fell between the two of you. Your interactions were the only thing motivating you to go to the asylum.

At night you lay awake, unable to shake off the feeling of his eyes grazing your body up and down. Whenever you fell asleep eventually, your dreams revolved around him. Somehow deep down you seemed to wish for him to step through that door and overcome the barrier between the two of you. But every night, right before he did, you woke up. And you hated yourself for it every single morning. Why the hell would you want him to get out of the cell they put him in for good reasons? Why were you so intimidated but longed for him to be free in your dreams? How did that make any sense? Were you slowly going insane in there?

On your way to the Asylum, you thought back to one of your many talks a few weeks ago…

Crane casually leaned back in his chair and folded his chained hands on his lap. His eyes studied you intensely as you sat down and adjusted your blouse. Looking up you noticed his gaze and raised an eyebrow at him, which made him smirk. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said firmly.

“Why not?” he asked calmly. “Is it that wrong to state a fact?”

“It’s rude, we barely know each other,” you told him and grabbed your pen, scribbling down the date on your paper.

Crane sighed and rolled his eyes. “I miss the time when you could compliment a woman without being called rude or a creep.”

“Oh, so it’s a compliment?” you asked defensively. You wouldn’t fall for his charms even more. You were here on a professional basis and not to flirt with the inmates.

“It was intended as one, yes,” he said calmly and raised his eyebrows at you. “Is that a problem?”

You met his eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m here to do my job, okay? You are part of my assignment, that’s why I’m here.”

“Purely that?” he asked curiously.

“Purely that,” you nodded firmly and brushed back a strand of your hair.

“So you drew the card no one else wanted,” he nodded more to himself and you frowned at him confused. “I’ve been there…but I found it quite interesting here.”

“I bet,” you commented dryly. “It must’ve felt like home,” you added and bit your tongue hard once you realized what you just said. Shit, you weren’t here to tease him and make fun of him.

“Does my suffering amuse you, L/N?” he asked, not looking offended one bit. 

“Did the suffering you put others through amuse you, Dr. Crane?” you asked back, deciding not to let him win that one.

“Amusement is the wrong word here…It delighted me, actually,” he told you and studied your face observantly. He watched your expression change to a mask of horror before anger and disgust laced your features. “There we have it.”

“You’re sick,” you spat out and stared at him. Well, what did you expect? That he didn’t decide to send people into insanity with his fear toxin? That in fact he was just a misunderstood soul who longed for nothing more than to be loved by someone and not harm others?

Crane shook his head and made a disappointed noise. “What’s one of the first rules you learned talking to a patient or client?”

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Let me help you out,” he smiled, almost gently. “Never, and I repeat, never, judge the person sitting opposite you and insult them. Always stay neutral while talking to your client, no matter how crazy they really are.” His blue eyes lit up for a second as the word crazy mockingly rolled off his tongue.

“That’s rich coming from you,” you spoke firmly. 

“You think so? Allow me to elaborate on that,” he said and started talking. You didn’t really listen, trying to calm down and sort your thoughts. You had a job to do, for fucks sake. Before you realized it your eyes were wandering over his body. You took in his confident posture, the way his full lips moved as he rambled on, his ocean-blue orbs displaying a theatre of emotions. You-. “Why aren’t you taking any notes?”

“I’m not here to write your memoirs,” you snorted softly. “I’m here to analyze you and I have a good memory, thank you.”

“Analyze me…Are we talking about my psyche here? Because the travels of your eyes tell me there’s a different sort of analysis going on,” he said almost mockingly and smirked succeedingly as the blush rose to your cheeks.

“Shut up,” you pressed out.

“So you can write down that I seemed awfully quiet today as if I had something stupid in mind? I don’t think so,” he smiled politely.

“Can we focus on the task at hand?” you asked frustrated and scribbled down his name on the questionnaire.

“I can,” he nodded.

…

Your casual conversations had gotten interrupted several times by now. About two weeks ago, a soldier from the military had been appointed to keep Crane behind bars, since rumors of a planned breakout sent panic throughout the city. The soldier had laid eyes on you and he had not given you a minute to breathe ever since. Not once. Suddenly, making your way down that hallway wasn’t fun at all anymore.

It was rather irritating, as you were trying to enjoy Crane trying to indulge you in some small talk, slowly easing you into longer conversations, when said soldier kept on flirting with you. Persistently so. 

You really didn't want to hear how hot you looked in your work clothes. And you definitely didn't want to hear how he praised himself to heaven and back, annoying you with what a good boyfriend he would be. It made you uncomfortable and not even Crane’s mindfuckery reached that level of discomfort.

Speaking of Crane, he obviously noticed your discomfort. He had not spoken up - not even once - which made it worse. No, he rather seemed to enjoy your aggressive talks with the said soldier. He seemed to like seeing you try to get out of the conversation, and how you tried to be polite and stand your ground at the same time. You hated him for the joy it seemed to bring him.

Three days ago the soldier really stepped over the line, smacking your bum as you walked past him. You had been too stunned to speak, trying to swallow down your fear, and quickly made your way back home… 

You couldn’t sleep and tried to fight down your sickness as you walked back to Crane’s cell the next day. You sent the soldier away, as always during your sessions with Crane, and sat down heavily. Quietly, you wrote down the date and his name, not looking up at him once. “How are you feeling today?” you asked then, staring at your first question. Crane remained quiet and after a long moment of silence you sighed and looked up. He studied you intensely, tilting his head a little as you finally looked up. “What? You didn’t hear me?” you asked more aggressively than you had intended.

“I’m doing fine, thank you,” he said calmly before squinting his eyes at you. “I suppose it’s a bad moment to ask you the same?” You remained quiet, only confirming his thoughts. “You can’t even keep eye contact, that’s dangerous in here. There won’t always be a guard around to protect you.”

“The guards are even worse than some inmates,” you spat out, still not looking up at him.

“I could’ve told you that on day one,” he smiled as you glanced up at him suspiciously. “Will you really let him mess up this opportunity for you?”

“Excuse me?” you asked quietly, a shiver running down your spine. “Who are you talking about?”

“I thought someone as stunningly beautiful as you are would be familiar with men acting up around you?” he gave back and raised his eyebrows at you. “But as it seems him touching you has been a first.”

You shifted in your seat and swallowed hard. “Why would I be alright if it happened more often?”

“I didn’t say it would be alright…but you’d be less shocked,” he shrugged. “Are you afraid of him?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you asked sharply. “So you can analyze someone’s fear? It’s the other way around here, I’m the one in charge.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “My dear, the patient is always in control…So, are you afraid?”

You stared at him before grabbing your things and getting up. “I won’t deal with this. We either do this my way or I’m leaving.” 

“Would you accept something like that from me? Or him?” he asked smirking.

Tears shot to your eyes and you firmly grabbed your notes. “Fine, I’ll leave.”

His smile faltered a little seeing the tears and he didn’t respond anymore, watching you leave.

…

Going back home that day made you question your planned career. Yes, the asylum was an extreme, especially here in Gotham, but were you really ready to deal with people like Crane on a daily basis? Were you ready to walk such corridors more often and encounter all types of screwed-up people? 

You weren’t looking forward to coming back to work today, knowing Crane would find it amusing that you took a few days off. The soldier would still be where he had been when you left and he wouldn’t stop. You subconsciously pull your sweater even further down, hoping it would hide the parts of your body he loved staring at. You wondered about Crane noticing your discomfort the last time but still questioning it. Did he really not care at all?

The moment you stepped into the asylum you knew he did care. The director met you at the door and filled you in about the events of last night. Apparently, Crane had gotten into a fight with one of the soldiers and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was that soldier. If it had been you somehow felt no compassion for the soldier which scared you a little. Why did that thought give you some sense of safety? Were you even more insane than Crane himself?

Your hopes of avoiding Crane for another day vanished into thin air the moment you heard there was an issue with the electric safety system of his door at the isolation cells. Of course, typically for your luck in life, the assigned electrician was at home because of a heavy flu. You had watched him a few times working at the doors and you had some past knowledge of circuits yourself. Apparently, you had mentioned that in your application because now you were being escorted to Crane’s temporary new cell to fix his door. You felt like the asylum’s personal monkey; just good enough to do whatever others didn’t want to.

And that's how you ended up in this awkward situation of sitting on the floor in front of Crane's cell, trying to fix the door and him continuously watching you. He had a small cut on his cheek; clearly the result of his fight. 

You decided you had had enough of the silence. "Why did you start a fight with a guard? I thought you enjoyed your cell outside the isolation corridor." 

Crane was surprised about you initiating the conversation first this time. Positively though. He smiled and shrugged. "He was...annoying." 

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Of course. "So if someone annoys you, you just punch them in the face?" 

"He said some disrespectful things. That's all. I thought it was only appropriate to teach him some manners." Dr. Crane's mood had worsened within seconds. You wondered what the guard said for Crane to react like this. Sure, he had a threatening aura, but normally he was rather calm. Stiff, almost. Seeing him lash out into a physical fight was something new. 

"Appropriate. Somehow you using this word in combination with a beating actually makes sense. It's you after all." You made a vague gesture with the screwdriver to emphasize your words. 

Crane's face lightened up and he chuckled. "Oh? You know me that well? I had no idea you studied me this throughout." You looked up at him in annoyance. This guy really had no shame, now did he? 

Deciding, it had been enough small talk, for now, you resumed your work. At least you attempted to. You really did. You tried to concentrate on the circuit, you really did but it was incredibly hard when you could practically feel his eyes burning into your skin. Were you simply another pretty thing for him? Or was he actually interested in you?

You put down the screwdriver, a bit too aggressively than necessary, catching yourself fantasizing once more. "Turn around."

"Excuse me?" 

You immediately regretted saying that. How weird must that seem to him right now? "I feel watched. I can't work like this." You groaned in frustration as one of the cables once again slipped from your grip. Him laughing at your request just made it worse. "Prick", you muttered under your breath.

Crane actually heard that and started laughing even more. Something inside of you snapped and you grabbed the screwdriver and threw it through the bars, right at him. You only realized the impact of your action, when he easily caught it and his smirk grew. "What a nice gift from you."

Your throat went dry. Shit. This could easily be used as a weapon. "Give it back.", you demanded in an attempted authoritative tone, though it came out shaky. Fuck.

Crane spun the screwdriver between his fingers and watched you thoughtfully. "Alright." You were surprised but also relieved that he agreed so easily. "Just hold out your hand."

Your heart dropped. Of course, it wouldn't be this easy. As if he had read your mind, he answered by rattling the chain of his hand. You were a bit confused. If you remembered correctly there weren't any cells with non-extendible chains. Maybe it was an extra addition because it was him. "Safety measures since my little...confrontation. I can't get to the door. So you'll have to stretch your hand inside. I'll do the same." Dr. Crane could practically hear the fight you were having with yourself in your head. "Unless...you want me to keep it?"

No. That could end horribly. You took a deep breath and stepped closer to the bars. "Fine." Shaking all over, you reached through the bars.

Crane calmly stretched the screwdriver in your direction. It was right over your hand. Come on. Just give it to me! 

You should have never trusted him. The chains had been extendible from out the wall after all. He had lied to you. He dropped the screwdriver and launched forward, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you in his direction. The pull caused your body to collide with the cell bars, at the same moment, the screwdriver dropped to the floor. Fear spread through you like a wildfire and you felt your heart starting to race.

Your breathing was speeding up as you stared into his unreadable eyes. To test the waters, you gave your hand a little pull but Crane didn't loosen his grip one bit. "Dr. Crane. Let me go,” you spoke as calmly as possible.

His gaze was calm but that made you feel all the more threatened. Where were the guards? How could it be that you two always ended up being alone? Maybe this was your karma. You had wished for some time alone with him - without the stupid, flirtatious guard around - after all.

Crane stood up and walked forwards until he was right before you. The metal of the bars dug into your rips. He was so close that his breath mingled with yours. Crane lifted his hand - you tightly closed your eyes. You expected a punch. A jab. Him forcing you to open the door. Anything. Anything but this.

He very gently wrapped a strand of your hair around his fingers. The air got stuck in your throat. Crane smiled at you with something in his eyes you couldn't quite explain. "I always wondered if it was as soft as it looked."

Something about his smile and his casual demeanor made you really...angry. Maybe because you had just been afraid of him killing you and he does something like this. You gritted your teeth, putting as much rage into your gaze as possible. "Let me go!"

Crane blinked, seemingly knowing exactly what was going on. Another trait that was so infuriating about him. He tilted his head to the side, deep in thought, and hummed. "Why would I hurt you? I told you I'd give you a reason for you to feel safe around me."

"Then how about you don't just grab me and slam me against the door after you told me you'd only give me the screwdriver? Or how about you don't lie? That would make you seem more believable." You practically spat out the last word, staring over at the extendable chain. 

Crane followed your eyes and chuckled. "Fine. You caught me. But...the opportunity was just too tempting. If I would have asked you directly, you wouldn't have let me do it, right?"

"So you just force me into a situation where I can't run? Charming."

Dr. Crane's calm smile faltered when he realized how angry you were. He sighed, thinking about how to calm you down.

You decided to give him the answer by pulling at your hand again and glaring up at him. Crane huffed and rolled his eyes. It was the first time he was displeased in front of you. It made your blood run cold and you started shaking. Have you taken it too far? Would he hurt you now after all?

As always, the former psychiatrist noticed the change in your attitude and decided to gift you a calm smile. Which - in all honesty - just made him seem creepier.

Crane tilted your chin up with one finger, scanning your expression. "You are only angry… not scared at all. That's surprising. Or maybe you're just good at hiding it?"

You decided to use his own words against him. "Why would I be scared? After all...you won't hurt me." You said it with all the confidence you could muster but your voice shook a bit nevertheless. Crane smirked at that and nodded.

"You're right. I did say that." Your confidence faltered and you turned pale once more. What did that mean? That he was lying? You tensed when he got even closer, pulling you against the bars even more by grabbing your chin.

His eyes kept on flickering back and forth between the electric strike and you as if he was unsure whether it was worth forcing you to open the door after all. Unbeknownst to him you were contemplating too. In the end, you decided for it. Not the same thing he had thought about though. Instead of opening the door, you lowered your head quickly and straight up bit into the hand that had been grabbing your chin mere seconds ago.

The sheer surprise caused him to let go of your wrist. Without waiting for a moment more, you pushed yourself off of the bars, bringing several meters between you again. You only stopped when you collided with the bars of the opposite cell.

The look that Jonathan Crane was giving you was terrifying. In the next second, Crane's eyes flickered for a moment and then his threatening smirk dropped. "Y/N. You...should really step away from there."

"If you think I'd come even an inch closer to you, you are so wrong!" you hissed at him, unaware of the danger you were in.

Did he seem even more serious than usual and oddly...worried? No. That couldn't be. What would he be worried about? But he lifted both of his hands calmingly, the thumb of the hand you had bitten a bit bloody. You felt a bit of pride well up inside your chest. There. At least there were some consequences for his actions. He deserved it. It could barely be called a wound anyways. 

"Y/N." Crane swallowed and let out a light chuckle but it seemed stressed. "You don't need to walk over to me. Just...step aside at least."

"I'm not doing what you're telling me to do! I've had quite enough of your stupid games! So stop it with your smooth words and your stup-." The words got caught in your throat, by a strong arm wrapping around your throat and slamming you back against the bars.

Oh. Of course. You had been so infuriated by Crane that you had forgotten about the fact that you should stay away from the other cells as well. This was the more isolated and safer corridor for a reason.

Your nail dug into the flesh of the arm, trashing and gagging. This wasn't good. How the hell was the person behind you so strong? To believe you had even the smallest chance was a joke in itself. Your shoe didn't fit through the bars so kicking the inmate wasn't an option either. All you could do was claw at his arm. He didn't budge. Calling out for help turned out to be impossible. You'd need air for that. 

While you kept on searching for options and solutions, your sight got blurred and your throat dry as it tightened. Someone kept on calling your name frantically. Who was that? It was hard to focus on anything, with your lungs clenching painfully like this. They were aching for air, your whole being begging you to just breathe but you couldn't.

Your thought process slowed down. Of course. You could just-. But no. What that would mean for Gotham...how could you ever be so selfish? 

The consequences would be enormous. You pressed your eyes closed, croaking out a weak sound. This could've been your last one. The thought itself was so scary that you changed your mind within seconds. Nevermind. You didn't want to die. You'd rather get locked away for this than die.

You took your last remaining strength and kicked in the direction of the opposite cell. If it was destiny or sheer luck, you didn't know, but the sole of your shoe collided with the electric strike.

The corridor had been overshadowed by your tears and black dots dancing in front of your eyes. In the background, you could hear the loud, aggressive tone of a door opening. A door? Which door again?

You got your answer surprisingly fast when someone screamed in your ear like his whole life had just been turned into a living hell and the arm that had been choking you, let go. Staggering forward, you braced yourself for the impact with the floor. Instead, you fell face-first into the chest of someone else, and strong warm wrapped around you.

You frowned. Who was screaming around like this? It only increased your headache. And what was that shrill sound? Was that the alarm?

Your head was spinning, barely able to comprehend what had happened. At least until you looked over your shoulder. Now, you were able to see the inmate that had attacked you as you slowly regained your senses. He was lying on the floor, nails dug into his head, screaming and crying with wide eyes. You scooted back - or tried to - remembering that someone had caught you. Remembering your kick and the sound of a door, caused goosebumps to spread over your arms. Your heart was pounding like crazy when you slowly lifted your head. Please not him. Please not him. Please not-. 

You slowly turned your head and instantly met a wild blue ocean. It was him. For the first time since you knew him there was fear in his eyes that frantically searched your body. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up, starting to run whilst pulling you after him. There were no bars left between you two anymore.

PART ONE

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Anything III (König x Reader)

Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

Requested by: Literally fucking everyone.

A/N: I was really fighting for my life with this chapter y'all. It's more to set up for the next coming chapters.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic language, graphic description of PTSD, graphic violence, graphic description of gun violence, graphic description of injury.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

"That fucker needs to go." 

"He's not going anywhere, Simon."

The Lieutenant spun on his heel, reeling on Price with startling speed. He didn’t budge, though. Not when Ghost stopped only inches away and not when a finger rested on his chest- a warning. A threat. 

“Birdy’s my responsibility,” his voice was dangerously low and the Captain’s eyes narrowed. 

“And you’re all my responsibility,” Price’s words were slow and enunciated, spoken through gritted teeth. The heat rolling off his body was tangible, he was fucking furious. He was torn. “You think this was my fucking idea? I get orders from up top just like you do, Riley. They got their own plans in mind.”

Ghost inhaled sharply, dropping his hand to his side. Up top. If the rank has been anything, it’s been consistently shit. 

“When someone tears their own fuckin’ face-off, the plan needs to change,” Simon murmured, the images of the incident drifting across his vision. The man was no stranger to intrusive thoughts but these were particularly vivid, they splattered across the carefully cleaned plains of his mind- taunting him. 

“I know.” Price lit a cigar, his gaze trailing across the rooftops. “Been working on it.” 

“And?” 

“Baby steps, Simon. Baby steps.” 

_________

Inhale, exhale. Again. 

Bang 

Then again. 

Bang 

And again. 

Bang

One, two, three, the hole never widened; not even by a millimetre. The target stood strong and unwavering, and you were doused in hot anger. You’d selected the biggest one you could find, it wasn’t as tall as you wanted, but you supposed the chances of finding a nearly seven foot soldier on the battlefield were slim. 

You were grateful that the one thing that hadn’t changed over the recent horrors of your life, was your aim. You were still a sniper.

Bang 

You were still the best. 

“We got another unit comin’ in for their assessments, Birdy.” The range supervisor’s voice was loud over the speaker and you forced yourself not to jump. “You gotta clear out or pick another lane, mate.” 

Your eyes trailed over the aisles beside you. The rear of their booths were all open, designed for trainees to have an instructor standing over them. Those days of needing direction were over, as were the days of leaving your back vulnerable. 

The lane you had chosen was at the very end of the range, a locked booth designed for soldier’s shooting assessments. It was a bi-annual event, where your marksmanship was tested in order to deem you competent and qualified. No instructor, no target indications, just you in a locked booth with a rifle and a target. 

Now, it was the only place you felt safe enough to shoot. 

You heaved your body up, clearing your weapon before slinging it over your shoulder. It seemed that your time was up. 

As you stepped out of your haven and into the aisle, you tried to settle the anxiety in your chest. It was a burdensome feeling that only faded when you were looking down the sight of your rifle, plaguing your every move and every thought. It was all-consuming. 

A shot rang a few lanes ahead and you flicked your gaze up to the screen as you walked. They were half a centimetre or so off from the central aiming mark but the next shot was dead on. You snorted. 

As you moved to pass, you spared a curious glance at the shooter. 

Your body locked up. 

Right in front of you, lying on his stomach with those long legs sprawled out, was König. 

You seethed. You were suddenly overcome by a rage that, for once, did not wash over you with a flush of heat. Instead, you were cold. Ice trickled the length of your spine and your fingers went numb, pins and needles pricking at your nails. 

Your face stung at the sight of him. 

He was the reason you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror anymore, he was the reason you looked like a fucking abomination. Your face was deformed and mutilated and here this fucker lay, his back turned to the world because he was not the one that got destroyed.

König ruined you and got away unscathed. 

You waited for him to take another shot, using the cover of the resounding gunfire to put down your rifle. He had no idea that you were there, he was entirely unsuspecting. He was vulnerable.

Before you could comprehend what you were doing, your body had moved to stand over his prone figure. You could hear his breathing, see the rise and fall of his chest.

 In, bang, out. 

They had chosen this fucking imbecile to replace you? He couldn’t even breathe right, everything was wrong. His form was wrong, his breathing pattern was wrong, his shooting was wrong, and he was not built to be a sniper. He was built to destroy with his hands, with no finesse, no pinpoint accuracy- just a bludgeon. 

There was no honour in what König was. 

Again, your face stung beneath the gauze. A reminder. Encouragement. 

You reached for the Glock strapped to your belt, cold sweat trickling down your neck.  König took a breath in and you flicked open the buckle. But he didn’t take a shot as you had predicted, and he’d heard the noise from above him. 

When König turned, you let him see you, just as he’d given you that mercy. 

Then you struck. 

Unlike before, König hadn’t been given the chance to kick the weapon from your hands before you descended upon him. A startled rasp ripped from his mouth as you dropped onto his body, bringing the butt of your firearm to strike his temple. 

His head knocked back, bouncing off the mat beneath him. 

How merciful, that it was not concrete? How gracious, that you didn’t grab his head and crush it? 

König groaned, his hands flying up to defend himself, stunned by the sudden impact. You knew that his vision would be spinning, a loud buzz ringing in his ears. You knew too well. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

You pushed his hands away, bringing the gun down again. You felt his skin render from beneath the metal, a wet thud echoing through the booth as you split the skin of his cheek. The blood made your eyes widen. It wasn’t enough. 

You would give him your scars. You would peel his skin from his bone. You would shatter him until he was unrecognisable. 

This wasn’t enough. 

König’s eyes flickered open, hard and betrayed. 

You knew that the element of surprise had run out, but you were not finished. You’d just gotten started, the purple of his cheek and the red dripping down his temple only marked the beginning. But you couldn’t overpower the man below you. 

When his hands gripped your biceps and he opened his mouth to yell, you pushed the barrel of your handgun past his lips until his teeth scraped the steel.

Everything fell still, his hands frozen on your body and his eyes wide. You hoped that he could taste the gunpowder, you hoped that he could taste his death. The sound of the safety flicking off resounded in the booth and the man beneath you flinched. 

His fingers shook against your skin, his breath rattling in his chest. 

König was afraid. 

And at that realization, for the first time in over a year, a genuine smile twisted your lips. The soldier’s eyes widened, his body twitching beneath yours, groaning around the barrel in his mouth. 

“How do you like it?” You whispered, the words a snarl as you leaned down close. 

König’s emerald gaze was steady on yours and you could visibly see him attempt to calm his breathing. In, out, in, out. He was breathing wrong, everything was still just wrong, wrong, wrong. You pressed harder on the gun. 

This wasn’t enough. 

He wasn’t bruised enough, he wasn’t bleeding enough. You moved your left hand to cup his cheek and his eyes flickered. König wanted to buck you off, he wanted to disable you, maybe he even wanted to murder you. You hoped he did, you wanted to see the same hatred in his eyes that you saw that damned fucking night. 

You wanted him to look into your soul and know that you were going to ruin him. 

That you were going to kill him. 

“You feel guilty?” You hissed, your fingers slowly digging into the skin of his cheek. “You feel bad for what you did?” 

König’s eyes softened. 

Don’t want your pity. 

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. 

Finally, he hummed his affirmation around the barrel in his mouth. Your nails dug into the flesh of his face, dragging a jagged scratch inch by inch across his features. The man didn’t flinch, he didn’t move, and he didn’t make a sound- he only watched you. 

When you leaned in to brush your lips against his ear, he knew what was coming. 

Satisfaction flooded your senses, righteous anger gripping you by the throat and forcing the words that you’ve wanted to say for so long from your lips. 

“Your fight is finished.” 

König took in a sharp breath. 

You pulled the trigger. 

The sound was deafening and for a sweet, beautiful moment, you felt vindication. You’d  won. You’d bested him. The man that had ruined your life had gotten what he deserved and he needed to die, die, die. That was the only thing that would settle his debt, the only thing that would serve the justice you felt owed. 

With the simplest pull of the trigger, you had been avenged. 

Then, you realised that the blood that had sprayed aross the space between your bodies wasn’t his. It was yours. 

König was on top of you. The gun was gone, his mask was on, and your face was crushed. You couldn’t breathe you couldn’t think and the only thing you could feel was the searing pain of the knife twisting in your chest. 

No, no, no, no. 

This was wrong, this wasn’t what was meant to happen. Why were you back here? His hand was on your face before you could protest and you felt your head lift from the ground. 

“Even in victory, you are nothing.” 

Crack

“You will always be nothing.” 

Crack

You were screaming, you could hear yourself doing it but your mouth wasn’t moving. Your teeth were caved in, your jaw had collapsed, you felt as though your face had melted from the bone. Yet you could hear the shrieks, hear the wailing. 

The back of your head was wet, your skull felt like it was falling apart at the seams. The breeze tickled against your brain and your nerves were on fire. 

You were broken, broken, broken. 

“Birdy!” 

This time you could feel every crack of your head into the concrete. This time you felt your brain matter smear across the floor. 

“Wake up!” 

Wake up.

Wake up. 

You sat up with the gasp of someone who’d been drowning, clawing at your throat for air. Sweat trickled down your spine, the room was hot and the blankets were tangled between your legs but you were in your bedroom- you recognised it instantly.  

“That’s it, sweetheart,” a rough voice murmured from beside you. There was a hand pressed flat against your chest, firm and grounding. “Breathe.” 

“Simon,” you sobbed. The man hummed in response, his other hand rubbing your back with enough force to rock your body. He was trying to keep you rooted in reality, give you something physical, something tangible to hold on to.

“I’m losing my mind,” you gasped, your chest caving at the realisation. You didn’t know what was real or not, fact or fiction, tangible or imaginary- you lived on a plain of uncertainty. You were lost, you were broken and you were unreliable. 

Price was right. You had become a liability. 

“You’re late to the party,” Simon loosed a soft chuckle, pulling you close against his body. “I lost mine years ago, kid.” 

You relished in his touch as you tried to regroup. You were in your room, you were in your bed, it was the middle of the night and you’d had a nightmare. Your clothes were soaked, sticking to your skin uncomfortably; and you had the horrid realization that maybe it wasn’t all sweat. You sucked in a breath, scrambling to push the blankets from your body. 

“What-” 

You ignored anything that the Lieutenant might of said, scrubbing your hands over your limbs, neck and face. The sweat threw you off and you checked your fingers in the dim light for crimson stains. You couldn’t deal with it again, you couldn’t cope with more damage. You were already disgusting, you were already mutilated and scarred. Unloveable, untouchable, irreparable, irevevocable, irremediable-

No more, no more, no more no more no more-

Simon gripped your hands, tugging them towards his chest and jerking your body forward. You dragged in a sharp breath, eyes wide and frantic. 

“You didn’t hurt yourself,” the words were urgent and low, his gaze holding you still just as well as his grip. “You’re alright, Birdy.” 

You took in a rattling breath and his grip tightened. 

“You’re alright, kid,” Simon reinforced, that ocean gaze compelling you to calm your heart rate. He left no room for discussion with the way that he looked at you, there was no option to disobey. You pushed air into your lungs, following the pattern he’d set for you. “It was just a nightmare.” 

You frowned. “Only at the very end.” 

Not when you had been shooting, not when you’d been atop of your enemy with a gun in his mouth; that was not the nightmare. You’d felt vindicated, you’d felt insane but satisfied. During those moments in the dream, you were not afraid of König. You were not shaking, you were not whimpering or begging for your life. 

You were strong. 

Stronger than him. 

“How’d you know I was–” You cleared your throat. “How’d you get in here?” 

The silence that followed had you on edge, as Simon’s hand worked methodically across your back.  He didn’t answer for a long while and your thoughts began to sober. Why was he in your room? How had he gotten there? How did he know you were having a night terror? His quarters were nowhere near yours, he was in the hallway over, divided by thick concrete walls; he most definitely couldn’t have heard your screams.

“Someone tipped me off,” the words were spoken through clenched teeth and his minsitrations against your back faltered. Your chest tightened at the implication. “They thought I’d be better suited to come help you.”

“How-” 

“He’s down the hall, Birdy.” Simon interrupted and you could feel his fingers curl into a fist against your spine. “Everyone in this fuckin’ corridor could hear you.” 

Your breathing began to pick up and heat flushed against your skin, the blood boiling from beneath the surface.

“That doesn’t explain how you got in,” you rasped, gripping the blankets at your side. You needed to ground yourself, you needed to be calm. 

“He thought you were being attacked or somethin’ with the way you were yellin’,” Simon sighed. It wasn’t a direct answer but it was a good enough indication as to what had happened. 

You let your gaze drift to the door, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight before you. The hinges had been ripped from the wall, the frame torn straight from the brick. The door itself was missing completely, and as you slowly leaned over to get a look at the floor, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

Your bedroom door lay in pieces, the splintered remnants splayed across the floor like shattered glass. 

'is it my size?'

'you have to ask?'

sorry i forgot how fucking amazing that scene was.

Josh Hutcherson as Mike Schmidt Five Nights At Freddy’s (2023) dir. Emma Tammi

the sexual tension between me and unread books on my bookshelf

➶ ambivalent — series

➴ neteyam x human!reader — series masterlist

synopsis:

“The Na’vi say that every person is born twice, the second time is when you earn your place among the people forever.”

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan is a warrior before he is a man. Nothing matters to him more than getting prepared to take over his father’s role of being the olo’eyktan of the omaticaya clan; a leader of his people. The respect that his father has earned over the years is something Neteyam’s yearned for. The training, the hunting trips and even keeping the peace amongst clans as far and as wide as the west and eastern sea. They all know his name, and know what he’s training to become. As the first son of Toruk Makto, he’s a force to be reckoned with.

Due to his obsession with his training and duties, he’s thrown into an arranged marriage he doesn’t care to be in. However, an unwanted mate is the least of his worries. After all, there’s you.

Human and meek, fragile and soft. You are the epitome of weakness and with a war unlike no other brewing over the mountains with the ash people, Neteyam can’t afford the distraction. He doesn’t even like humans. The ones that got to stay behind, he’s tolerated. However, there’s something about you that he just can’t shake. Why is he so drawn to you? He has to figure you out but balancing a war, an uprising within the clan and a human he doesn’t want to love could get complicated and dangerous. You weren’t aware of what you’d gotten yourself into the moment you stepped into his line of sight. The second that he’d laid his eyes on you was the exact moment you had become his cataclysmic downfall but also, a part of the greatest love story ever told.

genre: slow burn, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, 18+

overall warnings/notes: heavy angst, war, violence, character death, eventual smut, ages are 20 and up, neteyam x navi!oc (his arranged muntxate), slight oc!navi x human!reader (his best friend), a jealous/possessive teyam and his conflicting emotions, 18+

prologue – “small, infuriating woman”

chapter i – “we are mated for life”

chapter ii – “just a tawtute” (coming soon)

chapter iii – “don’t be so blind”

chapter iv – “you do not see”

chapter v – “she’s closer than you think…”

chapter vi – “i am what is best for you”

chapter vii – “forever means never”

to be continued…

➳ status: ongoing | ➳ wc: 31.6k

© all content belongs to thewayofhim 2023. do not modify, translate or repost without permission. 𖧧

Always noticed you | Nikolai Lantsov x Starkov! reader x Kaz Brekker | PART TWO

Summary: after running away from Nikolai, the crows got a message to find you and not long after, you got to meet dirtyhands where they convince you later to help them and find the sword from the neshyenyer while kaz brekker is not trying to fall for you.

Warnings: violence and angst, mention of Kaz's ptsd and phobia.

A/N: here's part two and part one can you read it here!

Not long after the crows recieved the message from the prince and the Sun Summoner of finding you, the crows didn't waste a second to begin their search. However, Kaz had not the slightest idea of finding you for the first time in his life, but to their luck, he found you.

Nikolai had begged them to find you, knowing that if people knew that the Sun Summoner's sister was outside far from the grand palace and out or reach from their protection, he didn't want to think that would happen if you were in danger because of him.

Tolya and Tamar had offered to go and find the crows while looking for you and the sword of neshyenyer.

After packing your things in the spinning wheel and then leaving off without leaving a note, you found yourself in Shu Han. You knew that your mother was from Shu Han however, you got a little information from your parents when you were younger. You didn't knew about much of your past ever since you and Alina was sent to the orphange.

Shu Han was a beautiful place. A place filled with color and different food that you enjoyed during your time. It was at that point you realized that you missed venturing out the unknown while you tried to survive for your sister.

You knew that if you wasn't there, you wouldn't bothering them and the people wouldn't know that you are the Sun Summoner's sister, but you were wrong.

After strolling in the market, you found yourself running from your life after hearing that they wanted you to get through the Sun Summoner and the prince.

You were panting hard, trying to dodge the crowd at the market while not trying to bump into their stuff while trying to find a way out. You didn't know where to go next and you were terrified.

The next thing you knew, you were in a dead end. You sighed before turning around slowly and saw the men surrounding you. You, however, raised your fist and prepared for a fight as you tried to remembered the leassons that Zoya gave you back at the little palace.

However, a knife was suddenly thrown behind their backs and you saw some of them collapsing to their knees and to the ground. You furrowed your brows when you saw a familiar face approaching and knocked the man out with his cane.

''Huh, on point, actually,'' You breathed out and gestured toward the men.

Kaz only gave you an amusing expression as he always did. ''Did you really expect us to be that low?''

''You are gangsters and from what I recall the last time we met each other, you are the brains for the crows and the one who kidnapped me and my sister,'' You remarked as Inej, Jesper, and two familiar faces appeared but you didn't knew the second female next to them. You assumed that she was also a heartrender because she took down one of the men. You ignored how Kaz rolled his eyes toward your remark.

''Nice throw,'' You commented to Inej, making her smile at you before you. Upon noticing, the gang surrounded you in the dead end, making you thinking that they were there to bring you back to the spinning wheel.

''Great, here to kidnap me again?'' You asked and turned to Kaz. ''They want you back, I'm only here to do the job,'' Kaz responded, making you sigh. Of course, you had expected that Nikolai would beg the crows to bring you back to the spinning wheel before the general found you.

You knew that you could take care of yourself and weren't to let him take you back. ''Then, good luck of catching me again,'' You spoke, turning on your heel before Kaz placed his cane in front of you to stop you.

''I wouldn't do that if I were you,'' Zoya announced herself, making you roll your eyes at her.

''Wait,'' You heard his response and you turned to look at him. ''If you're not going back, then you're going with us,'' He responded and you looked at him with a frown. ''We're looking for the sword of neshyenyer, and we need your help,'' Inej spoke and you scoffed.

''With what? With my useless talent?'' You questioned.

''You're not useless, you are a map maker, aren't you?'' Kaz asked.

''I was,'' You corrected him. ''Then you know the story behind it and the information we could gather,'' Kaz replied.

''So, are you in?'' You heard Jesper asking you, making you sigh heavily and drop your shoulders in defeat.

''Yes,'' You replied and rolled your eyes as Kaz smirked slighty and dropped his cane.

-

Kaz Brekker was not the one who believed in saints of love. No saint was ever there for him during the fire pox and when Jordie died and he stopped believed in love at the moment when he fell for Inej.

Falling in love was a dangerous to him and if people knew (more like his enemies) his weakest spot, his work would be destroyed. He had tried to build something ever since Kaz Brekker was born since Kaz Rietveld wasn't capable of doing it.

When he met you, it was an odd time. He had seen you, even when Alina was put out first and he noticed that you were always in the background when no one else noticed. He noticed the smallest thing when he first saw you back at the little palace when they announced the Sun Summoner existed.

After all, to him, you were easier to read.

He saw something back there in your eyes, the longing love for the general, the sneaky glances between you went unnoticed by everyone, everyone except for him. The pain in your eyes could be seen by him and he knew at the moment you loved the general, but the general had already chosen your sister.

He could somewhat relate because your story was the same as he had with Inej. The longing of someone was crawling deep inside of him but when he confessed his love for her, Inej didn't felt the same.

The guilt of oversharing his feelings for someone that didn't share the same suffocated him and it took months for him to get over it.

That was the last time when he saw you after seperating through the Fold. He had asked you to come with them back to Ketterdam, but you said to him maybe another time when times were calmer and when Alina had taken the Fold, then maybe, you would be there with him.

And when he had gotten the note from the prince to find you, he couldn't help but to feel excitment to see you again after being seperated for months.

To him, you weren't useless. He saw something in you that many didn't see clearly. You were intelligent and knowing the routes of the maps was making it easier to them to find the sword of Neshyenyer.

All of you headed back to a cafe in the market as Kaz had informed the plan. ''The Neshyenyer? Sankta Neyar's blade?'' Nina asked with disbelief on her face as she looked at the group.

You were also surprised by the news as soon Kaz had read the letter that Nikolai had sent him. You figured it out that Nikolai had also written to him that they would find you before anyone else did. ''So, you haven't forgotten what you were taught at the little palace,'' Zoya remarked and looked at Nina.

''Just your loyalty to Ravka,''

''Ravka? Or Kirigan? It didn't take him destroying a city for me to question my loyalty,'' Nina replied. ''So, now that we all know that you two have history,'' Jesper cut in and looked between them.

''What's the payment for this job?'' Jesper asked.

''Name your price,'' Tolya responded. ''It matters that much,''

''Obviously,'' You responded and rolled your eyes and crossed your arms above your chest. ''Is that the Lantsov crest?'' Wylan asked and looked at the letter that Nina held. ''You know because it's hideous,'' You remarked as Zoya looked at you with a deadpanned look.

''Prince Nikolai requested your services to bring back her,'' Tolya remarked and pointed at you. ''And to find the sword and deliver the sword to Alina Starkov in East Ravka,''

''She's returned?'' Nina asked.

''As has the Darkling,'' You spoke. ''With an indestructible army of shadow monsters,'' You informed them.

''Then what are you doing here instead to be with your sister?'' Nina asked you with a concerned expression.

''It's complicated,''

-

Not long after Zoya and Tolya tried to bargain their price to the Crows and they walked in seperated ways to prepare to find the sword. You trailed over your glass at the bar, lost in your thoughts as you didn't hear the footsteps from behind.

''I'm not going back, not after we have found the sword if that's what you're thinking,'' You spoke when you noticed Zoya stood next to you, signalling the bartender to give her the same drink as you had.

''If that's what you're thinking, you know I'm not going easy on you then,'' Zoya commented. ''Whatever happened between you and prince Nikolai, you need to let it go,'' Zoya responded.

''I know how hard it has been, but life's at are stake here,''

''You may think that I'm harsh, but face it, Y/N, he loved you, maybe he still does, but at one point, we all need to pick sides at the end,''

''I'm not taking anyone sides here,'' You argued. ''Then you have to at one point, this is war, get your head together,'' Zoya replied.

''You're right,'' You replied with a sulking expression as Zoya looked at you with wide eyes. ''Whatever happened between me and Nikolai, it's not worth it,'' You responded and turned to face her.

''So, you're over it?'' Zoya asked with an eyebrow raised.

''I know it's going to be hard, but i try not to care,'' You responded before she shrugged her shoulders and took the alcohol and held it up. You grabbed your glass and clinked it before you drank the alcohol burning in your throat.

Not far from the bar, Kaz had his eyes lingering on you from the distance as he promised to himself that he would try to be the better man but he can't do that when the demons inside of his head.

-

ngl struggled to write the last part but i hope you guys enjoyed of ''kaz'' version of y/n. might write a part three soon!

Well-Designed

Connor (RK800) x gn!Reader | 2.3K | 18+

Connor’s learning how to use a mobile phone while the Cyberlife servers are down for maintenance. It’s easy enough for an android to figure out, but he’s getting caught up on using the camera function to send you photos of the parts of him he knows you like.

You were a sarcastic person. It was something Connor initially struggled to grasp as an android who took everything literally. But, as you spent more time together at work, he was beginning to learn.

That all went out the window when he got a phone.

You’d received the first text on an average Tuesday night. You were enjoying takeout on the couch, binging a new show your friend had convinced you to watch.

Hello (Y/n). This is Connor. You can contact me through this number if you need me.

You smiled at the perfectly punctuated, formal message. You replied back in a much more relaxed manner.

Hey Connor good to know

You saved his number and thought nothing more of it as you put your phone back down, returning your attention to your lonely dinner. That was until a minute later your screen lit up with a notification from him. There were no words in the preview, the message simply telling you he had sent 1 attachment.

Curious, you paused your show, almost choking on your food as you unlocked your phone. It was a mirror selfie, most of his face cut out apart from his lips and chin. The focus of the image were his hands, one holding his phone with the flash going off, the other flexed, fingers curled into his tie. Each tendon was emphasised by the shadows of the photo, the promise of power in the roadmap of those raised veins.

A trio of bubbles indicated that he was writing an accompanying message.

Keep reading

A Breach in Reality

request: If you're taking requests ive been GNAWING for a joaquin x fem reader where they go on an undercover mission to a riiiiiiich ahh gala as a fake couple and they end up kissing to not get caught🤌

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

contents: undercover trope, colleagues to lovers, internal angst/insecurity, kissing

wc: 1,572

an: these two are so adorable! thank you for sending in this request anon. I truly hope you enjoy <3

danny ramirez characters masterlist

The mission brief was simple: infiltrate the gala, extract the intel, get out without blowing your cover. The two of you had prepared well, going over your aliases, asking each other questions that someone might want to know, making sure all the gaps were filled.

What you didn’t prepare for is how tight and warm Joaquin’s hand would feel on your waist in the silky gown you’re wearing. Or how good he’d look in his polished suit, black and sleek. How good his cologne smells when you walk hand and hand. How his eyes seemed to roam a little more than usual; you brush that thought away easier than all the others. Of course he was looking at everyone, at you more closely.

He leans close to whisper against your ear as you walk up the marble steps of the venue. He has to say it because it’s true. “You clean up nice, princesa.”

You barely hold back a smile, rolling your eyes at him playfully. “You’re just saying that because I’m your fake date.”

Joaquin’s gaze is sincere. “I’d say it if you were my real one, too.”

You have to look away from his brown eyes because you don’t detect any dishonesty. But you know that you shouldn’t get involved with someone you’re working with, especially with how infrequent you see him. You don’t want to get attached to the idea of having him this way, even if your mind has forced you to dream about it once or twice before.

You value reality and protection of yourself, of your heart over everything. It’s why you haven’t let yourself go on a date in over 5 years. The last time you opened up in that way, you couldn’t remember who you were when it all finished.

The gala is all champagne flutes, soft jazz, and people with money to waste. You keep your arm looped through his, playing the role of the doting partner while you both scan the room for your target. He’s pressing you closer than necessary, his body heat seeping into your skin, but you don’t pull away. You don’t want to.

What’s one night letting yourself feel the affection of someone else, especially when it’s already known to be a farce. No harm, no foul.

“Target’s heading toward the east wing,” you murmur, eyes trained on the man with the silver cufflinks. The pin on his suit indicates he’s exactly who you’re looking for.

“Copy,” Joaquin says smoothly. “Let’s move—”

“Un segundo,” you cut in quickly, pressing into him more firmly to stop him. “Su seguridad está mirando.”

Two guards in suits that linger just far enough to not draw attention to the untrained eye have turned to look directly at you both, eyes narrowed like they’ve seen something they shouldn’t. Like they see right through you.

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate. He shifts in front of you, hand sliding to your jaw like it belongs there. “¿Confías en me?”

You raise a brow at him, like he’s asked you a silly question. And he has, you wouldn’t have agreed to go on a mission with him if you didn’t trust him. “…I’m literally undercover with you.”

He grins mischievously, eyes glittering in the low lighting. “Close enough.”

He kisses you then.

It’s delicate and unexpected, and you’re too caught up in the perfect way his lips feel against yours to remember the mission for a split second. The reality you had just promised yourself you would stay in slips away. His hands stay gentle but sure, holding your face like you’re something fragile, like he’s been waiting for an excuse.

You melt into it—just for a second, just until the guards look away. At least that’s what you tell yourself, because the thought of breaking the kiss never crosses your mind.

It’s him who pulls back, leaving you both a little breathless.

“Convincing enough, yeah?” he asks, trying to sound casual but his voice is rough. He’s clearly affected, but you chalk it up to a natural response from the body.

You clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah. They’re uninterested.”

Neither of you moves. He’s still cupping your face, his thumb absentmindedly running over your cheek. And your hands that had moved to ground you during the kiss are still fisted in the fabric of his suit. The mission calls you forward, but something heavier hangs between you—hot, unspoken, electric.

You clear your throat again, loosening your hold on him, still not daring to meet his gaze. “Listas?”

He lets out a breath. “Listo.”

The mission wraps up without a hitch. The target successfully caught, the intel procured. You’re back in the van peeling off your heels with a weighted sigh and trying not to think about the way Joaquin kissed you like he meant it.

Except, how are you meant to not think about it?

You’ve replayed it at least thirty times on the way back to the safe house, each one more embarrassing than the last. Because the thing is, it didn’t feel fake; not for a second. And now you’re stuck wondering if that was just him being good at the job, or if maybe it meant something. Something more.

That’s not a question you’ll let yourself ask though. Reality. Protection. You repeat the words to yourself multiple times.

You’re still in your dress, sitting stiffly on the couch while he moves around the tiny kitchen grabbing water bottles and energy bars like it’s any other mission night. Like he didn’t short-circuit your brain with one very public, very effective, very affectionate kiss.

He tosses a bottle your way without looking.

You recognize it for what it is; an interrogation tactic that the both of you have been taught. Meet a need no matter how small and the person is more inclined to give you the information you need.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

“Sure.”

You open it and take multiple sips, in an attempt to stall. But there’s nowhere for you to go. If you avoided the conversation tonight he would simply ask you in the morning with more eyes watching. At least here the two of you could talk about it alone. You won’t go down easily though.

He finally turns to face you, leans against the counter like he’s waiting for something. His expression is patient and no less warm than always.

“So,” you say, like it doesn’t feel weird. “Impeccable job out there, as always.”

He nods slowly. “You too.”

Silence.

The air’s thick with everything you’re not saying, and you start picking at the label on your bottle because suddenly you don’t know where to look.

Joaquin finally pushes off the counter and walks toward you. Not in a hurry, he’s calm and collected. Deliberate. His voice is soft when he asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say too quickly. You pause, voice softer when you speak again, “I’m fine. Just… y’know. Debrief brain, long night, longer morning coming. I miss my bed, my cat, eating real food.”

He tilts his head. “It’s not the mission you’re thinking about, right?”

You go quiet, opening your mouth to deny his line of questioning but nothing comes out. You’re rusty when it comes to dating or feelings of any kind— almost feeling like an antiquated machine.

He steps closer, enough to kneel in front of where you’re sitting. His hand rests gently on your knee—not pushing, just grounding.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” he says apologetically. “The kiss. I didn’t plan it— I wasn’t thinking that it would make you uncomfortable. Pero, querida… fue real.”

You finally look at him, wide-eyed unsure of what to say. It was real. He meant it. He meant to kiss you.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while,” he admits, his thumb mirroring his movements from before, stroking the curve of your knee. “The op just gave me an excuse.”

Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “Oh.”

He gives a breath of a laugh. “That’s all you’ve got?” he teases.

You blink. “No, I mean—yeah, I mean—I— well.”

He squeezes your knee in an attempt to comfort you, “Breathe, princesa. It’s just me. You can tell me anything.”

At his urging you pause to take a breath, finally able to say, “It didn’t feel fake to me either.”

That earns you a soft, slow smile. Joaquin settles more firmly on his knees in front of you, ducking his head so that you have to meet his gaze. “So how about we try it again sometime,” he says, “no mission, no cover story—just us?”

You grin, a little shy. A little anxious. Isn’t this what you’ve been trying to avoid? Reality and protection. But this reality as far as you can tell. You look at him, your eyes searching, skimming through the depth of his brown eyes. You’re met with nothing but warmth, with reverence and hope.

“Are you asking me out, Torres? Really?”

“Damn right I am. If you let me,” he adds after a moment, voice gentler.

You let yourself look at him—really look—and for once, you stop fighting the warmth that blooms in your chest every time you’re with him.

“Yeah,” you say. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”

He pushes up, hand cupping your cheek like before so that he can kiss you.

And this second kiss?

It’s slower, softer— more thorough with no eyes watching and all the time in the world.

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl