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truly-morgan · 7 months

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[Accidental murder, on the run]

Reigen + Mob | Mob Psycho 100 09-01-2023

[#mp100 Murder and on the run with Reigen and Mob, 1630]

Had this thought for a while but: What would Reigen do if he got called one day by a panicked Mpb who accidentally killed someone?

Like, This was not the outcome Mob had wanted but it happened and now he has a corpse on his hand and doesn't know what to do. Should he call the cops? Should he move the body? Should he run away?

instead, he's panicking and calling Reigen about it.

And of course, Reigen comes to join him.

From the look of it it's some sort of psychic power accident, doesn't look too gruesome but it's not pretty either. Mob shifting not too far from the body, looking about to have a meltdown.

Reigen's brain is rilling really quickly and settles on an option that should cause the least damage if done right.

Hiding the body and any possible evidence.

It's pretty late and he's running on adrenaline too now, worried for Mob.

He instructs Mob to use his power to move the body around (no fingerprints like this). Maybe they use a car to go to the nearest forest to hide the body. Maybe they try to stage an accident where it wouldn't be seen as a murder. Maybe they try hiding the body somewhere in the city.

But they're no good enough at it and the body is found. Reigen is the first to learn of the body being found, growing anxious when police suspect a murder.

something in his guts just tells him their time is counted right now.

So he quickly prepares a getaway bag with important stuff in it and rents a car, he even pulling as much cash out of his bank account as possible.

Luckily it's a weekend and when he pulls out to the Kageyama household he tries to act as normal as possible.

"Ah Mobbu, I had forgotten to tell you I need you for an out-of-town job" he smiles, Ritsu eyeing him suspiciously as he apologises to Mob's parents.

"It's a /really important/ job and we might take the whole weekend, so you should prepare a bag, why don't I help you with your bag".

the Kageyama parents a none the wiser and lets the man in, Mob is a little confused by his shisho's strange behaviour, dread slowly creeping inside of him. Mob starts packing up enough for the weekend, but watches as Reigen adds more and more ("We are never prepared enough!") and even tells him bring some of his valuables.

After all, he's not sure when or if they'll be able to come back.

They say goodbye before getting on the road, Reigen anxiously listening to the radio as they talk about the man being found out. This is when Mob finally ask properly what's going on and Reigen finally says what he knows for now.

Of course, Mob get panicky again.

"Oi Mob, calm down" Reigen calls out when he feels the car doing strange moves, "They just found the body, it doesn't mean they know it's us who did it"

"Then why are we running away?!"

"We are not running away" Reigen assures him, "We are just going out of the city for a little while..." then they can properly run away for real when they confirm whether or not they are suspect.

With luck, they won't ever be suspected and they can go back to living normally. or at least, as normal as it can be when you exorcise spirits for a living.

Luck isn't on their side this time though. Maybe someone witnessed them trying to move the body, which led police to check surveillance cameras and catch them both.

Now they are officially on the run and Mob is panicking saying they should just surrender, it will make things worse otherwise.

But Reigen tries to reassure him, telling him to trust his shisho and that he'll find a solution to all of this. They just need to lay low for a while.

And laying low means doing some changes.

as they try to drive away from seasoning cities as much as possible while avoiding big cities, Reigen makes some physical changes.

He had bought some hair dye, figuring that his pale hair would be too easy to recognise. He even tries to give himself a haircut.

the shorter haircut could have come out better, but he'll do with it, Mob even fixed it a little bit.

He stops wearing his usual suit and goes for more casual clothing, now trying to figure it out for Mob. He won't force the teenager to change his appearance if he doesn't want to, so he gives him a ballcap and simply tells him to try and not to wear anything too eye-catching.

They live mostly out of the rented car and cheap motels. Inside the car because it's obviously even cheaper but in hotel because sometimes the weather isn't too good.

Maybe they have to give up the car at some point when the rental company realise they rented one to Reigen. Leave them to walk and use the buses.

Maybe the longer they are on the run, the more anxious and fidgety Mob gets and he's also getting frustrated that Reigen doesn't find anything better than being on the run.

But Reigen is still thinking and /doesn't know what to do/!!

He doesn't want Mob's life to be ruined because of an accident like this and he would lie if he said he wasn't also scared of what might happen to him too.

But more importantly, he wants Mob to be fine and have a good life later on, this will not do.

Then one day as he's keeping track of the whole issue in a cyber-café, Mob eating something good for once (he's kinda running out of money and he'll run on coffee for now, Mob is more important).

Then he sees news about the Kageyama family coming forwards, worried that Reigen had taken their son hostage this whole time he has been running out, assuming he had forced him into helping hide the body. This also brings back old news of him being a hack and abusing his employee.

And as Reigen is sitting in the cramped space with Mob, feeling really hungry and tired, knowing his funds are getting lower and lower, something just... clicks inside of him.

This is Mob's way out of this mess.

He obviously doesn't tell Mob what his plan is supposed to be.

He decides to use the last of his money on a nice lunch with Mob, he can't afford anything too fancy, but the young man seems to enjoy his ramen and is easily reassured by Reigen when he tells him it is okay to indulge a little for once. It will probably be one of his last (if not the only last) bowls of ramen he can share with Mob and he decides to enjoy it as much as he can possibly do.

Then they go to a gas station bathroom, Reigen happy that it's empty.

He tells Mob that he has to wait for him here and not to come out until he's back, he has something quick to do. Mob, as confused and unsure as he is about the situation decide to trust him and stays put, barely questioning him when Reigen ties his hands and ankles.

Reigen can't help feeling a little distressed at the idea that Mob is letting him do all this without much questioning, but he assumes the kid is tired of all this running around and whatever his plan is he'll follow it.

then he leaves the bathroom, blocking the way so no one goes in. He finds the nearest payphone and uses the little spare change he has left to call the cop, telling them where he's left Mob saying he doesn't need a hostage anymore.

Poor Mob is scared out of his mind when he hears banging on the door, even more when he hears it police. He can barely let a coherent sentence out as they find him, working on untying him. It takes a moment before Mob catch onto what they are telling him:

not that he's under arrest, but rather reassuring him, telling him that everything will be alright now and that he'll be able to go back home once he answered some questions.

Mob is left extremely confused as to what is happening.

but slowly he realised that people thought he had been kidnapped by his shisho as some sort of hostage he never did any request about. He slowly realised that Reigen had decided to use that to help Mob, taking the whole blame for everything that happened (while even adding "kidnapping" to his changes).

Reigen is caught easily the next day and confesses to everything, easily lying about being the one who killed the man, trying to make a story that works with what Mob had told him had happened.

It's not really hard to convince them he was the one who forced Mob to help him hide the body and that he had kidnapped Mob so he wouldn't go to the police with what he did.

When asked why he let go of Mob, he says he had no more money and felt guilty about keeping Mob like this with him.

Reigen will take the fall and makes sure Mob has a good life after this incident, no matter what.

The police don't believe Mob when he says HE'S the one who killed that man, believing that Reigen forced him to try and take the fall.

Reigen ends up jailed for the murder and kidnapping, successfully taking all the blame away from Mob on this one.

Doesn't stop Mob from feeling guilty about it tho.

Maybe he's allowed to visit reigen in prison, at the start trying to convince him to tell them it was HIM who did it, but slowly gives up as he sees the way his shisho smiles at him. He's made up his mind and he won't go back. Not like he could anyway.

He visits Reigen regularly enough, trying to tell him how things are doing for him, how everyone else is doing too. Reigen doesn't say much about his prison life, seems to prefer hearing how Mob is doing, wants to see Mob grows into a good person despite it all.

dunno if Reigen would ever be able to leave prison, but I feel like Mob would be the one there for him when he does, ready to fully take him back into his life properly again and ready to help. He's just happy to have his shisho back after so long.

and when seeing more properly how much Mob has grown and how far he's gone, reigen knows one thing

He'd make the same choice again if he were back to the night where it all started

Original

#tweet archive #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #shigeo kageyama #accidental murder #on the run #reigen goes to jail

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

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Hacker finding out s/o is preggo

The Hacker x Reader- A deal breaker

Warning: Angsty Vibes On

This couldn't happen, not to him. This has to be some kind of joke but deep down he knew it was as real as him and as you. Still, the anxious part of his mind screamed at him that this was only a set up, that you weren't pregnant with his child.

"Its yours." you spoke into a quiet voice, afraid if you raised your voice any higher, you would startel your lover known as the Hacker, but you prefere to call him by his fictive name, Erron.

You cursed yourself for even entering a relationship with him now, and you had told yourself that getting with one of the most notorious criminals of this generation was a bad idea, but like many of the others befor you, you fell for his manipulative games and his charms, not that he tried to hard to swoon you. Perhaphs, it was his impecable superior intelligence, the importance he had along other criminals and on the dark net.

He was simply an enigma which pulled you in to fall down into the dark pit of venomous snakes.

Despite not knowing his real name or his real identity of who he was, you did knew his Hacker persona, but you caught small glimpses of what you learned to call it, his everyday man self.

When he wasn't hacking, killing, abducting and comitting gruesome crimes, he was a pretty laid-back man; he would play video games with you in free time, watch movies, normal domestic couple stuff, but he was such a busy man, these moments were so rare you sometimes forget when was the last time you and him spent time like that.

"This cannot be happening to me." Erron broke the deadly silence and his words cut through your body like a machete, making your guts twist and a bitter feeling envelop your throat.

You should have seen this coming, Erron wasn't the average guy to settle down, get married, have children and a family.

He was a solitary one, prefering to be on his own and the fact that you were allowed into his life was something you always wondered.

Why?

"P-Please..." you choked out, arms wrapped around yourself, feeling so vulnerable.

His gaze moved up from the positive pregnancy test into his hands, and you could see his grey eyes from behind the mask you got so familiar with, narrowing, his broad shoulders moving up and down as he took deep steady breaths.

"No. Don't you even dare say it... This cannot be happening." he said with finality, and you felt tears form into the corners of your eyes.

"W-Will you kill me?" You asked into a broken voice, knowing what this man was capabile of doing.

Tilting his head to the side, he let out a dry chuckle, booping your forehead mockingly.

"You have one hour to pack your stuff and get the fuck out." he said into an emotionless voice, stalking away from you and into his work room, slamming the door closed with a bang that echoed into the dim lit penthouse.

Letting out a breath you were holding, you let silent tears fall down your cheeks and you started to pack your stuff, not having much, you were done fast and looked around the place you spent your last 11 months, then left.

You called your aunt to stay at her for a period of time until you would manage to get your life together, which was quite hard, but you had managed to find a decent job to at last pay around the bills, since you didn't wanted to be a leech on her back, then one night after coming back from work, you recieved an email.

It was from the Hacker.

'I am sorry for how things ended up to be like, but what you want and that life is something I cannot offer you. My life is too dangerous for.... Our child. They will be better off only with you. I will do my duty and transfer you as much money as you need to give him a better life. You know me, dollface... I am a bad influence.'

Reading the message over and over again, you slowly started to understand. He was protecting you and the child, which was a sign of love from him, as much as a psychopathic cyber criminal can be, but it was enough to assure you that he didn't hated you or the child.

He was scared.

Resting one hand over your swollen belly, a smile tugged at your lips, seeing a notification appear on your private bank account.

'15,000$ have been send into your account'

Maybe it was better off like this, but you knew deep down that the Hacker would keep an eye on you two.

#The Hacker #Cyber killer #Erron #Slasher OC #Original characters #The Hacker x Reader #Cyber killer x reader #Erron x reader #He is anxious to have the family life

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cuddlesslut · 3 years

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Part FOUR : Chance Encounters

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

Tags: slight NSFW, Heavy Angst.

A/N: so this will NOT be the last chapter there will be more. Just like there are more choices now lol, don’t be shy to tell me who you route for. Also let me know if y’all want more NSFW I’m chill with writing it . ALSO slight canon divergence the timing on when Hinata comes back from Brazil is different, obviously in the Manga he’s only gone for two years. In this story it is longer. Hinata isn’t on MSBY yet. Also we are only caught up on 5 months since the dreaded birthday.

Part Three: Memories

Part Five: Friends

You spent your birthday in some hotel room. Sitting on the plush bed still in your dress not bothering to change your curl in to a fetal position as sobs raked through you. Your whole world crashed down on you everything you knew was a lie. Your phone lit up with one last birthday message from some distant relative. You see the time it’s now one in the morning you’ve been laying here for hours you can’t understand how you have any liquid in your body left to cry but still tears trail down your cheeks as you look at your lock screen. It’s a photo from three Christmas’s ago. Atsumu held you close from behind as you pose in front of a festive Christmas tree. Your eyes are shut tight from laughter as the setter places a kiss to your cheek bone, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. This was your favorite photo of the two of you, it always showed the realness in this candid shot. You remember laughing so hard from some cheesy joke he had just whispered in your ear. Your heart twists at the photo, a moment of anger slices through you. Was any of it real? You fling your phone at the wall effectively shattering the screen. You scream into the pillow. You wish you could feel numb to all of the emotions. But no ones that lucky. You aren’t sure when you feel asleep but you wake to find the remnants of tears stuck to your face. You move to the bathroom. You look like death. Your face is pale and eyes swollen and red. Your body aches from the fitful sleep you had. You grab a quick shower before putting on your comfiest pajamas and lay back down. All the energy is drained you look for your phone before remembering your fit of rage last night groan. You switch on the TV for some form of distraction but the gods must really hate you as it opens to a sports channel and you see him in all of his intensity standing on the volleyball court. Part of your brain pleads to change the channel but you must be a masochist as you watch him in all his usual glory. He commands the stadium as he goes up to serve. He looks perfectly fine like you hadn’t just walked out of his life. Like he hadn’t just ripped your world to shreds. You're finally turning the television off sitting in the silence thinking of the memories of your home. You ordered some takeout trying to settle the ache in your stomach. The food tasted bland, everything has lost its edge. The bed offers no comfort. The sunlight offers no warmth. It’s not long before you fall into another depression nap.

Waking up late in the evening you can’t stop your mind from making a stupid decision. But you miss him. You just want to see him. That’s how you end up outside of the door that leads to the home you shared with him. Trying to work up the courage to enter. His car was in his usual spot so you know he's here. A bitter thought run through you at the thought that while you were here he couldn’t be bothered to be home before two am at the earliest, yet the first night gone and here he is at home at ten o’clock. Silently you open the door. It was a mistake. You don’t make it even completely through the threshold before you hear the obnoxious moan and grunts, the sound of skin slapping. It makes you sick “OH Miya-San!” You hear some woman bellow out. You feel nauseous. You hurry out the door trying you best not to cause any noise to interrupt the activities in the house. You bend over you feel as though you’ll throw up right there on the spot. After calming yourself you make a way to a convenience store picking up a bottle of wine before heading back to you hotel room. There’s no way you’ll make it through the night sober.

The next morning you clean your self up before heading to the bank and clear out your joint account. Normally you’d feel bad taking the money but this cash was saved for your wedding and that would never happen now. You stopped by the phone store getting your own account not wanting anymore strings attached to the player. You spend the rest of your morning looking for a small affordable apartment. Luckily you were able to find one with in distance of your school and a reasonable price. It’s now the afternoon and you have to rush not wanting to be late for your class. Although it probably wouldn’t have made a difference if you had missed today, you barely pay attention. You find yourself back with the hotel walls.

You feel completely and utterly alone. You want nothing more to call your best friend or stop by Samu’s shop and cry on his shoulder while you eat some comfort food. But there is hesitation Suna was Atsumu's friend before he was yours, and you'll probably break down in tears just looking at Osamu he was his damn twin for heavens sake. What were you to them you wonder. You only got close to them because of the setter. Part of you wanted to believe that they cared about you and all of those friendships would still be there but you couldn’t. How could they want you around. You really question your place in their lives. It’s hard to trust in anything you had also believed Atsumu loved you and would never hurt you, yet that much was proven untrue. It's hard to trust in anything you feel or know. Another reason is your afraid of all of the memories you shared with them Atsumu ever present in those moments. You don’t want to think about him any more. You don’t want any remnants of that man In your life. While you want to believe Suna would be there for you, that he’d choose you. It was not a risk you were ready to take. You don’t think you could survive another heartbreak. It’s better to leave things as is, to cherish the good memories and not risk tainting them with pain.

It’s been two months since your birthday. You’ve moved into a quaint apartment. You got a job working at a little cafe to pay for rent. Between work and studying for your degree you try to keep yourself busy. It’s hard being on your own. You try to distract yourself with the things that brought you joy. Some days are better than others but all in all everything still hurts. Graduation is only a couple of months away so at least there’s something to look forward too. There are moments that come quite often that you miss your friends but you can’t bring yourself to reach out still untrusting. You look back sometimes and wonder where the lies stopped. You avoid everything that has to do his Atsumu Miya. Even the sight of a simple volleyball brings distress.

Three and half months later the cosmos played another prank on you. It was just another Friday afternoon and you were working in the cafe. You had just helped a young beautiful woman at the counter. She seemed so familiar but you couldn’t quit place it. You could see a puzzled look on her face. Then it hit you. You knew exactly who this woman was. She was the one with your ex fiancé at the restaurant that fateful night. The realization must have struck her too. Her eyes grew wide with worry. Although you weren’t expecting what she did next.

“I AM SO SORRY,” she basically yelling as she bows in front of you. “ I’m so sorry for the part I played in your pain.” She continues. You can tell she is really distressed. You coworkers and a few costumers look at the spectacle. Hating all of the attention now directed toward the both, you beg her to please stand.

“I need you to understand I had no idea, I would never have gone for a taken man.”

You sighed and sent a look to your coworker that you were going to take a quick break. “Would you like a cup of coffee,” you ask her. You never thought That you’d be sitting having coffee with the mistress of the only man you ever loved yet here you are. There’s an awkward silence for a moment. You don’t rush things you can see she’s also having a hard time trying to figure out where to start. You take a sip of your coffee as she finally speaks.

“My names Yuki,” she states.

“YN ,” you offer back.

“Well, umm YN I just want to say I am so sorry for wh-” you cut her off holding up your hand.

“You said you didn’t know, correct?” You send a glance at her raising your eyebrow. She nods.

“Are you still with him?” She sits up straight.

“Absolutely not,” she states with conviction “after you left I asked him what just happed and he explained who you were and I left.. well not with out dumping my drink in face" she gave a little giggle.

“Ha! Oh I wish I could have seen that,” you laughed picturing him drenched in the restaurant. “In that case you have nothing to apologize for, you are a victim of Atsumu’s selfishness as well. I’m sorry he put you through that.” She gave a sad smile you could see she was hurt too. The two of you spent a few more moments in each other’s comfort discussing the facts of his affair. It hurts to know that he had a legitimate relationship with Yuki but a part of you was glad to know. It was a small piece of closure to know how deep his transgressions ran, knowing it wasn’t just sex hurt even more. But it furthered your stance that he didn’t love you and if he had at one point the love had faded on his part some time ago. You spent the rest of your shift plagued with thoughts of you past.

After your shift you went home to change before heading out to your local bar. In your time alone you had taken solace in drinking with strangers. After dressing in an appealing yet comfortable outfit you headed out. You wanted to feel comfy and relaxed but that didn’t stop you from wanting to look nice. In your past visits it wasn’t uncommon for men to try and talk you up and while you did indulge in the compliments none had succeeded in getting you to return home with them. There had yet to be a guy who fully kept your attention away from your former lover.

You found your favorite spot at the bar, just far enough from the blaring music and smokers. You smiled at the bartender before ordering your usual. You sat there letting the liquor relax you as you listened to what music the DJ was playing tonight. Normally you stick to just drinks but after the day you had you need something to take the edge off. After downing a shot of tequila you notice a presence next to you.

“Is this seat taken,” the man smiled at you. You had never seen him here before and you know damn well you would have noticed him before. Although he wasn’t a giant like most of the men you knew in your life, he wasn’t excessively short either you could tell he’d still stand taller than you. You couldn’t lie the man was extremely defined and muscular, you swear his tanned thighs that you saw peeking from under his khaki shorts were bigger than your face. His skin was tanned you can tell from pleanty of time in the sun. He had strong jaw line but his most prominent feature was this bright mop of orange hair he tried to hide under a ball cap. He had a bright smile that reached his alluring brown eyes. It was safe to say he was very handsome. He tilts his head to the side a little smirk reaching his lips. It then you realized you had never responded and just been sitting here gawking.

“Um no it’s not uhh go ahead,” you stammered out feeling a blush creep on to your cheeks at your response. What is this feeling why are you acting like a school girl.

He takes the seat next to you ordering a beer then turning to you reaching out his hand. “ Shoyo Hinata,” he states.

You accept his hand giving it a light shake. “ YN LN,” you responded. “ I’ve never seen you here before Hinata-San,” you prod wanting to know about the stranger.

“Just Shoyo is fine,”he gives you another dazzling smile. “I actually just moved back to Japan,” he states “this is my first time at this bar , but with customers as beautiful as you I’ll definitely have to come more often.” Ohh hes smooth you think. You let out a light chuckle at his compliment although it’s fairly simple compared to some of lines you’ve heard it definitely has the desired affect on you.

“Well then Shoyo where are you traveling from?” Question not wanting the convo to stop.

“I just got back from Brazil,” he mused that signature smile never far from his face.

“Wow Brazil! That’s so far was it hard to be so far from home?”you questioned.

The conversation with Hinata flowed effortlessly. Pleanty of laughes shared as he told you countless stories of his time in South America. Being in conversation with him is like talking to the sun it’s so bright and happy. He does eventually mention playing beach volleyball and for a moment you mind thinks of your ex but it then you realized it was the first time since Sho made his appearance that you had thought of the setter. It felt nice to finally have your mind clearing from the twin. As of recent at any mention of volleyball you would have ended the convo making an excuse to leave, yet you didn’t want to, plus beach volleyball is completely different than regular volleyball you reason.

Time passes by as well do several drinks. You are by no means drunk just a little tipsy. Over the course of your talking the space between Hinata started to narrow. Right now you were so close you could smell his cologne and the slight minty scent of his breath. His hand caressed your elbow. Your breath hitched when he finally leaned in “do wanna get out of here?,” you can see his iris’s darken ever so slightly. “We can go back to my place,” he continued.

Several thoughts ran threw your mind in that moment. One, you were nervous, you hadnt been with anyone other than Atsumu. Two, you were sure you weren’t ready for a relationship but it was just sex it’s not like he’s asking on a romantic vacation. And three you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against yours. “Absolutely.”

That’s how you got to where you are now. You barely made it through the threshold before Hinata had you pinned to the door. You were locked in a searing kiss. It was like he was stealing the air from your lungs. His hands roamed your figure before slipping under your blouse. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he breaths before pressing a kiss under your jaw trailing down you neck. You place you hands on his shoulders trying to ground yourself. You let out a loud moan as he gives a bite to your shoulder while grabbing a hand full of you breast. He smiled into you neck with pleasure from the sounds you made. The two of you stumbled a bit as you started making your way to his room shedding clothes left and right. The door closed to the bedroom and you were ready for a mindblowing night.

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skyeee · 2 years

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oooh please speak. share the juicy story

Well, so far I have that Julchen and Arthur are a couple living in a nice flat from Arthur’s job as a publishing executive. One day Amelia moves in, introduces herself with a home-baked apple pie to Arthur who is very hesitant. This woman in front of him makes him pause— she’s literally his dream woman that he had in mind years ago, before settling down with Julchen (who is decidedly not the type of girl Arthur imagined being with, but hey she’s got some fun edge AND she’s a cleanaholic. Win-win.)

(rest under the cut)

He knows Amelia’s bad news, and so he starts to narrowly avoid her in the halls and lobby. Meanwhile, Julchen is growing increasingly upset and annoyed with Arthur, who is falling back on Julchen’s cleaning obsession with an “eh, she’ll clean it up eventually” mentality. Leaving Julchen to do much more work around the house, and not allowing her a real job. (God knows why they don’t just hire a maid. Maybe Arthur knows that would ALSO be bad news. Rumor has it he has a thing for maids and governesses…) Imagine Jules, cleaning up a puddle outside the shower, glaring at Arthur who was the one to put it there, and neglecting to clean up after himself in the first place. Not a happy couple right now.

And so blooms the animosity. With Julchen’s growing irritation and nagging, Arthur finds himself hiding out at the local library reading pretentious (and dirty) novels to pass the time and delay his inevitable return home. There he runs into Amelia, arms full of children’s books she’s taking to the school she works at as a preschool teacher. In typical American fashion, she strikes up a conversation with her neighbor. At first, he’s standoffish. Trying hard to avoid any contact. But then she mentions watching oldie films, and he’s reeled in. The conversation progresses from casual “what’s your favorite film?” talk to Amelia pushing him to pick up ballroom dancing again, at a local dance clinic she attends. He declines, realizing he’s already in too deep with her, and promptly leaves.

In lieu of a “real” job, Julchen takes up game streaming, adding to their shared bank account with donations from randos who watch her stream. Arthur is already disgruntled by this, not liking that any random man could ogle his girlfriend online. He’s a bit (ironically) jealous. He chides her: “why don’t you get a job that helps society? Like a teacher?” And she just replies, “Me? A teacher? Have you met me??” He’s already starting to compare her to this new American in his life.

With that, he tells Amelia he’s ready to sign up for those dance classes. And they’re a force to be reckoned with. Other students start to think that they’re a couple with the way they’re so in sync while dancing and because they always come and go together. Arthur has also taken to calling her small Britishisms like “pet” and “love”. His initial annoyance with her has completely vanished. They fit into the perfect image Arthur always wanted for himself. Jules has always been so abrasive and never romantic but Amelia is the opposite. By the time they're six weeks into their course, he is convinced he is in love with her.

In a small turn of events, Amelia mentions she won’t be able to continue their lessons due to it not fitting into her teacher's salary. This being his refuge and coping mechanism for his turbulent home life, he immediately offers to pay for her classes. They’ve also taken to interlocking fingers when it gets cold on walks to and from the studio.

Soon enough, the funding turns into buying her things like lunch, lessons, clothes, and trinkets. The man is her wallet. She’s taken to attack hugging him whenever possible, and he’s taken to lingering a bit longer with his hands at her waist. He relishes the feeling of her against his chest.

But of course, with a shared bank account, things are bound to be noticed eventually. And Julchen isn’t dumb. She immediately notices this sudden dent in their funds from… lunches (she thought Arthur hated pizza, and yet there he was once a week going to the local pizzeria), clothes that she’s never seen the likes of, dance lessons that are seemingly out of the blue and out of character for him. She’s rightfully suspicious.

…And petty. In response to this, she figures, hey, if he’s spending all this money on frivolity, then so can I. And so a new gaming setup and some cute streaming outfits are ordered. Seeing this huge lump sum of money withdrawn from their account, Arthur is LIVID. He confronts her about it, and in the process, insults her line of work. Julchen responds by insinuating she’s doing something behind her back with his purchases, that actually rack up to much more than she spent in one go. But he’s good at ignoring criticisms of himself, and the argument ends in a stalemate, with Julchen going back to streaming and Arthur not speaking to her the rest of the night.

Later that night, Jules — carrying the sinking feeling he’s up to no good— attempts to appeal to him by recounting how they first met. Arthur had found her in a train station, newly immigrated from Germany and surrounded by strewn luggage after tripping on the stairs. He had helped her and invited her for tea. The rest if history. Jules succeeds in getting his favor, even just for a moment. This is the warmest he’s felt towards her in months.

This is the part of the story I haven’t really gone any further with. I’ll let you know how it develops when my friend and I get around to brainstorming the rest. In my vision, Arthur falls prey to a gold digger, and in the process, completely ruins his long-term relationship with Jules, all because he fell in love with his so-called “dream girl”, who in actuality was just bleeding him dry of his money. In the end, he loses both of them. Haven’t figured out how or why yet tho.

#ayooo this got long #my bad #skye speaks

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bangtae-sohotddaeng · 3 years

Text

we’ll be counting stars | k.th. | 4

(^ gif cred: ON THE VOYAGE | pinterest)

pairing: idol!Taehyung x publisher!Reader

rating: nc-17 (for language and themes)

summary: You’d sworn off love and relationships forever. You were here to do your job - work with the biggest boyband of the world. Not forge friendships and...and whatever it was that you and Taehyung were building up with these sneaky glances. It was, to be very fair, your Chief Editor’s fault that you’d landed in this mess. Maybe you should quit your job? Maybe you should quit life -

Oh, he was staring again, and did he freaking lick his lips?

warnings: swearing (reader’s got a potty mouth) + this is set like 5 years in the future + reader has emotional issues, she's a relationship phobe + mentions of weed

genre: so much ANGST ugh + fluff + comedy + some crack

words: 4.6 k

note: hey, y'all. i know i've been awol and i'm really sorry about it, but, well - first i went back to uni for a while and got busy with my classes and my boyfriend. but this lasted for, like, barely three weeks, and then i came back home and got covid. yep, i finally got unlucky. my parents got it, too, after me, and the three of us had been home quarantined and getting treated for the past month or so. we're in better health now, though, so i'm getting back into writing. here's hoping i pick up speed super quick! 💜

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gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

Your first week of heading this project with all its roadblocks and exhaustion, as it turned out, had merely been a taste of what was to come.

Your Wednesday at work began on a positive note, though.

Towards the middle of the day, your phone rang, making both you and Jungkook jump.

Cursing, you pursed your lips at Jungkook apologetically, and fished the device out. He nodded at you with a chuckle.

Looking at your phone screen, you realised this was a call you'd been waiting for.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m calling to inform you that we’re done.”

Your eyebrows immediately hiked up your forehead. “Wow, really? That’s great news!”

“Yeah, the cleaners will be in tomorrow morning. You can move in by tomorrow evening.”

You actually grinned. “That’s such fantastic news! Thank you so much, Mister Lin. I’ll initiate your payment later, today.”

“Anytime, ma’am. Thank you.”

You disconnected the call with a happy sigh. Jungkook squinted at you. “That sounded like a fun conversation.”

You nodded, smiling. “Our team is moving into an apartment, tomorrow.”

“Wow! You’ve been in the hotel for what, ten days now? Must feel nice!” Jungkook’s eyes sparkled.

You nodded with a sigh, shutting your eyes in relief. “Oh, yes. We’d made reservations at the hotel for fifteen days. We had to move into the apartments within this week. This feels so amazing. I’ll finally be able to prepare my own food.”

Jungkook giggled at that, scrunching his nose up. “Where’s the apartment? Hope it isn't too far.”

“Oh, no, it’s a few blocks away from here. Which is why we had to book a hotel in the first place. We needed two four-bedroom apartments on the same floor, in this specific radius, in three days.” You paused to laugh when Jungkook’s jaw dropped with a gasp. “It was a very hard find. But our agent was sharp, he did a great job.” You clapped your hands together. “I cannot wait to check out of the damn hotel.”

Jungkook nodded in understanding. “Hotels are hard. It could be a seven star luxurious penthouse, but you’d still wanna run away from it after a while.”

He seemed to be speaking from his personal experience, but running away from a seven star luxurious penthouse? You couldn’t relate. You hated your hotel because the curtains weren’t dark enough and the mattress was stiff and you couldn’t afford getting any of them changed. You also hated having to order Chinese every single day, but you also knew you’d be emptying your bank account if you got anything else.

None of this would trouble someone living in a seven star’s penthouse. But you didn’t want to make Jungkook uncomfortable by stating any of this when he was just trying to be a bit compassionate and empathetic.

“Food doesn’t bother me that much, though,” Jungkook continued after a thoughtful pause. “We’re usually either on diets or order takeout. I personally hate the mattresses.”

“Oh yes,” you sighed deeply, the kink in your upper back in absolute agreement. “I’m not really a fan of sleeping anywhere other than my mattress back at home, but hotel beds are the worst of it.”

Jungkook chuckled, nodding. “I completely understand. You remember that story I told you about lugging my beddings over to our dorm when we first moved into one?”

You nodded with a laugh. “Oh, yes. The rest of the boys were getting new mattresses, and you were busy dragging your mattress from your parents’ house. It may sound hilarious, but it’s actually very relatable.”

Jungkook looked a bit bashful as he nodded. “You know, when we first started preparing for our first tour, I had a half a mind to take it with me.”

You barked out a loud laugh at that, the mental image of Jungkook dragging a seven by four piece of bedding around and stuffing it into trailers. He laughed, too.

“Yeah, it was funny and really stupid. Half the time we didn’t even get to sleep in the bed we had taken with us, but whenever we did, I was nodding off the second my head hit the pillow.” Jungkook’s eyes sparkled as he went down the memory lane. “That one was nothing in comparison to the tours we go on now, but it was our first ever experience so it was still pretty difficult adjusting, Tour schedule is a different level of hectic, you know? You don’t have time to eat, you don’t have time to sleep. Just rehearsals and fittings and sound checks. I would fall asleep in makeup chairs,” he confessed with a chuckle, shaking his head fondly, “and when noona would wake me up, I would recall how I wanted to bring my mattress here. Such naivete.”

You smiled, nodding along. You hadn’t yet gotten to the tour discussion yet, as it was planned out for the third month of your blueprint, so all of this was brand new to you. But, at this moment you didn’t want to bring up plans and blueprints. Jungkook was compassionately being candid with you. You were becoming friends, beyond your professional boundaries.

Sighing, you decided to impart something personal, too. “When I moved to the States and got into this company, I rented the apartment with an old friend who was already living there. And it wasn’t my first time living in a house away from my parents. I’d been a university student, lived in dorms then rented apartments, both solo and shared.” Jungkook looked at you pensively, nodding with a little furrow in his eyebrows. “But when I got to this apartment, got all this brilliant furniture set up, all new and fresh, I couldn’t sleep. I missed my home.” Jungkook’s eyes softened, lips pressing down into an understanding smile. “Not the dorm, not the studio I’d been renting—I missed my childhood bed.” You exhaled, recalling all your sleepless nights. “There's this connection you build with the place you call home. I’m sure you must have started to feel this way about your dorms as time went on.”

Jungkook softly smiled, nodding as he looked into space. “Very correct. Tour life made me realise this exact fact.”

You both sat in a few minutes’ quiet, basking in the nostalgic atmosphere you’d built around you.

Then Jungkook grinned at you. “Now you’ll get to experience real Seoul life.”

You laughed. “Oh, yes. And I honestly can’t wait for it. The local markets, the grocery stores, everything. Everything here is very unlike home.”

“I’m sure you’ll love it!” Jungkook exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows smugly.

You went back to work soon after, with Jungkook tossing in questions about your move and suggestions about what all you should do in the city, every now and then.

It was a good, productive, joyous day. You were hardly even tired when you got back to your hotel to spend your last night on that stiff ass mattress.

Thursday had started off pretty much the same, except for you guys taking a slightly early departure to spare some extra time to set your new place up after your belongings were moved.

By late night, you were all settled in two, pleasant, well-furnished, well ventilated four-bedroom apartments, next to each other. Your housemates consisted of Sana and Simon. Needless to say, you weren’t a fan. But you needed a room to build the office in and you preferred it to be under the same roof as your bedroom because you tended to work odd hours when you couldn’t sleep. Simon and Sana volunteered to share the apartment with the office and you, so you didn't exactly have room for complaint.

From getting the apartment cleaned one last time to accept you all, to ensuring none of you had left anything significant behind in your hotel rooms—you didn’t trust the hotel staff enough to not misuse it if they found anything related to BTS in one of your rooms—you had been the one that took care of it all. It was kinda on you, because you didn’t trust anyone from your team to do the latter responsibly. So, quite naturally, you were dead on your feet by the time you got into your soft as a cloud beddings at nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. Sleep pulled you in the seconds you rugged your covers up.

You were very dead on your feet when you got to the BTS dorm, five hours after you’d gotten into bed. You hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in your system for more than a few weeks, now, but man did you have a hangover.

So it goes without saying that when you bumped into someone on your way to Jungkook’s studio, your eyes were half shut. You wouldn’t have thought much of it and might have slinked away with a mumbled apology, if not for the familiar voice than greeted you.

“Good morning. Looks like you had a rough night?”

You blinked, miles away from sleep within a second when your eyes met a familiar pair of brown ones. Taehyung was dressed in the routine BTS loungewear that consisted of a pastel t-shirt that was one too many sizes bigger on him and dark sweatpants that covered his feet. His hair was the usual black and curly, mostly pulled away from his forehead with a few tendrils dangling over his brows.

Your interaction with him had been meagre throughout this week, only consisting of respectful nods of greetings and waves of goodbyes. You’d meant to ask him how Simon was doing and how he felt about his ideas being taken now, after you’d had a talk with Simon about it. But you didn’t know what you would do if he said he was hating how things were and wanted you to do something about it. So you had kept your mouth shut and watched from the sidelines as you tried to gauge Taehyung’s inner feelings by his facial expressions.

He was an extremely closed off guy, never really letting his face show what he was truly feeling. But sometimes you would catch him looking into space as if he was zoning out of his conversation with Simon. Now, he could very well be thinking deeply about something Simon said—you really couldn’t be sure with the guy. But it had you worried, nevertheless.

God. Why did Simon have to pick out Taehyung’s name?

By the time you realised you’d been staring at him for too long, he had realized it too. “Anything wrong with my… hair?” he innocently questioned, threading his fingers through the front of it.

“No!” you yelped, making him flinch. “I mean, no, it’s not that. I, um. We were moving into our apartments last night and it got kinda late. My brain’s processing things a bit slow, today.”

Taehyung chuckled at that, nodding with his teeth on display. “It’s okay. Congratulations on the move. Hotels suck.”

You sighed. “Tell me about it.”

Awkward silence hung over the two of you as you looked at the floor, at your feet, at his feet, tried to discern if his pants were very dark gray or blue, cleared your throat, scratched your ear, met his shifty eyes again—

“How…how is working with Jungkook?”

His question caught you off-guard. You looked at him in surprise. “Uh…it’s, um. It’s good. Very comfortable, very productive. It’s great, actually.”

Taehyung nodded, pursing his lips as he looked down again. “Simon has been a better listener this week. Did you talk to him?”

A weight was lifted off your shoulders on hearing that. You grinned at him with all your teeth. “Really? That is really good to know. Comforting, even. I did talk to him, yes.”

Taehyung looked into your eyes as his lips spread into a slow, soft smile. “Thank you so much for doing this for me. I thought you would think I was stupid for demanding so much, but…” He shrugged his shoulder, one corner of his lips ticking farther up his cheek. “You made it work. I feel so much better now.”

You exhaled, willing your heart to not beat so fast. It was your job to ensure they were all comfortable, this was part of what you were getting paid for. But somehow, the way Taehyung seemed to have taken it so personally made you not wanna mention the fact in the moment.

Also, he didn’t know how this wouldn’t last. You’d been giving Simon tips to handle himself professionally around Taehyung, literally every single day. It kept the wheel running, but it was tiring both of you out, immensely. Simon was out of his element and you were getting slowly overwhelmed and under-rest due to the amount of responsibilities piling on for you. You were determined to talk this out with your boss, this Sunday, and find a way out before you broke.

Right now, though, you gave Taehyung a bashful smile. “I wanted you to be comfortable and feel good about working on this project, Tae. I am constantly working out plans to better it.”

Taehyung looked at you with so many emotions swimming in his eyes, that the intensity of it almost made you wanna look away. But you didn’t. Instead, you tried to decode what any of it could mean.

This time the silence between you two was not awkward in the least. It was charged—heavy with this unknown tautness between your mind and heart and this indecipherable look in Taehyung’s eyes.

“Tae?”

The trance was broken by Jin, startling both of you.

He walked into the halfway from behind Taehyung, peering around him with a frown. His eyes widened when he saw you. You immediately bowed, always extremely cautious about being respectful around BTS’ oldest member. “Good morning, Jin-ssi.”

He chuckled at your address, insisting that you didn’t have to bow every single time. “Just the respectful good morning is fine. Did you just get here?”

You nodded, subtly glancing at Taehyung whose eyes were slightly rounded and still stuck on you. Why was he acting like you two were caught by Jin? You’d just been greeting each other and catching up!

Right?

Right.

“Ah! There comes Riya!” Jin suddenly announced the arrival of his partner on your team, cutely waving at someone behind you.

Your teammate Riya walked into the hallway after you, having walked here on her own insistence. “Good morning, Jin-ssi. Taehyung-ssi. Boss.”

You smiled at her, nodding in acknowledgement of the respect she paid. “Where’s Simon?” you questioned.

“Just here!” the man himself responded, rushing in after Riya.

You met Taehyung’s eyes, and he nodded with a meaningful look and a small smile on his lips. Your heart felt light.

The unexpectedly happy and positive start you’d gotten in the morning lasted with you the whole day, making your time with Jungkook a lot fun, and fulfilling in terms of work, too.

When Sunday came in and you received your boss’ call, her first question was about how well you were settled in the apartments, followed by how you’d handled things with Simon. You had done a decent job on the former, but the latter was gradually turning out to be a pain in your ass. You told your boss as much.

“Drag it out for another week, and then design a change of gameplan. If he really isn’t doing a good enough job by himself, it’s better if he works with someone else. This whole charade will tire both of you out. And V would be facing issues, too, if Simon’s heart isn’t into it.” Your boss had looked at you solemnly through the computer screen.

“Simon’s heart’s a bit too much into it, boss, that’s the whole issue.” You had derisively chuckled at your joke, but her words had left you thinking into the late hours of the night.

Taehyung had definitely been facing issues, you’d heard it from the man himself. And the respite he thought he’d gotten this week was momentary, because neither you nor Simon could honestly keep up with it for too long. And it was very unfair to Taehyung. This book was supposed to showcase a part of all the boys. A biography was the culmination of one’s whole life—something very personal, precious and endearing. The process of its creation should have been a similar experience for the boys, too.

You really would have to assign someone else to Taehyung.

On Monday morning, you knocked at Simon’s door at seven.

“Just this week, and then you switch,” you told him.

“Really? Oh, my God, thank you so much!” Simon cried out.

“Please accommodate him the best you can.” You sighed. “I’m too tired to give you notes everyday. Will you be able to manage?”

“I’ll accommodate him the best I can, just as you said.”

You hadn’t taken his word for it, but it seemed like the knowledge of his misery ending soon had done Simon well. He did a fair job of maintaining his professional composure, and on Tuesday, when you went in to grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen, you saw the two of them laughing about something, too. Taehyung had politely greeted you, exchanging more than a nod for the first time in more than ten days—minus that one altercation in the hallway, of course—and then immediately went back into the discussion.

He seemed to be really into it.

It made you feel a lot better.

On Friday, you and Jungkook went for a walk by the pool in the late afternoon with a cup of ice cream in your hands. He brought up Taehyung, asking how the elder was doing.

“You told me he was having some trouble with his partner?” Jungook asked, biting into a huge glob of chocolate ice-cream like a maniac and braving the brainfreeze with a straight face.

You grimaced at the sight. Then exhaled, plopping a spoonful from your own ice cream into your mouth. “He’s doing a lot better, now. It might not last, though”

Jungkook, instead of quizzing your ominous statement, nodded in understanding. “Does it have something to do with what I told you about hyung’s personality?”

You sighed. “Pretty much. We might have to change his partner.”

Jungkook paused at that. “Is there a possibility that…” He trailed off, confused, doe eyes looking at you.

You couldn’t lie to him. You shrugged. “Everything’s on the plate.”

On Sunday evening, you decided to gather the team for the call with your boss. Sending them a quick message once you all got home, you hopped into the bathroom for a long, relaxing showe.

When you came back, you stepped into your office to the welcome sight of your team occupying bean bags and chairs and spread across the entire surface area of the place.

Collectively, you all brought up Taehyung’s partner with the Editor-in-Chief.

“Why don’t you do it, Y/N?” your boss questioned you after the rest of them had briefed her with their progress so far and detailed out their future plans with their assigned boys.

You sighed. “I have been doing just as great as the rest of them, boss. It wouldn’t be ideal for me to stop working with Jungkook after we’ve been making such great progress.”

Your boss took her glasses off, the highlight on her nose glistening as her movement caught light. She shook her and then sighed. “One of you is going to have to make a sacrifice.”

Simon, rightfully, flinched with a guilty face.

“So either you talk one of your team members into doing it, or you do it yourself. You’ve got one whole week to discuss it. Tell me what you decide, next Sunday.”

You kept tossing and turning in your bed. You’d either have to force one of your team members. Or you’d have to disappoint Jungkook. Your prospects really weren't looking good.

You would like to believe you and Jungkook had become friends in these three weeks. It is impossible to remain a stone-faced stranger with someone literally relaying the story of his entire life to you. And besides that, too, Jungkook was a very likeable guy. He was a curious soul with a myriad of interests. Taking notes on literally every topic would always branch out into an enthusiastic conversation between the two of you.

Sighing as you recalled how the two of you had shared your roller-skating experience with each other just today, you shut your eyes and decided to finally go to sleep.

On Monday morning, your team members were gathered in your new office to begin with the scripting process of the biography. As you got down to comparing notes and checking off boxes, each one of you resolutely ignored the gigantic elephant in the room—that fact that one of you would not be working with the same person when this week was up.

Strangely, this forcible change of partners was weighing down on all of you not just because of how much more labour it would cost, but on an emotional level, too. Which was a very unfamiliar concept, at least to you. You never got attached to clients, knowing it would only cause hindrances when you had to criticize their work—which was why they were talking to you in the first place. You had been somewhat lucky too, in a way, because it wasn't easy for you to get attached to people.

But Jungkook turned out to be just a really easy person to get along with. You really had become friends.

This, you suddenly realised, would also mean that Jungkook would make friends with another partner just as easily.

“Guys, remember—it’s not just their story that we’re writing, it’s ours too!” you announced to your team, clapping your hands to raise their spirits as the six of them worked on their computers. “They’re the narrators, sure, but we are the writers. Use your words wherever you find fit, do not hesitate to trim, omit or add. This is what we were hired to do.”

At noon, you all ordered takeout and took a break.

“We’re all really on schedule, boss,” Riya, Jin’s partner, spoke up from her spot across the room from you. Her rounded eyes narrowed suddenly, and she winced. “Well… except Simon, but we kinda already expected that.”

Simon, seated on a bean bag to your immediate right, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“You’ve been really shitty at your job, Si,” Areum, Jimin’s partner, commented, looking at Simon through her round framed glasses, her face displaying disappointment.

“He really has,” you added. “But it cannot go on like this. You’ll have to be really professional with your partner, this time round, Simon. You’ve really done a lot of damage with Taehyung. Boss won’t just pull you off the project if something like this happens again, she’ll fire you.”

Simon visibly gulped, nodding with his wide eyes fixated on you.

“So, who’s gonna take his place?” Nathan, Yoongi’s partner, butted in, prompting Sana to stop stretching. “Have you decided yet?” he asked you.

You exhaled. “Why not ask dear Simon who he wants to work with? The last time he kept protesting about the assigned choice, and I didn't listen. Maybe he’d have done better if the selection of his partner was voluntarily done by him.”

All eyes turned to Simon. He cleared his throat, looking beyond nervous. “Please don’t put me in this spot. One of you will have to let go of a month’s worth of hard work for me, as it is.”

You looked around the room. “Any one of you willing to switch?”

Five pairs of eyes turned to look at you incredulously. “No one’s gonna willingly give their research up for you, Simon,” Charlotte, the only redhead on your team and Hoseok’s partner, spoke with a roll of her eyes. “None of us.”

“Simon,” You sighed. “Choose.”

And then Simon squeezed his eyes shut and fisted both his hands to whisper, “Jungkook…maybe?”

Of fucking course.

Later that night, you had calmed yourself down enough to tell yourself that everything was gonna be okay. You could be a darn hardass professional when you needed to be. In fact, being humble and empathetic was usually what posed a challenge to you. You would very smoothly transition into working with Taehyung, you were sure of it.

You belatedly thought about how much change these past three weeks had already brought about in your nature. You were starting to show a lot more compassion than you’d thought yourself capable of. That kind of came in this job’s description, because biographies made people vulnerable, and vulnerable interviews required compassion.

You had to unlearn some of the things you’d picked up over the span of your adult life to save yourself from hurt, and also the guilt that came with hurting others. Jungkook also helped, in a way. His openness and just the overall cheerful vibe that his nature eluded made you want to be more of a friend to him than a writing guide or an interviewer.

You wondered how Taehyung would be.

There was something undeniably intense and mysterious about him. Now, you weren’t naive enough to want to “unravel” the guy’s mysteries, but you sure were irked and curious. Maybe he was one of those kinds of artists that literally lived in their art.

Back when you didn’t work in this company with this hectic schedule and had enough spare time on your hands to write, you used to pride yourself to be one of these kinds of artists, too. You lived in your stories, kept building characters up wherever you went, whatever you did. You wondered if it was something similar with Taehyung for music.

You would find out, eventually. There was no point pondering it so much.

Sighing, you turned off your side lamp and decided to retire for the night.

Your writing week was gliding past smoothly. It was just Wednesday, and you all, ahead of the schedule, were at the verge of finishing up your writing parts.

“Are we super efficient or did we sign up for a longer duration of time than needed for this whole project?” Sana questioned, typing away on her laptop.

You snorted. “Or maybe, we didn’t design the blueprint with as much uniformity as we’re required to.”

“You don’t always have to critique everything, boss,” Charlotte, Hoseok’s partner chimed in, flipping her long mane of auburn hair off her shoulder as she shot you a look.

You glared right back at her. “Uh, actually, I do. That’s kind of my job here.”

You’d been harsher than was needed, making the whole room go quiet. Only the clicking of keyboards echoed around you all for a while.

“Where’s Simon?” Nathan, Yoongi’s partner, asked after some time.

You sighed. “In his room, finishing up his writing work there. He doesn’t feel comfortable sitting between all of us because, and I quote, y’all give off really judgy vibes that fuck with my concentration.”

“That might actually be true,” Areum, Jimin’s partner, mumbled in Korean under her breath.

“Did you mail Manager Woo about the switch yet, boss?” Nathan asked you as you got up to get a refill of your coffee.

You exhaled. “Nope, I'm stalling,” you confidently confessed, leaving the office to make a trip to the kitchen. On your way back, you knocked at Simon’s door before peeking in. “You doing okay?” you asked him flatly.

Simon gave you a nod, not moving his gaze from the laptop screen. You rolled your eyes and came back to the office.

“Should one of us do it? If it won’t look too unprofessional?” Sana asked.

You wrinkled your nose. “It would look grossly unprofessional, Sana.” You pursed your lips as you sat behind your laptop again. “Fine, I’ll do it right now.”

You took a sip from your coffee, and opened your email. This was final, now — no coming back.

You were officially gonna start working with Kim Taehyung.

gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

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Tags: @tangledsparkles @hoefortaeshands @getmemyfries

#vantaenet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #thebtstown #taehyung angst #bts angst #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #taehyung imagine #bts imagine #v angst #v fluff #v imagine #jungkook imagine #bts v #bts jungkook #*mine #f: wbcs

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nerdified · 3 years

Text

Procedural Notes: Patient #3 (FKA Hugo Jensen)

NOTE: [At the time of this audio recording, Mr. Hugo Jensen (NKA Norville Nerdlinger) has just begun the process, and is restrained. The identity of the speaker is unknown. This transcript is reproduced here in order to assist with identification of this man, who has since disappeared, absconding with an undisclosed amount of the process agonist. Efforts to locate him have, to date, been fruitless. If anyone knows anything about this man or his whereabouts, please report the information to Central Command.]

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Quiet, now. It’s no use struggling.

I’m not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite.

I see that look in your eyes, like you don’t think I could hurt you. You’re probably right. I’m not much of a fighter. But I know what you think of me, and other guys like me. I’ve been listening to you on the phone, you know. Hacked your telecommunications. What was it that you called me, on that call with the client yesterday?

Oh, yes, I remember. A walking pocket protector. I’ll admit, that was a new one for me. I’ve had “pencil-neck” and “four-eyes” and the good old-fashioned “nerd” lobbed at me before, but “walking pocket-protector”… Heck, it’s got a little poetry to it!

Shh. I know, it feels strange. It’s a little unsettling, at first, I’ll agree. But you’ll get used to it. It’ll go easier for you if you just relax and quit fighting it. In time, you’ll even begin to like it.

I’m sorry about the gag. Unfortunately, it’s just the beginning of the process, so I have to leave it in for…twenty-three more minutes, at least, if my calculations are correct.

Ha! Who am I kidding – my calculations are always correct.

I can see from your eyes that you hate my guts right now. That, too, will change.

You see, what’s about to happen to you isn’t out of the ordinary, or even very noteworthy. As far as I can tell, it happens to a lot of guys, especially those that zip through their twenties and then hit that speed bump called thirty, bank accounts empty and career opportunities shot. Those of us who didn’t win the genetic lottery couldn’t get by just on our looks and our charisma, like you did.

I remember how it felt when I was in high school, and guys like you were all A+ students and perfect jocks, too… gosh, it’s enough to make me swear.

But no. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t just be a jock, be good at sports, and leave the academics to the rest of us. We didn’t ask for much, you know. We just wanted to be left alone in our science labs, and in our tutorials, in our lives.

There's no escaping guys like you. You’re everywhere, and you’re spreading. For a time, we ignored it. Figured it was some kind of anomaly. But it wasn’t – it was a trend. And despite the fact that we didn’t see it coming, we are now prepared for its end.

Like I mentioned – it won’t surprise most people to see you change. Maybe a few of your close friends will worry about you. Express some concern. But by that point, you’ll already have accepted your new self. You’ll be able to say “This is just who I am,” and it’ll be their choice how to proceed. That’s a side benefit, by the way, of the process. You get to find out who your real friends are – and, spoiler alert: they’re not exactly big football fans.

You have to be prepared for some major shake-up in your life, though. The good thing about the process is that it won’t faze you in the slightest. Everything will be gee-whiz gosh-darn super-duper spiffy keen neat-o, if anyone asks, and for you, it will be.

Now, I know those terms are a little outdated. We’ve had to make a bit of an adjustment to the process in your case. The earlier version wasn’t quite strong enough for you, so we’ve had to over-compensate in a few directions. You won’t just be a little bit nerdy, you know, a couple of odd quirks, some new hobbies. For example, Derek – well, that’s his dead name, he goes by Derwood now – Derwood can sometimes get by in normal society. He even kept a few of his old friends. He’s just more into things like superhero movies, and he’s left behind all knowledge or passion for sports. I think I even saw him reading a comic book the other day, come to think of it.

But that’s not going to be you. Oh, sure, you might develop a taste for superhero movies, but if you do, it won’t just be a passing interest. You’ll become a rabid fan. I believe…obsessive…is the operative word, in fact. Yes, you see, that earlier version of the process would have worn off, and you’d have been back to your old self in no time, which would wreak havoc on your psyche, not to mention put our entire operation in jeopardy. We can’t have that.

It looks like some time has passed, but not quite enough for me to remove the gag yet. Do you feel your perfect white teeth shifting around in your gums, almost impatiently? Nod once for yes.

You don’t have to nod at all, not if you don’t want to. I don’t need you to confirm for me what I can already see happening in your eyes. Speaking of your eyes – how’s your vision? I can see you starting to squint every now and then. Trying to see past that blur? Don’t worry. I’ve already got your glasses, right here, for when it gets too bad for you to see. Talk about your Coke-bottle lenses - my calculations again predict that you’ll settle somewhere around…hm…negative six diopters, which is even worse than mine.

To put it simply: you won’t even be able to read the big E on the eye chart without your glasses on.

I know, you’ve never been to the optometrist in your life. You never needed to. And don’t think about getting contact lenses, either. I mean, go ahead and try, if you really want to embarrass yourself.

Oh, I can see it now: timid, nerdy little guy like you, shuffling into the doctor’s office – you say you want to get contact lenses, and they get you in the back for a fitting. They show you how to do it, you know, hold your eyelids apart and then just plop the lens on there. But you have to do it three times before they’ll let you leave with them, and you won’t even be able to get one in, because you’ll keep blinking it out. I wish I could be there to see it, honestly – you, all frustrated, trying to swear, but only able to say things like “Fudge!” and “Gosh darn it!”

It’ll be so beautiful. I’m getting teary just thinking about it.

I’m glad you’re starting to settle down a bit. Let me know when you need your glasses. Maybe while we wait, I’ll get started on your hair. That trendy fade has got to go, and so does that scruff on your face. At the start, you’ll have to shave a lot, but as the process continues, you’ll start producing more of a 5-alpha reductase enzyme. This will convert your testosterone into dihydrotestosterone, or DHT, which will actually miniaturize your follicles. Kind of like using a shrink ray on them! Oh, and there will be no taking of inhibitors, like finasteride or anything like that – our process contains a potent agonist, with an affinity of 0.25 to 0.5 nM for the human androgen receptor.

It’s all very scientific, I assure you. And with the miniaturization of your follicles, your sebaceous glands will begin to over-produce sebum, which results in – you guessed it! Acne. Pimples. Zits. I know you’ve never had to deal with that before, so I’m just preparing you for it now. Pizza-face, I think the popular nickname is. Get ready for a lot of that.

Let’s see…what else can I tell you.... Gosh, this is kind of like the orientation for a new job, isn’t it? Ah, yes. I know. Speaking of jobs...

Yeah, this is the tough part. It’s all very natural, I assure you. Just like with your friends, your co-workers will come to see you in a different way. I know you have quite a few cutthroat underlings who would eat one another alive to get your corner office, and the moment they sense you’re not as much of a threat as you used to be, they’ll swarm.

I give it two weeks, tops, until you’re gone. If you choose that road. Or you could make it much easier on yourself and resign. You won’t be financially ruined – not with all that new information surging through your brain – you’ll be an asset to the right company, the right department. Maybe IT will take you. Or accounting. Maybe you won’t work corporate. Maybe you’ll work retail.

God, that’s cruel even for me. I wouldn’t wish retail on anyone, even a jerk like you. But there’s no telling what could happen. For all I know, once the process has completed, you could end up one of those Geek Squad guys at Best Buy! Have you seen the uniform they have to wear? It’s company-mandated dress code. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? White, short-sleeve, button-down shirt. Black polyester clip-on necktie; black, pleated trousers; black lace-up shoes…and white socks. Yes, white socks, kept completely spotless and bright. All this is enforced, too, with routine inspections, to make sure you’re being compliant!

You see, there’s really an infinity of possibilities for you. If anything, this is a new chance for you – a fresh start. I know it feels scary, all this change. But change is the only constant. Everything is always in flux. Heck, every seven years, your entire body regenerates – every cell is new and different, so why shouldn’t your personality and identity change, too?

It’s logical, isn’t it? Nod once for yes.

Good! You’re starting to come around, aren’t you? Like I said, it won’t be so bad if you just accept it. If you don’t fight it. That sudden urge to position your tongue up behind your teeth when you say ess. Eth. Eth. How your voice keeps breaking, and in the most unfortunate ways, and at the most unfortunate times – all of this is being etched into your muscle memory as I speak to you.

There isn’t much longer now until I can remove your gag, and I can see that the physical alterations are beginning. Too bad all that hard work at the gym all these years is so easily eroded by our process, but then, those muscles were mostly for show, weren’t they? Well, no longer. It isn’t exactly sarcopenia, but it’s close. You’ll be at least one and a half, possibly two, standard deviations below the relevant population mean, and no amount of exercise will restore your former abilities.

Yes, the ropes are looser now, because you’re much smaller. Rapid onset muscle deterioration. You could struggle out of them. Maybe you could even escape. You could try. But there’s no way you’d make it very far without your glasses. Who would believe you, anyway? What would you even say?

Like I said, you might as well give in. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. And you’ll have me. I’ll be with you for the whole beginning process, so you can acclimate to your newly nerdy life. You won’t be able to continue living in that luxe apartment you’ve got – no, you’ll be moving into a nice little basement apartment I’ve got fixed up for you, in the suburbs outside the city. The landlords have just got it refurbished, with some nice wood paneling, and there’s a spare twin bed that should be just your size! There’s also tons of room on the walls to put up all your posters. You won’t need much room for anything else, really. You definitely won’t be needing that enormous closet of tailored, fitted button-down shirts, or all those sneakers, definitely not those expensive Under Armour boxer-briefs. What a waste. No, the new you is way more frugal with his money, seeing as he’s paid so little of it. The new you doesn’t even think that much about clothes, or fashion.

This must be a lot to handle. Maybe I should have a little mercy on you.

Tell you what. I’ll let you choose your underwear. How’s that, pal? That make you feel any better? Nod once for yes.

See, I’m not that bad. That’s right. So, here. You can choose…Hanes, or Fruit of the Loom?

Oh, I see. You thought I meant what kind of underwear. Haha, no. You’ll be wearing tighty-whities from now on. Sorry, them’s the rules. Besides, you won’t need much support…down there, if you catch my drift!

Don’t look so horrified. You won’t even notice that it’s gone. Mostly. You’ll still have some length, just, you know, not a lot. You won’t be able to call it a “cock” or a “dick” ever again, either. Oh, look how cute – you’re blushing just hearing me say it! You might call it something else, like your ding-a-ling, or your wiener.

Okay, okay, I can tell you’re getting embarrassed, you’ve gone all red and blotchy in your cheeks. We don’t have to talk about the … “no-no place” anymore, little buddy.

All right. Here’s your glasses. I’ll just set them on your nose, for you…there. Wow, they sure do make your eyes look tiny!

I can tell you’re getting near to the end of the process, and I’m curious to see how big your two front teeth have gotten. From that bump in your upper lip…gosh, it looks like you might be giving Bugs Bunny a run for his money!

You’ve really been behaving better, so I’ll bring you a mirror, okay? So you can see for yourself. I must say, it’s already quite the improvement. I wasn’t expecting your hair to turn so red, or get so curly. Maybe if you can’t get a job at Best Buy, you could run away and join the circus as a clown!

I’m just horsing around with you, pal. Don’t pass out on me. You promise not to scream? I hate it when they scream. Nod once for yes.

You’re a little excited, aren’t you? It’s okay. You can tell me. I bet you get a little more excitable than you used to. Maybe you even get a little clumsy, with the loss of all that hand-eye coordination. Trip over your own two feet and go sprawling.

But who knows. There’s so much potential.

And you’re just the beginning, too. Let’s just say that my proposal for introducing you to the process wasn’t well-received by Central. What do they know? They have this power, and they don’t use it. Well, you snooze, you lose, by golly! If you have a gift, you use it, otherwise it goes to waste.

Anyway. Enough of the supervillain speech. You don’t need to know anything more. It’ll probably be wiped out in the massive crush of nerdy trivia about Star Trek and Star Wars that’s going to download into your brain soon, anyway.

So, this is it. Are you ready to see? Nod once for yes, and I’ll pull the cloth off this mirror here.

Alrighty, dweeb, you asked for it. Here goes.

Say salutations to the new you!

[END TRANSCRIPT]

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years

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Extroverted Introvert vs Introvert

I’ve been thinking lately that I may be an Ne lead (can’t decide which) partly because I type myself like a little kid playing in a revolving door. It is really hard for me to decide my type in part because I’m a 9, and in part because I have an awful memory. I often forget the arguments that convinced me the first time, until they convince me a second time. I understand that may be inferior Si, but I also went through some trauma that may have caused memory problems (almost died and may have brain damage).

Well, damn. I’m glad you didn’t die! Yes, any kind of neurological damage or being hit over the head can change your personality to a degree or cause memory problems not related to inferior Si. One way to tell is to focus on what Si is independently of memory, which is the ability to learn things slowly and incrementally. INPs are much better and more patient at this than ENPs, who tend to get the “general gist” and rush into using it, rather than carefully slowing down and learning information through a step-by-step process. They want to do the thing, not learn how to do the thing. As a result, ENPs are more inclined to have gaps in their knowledge than INPs. The second thing to remember is that Ne-dom is “loud” in the sense that it drowns out the judging functions. Fi and Ti become secondary to ideas and thoughts. For example, someone upset me the other day but it did not register for hours, because I was detatched-ly thinking about what they said, and unaware that it had annoyed the crap out of me. Fi was way slower to show up and go, “You know, that was a lousy thing for them to say.” Similarly, Ti is going to be slow behind Ne-dom to parse through an idea and make sure it’s consistent with what they already believe to be logical.

I think I’m probably INTP or ENTP, but I wanted to ask a few questions about introversion vs extroversion since I know ENTPs often think of themselves as introverts. I also know that 99 percent of time, if you are questioning if you are an extrovert or an introvert, then you are an extrovert. The thing is that I logically could see myself as Ne lead, but when it comes to introvert vs extrovert, I feel very much an introvert. If it wasn’t for typology, I never would question it. I use to mistype introverts as extroverts because compared to me they seemed obvious extroverted. I’m more social now, and still I barely get out of my apartment besides for work (not related to covid lol). Still, I am unsure if this is enough to disprove an intuitive dom extrovert.

ENPs are the most introverted of the extroverts, yes, but they still need and want stimulation from outside themselves and are not good at living in their head for long periods of time. Too much of being ‘inward’ depresses and upsets them. You sound, however, like a true introvert.

Anyways:

- Does it make sense for an extrovert to have preference for a certain degree of predictability? (For example, not liking even good surprises).

It depends. I can tell you that they are slower to adjust to a surprise than an extrovert – I have an INTP brother and whenever anything is sprung on both of us, I get over my annoyance quicker and shift into doing the necessary task, but he grouches a longer amount of time about it, since he had it all settled in his mind what he was going to do and now he can’t because Life got in the way.

- I often get so far into my head that I forget to speak. I just assume I already said it because my thoughts are so loud (this use to drive my ESTP dad crazy). Is this common or possible for Ne leads?

Less likely. Most ENTPs are pretty chatty due to Ne/Fe bouncing off each other.

- Would the desire to seek social interaction still fit if it only comes out online? I can be extremely social online, but I am basically anti-social in real life. I can talk all day virtually, but I quickly tire out in real life. My life has changed very little under covid besides getting a new job. I barely went out before, and I barely do now.

Like I said, you do sound introverted. ENPs are more eager to interact with people and go places. Though all of them love the internet, since it’s a place of mental stimulation and the sensory world can be exhausting for them (dealing with it, focusing on it, action rather than discussion).

- Are all extroverts good at taking risks? I have always felt that I was a bit overly cautious, but I’m not sure if that could be explain by something else.

No. I’m a 6w7 ENFP and the most risk-adverse person you will ever meet. If it can kill me, drain my bank account, get me thrown in jail, or I can’t predict the outcome, etc., it’s a no go.

- Could a preference for a bit of routine (although one under your complete control) be common for Si inferiors? (I know this seems unrelated to introverts vs extroverts, but I am wondering if this is an introvert quality or not).

Too much routine and predictability annoys an ENP, but it’s also useful in terms of keeping them on track – so more mature ones have learned how to compensate for their weaknesses through routines (ie, if I always lose my keys by setting them down and forgetting what I did with them, I formed a habit to put my keys away after I enter the house). I can take routine for a while, but then I inevitably get bored and want a change. And I’m terrible at keeping a routine if it involves anything housework-related, because that’s BORING. Most of the routines I keep are either to keep me on track with writing / projects that are meaningful to me, or are out of obligation to the people I care about.

PS: I noted your paid request for David Tennant’s Hamlet. The library has it, so coming soon. I’d say ENFP is correct and a 6 core. He’s massively over-thinking everything and and abstracting it into impersonal philosophies and accurately suspicious of others’ motivations -- the “to be or not to be?” is so 6 + Ne I can’t even... that is the kind of rabbit hole I hop down on a regular basis. :P

#question #mbti #entp #intp #enfp #infp #submission

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youre-in-the-psycho-circus · 3 years

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Lonely This Christmas | Ben Hardy

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Word Count: 4,171

Warnings: None, fluff and I promise it doesn’t end sad

Summary: Ben’s girlfriend has been talking about how excited she was for Christmas, so when she suddenly drops the bombshell that her plans to return home have fallen through, he has to act quickly to make sure his love won’t be Lonely This Christmas

A/N: I’m feeling extremely sad that I can’t go home for Christmas this year (thanks for that Covid) and of course it’s going to be my first Christmas alone, and I’ll be on the other side of the globe. Ironically, I actually wrote this for a Roger fic I scrapped last year, so go figure. I changed it to Ben just because I need a little Ben love right now. Sorry if you’re not American, for my sake please pretend, this was an outlet for me since I’m an emotional wreck right now

Masterlist

Moving halfway around the world hadn’t originally been part of the five-year plan (Y/N) had been forced to make her final year of university, but when life gives you an amazing opportunity to get your master’s degree in another country you take it. The year the program lasted had been a rough one indeed, one that kept her in the UK the entire time due to outstanding circumstances. Graduating with her master’s degree at the end of it all, however, that made it all worth it. For a time, her plan had been to return home, find a job and start her new adult life out on the right foot, but through connections she made while she was at University, (Y/N) was fortunate enough to be able to apply for a new visa that allowed her to stay in the UK and move to London where she now worked in her dream job. Of course, with this amazing opportunity had come the headaches of settling completely in a new country that hadn’t arisen over the year she had merely been there for school: housing, bank accounts, figuring out how to pay taxes again, all the things she didn’t want to have to think about but had to as a working adult. But of course, with the headaches came all wonderful moments that made the headaches worth it. The biggest blessing on her life, of course, had been meeting her boyfriend Ben Jones, better known to the world as Ben Hardy.

The pair had met by chance on the tube platform one night, each on their way home from work. He had just gotten out of an eight-hour rehearsal for a theatre production he was going to be a part of at The National Theatre, and he was quite tired. In fact, he was so tired, he hadn’t realised that he had dropped his lighter as he took his phone from his pocket as he stood on the platform of the station, starting to absentmindedly scroll through an e-book he had saved offline for something to do in the Underground. Being the good Samaritan she was, as soon as she saw the metal lighter slip from his pocket, (Y/N) was stooping down to pick up it up and give it back to him. “Sorry to bother you...” She started as she tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. At first Ben had been quite annoyed as he turned around to see who had the nerve to bother him as he removed his earbud. It’s not that he didn’t like getting recognised for his work, there was just a time and place for it, and this was definitely not it. He was gearing up to tell the person off when his celadon irises met the lovely, sparkling (e/c) orbs of an equally as tired looking, but still exquisitely beautiful woman holding out his lighter to him. “You dropped this.”

“Oh, thank you. I hadn’t even realised I dropped it.” He smiled tiredly at the female, accepting back the lighter. “I’m so scatter brained after work today I’m surprised I can even stand at this point.” He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn’t really know what to say in the moment. He wasn’t really good with words in situations like these. Actor Ben could read and recite a script all day and say anything and everything in front of as many people as were willing to watch and listen, but not real Ben. Real Ben got flustered, he was shy, he absolutely hated public speaking, he was honestly surprised he had made it this far as an actor sometimes with that kind of mindset. In any case, there was something pulling on his heart strings that was practically screaming at him to not let this girl out of his sight before he at least had a coffee date with her.

“I know the feeling; it’s been a really long day for me too.” (Y/N) sighed with a smile, eyes exhausted but sparkling with happiness regardless. It was taking all her will power to keep her eyes locked on those gorgeous twinkling celadon eyes of his. She knew how creepy it’d be if she was visibly checking him out, especially since the only reason she was talking to him was to return his lighter. In any case, he was absolutely breath taking, and as much as she wanted to go home and plop herself down on the couch with one of the meals she had prepped at the beginning of this week and watch I’m a Celebrity with her flatmate, something was drawing her to this blonde stranger.

“I like your accent, are you American?” Ben asked with a curious glance as his ears took note of the different accent. He wasn’t exactly an expert on accents, but he had worked with dialect coaches enough to know it wasn’t completely American. The way she pronounced certain words had a twinge of one of the many English accents mixed in with it showing that she had been living in the UK for quite some time at that point. Where had she been though? Liverpool? Manchester? Wigan? He wasn’t too sure beyond it sounding more northern than anything else.

(Y/N) laughed awkwardly for a moment, a small half smile playing on her lips as she looked away from the blonde for a moment before looking back at him. “Yeah...yeah I am.” One thing (Y/N) had learned living in the north of England was that it was typically hit or miss if people disliked her based solely off her heritage. The longer she lived abroad the more she began to see the so called ‘American Stereotypes’ to be a lot truer than she had originally thought. Some, typically the older crowd rather than a younger guy like the one before her, wouldn’t look past her accent and would immediately write off her and her abilities, something that annoyed her to no end but something she had learned to live with as time went on. It gave her more motivation, a deeper drive to prove them and their assumptions wrong.

“One of my best friends is American.” Ben immediately mentally kicked himself for that one, think of how many times she must’ve gotten that one, he scolded himself. “Look, I’m just going to cut right to the chase.” He paused a moment to gather himself. “I’d really love it if I could take you out for a cup of coffee.” He stated bluntly. “You know, as a thank you for getting my lighter back to me.” He tried to play off coolly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The damage had already been done though.

She giggled softly at the blonde’s awkwardness as he still managed to be so bold and still trying so incredibly polite. “I’d like that.” She smiled exchanging phone numbers with him. What followed were four subsequent dates, each better than the last as they steadily got to know one another over coffee, climbing, a walk around Hyde Park, and of course dinner where he had asked her to be his girlfriend. They had only been seeing each other for a little over a month and a half at that point, and in a way, it felt like he was moving a little too fast, but at the same time, with (Y/N) it just felt right. Everything always felt right with her.

It was now well into December, and Ben had invited (Y/N) to join him and a few friends, specifically Rami, Lucy, Gwilym and his fiancé, for a few drinks at one of the local pubs. Ben had introduced her to them a couple of weeks after they met. They took instantly to the blonde actor’s latest love interest. It was different with her, she seemed to make him so incredibly happy, and he never spoke ill about her. He was smitten with her, so needless to say they welcomed her with open arms to each and every one of their get togethers. “So (Y/N), I bet you’re excited to be going home for the holidays soon.” Gwilym smiled, taking a sip of his pint as his arm laid lazily around his fiancé’s shoulder’s. He could recall Ben mentioning at some point that he and (Y/N) probably wouldn’t be making an appearance together at his New Year’s Eve get together since she’d be visiting her family in the States.

“Oh, Christmas in America! Such a good time!” Rami cheered remembering all the festivities that take place across the country. It was his first-time spending Christmas in London with Lucy, having moved there to be with her. He was a bit sad he wouldn’t be with his family like he normally was, but he was more than delighted that he’d be spending it with her family. It was exciting experiencing another family’s let alone another country’s holiday festivities and traditions.

(Y/N) felt the colour drain from her face as she bit the inside of her lip. She hadn’t told them; she hadn’t told anyone. “(Y/N/N)? You alright?” Ben asked softly, gently taking her hand whilst he brushed a loose strand of her (h/l) (h/c) locks out of her face. He couldn’t place why she looked so sick all of a sudden, perhaps her drink wasn’t sitting right with her.

“You don’t look at all well…” Lucy pointed out studying her intently. “Perhaps you should call it an early night.”

“Well, you see...I uh...I’m not going home for Christmas…” She mumbled softly almost ashamed that the words were leaving her mouth as she looked down sadly at her hands sitting pathetically in her lap.

She was answered by a slew of questions from the group all at once, all along the lines of: “What?” “How come?” “What happened?” “Why?”

“But I thought you were? All you’ve been talking about for the last few weeks was how excited you were for Christmas whenever it was brought up…” Ben proceeded cautiously. He knew his girlfriend didn’t lie and this isn’t something that she would lie about. If she was saying she wasn’t going home for Christmas out of the blue like this, it had to be true. “I just assumed you were still going home like you had said you were.” The blonde actor was absolutely puzzled as to why she hadn’t mentioned it, especially seeing how Christmas was only a mere twelve days away at this point.

“That was before I found out how expensive the plane fare out of Heathrow was this time of year…” She mumbled with a grimace, answered by a chorus of low ohs from the group. They all knew the struggle of flying for their various gigs around the world. As fun as it was to see new places for their work, getting through airports never got any easier.

“I’m sorry (Y/N) …” Ben sighed sadly, putting an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a gentle hug. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be…” Gwilym leaned over and whispered something into Rami’s ear, who then passed it off to Lucy, who then repeated it to Ben in a weird Bohemian Rhapsody telephone game. They all shared a nod, telepathically communicating with one another before looking at her. “A marvellous idea darling really.” Ben smirked. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it first.”

“What is…?” (Y/N) asked slowly.

“What if I bought your plane ticket home?” Ben offered. “It would be my Christmas gift to you.”

(Y/N) felt the happiness bubble up in her heart, she was going home, until reality struck again. She and Ben hadn’t even been dating for two months yet. Maybe it would’ve been different if they were a bit further along in their relationship and she was more comfortable with allowing him to spoil her, since that was still a massive struggle for her. But this, an almost £700 round trip economy ticket, and knowing Ben it more than likely wouldn’t be economy if he could help it so it would probably be astronomically higher, this was asking for too much. As much as she wanted to see her family again, she couldn’t do that to Ben. She looked down, an amused smirk coming to her lips. “You really are something else Ben, you know?” She said quietly before looking up. “Look I appreciate the offer, really I do, but it’s too much to ask for. You have your own financial problems, babe, you don’t need to add me to that list.”

“But love, I want to.” Ben tried to convince her, the others nodding in agreement trying to back the young actor up.

“But I won’t let you. I refuse to accept it and should you continue to try and make me, I’m leaving right now.”

A silence fell over the table as everyone quietly sipped on their pints, unsure of how to continue. “So...what are you going to do now?” Lucy asked quietly, the others looking up as well, curious as to her answer.

“Guess I’ll just send my family their presents through the post and stay in my flat. Not much else I can do.” She shrugged taking a sip of her pint. “The time alone will be nice, I’m sure there will be Christmas films on all day and a cup of hot chocolate, and a blanket is always a good friend.” She said with a smile, trying to convince herself more than the others that she was okay with this. It wouldn’t be her first-time spending Christmas alone in the UK, but that didn’t make it any easier this time.

“You mean you’re going to spend Christmas alone…?” Rami asked sadly as he pulled his girlfriend in closer to his side, suddenly becoming a bit clingier than was normal for him. He couldn’t imagine not being able to spend the holiday abroad without Lucy.

“It’s not that bad guys really.” She said with a lighthearted laugh they could all see through in a split second. “It’s just another day when you think about it.”

“A day you don’t deserve to be alone on.” Gwilym continued.

“This is outrageous, I simply won’t allow it!” Lucy exclaimed slamming one of her palms down on the table. “You deserve to be with the people you love and people who love you on Christmas.”

“I’ll be fine guys really. It’s not going to be my first-time spending Christmas on my own.” She said shrugged.

“You mean you have before?” Gwilym asked, furrowing his brow at the female as she sank down further into her seat.

“Yeah...last time I was able to spend Christmas at home would’ve been two years ago now...” She sighed. “But it doesn’t matter.” She stated standing as she fished a tenner out of her pocket tossing it on the table as she pulled on her coat.

“Where are you going?” Rami asked, legitimately concerned for the girl. They had brought this up, it was their fault she was so upset, they hadn’t meant to drive her away and they didn’t want to see her leave in this mood.

“I just feel tired, I’ll see you all later.” She spoke quietly, offering them a half smirk before walking out of the pub. The cold London air hit her like a bus. She sighed to herself as she paused to button up her coat some more and pull on her gloves. Ben had been sweet to offer but she just wouldn’t feel right accepting something like that from him. (Y/N) knew what he could be like with her, always going to extreme lengths to make sure she was happy and cared for no matter what it did to himself. He wore his heart on his sleeve like that. The last thing she wanted to do was seem like she was taking advantage of him, especially considering who he was. God forbid she should ever look like a gold digger to him or his friends. (Y/N) was about to leave before she heard a deep English voice calling her name. “Ben?” She asked the empty street as she turned to see her boyfriend bounding up the steps of the pub they had been in, with only his navy jumper to keep him warm. “What on earth are you doing out here like this? You’re going to catch a cold.” She fussed over him like a mother with her child.

“I don’t care, I can’t enjoy my Christmas with my family knowing that you’re going to be alone.”

“Ben, you can’t just not go home because of me, I’ll be fine on my own, really.” She smiled, gently rubbing his arm. “I know you’re just going to say it’s your job as my boyfriend to worry about me, but you really don’t have to worry about me. I just want you to have a good holiday.”

“Damn it (Y/N/N). I’m not saying that I’m not going to go home.” He laughed with a bright smile before taking her hand in his own. “I’m asking you to come with me.”

“What?”

“Come spend Christmas with me and my family in Bournemouth, (Y/N/N)! I’m sure they’d love to have you. And it’s high time they get to put a face to the name of the girl I just can’t seem to shut up about when I talk to them.”

“Ben...that’s sweet of you to offer but I…”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” He said crossing his arms across his chest like a stubborn child. “They’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now so why not? What do you have to lose?”

“Well, I…”

“I’ll lock myself in the cupboard until you say yes.” He threatened, taking a bit of inspiration from Roger Taylor once again. It had been a few years since Bohemian Rhapsody had come out and still the drummer was influencing and changing his life.

“You can’t be serious.” She laughed at the Brit before her.

“Completely.” He assured her with a wink before gently taking her hand in his. “Please (Y/N/N) ...?” He spoke a lot softer, in almost a whimper. “It would honestly make this the best Christmas ever if I could spend it with you….” He gently pulled off her glove before softly kissing her knuckles. “Please say you’ll come…” He whispered with eyes closed, breath hot against her hand.

(Y/N) felt her heart melt at how loving Ben was being. She wasn’t yet completely used to seeing this soft side of his, the one that craved her emotionally every moment of every day. She had been with so many assholes in the past, having someone who genuinely cared for her in the way Ben cared for her was such a foreign concept to her mind. (Y/N) gently placed her other hand on the blonde’s cheek, prompting him to look up at her with those dazzling celadon eyes she loved so deeply. “I’d love to spend Christmas with you and your family Ben.” She smiled softly before leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

The actor smiled happily into the kiss, pulling her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her feeling the heat radiating from her body. It was hard to describe just why and how he felt such a deep love for a girl he had only just weeks prior become exclusive with. Whatever it was that drew him to her like a moth to a flame, he was never going to let go of the happiness he had found with her. He wouldn’t be able to function without her in his life. When they finally pulled apart, they looked up to see delicate little snowflakes falling from the sky the first, and probably only little bit of snowfall London would see over the holiday period. “Now would you look at that.” Ben smiled up at the sky.

“It’s beautiful…” She smiled looking at the frozen droplets of water as they danced along the gentle breeze before latching themselves onto her nose and eyelashes.

“Yes, you are…” Ben’s low, love filled, sultry voice met her ears. She looked back at his slightly hooded, sparkling celadon orbs, finding nothing but love and desire dancing through them. He placed a cool hand on her cheek before pulling her in for another tender kiss, able to convey all the motions he was feeling in just one simple action.

When they pulled apart again, she gently rested her forehead on his shoulder, holding him close. “Come home with me…?” She asked quietly.

“I’ll just go grab my coat.” He kissed the top of her head before quickly bounding down the steps back into the pub.

“You were gone a long time. What were you up to just now?” Gwilym asked suspiciously, eyebrow raised when the blonde returned.

The rest of the group watched as he slammed back the rest of his pint and the remaining half of Emily’s before slamming a tenner on the table to cover his drinks. “I’ve got something, or should I say someone better to do!” He said with a wink as he grabbed his coat and scarf off the booth seat.

“Careful there Ben, your Roger is showing.” Lucy teased with a giggle as the rest of the table chuckled at the young blonde actor’s eagerness to get out of the pub and back to his girlfriend.

“Har, har.” Ben rolled his eyes playfully before saying his final goodbyes to the group. He bounded back up the steps pulling on his black overcoat in the process. Upon reaching the street, the actor was met with the sweet sight of his girlfriend in her own world trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue as the rest of the world hustled around her going about their own business. He smirked softly at the sight, silently walking up behind her. He gently snaked an arm around her waist, his free hand reaching up to grab her by the chin. The girl let out a surprised yelp struggling for a moment thinking it was a random stranger grabbing her. “You little tease.” Ben spoke quickly, to alert her that it was him. He sighed to himself as he felt her relax against him knowing she was safely in the grip that was her boyfriend. “I propose we go put that brilliant tongue of yours to better use…don’t you agree?”

“Only if you return the favour.” (Y/N) smirked turning around in his arms, placing her hands on her chest.

“Whatever you want babe.” He smirked lacing his fingers with hers, as they began the walk back to her flat.

Ben chuckled softly to himself after a few moments as they walked along in silence. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just thinking about how you could give me the perfect Christmas present a bit early.”

“Oh? And just what might that be?” She asked innocently

“The sight of how sexy you’d look bound to your own headboard.”

“So sure of ourselves, are we?”

“Well, we both know that the moment you look into my absolutely gorgeous eyes, you’ll give in to my every command...” Ben growled playfully, pushing her into a wall, trapping her there with his body as he gently caressed her face with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful...”

“Save it for the bedroom Jones.” She stuck her tongue before throwing her arms around the blonde’s neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss as an elderly couple came around the corner.

“Youth these days…” The old man grumbled.

“Oh, stop it dear, I think it’s sweet. We were once young like them.” The woman responded with a chuckle as her husband pulled her along. Once they had disappeared around the next corner, Ben chuckled softly pulling back.

“Let’s go. I’m freezing.”

“Well I know the perfect way to warm up.” He winked at her as she smiled at the blonde, interlocking fingers with him before they proceeded down the street once more. It didn’t matter how upset she had been before; Ben always had a way of making all her pain and sadness go away. She had honestly thought it was going to be another blue Christmas this year, but she had been lucky enough to get the ultimate Christmas present a few months prior and that was Ben. With him in her life, the cold December nights and especially the prospect of being lonely this Christmas drifted further and further away until it was gone from sight and mind. He was all she saw, he was all she cared about, he was all she needed, and he was all she wanted this Christmas. Ben and all the love he had to offer alone. Of course, that wasn’t going to stop the blonde Brit from tracking down the perfect Christmas present for the love of his life, after all, he loved her more than life itself, not that she would know that until Christmas.

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detroitbydark · 4 years

Text

Every Dog Has His Day

Characters: Hound/OC

Summary: Insecurities abound for Coruscant’s favorite late night DJ.

Warnings: None

A/N: So Hound is a golden retriever in clone armor and I would kill for him. All the love to my girls @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn who deal with me while Ido this.

-----

“Mister, can I pet your dog?”

Hound looks down at the small child squinting up at him; he’s got a gap where his front teeth should be and the ‘mister’ comes out more like a ‘mither’. The kids’ moms stand a pace behind him, one smiling brightly while the other glances nervously from Hound to Grizzer.

“Is it ok with your folks?” He’d been to his fair share of PR in services since being transferred to Coruscant. He glances at both women. He receives a nod from the more laid back of the two.

“Grizzer, sheber.” The massiff throws his hind quarters down with such force that both he and the nervous mother laugh. Grizzer’s tail wags a mile a minute as he takes it upon himself to lay on his belly and crawl slowly toward the child.

“He’s a good boy as long as you're not a bad guy” Hound says squatting down. The little boy's eyes get wide as Hound tips his bucket forward, stage whispering. “You listen to your moms, right?”

The kid nods rapidly. Hound laughs, lets relief fill his voice. “Oh good, you should be safe then.”

Grizzer eats up the attention, laying his big head in the child’s lap. Soon three other children join in. Hound talks to their parents, every now and then glancing at his partner. The massiff has turned from a well trained soldier to a glob of mush under the fawning of the children.

This was just another part of the job. Public relations was a big deal. Clones got a bad rap. Every now and then, a few troopers on leave trying to drown bad memories of the war would get on the wrong side of the law and throw the whole damn clone army back two paces in the public opinion polls, and it was the job of troopers like Hound and the rest of the Guard go try to be poster boys for the rest of them. At times like this it wasn’t hard.

“Hound. Time to break it up. I need you to do a sweep of the central pavilion.” Commander Fox’s voice rings clearly in his bucket.

“Roger that, Commander” he says before turning to address the small gathered group, “alright now, Grizzer and I have to be getting back to work.” A small chorus of ‘Awwws’ makes him chuckle. The massiff looks at him as to say the same.

“Come on, buddy. Borarir.” Hound gives the command for work and Grizzer perks up, giving an excited yip as he darts to Hounds side in a tight heel. “Tell your new friends bye,” Hound encourages and Grizzer gives a loud woof that has all the kids -and a few of their parents- laughing.

Hound’s head goes on a swivel as soon as they turn away. “Time to get serious now,” he instructs the animal at his side. Grizz gives him a look. “I know. I know,” hound says, reaching down to pet his head, “you don’t need to be told twice.”

The massiff huffs and his nose falls to the duracrete. Fete weeks were always crazy and with the rise they’d been seeing in terrorist activities, Commander Fox had wanted everyone on high alert.

Since being transferred to Coruscant, Hound has grown to love the craziness of Fete weeks and while New Year Fete week was his favorite, he enjoyed the Festival of Life nearly as much. Someday he hoped to experience it as a spectator and not the security.

They skirt along the perimeter of the pavilion, where a local band was warming up. The smell of fest food from the stand of carts across the way has both Hound and Grizzer aiming their noses toward the various booths of sweet fruits, spit roasted meats, and honeyed pastries.

“Let’s make one good pass and I’ll treat you to some nerf-“

Grizzer woofs quietly.

“Fine” Hound clarifies, “I’ll treat us to some nerf.”

Toward the end of their loop Hound comms an all-clear to his nearby colleagues. He'd do another loop in an hour or so but for now he'd wait and watch.

The band has started playing finally and Grizzer puts himself in a heel as the pair sit and listen for a spell. The different radio stations have booths set up, slinging merch and freebies at passing fete goers. Hound’s eyes scan looking for IRR’s booth. He doesn’t recognize the guy signing autographs, but he does remember the head of pastel purple hair fondly.

“That’s her bud,” he says, glancing down quickly at the massiff at his side, “Told you she was real pretty, didn’t I?”

Grizzer scents the air in the direction of the IRR booth.

Nuna Skii is off to the side unpacking boxes of this and that and setting it out on the table for passers-by.

“I should go say hi,” he says after a minute to psych himself up. He clicks his tongue lightly and Grizzer falls in at his side as he walks towards the tables. A holoboard has been set up with the names and times each personality will be signing autographs. Hound frowns when he scans the board and doesn’t see Nuna’s name listed. The others were ok, he guessed, but who would want anyone but Nuna Skii’s signature?

“Oh my maker! What a cute baby!” Hound glances up in time to see Nuna dip down onto her knees as Grizzer leans in and gives her a wet kiss. She giggles as the massiff leans his heavily armored body against her.

“Grizz!” he scolds, and the mas’ looks up at him with a pleased look on his muzzle.

“Oh it’s you! Hound!” Nuna tries to stand but Grizzer places a meaty paw on her shoulder. She laughs as she rubs under his jaw. “This cutie belongs to you?”

“You could say that. We’re partners.”

Hound tries not to feel jealous as Grizzer's face is held between her small hands and she coos to him. “Big tough guard mas’. Such a sweet boy, aren’t you?” He'd give good credits right now to swap places.

“You really think he’s cute?” Hound asks as Grizzer finally lets her stand and lays down between the pair of them, head resting over one of Hound’s boots.

“What? Of course!” Her smile is bright and her deep brown eyes sparkle as she talks. “I mean, I guess there’s no accounting for taste. I had this great uncle who kept a strill named…” Nuna rubs the back of her head, “I haven’t thought about that in years,” she laughs, “I think he called it Mird? Anyway, I loved that little thing and let me tell you, Strill are certainly never going to be on the top of any list of traditionally beautiful creatures.”

Hound knows he’s staring, but she’s chattering on and he can’t help himself. When she mentions the name of the strill something pings in his memory banks but he can’t quite place it. Before he has a chance she asks him a question.

“I’m sorry,” he offers, “what was that again?”

“I was asking if you heard my shout out last week?” She’s glancing down toward Grizzer almost bashfully. When she looks back up she has her lower lip trapped between her teeth and a smile lighting up her features. Hound’s brain turns to mush. “I hope it wasn’t too much?”

Too much? He’d felt like the man for days afterwards. He’d gotten a shout out on Nuna Skii’s show and all his vode knew it.

“No it was great. Thanks.” He tries to play it cool, like it hadn’t been the single greatest thing that had happened in the last standard rotation.

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” They look at each other silently for a moment before they both laugh awkwardly. Grizzer’s muzzle swings from one human toward the other, a wondering tilt to his head.

“So...uh… you’re not signing autographs later?” Hound gestures to the holoboard. Nuna waves him off.

“Oh, I don’t do the whole autograph thing. I like to keep the fantasy alive.”

He cocks his head curiously. In all honesty, he’d had more fantasies since he’d met her on the side of the skylane than he’d ever had before. It was one thing to think of his favorite voice in the galaxy as an unattainable holomodel, but to actually meet her and see that she was the cute girl next door. It added a whole new level to his personal time. Now he thought less about long slender legs wrapped around his hips and more about gripping on to soft, warm thighs. Less about pristine make-up and perfect hair and more about the way he’d noticed her pale brown eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiled.

And her voice. He imagined she’d use that on-air voice just for him. It made his toes curl in his boots just thinking about it.

“My fans have a certain image of me in their heads. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He wants to tell her to shift it. The image she was throwing off now was absolutely grade A but he hesitates and the moment is gone.

“So, uh, do you like food?” He cringes as the words come out of his mouth, “I mean, I was gonna get a few nerf skewers.” He clenches his hand into a fist at his side so he doesn’t start rubbing the back of his helmet. There really was no reason his palms should be sweating like they were. “I could grab you one if you want or,” he shrugs, “you could walk over there with us, maybe.”

That same bashful smile lights her face as she glances at the booth around her and back over to the personality signing autographs.

“I mean, if you can’t, that’s ok too. I was just thinking.” Hound wants to kick himself. Any game he had was completely lost the second he’d started talking to her. “If you're busy, maybe I could just get your comm and we could do it another time.”

Grizzer whines at his feet. Nuna looks down. “Aww is the poor guy starving?”

No, he wasn't, Hound thinks. The mooch had his rations and half of Hounds just an hour before. He was embarrassed for his master.

“Yeah, that must be it.”

“Well we should get him something to eat, right Grizz?”

Under his bucket, Hound can’t fight the grin. Grizzer barks happily as he rises to his feet and stretches his spiny back into the air. “I guess that settles it. You, me, and the massiff makes three” he jokes lamely.

——

“You look smug?” Tully gives Nuna a questioning look.

“I’m not smug.” Nuna hums along to the song playing in her headphones. “What’s the name of that band from Corellia? The one with the Nikto drummer?”

“Nunz, what’s with the smile?” Tully doesn’t answer her question.

“I think it’s something in Ryl-“

“Nuna!”

Nuna can’t fight the grin on her face. “Fine. I just had a good day is all.”

Tully looks unimpressed with her answer. “You spent all day slinging merch at a fete. It was hot. You didn’t sleep. You hate not sleeping. I’m going to ask you again-“

The thought of telling her friend and coworker about Hound had crossed Nuna’s mind, but she’d quickly pushed it away. It had just been a fun little distraction from an otherwise boring day. Nothing much else to say about it. They’d both been working and decided to share lunch together. He had a cute partner and, really, had she been expected not to snuggle with a cuddly mas’ when given the opportunity? The look on Tully’s face says she’s not going to give up. Nuna throws her a bone.

“I maybe had lunch with someone today but it was nothing. Really. I mean it was just a guy being super nice.” The words spill from her mouth like bolts from a repeating blaster. Tully stares for a second, then two.

“You had a date? At the fete? While you were working?”

“What? No! Absolutely not. I took my lunch break and had company, that's all.”

The Pantoran crosses her arms over her chest and tips her chin before glancing up at her friend. “Who paid?”

Uh-uh. They were not going there. “It was not a date, Tull.” She did not date that was strictly a thing of the distant past- light years ago, even.

“Who paid?” Tully asks again, undeterred.

“I-“

“He paid! Maker, girl! You had a date! Who is he? Why didn’t you mention him before? I mean, I thought we were friends. Spill!”

Thankfully, Nuna finds herself saved by the chrono. The commercial break is ending as she turns away from the steady gaze of her friend.

“We’re not done talking about this,” Tully warns as Nuna mashes the button to her mic.

“Nuna Skii getting you through the night. You know what’s better than a boy in blue?” The switch in persona is instant, years of practice allowing her to skip into sexy DJ mode without thought, “The answer is absolutely nothing. That last one was going out to the boys of the 501st. May your aim be true and your stims be strong.”

“I know I saw some of you lovelies enjoying the Festival of Life today. Why don’t you give me a call and tell me what you thought? I am oh so lonely tonight. Wanna keep me company?” She pitches her voice low. Tully rolls her eyes. The comm lines light up. The producer signals for line 2 with a quick flash of her hand.

“Nuna,” the first call starts, “we’re with the 234th and we’re your biggest fans!” There’s the sound of whooping in the background.

“You are too sweet,” Nuna coos, “anything I can play for you?”

“Uhh… something durasteel?”

“I got you, handsome. Thanks for listening!”

Nuna starts hunting down the next song as she switches callers to the next line Tully’s vetted.

“This is Nuna,” she purrs in greeting.

“Nuna? This is Sergeant Sinker with the 116th Wolffe Pack.”

“Well a-woo to you Sergeant Sinker. Were you home for fete week?”

Voices rise up in the background. Nuna stifles a giggle as she hears her caller yelling at a Boost and a Comet.

“We’re still off world. We just wanted to say we love your show and see if you could give our Commander a shoutout?”

“Well isn’t that the absolute sweetest? I think you've called in before, right? You know, I always have love for the 116th and that very surly Commander Wolffe of yours-“

“Nuna Marry me!” The voice sounds far away and is followed by the sound that she can only assume is wrestling for the comm before it clicks off.

“I’m not accepting any proposals today darlings. Why don’t we listen to that request and a quick commercial break?”

Nuna wonders if Hound is listening. She’s surprised that she hopes he is.

“So spill it, girl.” Tully doesn’t waste time as the music starts playing and the mic cuts off. Nuna sighs. Apparently she wasn’t going to forget so quickly.

“He paid,” she admits, trying to ignore the smugness she hears in Tully’s voice.

“So you had a date. Was that so hard to admit?”

Nuna still refuses to call it a date because she hadn’t dated in ages and a pretty smile and a flashy set of armor and kama weren’t about to change that. She scrolls through a datapad playlist but she can feel her friends' eyes boring into her.

“You know you're allowed to put yourself out there. Most of them are fekking disgusting but there’s a few good ones.” Tully’s voice softens. “They’re not all him.”

This conversation was not happening now and certainly not without a bottle of wine. She was not going to think about Alistar again. His days of living rent free in her head were over. Except… they weren’t.

She’d loved having lunch with Hound and Grizzer - it had been the highlight of her week so far- but each time he’d complimented her, each time he’d asked questions like he was interested and wanted to know, she thought of her ex and the way he’d weaseled his way into her life with all the same ploys. It didn’t matter that they looked nothing alike, sounded nothing alike. She was officially damaged goods and there was just no getting past that, at least not anytime soon.

When Nuna doesn’t acknowledge her, Tully turns to screening calls versus dealing with her moody DJ. Nuna listens to the screaming durasteel coming through her headphones. I wasn’t her genre of choice but a lot of battalions seemed to have a thing for it. Who was she to argue?

“Nunz?”

Nuna looks up to find Tully staring. “What?”

“You got a call?”

“One I should take on air?”

Tully’s brows skim her forehead. “Oh yeah. This one’s a doozy.”

Shaking her head, Nuna moves back to the mic, counting down to the end of the song. “Live in 3… 2… 1…. hey ladies and gents I’m back. How was that for some durasteel huh? Hope it keeps your engines revved and juices flowing. Going to the comm lines we’ve got a call from…” Nuna watches Tully mouth the name. “Grizzer?”

A series of barks erupts through Nuna’s ear phones before she can respond. Tully is disintegrating into laughter as Nuna stares wide-eyed at the mic ahead of her.

“Grizzer said he was glad he got to spend time with you today,” a smooth voice begins when the barking ends.

Nuna stumbles for a second but catches herself. “Is this- this his translator?” She teases, trying to stay in character.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hound’s warm voice rumbles through the comm and Nuna has the distinct feeling of butterflies fluttering around in her chest.

The line goes quiet for half a second and another volley of barks and a single yip respond.

“He’d like to see you again soon. He thinks you're the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Wants to take you out for dinner. Promises he’ll bring his chaperone with him.”

Nuna catches Tully’s eye. “Can you believe this guy?” she mouths.

“Is that him?!” The pink-haired Pantoran hisses.

Nuna shakes her hands in front of her face, as if waving away her nerves.

“Is that so?” Her mind is working overtime. In the two years she’s been on air in Coruscant she’s fielded a lot of requests for dates and more than a few marriage proposals, but this is the first of its kind. She’s not really sure how to respond.

She flirts five nights a week on her show but those are faceless -often nameless- people. She’s met Hound. She’s been dazzled by his earnest smile, felt compelled to answer every silly getting to know you question he’d thrown her way this afternoon. Hound was different because he seemed to want to get to know her - short, round, plain Nuna.

He couldn’t be for real.

“I hate to break it to you Grizzer,” she can hear the massiff panting over the comm, “but I only date men with thumbs and a nice head of hair.”

Tully gives her a hard look. Yeah, she was going to hear about this later.

“Oh, well.” She can hear the sudden uncertainty in Hound's voice and a soft whine from the massiff. “I suppose he’ll catch you around then.”

She wants to tell him that she certainly hopes so because deep down she does, but it doesn’t fit with her persona. Instead she cuts the line and moves on with the show.

She’d gotten good at that. Slam those emotions deep down, lock ‘em up and throw that key away. No one could hurt you if they couldn’t get to you.

“So, anyone following the Limmie League?”

#tcw #star wars #coruscant guard #sergeant hound #sergeant hound/oc #grizzer the massiff

155 notes · View notes

glassbxttless · 3 years

Note

can we learn more about Matty in college?

Warnings: Swearing, (Month Six) nsfw

Day One

Packing up his mattress and tv doesn’t seem real to him in the moment. The last kiss to the forehead his mom will give him in forever doesn’t seem real either. And neither does that fucking hug and kiss in his hair that Han gives him. He doesn’t seem phased by the fact that he only has $300 in his bank account for gas, and it’s a long fucking drive to Seattle.

Matt’s upset. He’s leaving behind his home, Everything he’s ever known, trying to make things better for himself. He’s got the glove Randy bought him in the front seat of his Camry, ready for the first season that’s going to put him through college. And when he starts driving, he doesn’t want to stop. Even when his eyes are drooping and he’s too fucking tired. All he’s done is cry, everything is changing, why should he take a break now? But he does. He pulls off at a rest stop and just curls up in his front seat.

Day Two

Matt’s hungry. He’s been driving for a day and a half it seems like, and he’s only just in Montana. He’s stopped for gas too many times for his liking, and he tries to ignore the rumbling in his stomach for a little while. But after another hour and realizing he hasn’t eaten since he left his parents, he pulls into a small diner off the side of the main road.

Matt sits in a booth by himself, staring at the menu in front of him. He can’t afford anything right now. He’s still got so much driving left to do, and he’s sure he’ll have to stop a few more times for gas. So he orders a coffee and settles on the fact that he’ll douse it with honey to fill him up a bit. The waitress smiles, she’s seen this type of kid so many times before. The kind that are just, trying to do their best. But they’re hungry and tired. And Matt’s tears are real when she places a stack of pancakes in front of him, smiling at him and telling him they’re on the house.

Week Three

Matt’s adjusting. Seattle isn’t as busy as New York, but it’s still not as quiet as Ben had assured him it would be. He’s sleeping on a mattress on the floor, organizing his cards and doing his homework to keep himself busy. He goes to class, he goes to work, and he comes back home to eat a bowl of microwaved ramen and hope his mom doesn’t call and ask about his time here. He doesn’t want to have to lie to her.

He’s exhausted. He’s always on the go. He never gets a second to relax he feels. Until he meets her in his Spanish class. And then he feels like everything’s just simple now. He wakes up to good morning texts and smiles when they go to lunch. He gets to walk someone home at night, and finally tell his mom he made a friend.

Month Three

Randy gets some time off and flies out for a visit. Matt’s embarrassed when Randy wheels his things in. There’s just his mattress, tv, and PlayStation from home on the floor. With a binder of his most expensive cards next to it. And Randy just sighs, dragging Matt to an ikea.

Matt follows him around the store, just watching as Randy helps him pick out furniture to actually put in his two bedroom apartment. Randy has enough. He hardly spends money on anything, he can help his little brother out. And he helps him put everything together, in their respective rooms. And by the time they’re done, he’s got a sofa, an entertainment center, bed frames for each bedroom, a spare mattress for the second room, night stands, and a cheap dining room table. And Matt’s never cried to himself harder.

Month Six

Matt is passing just about every class he has with flying colors, except Spanish. She’s always catching his attention more than the subject is. She’s more than his friend. She’s his first girlfriend. She’s the reason Seattle is a little less grim.

And when he finally invites her over, and she kisses him on his couch, he doesn’t know whether to run or to seize his moment. And maybe she decides for him, dragging his joggers down his thighs and settling down onto him, Matt feels like he’s in heaven.

Month Eight

Summer is here, he’s passed every class, and Matt’s in love. And Rey won’t stop pushing about getting married at this point. He’s not even 19 yet. But he’s saved a decent amount of money and maybe this is okay. It’s not been too long since they’ve started dating. But it wasn’t too long for his parents either and mom tells stories of how in love they were. How much she still loves him.

So Matt finds a ring, as pretty as his soon-to-be fiancée is. And he has reservations to the nicest place he could afford. Maybe he has the ring hidden in their dessert. And maybe he’s more than uncomfortable the entire time, but his love has the prettiest smile on her face— and it just causes his cheeks to heat up when she says yes and kisses him then and there.

Month Eleven

Matt’s scheduling classes and Rey’s redecorating his entire apartment, making space for her things. She’s showing off her ring to her friends, Matt’s yet to tell his mom. And Matt notices the little quips she makes about him. About how he shouldn’t be doing that, or how Pokémon is for kids and he really needs to grow up.

But he chalks it up to her just having differences and leaves it at that. He is hard to live with, you know?

Year Two

Matt’s stressed about money. Their wedding is huge. It’s expensive. He’s got two personal loans out just for this. He’s 19 now. He’s having a hard time adjusting to Mrs. Matthew Solo changing the way he wants to live his life.

It starts off by asking for little things here and there. But he’s a broke college student with two fucking loans out in his name? How can he afford that? But of course, she’s his wife and he finds a way. Until she quits her job and everything is left on Matty’s shoulders.

#glassbxttless adcu #glassbxttless #matt solo #the solo brothers au #the solo bros #college!matt

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batarella · 4 years

Text

The Bullet: A Sequel to the Commander - Part 5 (Jason Todd x Reader)

Don’t mind me. I’m just enjoying the last three days of The Commander Week. that’s right ya filthy animals, the series ends after Part 7. Hope you all enjoy!

Also, for the trigger warning, the first scene is a flashback that includes the reader having a miscarriage so if you are in any way uncomfortable with that, you can skip over the entire italicized section.

WORDS: 8130 WARNINGS: Miscarriage, Vaginal Sex, 69 Oral Sex, Violence. Firearms

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

If Y/N were to be asked what her life’s greatest regret remains to be, there would be none so than that one, fateful night, a night so embedded into the deepest crevices of her memories, one so horrifying, a destruction of everything she had built out of her lifetime of other regrets. From a life she never chose. And it wasn’t that night of the Arkham Knight Militia’s occupation, when she’d failed as its commander, destroyed months what it had come to be. It wasn’t when she’d missed when she fired the Cloudburst tank at the batmobile, almost losing her life. And it definitely wasn’t when she failed to reach out to her uncle Floyd on the last few months of his life. Because as much as she would have hoped to rewrite its histories, some of them anyway, there has never been one single regret that had haunted her close to her own death, death to her loved ones, her only loved ones.

April 10. Six months ago.

She was called in by an anonymous client. Most of the time, Y/N demanded to know her client’s identities before even considering doing the job. And she was about to do just that. Ignore the text. Ignore the calls. Go about her day. Even if it weren’t anonymous, she wouldn’t have accepted it anyway. Not right now. But this one client, without so much as another word, sent a million dollars to her account.

Before she could respond, he gave her the instructions. Where to go and who to kill. How far she must stand from the target and how she had to be alone. It was nothing out of the ordinaries that she was used to. In fact, the target seemed fairly easy to eliminate. When she asked for his identity again, the caller did not respond with a name.

Instead, he responded with a price.

Ten million dollars. To be sent to her account the minute her target is done for.

Floyd always told her never to take the chance, to never do so much as prepare for the job unless their clients pay the full price beforehand. And it had always worked out for him. Never once did he cheat, and he avoided himself from being cheated. Y/N? She never argued with that philosophy.

But ten million dollars? When she already had a million in the bank just now?

Her arsenal of weapons stared at her from her closet. Whispering. Luring her in.

Jason wouldn’t exactly approve of this. Not when it was far too shady.

So she waited for him to come home that night and told him about the deal.

He offered to do it for her. Collect the money into her account. But she insisted the client made it clear that it had to be her and her alone. And at that, Jason refused. Not even if he paid fifteen million, he said. She was in no place to take that kind of risk. Not with her. But Y/N, months out of work, out of her line of work. She hadn’t had a client like this for a while. She yearned a taste of looking out into her scope, feeling the wind through her nose and cheeks.

So that night, she did what would eventually become the greatest single regret of her life.

Y/N put on her suit, took out an AK, a sniper, and two pistols. Along with other things she might need like grenades and her grappling gun.

She knew it was risky leaving the place with Jason asleep. He’ll definitely wake up just from feeling the bed empty beside him, and he’ll find her wherever she was in Gotham an hour after she’d left. So she didn’t have much time. Hopefully, when this is all done, she can come back to the apartment unharmed and take whatever scolding Jason has in store for her without it becoming too much of a fight. In fact, it most probably will.

Y/N left their place and took her bike, stormed out into the empty streets and reached an old building she was told to wait in. This was, in all honesty, probably the most stupid thing she’s ever done. But she’s been tasked to do much worse, with much more dangerous people. It couldn’t possibly be anything she wouldn’t expect.

She got onto the rooftop, set up her sniper. Then she looked out into her scope and focused on the target her anonymous client sent her. She had no idea who it was. But she settled for the photos she was sent with to identify her target. He wasn’t too far even. And he looked just about as regular a guy as anyone she’d see walking along the streets.

The client told her to wait a while, to fire the shot at exactly ten pm. She had a few minutes.

Then she started to smell something so foul. So familiar. It surged up her nostrils and immediately, she halted her breaths and stopped herself from feeling too much of the disgusting scent. It went all the way up to her eyes. Watery. Shaking. Then it went to her tongue. She could taste it. And it was the most sickening thing she’s ever tasted. Y/N held onto the wall nearby and stopped the bile from rising up to her throat.

A thick, green cloud of smoke. It was everywhere on the rooftop she was in. And she could barely see anything there was in front of her. No sign of the floor, of the wall, of the shape of the roof. Nothing but smoke. Y/N almost toppled off her feet when the scent went up to her head, swirling around like a cyclone.

Then she saw something.

A figure made its way towards her, slowly, calmly, like it was floating on the ground. Despite the fog and the air, she could make out more of its form. A form of a twisted man, barely a man. One made of rags, covered every part of his skin. His mouth looked sewn shut, and the robes he had on looked old and decayed. He smelled exactly like the toxin around her, but amplified.

And finally. His hands. He didn’t have just fingers at all. No. He had needles. Syringes. On his knuckles.

And when she met his eyes, she’s never seen anything so ghostly and horrifying.

“It has been far too long, Commander…” Scarecrow started to walk around her in a circle.

Y/N held her breaths, both through her mouth and her nose, and shut her eyes before the tears became too painful to shed. The visions would start soon.

Instinctively, her hand went to the little bump on her stomach, at her suit that had gone just a bit too tight around the waist, and Scarecrow watched her as she did.

“Ahhh. A child…” he chuckled beneath his throaty, cruel breath. “You're not too far along. Three? Four months? Lovely of you to still accept the job.”

The horrible man leaned in so closely to her face. She was lightheaded, so dangerously near to falling to the ground in need of any whip of air there was.

Then she gasped. Just before the air went white.

“What…” she coughed. “do you want…”

“You destroyed what took me years to build, Commander. And I’m going to make sure you won't be around when I do it again. Send the Knight my congratulations.”

Then Scarecrow disappeared as quickly as he arrived.

And the smoke wouldn’t stop. The voices. The bullets. Coming to rain down on her over and over despite her body still erect, barely. Y/N crawled to the door, but it was locked. Her grappling gun was gone. She had no where else to turn to.

Floyd was there. Taunting her. She was on the floor, holding her stomach before she’d eventually puke out her guts. Her pelvis started to sting so much. And she screamed in terror, both in pain and in fear.

And there were monsters all around her. Despite something still inside her telling her to calm down, telling her that they weren’t real, the creatures started to run after her.

She pulled herself up and ran. She ran so fast she hadn’t realized her foot had met the ledge.

And she backed away, just seconds before she would have plunged to her death. Y/N grabbed on to her scalp, ran off before the indescribable monsters would reach her.

She pulled out her pistol.

The bullets. She didn’t even know where she was aiming at. At the monsters. At the air. She fired at anything she could see, anything that could have gone after her. The smoke had started to fade. And ever so slowly she started seeing the ground beneath her feet and the other buildings around her thar she had stirred awake. She kept firing. At one, terrifying looking creature from the dark coming straight for her.

The creature fell to the floor, but she didn’t stop pulling the trigger, clicking the barrel, firing at everything else.

She didn’t realize she was firing at a wall.

‘Ricochet,’ Floyd’s voice echoed. ‘A critical angle almost the same as the ricochet.’

‘Be careful not to fire directly in front of it, or else it goes straight back to you.’

She didn’t feel anything at first. She didn’t hear the bullet bounce off from the metal wall and speed right towards her, and she didn’t feel it pierce through her lower stomach, right at the bump. She didn’t feel the blood pour out of her and stain her suit, the ground. She didn’t feel it when her body fell to the ground.

But by then the toxin had fully dispersed. And from where she fell, she could see the creature she had fired at.

Jason, holding onto his stomach, was crawling towards her screaming in his own pain. There was blood everywhere. And it wasn’t just hers. It was his, coming from his chest. And he had bled so much in just so little time.

Y/N felt everything all at once, even the pain in her ears when she let out a chilling shrill of a scream. The last thing she saw was Jason, ignoring his wounds, ignoring his blood. He pulled her to his arms and cradled her until the sky went black.

-----

Y/N shot up.

Her skin was covered completely in her sweat. And her forehead was drenched as well. Her heart so rapidly beating, so much that it hurt. Y/N gasped from the bottom of her lungs in search for the air she thought she desperately needed.

She was alive. She was in their loft, the space above the level ground. On the mattress the was still just sitting on the floor without a bed frame to go with it. She clutched her stomach and there was no blood around her, not on the sheets.

Y/N sighed and covered her face before it got too cold.

“Y/N?” Jason reached out from beside her. “What’s wrong?”

The she remembered.

She turned to the clock beside her. Three am. It was that day.

She curled herself even tighter to make her body as small as she could. She couldn’t care to live through this day. Not like this.

“Hey.” Jason encased her in his large arms. “What did you dream about?”

“It’s today…” she said.

“What?”

She wiped a tear that had fell down to her shivering palms.

“The baby… He was supposed to arrive today…”

Jason watched how her face moved, or how it didn’t move, then with a parted mouth, Y/N turned to him, seeing how he let reality sink in and the memories of grief flood right back into his head.

He swallowed and pulled her to his chest.

“I miss him, too…”

“Just hold me…”

“I’m here…”

Jason let her head fall to his neck, let her arms hold him as tight as her weakening grip would allow her. Y/N felt something in her stomach, twisting, and it was so rotten and messed up that she felt sick to her stomach just feeling it.

He kissed her head.

“You want something to eat? I can get you something.”

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine…”

“Just let me know,” he held her face. “Come on.”

Jason pulled her body up to lay against the wall behind them. Leaning on their backs, Jason placed his cheek gently on the top of her head and she closed her eyes, falling into the warmth of his chest.

“It’s just another day now. Everything’s okay… We’ll be okay…”

“Alright…” she placed a light peck onto his neck. Jason let her stay there for as long as she needed. And she needed it for a long time. She kept kissing his pec, his collarbone, anywhere she could reach, and her lips were as light as a kitten’s paw, ever so slightly layering her love over any surface she could fall over.

When Jason pulled her chin up and let her lips lean against his firmer ones, she sighed at the relief, despite it being so little and subtle. It was the kind of relief that had gotten her through the days. She parted her mouth, let her lips move about and enjoy how it touched his so delicately, and when she felt his tongue, running over her teeth, she breathed in.

She could pick out every detail of how his tongue felt, how warm it was in her mouth. When his teeth started joining in with the fun, she held the back of his neck to pull him even closer. Jason was so soft like this, even when it was hard, rippling muscles that her fingers laid on. She kissed the tip of his nose, his cheek, then just after she got to kiss his neck, Jason pulled her up to his lips again.

He pulled her back down on her side on the mattress, his arms holding her around her shoulders. Y/N, with her hugging his head close, let their lips continue to enjoy each other in the darkness, at the coolness that prickled their skin where the thin blanket sheet didn’t cover them. Jason’s hand, once on her arm, had now rested on her waist ever so slightly squeezing onto her flesh.

Jason pulled away, then Y/N raised her arms so Jason could take her shirt off. No bra. His lips were all around her. On her neck, chest, tongue flicking over her nipples to make her gasp. His other hand had already reached down under her shorts to caress her ass, just staying there, squeezing, while his lips went on. He just enjoyed her body, touching it everywhere, kissing it everywhere.

Then Y/N reached downwards, over to his shorts at the bulge poking at her pelvis. She started stroking his clothed member so slowly yet it made him jolt up and sigh. She kissed his jaw, then his neck. Jason pulled away and watched her kiss her way down every pec and every ab on his chest and stomach.

She was still fairly half-asleep, and didn’t have the energy much to sit up. So Y/N just crawled down the bed, placed her legs where her head once was and laid on her side, facing Jason’s shorts. She licked her hand then pulled his hardening cock out for her to pump.

Jason didn’t make a sound at first, but she could feel his muscles tighten. When she placed her mouth on the tip, lazily dragging it against her lips, she felt Jason pull her shorts up her legs and hooked one of them under his arm.

“Oh…” she moaned with him in her mouth when Jason’s heavy tongue went over her slit. She was just starting to get wet, her juices not even reaching her ass yet. He can change that. When she felt him open her up with his fingers, going over her most sensitive parts with his tongue laid soft and relaxed, she started taking him further into her mouth while the bottom half was being pumped with her hand.

And neither of them went any faster than when they started. They enjoyed their love, enjoyed the night loving each other so gently, pleasuring each other in the most intimate way they could. She rolled her wrist around while pumping him while she started licking down his balls, and it made him moan while his tongue was sticking inside her. She closed her eyes, gently kissed the tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum as he got so hard in her mouth, her jaw started to ache. Then she her hand went to his thigh to hold him close, gasping for a moment when he sucked too hard on her clit, then went back to submerging his cock into her mouth.

She was gonna cum first. She could feel it. Jason kept going, didn’t care if her mouth suddenly popped his cock out, only being held with her hand when his tongue traced every spot on her clit and his fingers plunged deep inside her. Y/N cried out his name, forced herself to keep going to give back, and even with his cock so deep inside her mouth, eyes watering as her whole face started to hurt, Jason curled his fingers up to her pelvis and her heavy breathing started to rapidly quicken.

She didn’t scream, even when it was such an amazing, blissful flow of release, but her moans were sweet and delicate, mouth parted and her muscles tighten around her all at the same time. She forgot about everything, every regret in her life, for that one short moment and let Jason give her that high she craved so much.

Then she went on with his cock, pulling her mouth back and forth, but Jason wanted to fuck.

She stood up on her knees, faced away from him, then straddled his hips so she could drag his long cock down her pathetically drenched slit. She rocked her hips, let his hands go up her waist and traced her sexy back, then she threw her head up high to the ceiling when he closed the distance between them. He was inside her, then he wasn’t, then he was again. She raised her hips up and down in a deathly slow pace. He was moaning, breathing so heavily. Y/N could feel him watching her move and she turned her head back to lock eyes with him.

Jason sat up, chest against her back, then kept her chin turned over to him so he could kiss her. And his hands just went to town. Every patch of her skin, her breasts bouncing, her pussy throbbing, her stomach and waist that he couldn’t stop running his hands around. The sex they had that was soft, slow, lazy, so full of their bursting love as often as it was mindlessly rough and, well, since they first tried it out, involved a lot of firearms. But it was one of those nights, like that night at the barracks when they were drenched from the rain, in her quarters, making love for what felt like the first time. These nights, it was hot, slow, and her heart felt like bursting just as much as her pussy did. Jason laid his forehead against her nose, both their eyes closed, feeling each other’s breath, feeling them touch. He held her so close and kissed her shoulder, then he thrusted up to meet her rocking hips.

“Oh…oh…” she moaned into his mouth. And when she felt him cum, the warmth of his seed also sent to the edge. Soft, ever so slow, but it made her legs shiver so much that Jason held onto her tight.

When they fell to the bed, limbs entangled, they didn’t get out until the sun was setting well into the afternoon.

-----

“Oh! Oh, god!”

With Y/N underneath him on the couch, Jason rapidly thrusted his hips into her and held on to his diminishing strength to hold himself up. He slowed down, caught his breath by slowly biting into her neck, then when his heart rate started to keep pace, he went back to bottoming himself out into her fucking tight hole.

The TV was on, and his thrusts, sloppy and wet and enjoying itself, he leaned down to her neck and Y/N turned her head to the screen with her mouth parted and cheeks dangerously red.

“Isn’t… that… Oh!” Jason snapped his hips into her. “Tim and… Barbara?...”

He didn’t stop fucking her and held onto her waist to keep grinding. He glanced at the screen and snorted. “It’s their… fuck… wedding today…”

“How nice-OH FUCK JUST LIKE THAT!”

He turned her head back to look at his face and he sat up so he could forcibly hold onto her waist and harshly thrust into her while pulling her body back and forth. Y/N let her tits bounce, back arch up, grabbed onto her own hair to relieve the overwhelming tremors.

“J-jay?” she whimpered breath getting heavier and heavier at each pounding.

“What?!”

Jason had his eyes closed, focused on how tight her pussy was and how it was clenching around him. Then he forced his eyes open so he could watch how fucking beautiful she looked when her tits moved to his liking and her body glistening under the sun.

“I-isn’t that… fuck… your butler?”

He grew annoyed and momentarily looked at the screen. “…got himself o-ordained…” he didn’t stop moving. “Alfred… officiated the ceremony-fucking hell, you're tight.”

“O-oh…” Jason stuck his thumb into her mouth.

“I just wanna fucking look at you while I cum and not them… so stop talking…” he said before leaning down and wrestling her lips down until it hurt. He was gonna cum. So close.

She looked at him with her mouth parted, breath uneven, and that sharp, insanely loud scream coming out of her lips. He came inside her and let his load fill her up so much that he could feel it leak down on the couch.

“Fuck!” he pulled out and fell to her chest. Y/N kissed his forehead, letting him lay down on her breasts so she could play with his hair, letting the high die down.

“And that’s it for the Gordon-Drake wedding. Next up we have some good news for Red Hood and Deadshot fans. Approval ratings for the two have now reached eighty percent over just the course of two weeks, Although some fans disapproved of their recent moral decisions, it does not stop how the two have grown into two of the most beloved heroes of the decade. Their lack of superpowers enables their fans to relate closely to these two vigilantes, with boys and girls from around the country wearing red helmets and hoods, as well as fake guns and white masks-“

“I don’t feel comfortable at that at all,” Y/N snorted. “Why would I want little kids dressed up as me?”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“This is Vicki Vale, and have a good day.”

Jason stuffed his face between her breasts and let it stay there for a few good minutes.

“How much worse do you think it gets when they found out we’d stopped killing?”

“They’ll find out eventually. And trust me, I don’t expect people to be happy about that. A lot of them want bad guys killed and have us do the dirty work. Makes them feel safer.”

“And that’s exactly why we do it.”

“Yeah. It does. So if they find out we’d stopped people might actually go back to hating us.”

“I’m okay with that.”

He kissed her chin.

“Hey,” she held his face. “Have you thought of a date, yet?”

Jason couldn’t bear to stop a smile and his finger brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Two months from now?”

“Two months? Are you kidding?”

“I don’t wanna wait too long,” he kissed her again.

“That’s gonna be on a December. You sure you wanna get married in the cold?”

“I don’t really care. I just wanna marry you.”

Her heart’s warmth consuming her, Y/N took his face in her hands and leaned in.

-----

It was probably just a coincidence that it was in Jason’s old building, the one they stayed at on their first trip to Gotham. But it certainly wasn’t a surprise. With it holding up so well, it was only logical for bad guys to stay there for a hideout.

They took the front door, kicked it down with one hit of Red Hood’s foot and Deadshot held out her gun in front of her. As they turned to the first corner, at a place where broken mail boxes were supposed to be stacked against one another, three large men appeared running down the steps.

Red Hood grabbed a mail box and hauled it towards the man that was the most behind, hitting him in the head. And like dominos he fell down the stairs, started sliding down with his head repeatedly hitting the steps and taking his two friends down with him. The three of them on the ground, the one at the very bottom threw the others off his back and started to leap for Deadshot.

She grabbed his hands that were going right for her and directed him towards the wall, grabbing the back of his neck. She slammed his nose against the wood, moved his face around and made sure the sharpness of its surface scarred his face, before she turned him around and kneed his groin.

Jason took care of the other two, slamming their heads together, wrestling one down while throwing the other right over his shoulder, having them land their punches on the other’s face instead of on him. Coming out unscathed, the three were down in less than a minute.

They raced up the steps. There was no one on the second floor. No one on the third floor either. On the highest level, the one where Jason’s room was, Deadshot opened his apartment and looked around.

“Thank god, they didn’t touch your room, right?”

“Focus.”

She scoffed. “Fine.”

They heard voices from a room at the farthest side. When Jason kicked it open, another four men were inside.

They came after Y/N. Must have thought she was weaker than him. These idiots.

She pulled out her two pistols and started firing at their legs. Deadshot kept her distance, backing off at the little stampede, then Jason grabbed two of them and threw them both against the wall. On a nearby table, he flipped it over, then with his incredibly strong arms, pried the table’s leg apart with a strong crunch.

He tapped it against his palm. “Let’s play.”

Their legs must have been made of fucking clay when it just absorbed her bullets with little to no effect from them at all. And these men weren’t even that huge. Deadshot jumped against the wall, landed a kick to the face so hard he passed out on the floor, then gasped when another one’s fist so closely landed on her head before she grabbed the arm and tried with all her might to stop it from going any further. With her heel, Deadshot pushed him off of her and used Jason’s technique to stun her enemy. Using his body as leverage, she flew herself up, slammed her elbow against his head, then with quick, succeeding punched to the gut, she gained the momentum she needed to land just enough punches to incapacitate him.

The other one stood up, wiped the blood off his lip, and grabbed Deadshot’s whole body slamming it against the wall. She stopped his face from going anywhere near her, palm up against his bloodied nose. And she struggled, enough that her arms started to shake, then for the shortest spilt second she grabbed her gun and shot him in the foot.

He fell back, and she elbowed his rib until he fell to the ground, and after one last slam of her body, he was out cold.

Red Hood, on the other hand, didn’t look like he was struggling as much, using the block of wood to repeatedly hit the other two goons. A slam to the head, hard enough for their eyes to go white. He dodged from an incoming hit and slammed the wood against his stomach. He wielded it like a sword, like an extension to his limbs. Red Hood didn’t exactly hit them hard enough to gain a concussion but when he’d dodged every one of their fists, hit them with the block of wood repeatedly so until at the end, both men gave out and fell to the ground.

Deadshot finished up, kneeling in front of the bodies.

“Come on,” she told Red Hood. “You know the drill.”

She knew he was rolling his eyes when he threw his weapon to the ground and did the same as Deadshot.

Fingers holding up to their pulse points, they waited, feeling for their heartbeats, and after they’d felt just the slightest bit of movement, they turned to the next.

Everyone alive so far.

“Now,” Deadshot held her hips. “Where did they hide her?”

Red Hood turned on the x-rays on his visor and looked around.

The fucking closet. The closet he had a same one of that was too small to even fit three coats.

He ran immediately towards it and shot the lock on its hinges. It opened.

A tiny, scrawny looking three-year-old girl, curled up at the floor of the closet clutching to her knees. She was so pale, and her head was against the wall. If they hadn’t come sooner, she would have died from suffocation.

At the rush of fresh air, the girl opened her eyes and looked up at Jason. The poor thing was shivering.

“Jay-“

“I know.”

Red Hood raised his visor and pulled back his hood. She looked less scared, staring at his very human face. But she flinched when Jason tried to reach for her.

“You wanna come with us? We’ll take you back to your parents…”

She shook her head. Color was coming back up to her face.

“No. No. We’re not one of them. We’re the good guys. Y/N, take your mask off.”

Deadshot did as he said and knelt down beside Jason.

“It’s alright… We’re not gonna hurt you,” she smiled at her.

Her shivering stopped when she saw them both.

“Y/N, can you take her?”

“Sure. Come on, Samantha.” She stretched out her arms, and the girl hesitantly but eventually let Y/N carry her up, her small, tubby hands circling around her neck. She started sucking her thumb and placed her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N felt something in her burn. She put her mask back on.

Red Hood led the way. And they carried the toddler down the steps.

When they got out the front door, they didn’t know what to expect.

A crowd. And not just a small group of friends. Reporters all around them. Girls screaming at the sight of Red Hood. Men and women ogling over Deadshot.

“Red Hood!!!”

“It’s them!!!”

“Our heroes!!”

Were they followed? Did they know this whole time that a kidnapping had happened in this building and not care at all? Not even when seven thugs were inside just a few minutes ago that were strong enough to rip their heads off their bodies?

“Y/N, hurry.”

A reporter, right at the front trying to stop the crowd. Red Hood grabbed his arm and hauled him forward. As quick as she could, and as gently as she possibly can, Deadshot handed the little girl over to the man and soothed her back.

Then they fucking ran.

Down the alleys. Up the rooftops. Into the corners where they couldn’t be seen.

“What the hell was that?!” Deadshot screamed.

“Someone must have seen us go in and called all their friends. I knew we should never take the front fucking door.”

“Fucking hell. I really have to get used to this.”

Most probably, if they had their best interests at heart, they will have to get used to it.

And it didn’t just end with the mob. Every news channel on Gotham was all over them. About how all the bodies they’d left in the building were all still alive, how almost none of them were as brutally injured as they often left their enemies to be. And Jason was wrong about people turning their backs on them. Because after just a month, the whole of the east coast wouldn’t stop talking about the famous vigilante couple who were both insanely hot and good looking. Somehow, everyone knew that even with their masks on.

When they stopped killing, news stations stopped feeling that ethical pull behind them that held them back from praising the two on a biased stance. Even when the people are all over them, Gotham City News Today and all the other companies still wouldn’t acknowledge if what they did was good or bad. because at the end of the day, back then anyway, they still took lives. They still received criticism. And especially with their histories, it was no surprise that they weren’t so easily beloved by the conglomerates that only wanted the people’s graces.

And now that that’s out of the way, no longer with them breaking laws or decapitating heads or pushing people off a ten story building, they were being shown as angels, and the news stations, Vicki Vale especially praised the two ten fold and were most often compared to the likes of Batman. Red Hood, who wasn’t so much of a subject for photographs, was now challenging the likes of the ultimate hottie vigilante Nightwing. Fans fought over them, started debates, argued about who was the better hero.

And, well, as much as their personal lives didn’t change as much, nothing was the same when they went out to fight. Not anymore.

Y/N eventually got used to it.

----

Zoe liked Jason.

Her sweet little girl, who definitely wasn’t little anymore, sat across them from the table and wouldn’t stop laughing at all of Jason’s jokes. They ate at a pizza place that Zoe wanted to go to when she called them and asked if they wanted to hang out. Of course, Y/N agreed. She hadn’t seen her in a while. And it wasn’t her first time meeting Jason, either. So as the night went on, they had their most fun. They ate, asked her about school, and the look on Zoe’s face when they told her they were engaged, it was brighter than any sun that could rise.

They took her around the mall, let her go to whatever shop she wanted. Jason held Y/N’s hand the entire time. They bought her ice cream, let her play a few rounds at the arcade. It went on until the night had come to a close.

They walked down the street.

“How’s your mom, by the way, Zoe?”

Zoe held her hand. “She’s alright. We’re holding up well.”

“That’s good.”

“She told me to stay away from you, though... She thinks you’re exactly like daddy.”

Y/N and felt Jason’s hand behind her back. “Do you believe I’m good?” she asked her.

Zoe looked up at her and jumped. “Of course I do! Everyone in my school thinks your sooo awesome.”

“You don’t think we’re bad people?”

“Well… At first I thought it was bad that you kill people… but now you don’t! And it makes me so happy.”

Y/N turned to Jason.

Maybe it does have its perks.

“My mom doesn’t know about tonight. She thinks I’m out with friends. But that’s okay. I’m just glad I got to spend time with you.”

Zoe hugged her waist as they walked and Y/N placed a kiss on her head. Jason was smiling as well. All the while looking at Y/N.

As they turned towards a dark alleyway, they saw a small black car. A car they didn’t exactly recognize, but knew something was wrong about when it stopped in front of the alley where they were just about to go out of.

The black car’s door slowly peered open, then it was surrounded by police officers, cars with brightly lit sirens and motorcycles. There had to be at least five of them.

They looked back. Another three.

“Y/N…” Zoe took her hand. Jason on her side took to tightening his arm around her. Especially when she came out of the car.

The woman could never be mistaken by anyone else. Her propped up hair, clean without a strand out of place. A dark blue business suit that was posh, wrinkleless, and perfectly professional. Heels that echoed louder than any other sound on the streets. Her head was so high up, nose in the air, so much that the air around them instantly grew thinner. It was clear, that just by her presence, everyone around her was at her feet. And she was tall. Taller than some of the cops, even. She was so much more intimidating than anyone else in the alleyway.

Amanda Waller placed her hands behind her back.

“Deadshot…”

Y/N lost her voice.

“Red Hood…”

Jason’s hand felt painful from gripping onto her shoulder so much. Zoe looked at the both of them.

“Y/N, what’s happening?”

“How did you find us?”

Waller wasn’t even scared to walk towards her. “We’ve been watching your little cousin here for some time now… Turns out you have quite the soft spot for her…”

“Get the hell out of my face, Waller.”

The woman grinned and let out a low chuckle. “You’re exactly like your uncle.”

“You think you can catch me because Floyd didn’t kill Batman with Zoe around? I’m not Floyd. I’ll kill you even if the fucking pope watches me.”

“Where are you gonna go? Up in the rooftops? We have twelve units surrounding you, Y/N. You can't get away.”

“She said,” Jason stepped in. “Get out of her face.”

“The son of a bitch. In the flesh. The Red Hood,” she eyed him up and down. “You are as handsome as they say. Maybe even more when I have both of you in the brightest orange suits.”

“Maybe if you had one in red, I might consider it.”

“Quite the talker, you are.”

“Zoe,” Y/N said over to her cousin. “Get out of here.”

“She stays.”

“Get out of here, now. Go back to the restaurant and stay there.”

“The girl stays here.”

And the moment Waller grabbed Zoe’s arm, Jason pushed Waller out of the way.

Ten guns were suddenly pointed right at him. Y/N gripped his arm from falling any further and they both froze, staring at the muzzles pointed right at their skulls.

Waller brushed off her suit.

“Don’t. Ever. Touch me.”

“If you lay a hand on that little girl again-“

“Officer Brady. Take him away-“

Y/N didn’t think it through. Not even for a second. Just that this woman was making her head boil beyond anything she could comprehend, how she was taking away everything she’d built for months for her own gain at the squad. The officers took Jason and cuffed him in front of her eyes, on his knees, looking at her with the biggest blue eyes that were doing nothing else but consoling her. She hated everything about it, hated how everything had to be stripped away from her after so much was handed over.

She never moved so fast.

Before anyone could turn, she had her wrist gun at Waller’s head.

All the officers focused their aim on her every joint. But she wasn’t scared. Instead, she screamed.

“I CAN FIRE THIS GUN FASTER THAN ANY OF YOU CAN MOVE. IF I HEAR ANY OF YOU SHOOT, YOUR BOSS DIES!”

The cops were silent, unmoving, but every pistol and sniper was on her. They were about to shoot. At any second now, she was going to die.

If not for Waller holding her hand up to stop any of the officers from firing.

She never lost her cool. Not even when at any sort of movement, Y/N fires.

Waller held her chin high.

“Let him go.”

“Or what?”

“Or I shoot you.”

Waller sneered. “Even if I die, you won't have your precious little man back,” she said that with a snarling laugh. “You’ll both be sent to prison, one way or another. And you will still be sent over to the task force under new management.”

She couldn’t do that to him. Not after everything.

He only just got out of the worst kind of prison any human being could possibly be subjected to, tortured, brought to the brink of death every single day. Belle Reve won't be any different. She couldn’t do that to him.

“Y/N, get out of here,” Jason coughed, before a cop pulled his head down.

“I’m sorry,” Waller folder her arms. “I thought you were the good guys now. I thought you don’t kill anymore, Y/N? What’s gonna happen when people find out their hero was a fraud?”

Zoe, who was shivering up against the wall, looked up at her in tears.

Y/N glanced at her and closed her eyes.

“We’ve saved the city more than any of your fucking cops had in a matter of weeks. Why arrest us now?”

“Because I don’t care about the kind of hero you are today. You have committed almost every heinous crime there is in the book before you even graduated high school. You and this man took over the city of Gotham in a military occupation. And you have killed hundreds, if not thousands of people around the world.“

Her hand started to shiver. Breathe.

“You are not a hero, Y/N. You never will be…”

Zoe was on the ground, knees to her chest. An officer came to calm her down but she refused to get out of Y/N’s side. And the look on her eyes, staring at her like all hope she had of her cousin, the role model she’s looked up to her whole life. Her hero. She was gone.

“We’re not allowed to subject you into the Task Force unless you are detained with at least five life sentences. So far, you’ve managed to clean up your acts well enough to only be charged with a few murders. That won't be enough. But your partner…”

She turned to Jason, held his chin and pulled it up so he would look up at her.

“Your partner is the perfect witness to testify against you. Unless you're married of course. Are you married?”

Waller looked at Y/N’s hands and smiled at the lack of a ring.

“I rest my case.”

“I will never talk!” Jason spat at her.

“Oh, you will. I break a few laws myself, Red Hood. And I don’t care if I have to beat the information I need out of you-“

NO.

NOT AGAIN.

NOT HIM.

To be tied, strung up to the ceiling, be beaten relentlessly with a crowbar. No. Not even if her life was on the line. Not her Jason.

She held her gun higher up to Waller’s head. “I will fucking shoot you…”

“It’s all up to you, Y/N. What do you want to do? You can kill me, go to prison. Or you won't, and still go to prison.”

Jason had his eyebrows up to his wrinkled forehead. He was telling her desperately to run. She can outrun them herself. If she tried. She can grapple up the building and outrun the cops like they so often use to.

But she wasn’t going to do that.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You don’t want me to shoot you. No matter how much you fake it. I know about the trigger on your little squad’s necks. It’s your heartbeat, isn’t it? I kill you, and every single one in Task Force X dies along with you.”

Waller lost her smile.

“I don’t care if I go to prison. Just as long as your dead, as long as there is no Suicide Squad, and I don’t get forced into your horrendous little game, I will shoot you. If you don’t let this man go…”

“And if I do?”

Y/N swallowed and heard Jason’s cries. She did everything she could to put them aside.

“Let him go. Free. Clear him of all his charges and make sure your men never go after him again.”

Breathe.

“If you do, then I’ll surrender to you right now and hand myself over-“

“Y/N, NO!”

Two officers holding Jason to the ground. She tried not to reach out to him.

“I’ll admit to all my crimes. Willingly. I’ll stand trial. I’ll do everything you ask of me. Then I’ll join the squad. I won't resist. I won't steer trouble. I’ll be exactly as Floyd had been for the team. It’ll be like he never died at all. And you’ll have me for the rest of my life. If I do, you can kill me.”

“NO!!!”

Waller didn’t look like she appreciated being cornered like this at all.

But a gun to her head, her mouth clenching with her deathly dark eyes locked onto Y/N, her eyes darted over Jason and she licked her lips.

“And how would you know we we’ll keep our little promise?”

“If I find out that he’s been hurt in ANY way at all, I will kill every single member of the squad singlehandedly, kill all the cops and guards who stand in my way, and finally, I’ll kill you-“

“And how are you gonna do that?”

“I can disarm anyone within five feet away from me and shoot ten bullets in the same second. And there are what, eight members of the squad? By the time your guards can even move, I’ll have killed them all.”

“Not even Floyd could do such a thing-“

Ten bullets. She aimed and shot them precisely at the potted plants, the bottles, and the windows that were on the walls above them. Not one of them missed.

All within exactly 96 milliseconds.

But Waller still had her hand up. The cops wouldn’t shoot Y/N. Not until Waller allows it. She must really, really want Y/N alive.

Y/N was playing the most dangerous game she ever possibly could, and she was winning.

In a way.

“I am not Floyd,” she growled at Waller.

This woman. Who lived with her pride never faltering. She was firm, tall, and kept her face from showing any sort of tremors or in any way afraid of the machine that was in front of her.

“What’s it gonna be?”

Breathe.

Amanda Waller held out her hand and took Y/N’s wrist, prying it away from her direction.

“Officer Brady, I want you to clear all of the Red Hood’s charges…”

“But, Ma’am-“

“That’s an order.”

Y/N closed her eyes.

And her arm never felt so weak, never felt so tired. What went on in her ears was a low, breathy playing of a bass that mimicked the slowing heartbeats in her chest. Everything went so fuzzy after that. She couldn’t recall a thing. All that she knew was that both Jason and Zoe were crying for her, crying when she lowed her gun. Crying when the officers took Y/N’s hands and cuffed them behind her. Crying while Jason was being held up with his arm twisted behind him and crying when Zoe was taken away by the police.

Everything was done for. Her life. Her whole life. With him. A happy life she was actually looking forward to. Her future. It was all gone.

“Don’t uncuff him yet,” Waller said. “He’ll be all over her. Take him as far away from the city as possible and leave him there-“

“NO!” she screamed. “YOU CAN'T FUCKING DO THAT!”

“I am the law. I make the law. Now do your part of the deal. If it takes letting go of one criminal I don’t care about to relieve myself of your stubbornness, so be it.”

Their cuffs were being hauled over by the cops. They kept their eyes on each other, tears running down. And when they kept further and further away, they started to resist.

“Y/N!”

“JASON!”

Fighting to go towards each other, only to be dragged away to opposite ends of the alleyway, she struggled, despite her promises. She wanted to go after him. She wanted to hold him one last time. But she wasn’t given so much as a chance to say goodbye.

Jason shook himself off the cop, running towards Y/N, but he was jumped and pinned to the ground. He never stopped screaming her name.

“JASON, NO!”

“Y/N!”

“JUST LET ME SAY GOODBYE. PLEASE.”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Waller scowled as she stepped into the car.

Breathe.

-----

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc@multifandoms916@icequeen208@offendedfishnoises@egdolan@xemiefx@arkhamtoddler@elsenthal@mythicbitchx@supremehaunter burning-alive @lucy-roo roseangel013bf @ loxbbg reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherriesshadowsndaisiesriver9noblezphilophobiazannoylinglyaries@knightfall05x @l-horizon11flowersgirl02

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood #arkham knight #jason todd reader insert #arkham knight x reader #the bullet #the commander #the bullet series #batarella

117 notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Fifteen)

Tony planning for the inevitable and finally finding some answers. *cue the music and make it pearl clutchingly dramatic*. I have about a thousand reasons why I love this chapter, but I’ll put those in the notes at the bottom!

Super brief mention of past drug use in this one, as well as verse typical anxiety/mania

MASTERLIST

****************

64%

“JARVIS.” Tony tossed the monitor into the desk drawer and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Where’d we get with the facial recognition program for James with the addition of the Pierce angle?”

“Nowhere at all, sir.”

“Right. Right I knew that.” Tony did know that, he remembered having this discussion yesterday-- the day before?-- and being just as frustrated as he was right now. “Okay listen, scrap that search and start another.”

“Parameters?”

“Narrow it down to the Tri-State area, specifically Brooklyn.” Dum-E beeped over with one of his shakes in a horrifying seventy-two ounce amount, and Tony sighed and patted the robot in a fond-if-not-begrudging thank you. “Get out of the military branches and start searching for family members. I’m not looking for James anymore, I’m looking for someone related to James. Next of kin, anything like that.”

“Yes sir.”

“Expand it outside of male, let’s find a sister, maybe his mom.” Tony unscrewed the lid and gulped at the horrible stuff. “I’d settle for a cousin and a long lost Auntie. Dial back the points on the recognition software so it’s not quite so specific. Sometimes siblings look a lot alike, sometimes they don’t. If it’s a half sibling, they might only share a common nose or both got Dad’s unfortunate ears.”

“You consider James’s ears unfortunate, sir?”

“Nothing about that man is unfortunate.”

JARVIS did one of those purposefully long silences followed by an almost impatient sounding click, and Tony smiled. He’d done the right thing modeling the AI after the unflappably loyal butler/driver/body guard that had been his constant childhood companion. The real Jarvis would have responded exactly the same-- a purposefully long silence, and then a click of his tongue before changing the subject and suddenly Tony missed the old butler enough to make his chest hurt.

“Run program for James and while you’re at it, look up Edwin Jarvis relatives and let me know if they’re doing okay. If he’s got a direct grandkid going to college or something, let’s make it happen. Pretty sure Jarvis is the only reason I survived long enough to make it to college, least I could do is return the favor.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you.” Tony drummed his fingers on the desk absentmindedly. “Did we ever get bank accounts created for James?”

“Ms. Potts saw to their creation when you first arrived back in Malibu from D.C.”

“Run the Ghost Protocol file list and double check everything.” Tony held up his hand towards Dum-E and the robot rushed forward to bump into him affectionately, nearly pushing Tony right out of chair. “How are you simultaneously the worst robot and funniest dog in the world?” he asked the machine and Dum-E only beeped and waved at him. “Right. My fault cos I programmed you. What was I thinking?”

“Ghost Protocol file list ready, sir.”

“Set up recurring payments into James’s account from one of my trust funds.” Tony instructed. “I don’t care which fund it comes from, just make it irrevocable. We also need to make sure he’s on the company insurance plan so he has access to our doctors.”

“Of course.”

“Did we give Happy a raise?” Tony grit his teeth and took another drink. “What about his pension plan? Is it set up okay?”

“Both Mr. Hogan and Ms. Potts have a pension plan even the president would be jealous of.”

“That’s good.” Tony smiled again. “No, that’s-- that’s good. I want to make sure they’re taken care of. Rhodey too? What about Mama Rhodes, have we been keeping up on her money in case anything happens to him?”

“Within the files of Ghost Protocol, you have taken the necessary steps to ensure each of your loved ones are well taken care of in the event of anything catastrophic.”

“I won’t let this be catastrophic.” Tony muttered grimly, pushing at the reactor where it sat heavy in his chest. “I’m not going to let this thing be catastrophic.”

“And how do you plan to do ensure that, sir?”

“You let me worry about that.” He pulled up the specs of James’s new arm so he had something to look at while drinking the green sludge. “Close Ghost Protocol. Open new file. Have you been running continuous diagnostics on James’s arm?”

“Honestly, sometimes I think you doubt the abilities you hand coded into my system.”

“Right yeah that’s--” Tony scrubbed at his face wearily. “Of course you’re on it. Wish I could write you a retirement plan, J. You deserve something good after all this. Maybe I’ll download you into NASA, wouldn’t that be fun? Controlling space ships and all that sort of thing?”

“The only reason for me to go to space would be to guide you on your way, sir and it would be an honor to do so.”

“...Thanks, J.”

************

Tony didn’t mean to fall asleep on the desk. It was certainly the least comfortable spot he’d fallen asleep at recently, the cold metal was no match for James’s arms or even the solid line of the soldier’s chest. His neck would hurt when he woke up, his back would twinge from being slumped over in the chair and his face would no doubt have unattractive creases from his shirt sleeve but Tony fell asleep all the same.

He was exhausted. Always always exhausted. The whirlwind round of sight seeing he’d done with James over the last week or so had been physically as well as mentally taxing, the nagging feeling that he was ignoring more important things like world peace and suit upgrades was wearing on his mind. The numbers on the monitor certainly didn’t help anything and neither did the increasingly often, increasingly intense rounds of...of making love...

...there it was. No other word for it. Far past hooking up, far past just sex. The way they moved together was making love, the way James held him close and gasped his name was making love. The way Tony felt afterwards when James pressed soft kisses to his scars and he did the same to the mottled skin where prosthesis met flesh…

Christ, Tony hadn’t known it would ever be like this.

He hadn’t known it could be like this.

Twenty five years Tony had been waiting to find the courage to even try and now every step forward with James was a step closer to running out of time.

So he slept, hunched over and uncomfortable and exhausted on the desk in the lab because all the best things he’d been doing lately were more than likely killing him faster.

C’est la vie.

Que sera, sera.

It was quiet in the house.

James was out with Happy cos somehow the ex soldier and driver/bodyguard had struck up something of a friendship that revolved around food and Happy cheating at mini golf. James had tipped Tony’s chin up and smiled down at him before leaving, “I could ditch Happy and you and me could go get lost together, sugar.” and Tony had wrapped his hand around the immovable left wrist and forced back a plea to stay and joked instead, “Getting lost with you sounds fun, but you do not want Happy coming after you with a putt-putt nine iron for standing him up.”

James’s goodbye kiss had been soft and sweet and packed full of promises Tony desperately wished he would have time to cash in on, but even as he waved his soldier and Happy down the driveway, the kiss faded from his lips and just left him cold. He was getting worse and he knew it, if the numbers on the monitor didn’t prove it, the increasing fatigue and bone deep pain certainly did. God Tony would love to get lost with James and see all the things they could find together, but he had things to check off his list before it was too late and that’s why he was in the lab alone working on the Ghost Protocol.

He had to finish before it was too late.

Besides, the quiet was sort of nice.

Pepper was out doing whatever she did that made sure Stark Industries didn’t collapse, being powerful and beautiful and so much more competent than Tony had ever been simply because she cared. Tony knew what they were saying about Pepper, about how she wasn’t qualified to run Stark Industries and how there could only be one reason why she got the job... and yes, there was only one reason why Pepper got the job. She was the only person in the entire world Tony knew could do it perfectly.

Plus, she deserved it. Pepper deserved the company and all the money and prestige that came along with it because she had helped carry him through some of the darkest moments possible and that was something Tony could never repay her for.

Just like he could never repay Rhodey, who was off being the world’s greatest hero, or Happy who had been Tony’s confidant on many many drunken nights when all his walls came down and he sobbed his heartbreak out all over the backseat of the limo.

Tony couldn’t repay the people he loved so much, but he could make sure they were okay after he was gone and that’s what Ghost Protocol was all about.

So Tony drifted while the world went on around him, dozed in the quiet while JARVIS uploaded the most recent design changes to what would be Rhodey’s suit while simultaneously running programs to see if there was any hope of finding even a distant relative of James so he wouldn’t be left alone.

Tony didn’t want James to ever be alone, not again, not after they’d found--

*beep beep*

“JARVIS.” Tony's head jerked up, mind skittering and scrambling trying to land on exactly what the noise meant. There were so many noises and alarms set in his lab. Was a project done? Was it time to check his blood? To take another drink? What was he supposed to be doing?

It felt like the times he’d done coke in his college days, where everyone else swore the drug focused them but all it did to Tony’s already high functioning mind was crash and burn and scatter his most basic thought processes. It was like a train wreck and Tony was wavering between tired enough to pass out and edging towards manic with the need to keep going keep going keep going and it just wasn’t working.

“What is that--that is-- we are--the noise--- fuck!” Tony crashed his hand down on the desk and swore out loud. “Damn it, JARVIS. Please tell me what’s going on. I can’t--” he forced out a breath. “I can’t do it. Help me.”

“Allow me, sir.” JARVIS interrupted smoothly, and Tony rubbed at his eyes in frustration because he just couldn’t concentrate. “It would seem we have found a match within our search for James’s identity.”

“Wait.” That certainly brought his mind into laser sharp focus. “What? Already?”

“Apparently the new parameters proved far more fruitful than our original endeavors.”

A picture popped up on the fold down screen of a young man with glasses, a neatly trimmed beard and a pair of unmistakably piercing, pale eyes that were all the more startling against his olive skin.

“Oh my god.” Tony zoomed in on the picture, stared deep into the same gaze he saw every morning. “Find a lineage. Mom, Dad, I don’t care. Trace it until we find James.”

“Searching, sir.”

*ping* “Last name Adams, first name Scott. Maternal name leads to a divorce, maiden name Proctor.”

“Proctor.” Tony repeated. “Switch to a new screen and search under Scott Proctor. He looks the right age to be James’s brother or cousin.”

*ping* “Proctor, Scott, age twenty seven. Maternal line leads to Ramon, paternal line continues Proctor.”

“Continue searching Proctor, we should be getting close.” Tony’s skin was nearly crawling with anticipation, his mind stuttering as it leapt from fact to conclusion, fact to conclusion. Finding someone who was so clearly related to James-- no way those eyes belonged to anyone else-- and was the right age to only be a sibling or a cousin. They were getting close.

This was good, this was good because now there would be family, someone to help James after Tony was gone, someone to soften the blow of loss.

--if it was loss, that is. If James considered not having Tony anymore to be a loss and Tony wasn’t-- he wasn’t entirely sure. Yes, he’d gotten to the point where he couldn’t kid himself about his own feelings anymore. And yes, he and James had been working on being vulnerable and being open but Tony knew he’d never be vulnerable and open enough to ask for love.

Not-- not love. Not for him. Not after only a few months, not when asking for love when James barely knew himself would almost be cruel, not when Tony would always wonder if James would say yes because it was true or because he knew something was wrong with Tony and figured he wouldn’t have to make good on that particular promise.

No, not love. Tony couldn’t ask for that.

He wasn’t brave enough for that.

And he knew James knew something was wrong and that Tony was lying every time he said “It’s okay.” James knew he was lying just like Pepper and Rhodey and Happy knew he was lying but that was okay. It was. Tony wasn’t going to let goodbye be awful for them, wasn’t going to let it be catastrophic, so he would keep right on lying and right on not asking for love up until everyone figured out the real truth.

I won’t let this be catastrophic.

*ping* “Proctor, James--”

“Holy shit, here we go.”

“-- deceased. Passed away of natural causes in 1991, survived by his ex wife and his son, Scott Proctor.”

“What?” Tony frowned and shook his head. “No, that’s not right. Okay, James isn’t immediate family with the Proctors. Keep expanding the search but keep them up on this screen, there has to be something here. No way that kid looks so much like James for no good reason.”

*ping* Proctor James, child of Rebecca P. Proctor nee Barnes, deceased--”

“--that’s going back too far, J. I need something from this century please.”

“--1964, survived by her son James and an unnamed daughter, grandson Scott Proctor. Also of note--”

“J, this is a waste of time!” Tony threw up his hands in exasperation. “I don’t want to hear about people who died before I was born! I said expand the search not deepen the search! Maybe it’s an adoption or a couple divorces down the line but please keep it with in the last forty years, I need something concrete! I need something real! James can’t be left alone after I--”

“--Rebecca Proctor Barnes was ALSO assumed survived by her brother, former Sergeant in the United States Army James Buchanan Barnes, who went missing in action--”

“-- in March of 1945 after he fell off a Hydra owned train while on a mission with Captain Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. Sergeant Barnes is the only one of the Howling Commandos to not return home at the end of the war and is listed as missing, presumed killed in action.”

Tony recited the fact before he caught himself, the information rattling off his tongue like it had done so many times before when he’d visited the Smithsonian as a kid and learned all about the Howling Commandos and Captain America and the intrepid...Sergeant… Barnes…

...too late, Tony’s mind finally caught up, crashed into a wall of facts and splintered into an unbelievable realization.

No no no.

“J?” No. “A picture of Sergeant Barnes please?”

An enlistment photo of mid twenties James Buchanan Barnes, blue eyes and dark hair and the hint of a devilish smirk that promised the soon to be Sergeant was going to change the world.

“Christ.” Tony’s mouth went dry, his fingers white on the table. “And-- and up against a picture of James?”

Another photo, one from the redwoods where Tony had caught James looking up at the trees in awe. The soldier had turned at the last minute to stare into the camera, striking blue eyes and shoulder length dark hair and the hint of a devilish smirk that promised he was going to change Tony’s world.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

“The footage from my racing helmet in Monaco. Give me anything from the dash cam as well and from the suit. CC TV, anything possible. Compile it all, now.”

It came in pieces as JARVIS tapped the Grand Prix security footage, as he searched the vault of Iron Man helmet recordings and the downloaded information from the car’s camera and each image went up besides the photo of Sergeant Barnes for comparison.

-- James vaulting the twelve foot fence like it was nothing and denting the concrete when he landed.

--James racing down the road almost too fast to be tracked as he ran to save Tony.

--James taking the brunt of Vanko’s rage and pushing Tony behind him.

--James taking an electrified whip to his left arm and shaking with the pain.

--James grabbing the whip with his right hand and yanking Vanko towards him for a nose shattering punch.

--James later in the crowd with no marks or scars or burns to be seen.

James.

Sergeant Barnes.

Bucky.

“Search my Dad’s files, anything I’ve uploaded, all the server dumps I did when we moved the last of it from the New York apartment.”

For the first time in months, Tony’s mind was operating at lightning speed, data snapping together click click click even if he couldn’t quite comprehend it all yet. Almost manic, almost overwhelming but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, had to know everything right now.

“I want everything about Project Rebirth, everything about the illegal mission Dad flew to Azzano to drop Big Blonde and Stupid off behind enemy lines. Everything.”

“Downloading, sir.”

Page after page flitted across the screens, the official reports of Project Rebirth, the confidential mostly redacted pages and the un official reports of anyone gathered that fateful day Steven Grant Rogers went from a scrawny Brooklyn punk to the red white and gorgeous hunk of patriotism they turned him into.

Official reports of the Azzano rescue detailing soldiers lost and wounded, the number returned home, how many days it had taken to bring them back. A furious letter from Colonel Phillips about the sheer disrespect of the man in tights had shown him and the Army in general.

A note from Auntie Peggy about how it had been entirely her fault to steal the plane and not Stark’s no matter how he bragged, and honestly how could she expected to say no to someone with a smile like Captain Rogers?

Howard’s admission of guilt for helping take the plane and dropping the Captain off behind enemy lines and yes, he’d tried to also take the plane somewhere to get fondue.

The unofficial report of Azzano written in Captain Rogers’ own hand about how he’d found Sergeant Barnes strapped down to a table in a rudimentary lab. About the empty vials and the puncture marks in Bucky’s skin. How he was positive Sergeant Barnes had snapped a rifle in half in his hands but in the heat of the moment he couldn't be sure, he highly recommended they run additional tests to see if the Sergeant had been injected with anything. Johann Schmidt had access to the super soldier serum, was there any possible they were using a version to experiment on prisoners of war...?

“Jesus.”

It was too much information.

Mission dossiers, the incredible feats the Commandos had accomplished with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes leading them into battle. Victories attributed to the super soldier serum that made Steve Rogers Captain America, but at second glance maybe it wasn’t just Captain America.

The Sergeant racked up an incredible amount of kills-- sniper shots made with nothing more than a simple rifle that professional snipers today had trouble matching. Hand to hand combat where he was bested only by the Captain. The ability to seemingly go for days without rest and that’s why the Commandos were an unstoppable force. Who needed sleep? Not Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers apparently.

Too much information.

The fateful fall from the Schnellzug EB912 train and how Captain Rogers had searched for days for a sign of Bucky only to find nothing but blood and drag marks. Then the Valkyrie had gone under and the world had moved on…

….and somehow Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes had ended up in a diner in Washington D.C. eating breakfast on the same day Tony had been mid-nervous breakdown.

Click click click.

Too much information.

Monaco. The bruises James left even when he was careful. The way the metal arm had been calibrated to some insane number to match strength with the other one. The old timey music and dancing. The Brooklyn accent. The quick shift to violent and the lightning fast reflexes. The way James had to catalogue everything in a room before he could breathe. The PTSD and memory issues.

“James said Iron Man wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever seen.” Tony whispered woodenly. “No shit, his best friend was Captain America”

Click click click.

Too much information.

Tony had seen so many little pieces that he’d missed the whole picture, he’d been so overwhelmed by the unimportant details like being called sweet thing that he never remembered to care about James not knowing even basic history or understanding every day things that wouldn’t have been affected by trauma induced amnesia.

“JARVIS.” Tony had memorized his Dad’s notes long ago. As a child he’d been angry Howard focused so much on the near mythical Captain Rogers and tragic Sergeant Barnes. As a teenager, Tony had studied and focused on the stories as well just so he had something to talk to Howard about. After graduating college, he’d packed everything away in storage and hadn’t thought about it again because if summe cum laude didn’t make Howard proud, nothing would.

And then December 1991 had happened and Tony stopped thinking about anything other than his next drink for a long long time.

But now it was all coming back.

Click click click.

Too much information.

“JARVIS. In the files of Howard’s journals there are some notes from the early seventies. He was chasing down a theory that made sure he wasn’t at the hospital the day I was born. Someone died, some Prince from Saudi, not the royal family but someone lower. It was a quiet kill, didn’t make the newspapers but Dad had piles of notes about it for some reason. Find those.”

“Searching, sir.”

Tony drained the last of the smoothie, then leaned his head back down on the cool table and tried to corral his thoughts. There was something something something right there at the back of his mind, something he wasn’t putting together. There was too much information and he was too exhausted to process it, a year ago he’d have this done already but today he was moving slow and taking more time, and good God was this what normal people felt their whole lives? Slow and tired and unable to focus on a single thing at a time?

“J?” Something else peeking through the fog of weariness and the sting of growing shock Tony was trying and failing to keep away. Now was not the time to break down, not when he was so close to answers, not when he was about to find out something big, he knew it was going to be something big--

--and it would ruin James’s life but then again maybe it wouldn’t, maybe this would be the perfect thing to do, if Tony was out the picture but there was someone else there to walk James--Bucky-- Sergeant Barnes--through it all.

“J, my Auntie Peggy’s notes from around the same time when she was stationed at Lehigh. There was a thing--” he snapped his fingers impatiently. “--A thing about how it had been twenty five years since Captain Rogers went into the ice and then a thing about how they’d re-doubled their efforts searching for him and while they were at it, they looked back into the information about Sergeant Barnes for some reason. Find those.”

“Found, sir. Shall I read them to you?” JARVIS didn’t wait for answer, the AI’s systems registering Tony’s alarmingly raised vitals and clear frustration. “As per Ms. Carter’s personal writings, dated April 7, 1970.”

“When we lost Sgt Barnes off the train, we told the world he was missing presumed killed in action, but among ourselves and those who had been at Azzano, it was widely accepted that if he hadn’t died, Stg Barnes had been taken by Hydra’s men to continue whatever they had done to him at Azzano. Captain Rogers always worried there was a spy among us, not in the Commandos itself but among the ranks of the very beginning of SHIELD and the seemingly instant disappearance of the Sgt lends itself to the fact that someone knew the Commandos were coming, knew where they would be, and were poised and in place to take prisoners.”

“Yeah, I know all that.” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and pursed his lips. “Keep going. Past that.”

“There have been rumours of a master assassin in Eastern Europe, though we have yet to find evidence of him here in the West. Reports come in of superhuman speed and reflexes, the bearing of a soldier but movement like a ghost and shining silver in the light as if he is half man, half robot. They call him the Winter Soldier and Howard is afraid--”

“It’s Captain Rogers.” Tony finished, because he did know all this. He remembered finding these notes when he was fourteen and taking them to Howard and Maria to ask if Captain America had really escaped the ice and gone on to be a master assassin. Howard had got up and left the room, Maria had only smiled sadly and taken the journal away and nothing else had ever been said. “Dad was afraid it was Captain Rogers exacting some sort of over patriotic brand of super soldier revenge. Keep reading.”

“However, I am afraid the answer may be worse than we feared. I am sure Captain Rogers went into the ice and never made it home, a fella wouldn’t stand me up for a dance for no good reason.”

“Jesus, Auntie.” Tony closed his eyes tight, heart breaking for his sweet Auntie who had loved exactly one man her entire life.

“I am afraid we are looking at the newest generation of super soldiers, a project taken from Schmidt’s attempts at the serum and handed over to the wrong people, perhaps the same work done on Sgt Barnes at Azzano and maybe even perfected if Hydra managed to take him again after the train. I cannot fathom the horror of a soldier changed into a monster and used for unspeakable deeds, but I suppose our work with Captain Rogers looks the same to the other side-- an innocent boy turned into a killing machine. The prospect is much scarier when it is we who are unprepared and facing a super-human we have no hope of stopping.”

“Howard has been given the task of recreating the super soldier serum we used on Captain Rogers, but it has been twenty five years since we lost the original formula so he will have to start from scratch. It may well take another twenty years to finalize it and I’m not sure if we should even try. The sins of the war should stay buried where they lay in the ground, and beneath the ice.”

“Half man, half robot.” Tony’s gaze cut over to the schematics for the new arm he’d built James. “This cannot be happening. How did I not put this together?”

“To be fair, sir. No one could have possibly drawn a connection between a soldier of legend in American history from seventy years ago, to a few shadowy accounts of an assassin detailed in Ms. Carter’s notes over forty years ago, to a modern day former soldier. Even if your most alert form, there is no possible way to have achieved this conclusion.”

“This cannot be happening.” Tony ignored JARVIS’s well meaning and entirely correct comfort and asked, “Alright, if Sergeant Barnes really was taken by Hydra again and used as an assassin for decades, how would they have accomplished that? The super serum slowed down aging by the process of speeding up healing, but seventy years would age anyone. James doesn’t look more than a couple of years older than his enlistment photo.”

“Cryogenic freeze, perhaps?” Several articles pulled up and across Tony’s screens. “Scientists have been aware of the process since the eighteen hundreds, and it is not a stretch to assume the same scientists that could create a super human could also master ways with which to preserve the specimen.”

“The specimen.” Tony muttered. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Alright, cryo-freeze. Fine. If I can believe in a tiny kid from Brooklyn lifting motorcycles over his head while wearing tights and punching out Adolf, I can get on board with cryo freeze. But after the war, Hydra was dismantled. We took the best scientists and killed everyone else. Who would have the money and power necessary to not only keep a super soldier on ice undetected, but also to thaw him out and unleash him on the world every so often?”

Later, later Tony would be sick to his stomach thinking about what James might have gone through at the hands of some insane Nazi scientist. Later he would deal with the head splitting migraine because out of all the things he knew, he never thought he’d ever know a century old super soldier who didn’t remember anything other than his name. Later Tony would break down and let himself cry because the closest thing he’d ever found to love wasn’t meant for him at all, a resurrected and re-found American Hero and long term Prisoner of War Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes wasn’t meant for him.

Tony would do that later.

Right now he needed know only one thing-- “Who, J?”

“Ms. Carter feared a spy in the organization that became SHIELD. Perhaps you should start there.”

-- and then he needed to make a call.

******************

Ring-ring.

Tony’s heart sank even as he listened to the waiting tone. He’d been hoping to find someone for James, but he hadn’t thought it would be this soon. He hadn’t thought it would be someone so perfect for James that Tony’s inevitable leaving wouldn’t even register with the soldier.

He hadn’t wanted good-bye to be catastrophic, but he knew when the phone picked up and the call connected that this was only the first step in James moving on from him completely. A couple months was nothing in the face of years of history, shared trauma nothing in the path of entwined lives.

He hadn’t wanted good-bye to be catastrophic, but hell Tony had thought he’d have more time before he broke his own heart trying to do the right thing.

Ring-ring.

And this was the right thing. It was the right thing. For James and for everyone else involved. Tony couldn’t in good conscience hide what he knew, he couldn’t even store it away for later after he’d had just a little more time with James because what if later was too late?

What if his numbers climbed too high, too fast and he never made it to later and good-bye came without James knowing?

This was the right thing to do, the first step in Ghost Protocol and really the most important step because Tony knew Happy and Rhodey and Pepper would be okay with out him and now he knew James would be okay.

It was the right thing to do, the first step in the Protocol Tony had began working on the day he came home from Afghanistan so why did it feel like it was the first step off a cliff?

Ring-ring.

I’m not ready to say goodbye.

I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do--

Ring-ring-click.

“Hello.”

“Director Fury.” Tony closed his eyes tight and forced himself to breathe. “This is Tony Stark.”

“Well well well, it’s not every day I get a billionaire calling my personal cell phone number that is in no way available without some high tech and definitely illegal hacking of sealed files. What can I do for you Mr. Stark?”

“...You know that thing that you think you’re keeping secret, but I definitely have been aware of since you pulled it from the ice three years ago?”

“Nope. No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right, because you’ve got entire libraries full of secrets, I guess I’ll have to be a little more specific.” Tony pried his eyes open so he could look up at the picture of Sergeant Barnes and Captain Steve Rogers on his screens, the famous one the Smithsonian always kept up at their Howling Commandos display. “Let’s talk about Project Resurrection. I’d like to meet the star of the show.”

“Absolutely not. Not an option.”

“Director Fury, I want to meet him.” Tony set his jaw and straightened his shoulders and let a layer of that Stark iron harden his voice. “And based on the lack of surprise in your voice, I’m assuming you know what this is about and we can talk later about how tired I am of people keeping secrets from me.”

Something bitter like betrayal in the back of Tony’s throat-- would he ever get used to people keeping things from him? How long had Fury known about James?

“So Director Fury, this will be the only time I ask nicely. I want to meet him.”

Silence.

“...How soon can you get to D.C.?”

**************************

Chapter Notes:

I really really love Tony’s mind set here. He is all over the place and unable to concentrate but still, his priorities are fully in line-- taking care of the people he loves and still trying to find answers for James and when he finds those answers, he forces himself to do the right thing.

The picture J brings up of Scott Proctor is actually a reference to that one tumblr post about how Michael Pena (Luis, Ant Man) sort of looks like Seb Stan in some pictures? Like if Luis was Rebecca Barnes’s grandson? I can’t find the exact post but look HERE and HERE and I love the similarities so much!

If you’ve read my ‘Time Falls Away’ time travel series, you might recognize some of the conspiracy theories in this chapter! And ever since writing that fic I always want Auntie Peggy Carter to save the day for Tony. Love her.

April 7, 1970 is the day Stony goes to Lehigh in Endgame.

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

***************************

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#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #nick fury

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