#Thought that is the program I use and I honestly love the sync and all the functions

[nerdnag]

Drawing on my phone is so great like I can do it literally anywhere and any time I want, and it takes some of my perfectionistic tendencies away as well. I don't think it's optimal for the shading step because the stylus pressure doesn't seem to register as well (if at all) but fortunately I can then sync the piece to my laptop and do that part there 🙌

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 3.3k+

Note: Oh my goodness thank you everyone for the kind words!!!!! I'm literally dying. Also if you're a programmer irl pls tell me if i sound like a boomer trying to write gen z slang. i also only did programming in school

xxx

The next two weeks blur into a rhythm I didn’t expect to find so quickly.

George and I fall back into sync like no time has passed. We have late-night conversations over leftovers, arguing about whether I should care about FIFA (absolutely not), whilst sitting too close on the couch without noticing. There’s an ease to it that’s both comforting and dangerous.

I find myself slipping back into old habits: stealing his hoodie when mine’s still damp from the wash, knowing exactly how he takes his coffee without having to ask. He still hums when he’s concentrating. He still leaves all the cupboard doors open like a gremlin lives here. It’s so familiar I almost forget how unfamiliar everything else is.

Chris and Arthur are new. I’ve never lived with them before, and the dynamic is still a little strange. Chris has a habit of narrating his thoughts out loud in the kitchen, and Arthur plays obscure indie music at volumes that feel vaguely confrontational, but they both seem genuinely nice. There’s a friendliness to them that doesn’t feel forced, just unpolished.

We don’t talk much beyond casual hallway chat, but I get the sense they’re good people. I’m still figuring out the rules of this new house: who uses which mug, whether it’s okay to steal someone’s oat milk, how long is too long to leave laundry in the machine. I tread carefully. It’s not mine yet.

I still haven’t unpacked properly.

My large suitcase lies half-open in the corner like it gave up halfway through. Every morning I rummage through it for something vaguely clean and wrinkle-free, and every night I promise myself I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I haven’t even begun to properly make space for myself yet. The best I’ve managed is rearranging a few things, so now I’m wedged between an unused exercise bike and a stack of old cardboard boxes labelled “wires??” in George’s handwriting.

I’ve discovered my cot sags in the middle. not dramatically, just enough to feel slightly tragic. I can’t decide whether to invest in a real bed now or wait until I have a flat of my own. I’ve saved over a hundred listings online, but I just can’t be bothered yet.

The room is not uncomfortable, just temporary. Everything about the space feels borrowed. Like I’m squatting in someone else’s life, waiting to see if I’ll be allowed to stay.

Instead of sorting out the mess of my personal life, I throw myself into work. Jira tickets and Slack threads are less complicated than the awkward limbo I’m in with George. And honestly, they feel like a better use of my energy than trying to figure out why I don’t quite feel like a real person yet.

The team at work are fine, in that aggressively polite British way where you can’t tell if they actually like you or if they’ve just been trained not to sue each other. I learned quickly who hoards the good coffee, who talks through every stand-up, and who has been very quietly dating the guy from DevOps for six months. The intern calls me “Miss Australia” like I’m some sun-kissed coding goddess. One of them asks how many snakes I’ve seen in my life. I say five. I make it sound casual even though it’s closer to zero.

In the evenings, I rewrite documentation just for the illusion of control. I start colour-coding my IDE themes. I spend an absurd amount of time making sure my folder structure is “aesthetically intuitive.” It’s easier to worry about whether my code is legible than to wonder whether George Clarke ever got over whatever it was that stopped him from liking me all those years ago.

Because sometimes I catch him looking at me like nothing’s changed. Like we’re still nineteen and in that stupid flat with the peeling wallpaper and the leaky bathroom and the futon we used to share when people stayed over. But then he blinks and it’s gone, and I’m left wondering if I imagined it.

Or if I just want to.

Life is just a bit weird right now. Not bad, exactly, just strange. It’s like that moment when you’re driving down the highway and suddenly realise: oh god, this is it. This is your actual life. Not a practice run or the bit before the plot kicks in, just the middle of the story, already happening. Emails and meal prep and laundry and pretending to understand council tax. Meanwhile, other people are out there getting engaged, starting companies, running countries. And I’m wondering if I can justify a full tank in a 2001 Toyota Corolla.

God, I miss that car. It wheezed like it had asthma and smelled like spilled iced coffee, but it was mine. Familiar. Predictable. I knew exactly how it handled on a sharp turn.

Here, nothing feels quite nailed down. Like I’m trying on someone else’s routine and hoping no one notices it doesn’t belong to me. I keep thinking real life is about to start any minute now, once I get settled or unpack or buy actual furniture. But this is it. The job, the cot, the too-quiet mornings and my severe lack of friends that I'm not harbouring a deranged crush from. I’m already waist-deep.

I just haven’t figured out how to feel real inside it yet.

xxx

One evening, I’m lying on my cot, doomscrolling through flat listings in Shoreditch. Spoiler: I can’t afford a single one. Cramped studio after overpriced shoebox blurs past my screen. Somewhere in the living room, the boys are talking. Chris’s voice bouncing off the walls, Arthur chuckling, George quieter as always.

I get up, thinking I should try to be social, or at least civil. They’re practically nocturnal, and I’ve barely exchanged full sentences with them. But just as my hand touches the doorknob, I hear my name.

“Y/N’s actually really pretty, isn’t she?” Chris says, like he’s surprised by his own observation.

There’s a pause. Its brief, but loaded. Then George: “Don’t.”

Just that. One syllable, sharp as glass. No laughter. No explanation.

I freeze. A chill curls up the back of my neck. Chris lets out an awkward laugh, mutters something I can’t quite make out, probably a joke, probably nothing. I slip my headphones back in like I didn’t hear a thing. But I did.

And now, I can’t stop replaying it.

The way Chris said it, So offhand, so casual, like he was commenting on the weather. The way George responded, fast and instinctive. One word. Don’t.

My stomach twists in that old, familiar way. What did I expect? A denial? A laugh? Maybe a 'Yeah, she is'? I’m not sure. But I know I wanted something different.

But I know George. He wasn’t being protective. He was being George. Keeping the peace. Not making things weird. He’s always been good at that—drawing clean lines in places where things get messy.

Still… he didn’t disagree.

I pull my blanket up to my chin, stare at the glow of my phone screen. I know better than to read too much into one word.

But I do anyway.

xxx

The party is a last-minute, thrown-together type of thing. George bursts into my room while I’m mid-doom scrolling.

“Come on,” he says, tossing my jacket onto my lap. “We’re touching grass.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s ten degrees and I’m in my trackies.”

“Perfect. You’ll fit right in.”

The flat belongs to someone George knows from work.

Ha, “knows from work.” He’s a YouTuber too. I think he has a podcast? Or owns a podcast studio? I’ve honestly given up keeping track of his friends. I have a 9–5. They have brand deals and discuss 'the algorithm'.  Whoever this guy is, he definitely doesn’t have enough cups.

There’s music blasting from a Bluetooth speaker taped to the wall, a weird smell I can’t place (incense? weed? vape juice?), and one of those cursed LED signs that says something like Live Laugh Lager or whatever. I already hate it here.

George disappears to stash his drinks, and I end up perched on a broken stool in the kitchen, clutching a lukewarm cider and wondering if I’m officially boring for not enjoying sticky countertops and people arguing over which club to go to after. I’m contemplating leaving when he walks in.

Will.

I know his name is Will because three people shout it at once “WILL!” like he’s just come back from war or prison or a particularly long bathroom break.

He’s tall, dressed like he didn’t try but still looks like he belongs on the event poster. Black hoodie, denim jacket, messy hair, sharp smile. There’s a confidence to him. No, not confidence. Ease. Like the room bends a little to make space for him.

I clock the accent immediately. Northern. Thick, unapologetic, and halfway through a passionate rant about oat milk being a scam. His voice slices through the noise, equal parts outrage and entertainment.

And then we make eye contact.

Just for a second. But it’s direct, disarming. He smiles. Keeps talking to James? Jacob? Whoever he is looks more arty than the rest. I wonder if he's friends with Arthur.

James-Jacob exits the conversation, and before I’ve even registered that Will is moving, he’s already walking over.

Straight to me.

And for the first time tonight, I forget how sticky the floor is.

“You’re staring,” he says, but there’s a grin behind it. Its teasing, not arrogant.

“You’re loud,” I shoot back, deadpan.

His smile sharpens. “Fair enough. Can’t argue with that.”

He steps closer, offering a quick, almost polite nod. “Hi. I’m Will.”

“Y/N.”

He tilts his head like he’s just solved a puzzle. “Of course you are.”

I blink. “What does that mean?”

He smirks. “Nothing. Just… George mentioned his uni mate was in town. Didn’t think he meant you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, eyes flicking over me with a grin that’s too knowing. “Dunno. Thought you’d be taller.”

I narrow my eyes. “And I thought people who rant about oat milk would be quieter.”

“Ouch,” he says, hand to heart. “We’re starting off strong, aren’t we?”

I don’t usually like cocky. I actively avoid it. But something about the way he grins, the way he doesn’t flinch when I bite back. It’s disarming. Confusing. He’s not my usual type, but there’s a weird… gravity to him. He makes the whole room feel like background noise.

George reappears, handing me a fresh cider. His eyes flick to Will, then back to me. It’s subtle, but there’s something in it, like he’s clocking the moment, not judging it.

Will picks up on it anyway. “Alright, mate.” His tone’s easy, casual, like they’ve done this a hundred times. I realise they probably have.

“I Didn’t know you were coming,” George says, leaning against the counter. "Good to see ya". He smiles.

“Yeah, wasn’t gonna,” Will says. “But I needed to touch some grass.”

“No way, that’s literally why Y/N's here.” George beams. “She’s been in the flat three weeks and already hates all of us.”

“I don’t hate you,” I say, taking a sip. “I just hate the constant yelling and your collective refusal to do dishes.”

Will laughs. “Sounds about right.”

Then he gestures to me. “She’s not your girlfriend, right? I feel like I would've heard.”

George snorts. “Not even slightly.”

“Cool,” Will says, shooting me a grin. “Would’ve been awkward if I kept talking.”

George raises a brow, still smiling. “When has that ever stopped you?”

Will shrugs, grinning wider. “Fair point.”

It feels a bit strange to be talked about like this, but I choose to ignore it.

George peels off a moment later, off to talk to someone across the kitchen, and I’m left wondering if that was nothing… or something. The exchange felt normal. Friendly. But the timing, plus Will’s question and George’s glance. It all lingers in the air between us.

“Oi, you’re double-fisting now,” Will said, grinning.

I choked on my drink. “What??”

“You’ve got two ciders in your hands.”

“Oh my god,” I laughed. “We say ‘double parked’ back home.”

Will shook his head, smirking. “That’s mental. Double-fisting is proper classic though. Means you’re serious about the party.”

George, overhearing from across the kitchen, called out, “Aye, Y/N's catching up already. Might be our most committed guest yet.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, taking a solid gulp from the half-empty cider.

Will raised his glass. “To double-fisting and proper nights out.”

I raised mine back, feeling the weird pull of fitting into this wild scene, still half confused, half curious.

I end up spending most of the night talking to Chris. He’s hanging out with Arthur, who’s, well… Arthur is smart, that much is obvious, but he's also three beers past the point of functional. He’s swaying slightly, his words getting a little slurred, but he’s still genuinely interested in my work. He asks me questions about programming, about how I got into it, and what languages I like. At one point, he confesses that he dabbled in it back in high school, which surprises me. I didn’t expect someone like him to have any kind of coding knowledge.

But here he is, drunkenly discussing arrays and variable types like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s endearing in a weird way. We keep talking shop, while the others drift in and out of the conversation like a blurry haze. I’m introduced to them all, but honestly, I lose track after the third guy who’s wearing a hoodie with an logo.

The host of the party stops by for a second, patting me on the back like we’re old friends. “You remind me of George,” he says with a wink, and I can't quite tell if he’s joking or serious. I nod, unsure how to take it, but I choose to take it as a compliment. No matter how weird, George is funny and good-looking.

The whole night, Will keeps hovering. Not in a weird way, just… present, popping in and out of the groups Chris and I keep forming. Will is the kind of person who fills up the space without even trying. He keeps throwing out jokes, arguments, ridiculous hot takes about tube lines and the food in London, and at one point, he tries to convince me to watch a Formula One race, despite the fact that I’ve already told him I’m allergic to high-speed sports.

Every time I think he’s about to move on, he swings right back into my orbit with something new, whether it’s an outrageous opinion on pineapple on pizza (pineapple can go on pizza, it goes on burgers back home) or an unsolicited, yet somehow fascinating, debate on why Spotify’s algorithm is “fundamentally flawed.”

And every time, I can’t help but bite back, giving as good as I get. I find myself engaging more than I expected, throwing in my own offbeat commentary, even laughing at things I’d normally find irritating. With him, it’s different. He’s relentless in the most entertaining way.

Meanwhile, George stays on the outskirts of the party, drifting around the edges of the room like he’s trying to blend in without fully participating. It’s familiar in a way that almost comforts me. He’s always nearby, but he's having his own fun, and I guess letting me touch my own grass. I try not to notice the way his eyes keep flicking over to Will every time he laughs, or the way his gaze seems to linger when I laugh with Will.

It’s subtle. Maybe it’s nothing. But I can’t shake the feeling it’s something more.

Eventually, I make my way to the door, my head spinning a little from the mix of cider and strange conversations. I catch George in the hallway, already on his phone, pretending to be ordering an Uber, which is the universal sign that it’s time to go. But just before I walk out, I hear Will's voice behind me.

“Oi,” he calls, his tone light but with that edge that makes my stomach do a little flip. “You’re alright, you know.” He pauses for a beat, considering his next words. “For someone who calls it double parked.”

My brow lifts. “Wow. That’s going straight in my LinkedIn recommendations.”

He laughs. He genuinely laughs like a muppet. Instead of his jaw dropping, his head flings backwards dramatically. I’m not sure why, but hearing him laugh like that feels like an invitation to something.

Something dangerous or something fun I can't tell, but either way, it pulls me in.

Without missing a beat, Will pulls out his phone, flicking through it like he’s already got a plan. There’s a beat where I stand there, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t say anything, he just opens the Instagram search page. His fingers hover over the screen before gliding across. He looks up at me. There’s a challenge in his eyes, something playful but still sharp, like he’s testing me without saying it out loud.

I hesitate for just a second. Then, on instinct, I fill in my details. "Y/F/N.HTML?" he says, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What's that about, then?"

I shrug, trying to play it off. "Oh, I’m a programmer."

Will's grin widens, and I can see him processing that for a moment, letting it sink in. "fuckin' nerd." It’s not unkind. More like a compliment wrapped in sarcasm.

I roll my eyes. "Tell me something I don’t know."

Will gives me a thumbs-up and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, taps ‘follow.’ “I’ll see you around, Y/N."

I try to think of something to quip back, but he's already returned to the party.

As I step outside into the cold night air, the sound of George's voice calling out after me reaches my ears. "You good to go?"

I nod, but my mind is somewhere else entirely. Will seems arrogant and cocky, but his sweet moments are laced in. I can’t decide if I like it or if I should be annoyed.

I try not to let the thought linger too long, but somewhere in the back of my mind, Will’s grin lingers, and I can’t quite shake it off.

Somewhere about three blocks from the flat, I get a DM from Will.

I snort, despite myself, glancing over at George. He’s staring out the window, arms folded, looking like he’s thinking too hard about something. I don’t show him the phone, but I can’t resist. “Will says drop the big brother act.”

George glances at me, a little surprised, then smirks. “Right. Got it. I’ll stop looking out for you... and start letting you make terrible life decisions on your own.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Sounds about right.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. Maybe I’ve been a bit much.” He grins sheepishly. “But you know, I’ve got to make sure no one’s corrupting you. That’s a full-time job.”

I laugh, but there’s a shift in the air. His eyes flick to me, and for a moment, it feels like there’s more behind his smile. Like maybe he's not sure how to let go of the old ways.

Something’s changing, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. But I can’t look away.

[destinyc1020]

I'm loving this discussion of Tom and Tim . Destiny how for certain you are. Tom and Timothee are really close friends that have never been seen out by no one before excluding that phone call on a radio program! Would you agree that's a little strange no one has seen or witness them hanging together ?

I never said that Tom and Timmy were "really close friends" Anon. I've always said that they're industry friends/buddies who like each other and respect each other's work. That's it!

They've never even worked with each other on a filming project before, so right now Timmy is probably a little closer to those he's actually worked with in the industry, wouldn't you say?

With that said, I definitely DON'T think that they hate each other, like fans in these silly stupid fandom wars try to claim. 🙄😒

And the fact that he's worked with Zendaya twice is pretty much evidence that Tom has become very familiar with Timmy just by extension since we all know Z has talked to Timmy about Tom.

The very fact that Tom even has Timmy's number and Timmy has Tom's number in the first place when they've NEVER even worked together before is a HUGE sign (imo) that they're cool with each other and are friends on some level!

Alright fine.... y'all want me to bring out receipts? Cuz y'all know I'll bring out receipts! 😅

Receipts:

Tom even called Timmy "doubly handsome" rofl 🤣 😆

Tom even talks about this funny moment years ago when this girl thought his brother Sam was Timothée Chalamet haha 😄

Tom even claims that Timmy is "too handsome" to be confused with him.... and honestly, Tom is just being very HUMBLE by saying this, coz Tom is handsome also! 😍 But as you can see, Tom is perfectly fine with Timmy and his handsome looks lol.🤭

Timmy has called Tom an "awesome dude" and "the best Spiderman".😊 (FF to min 1:20 and 1:42 in the link) So obviously he knows Tom well enough to feel this way about him. 😃👍🏾

I'm telling y'all.... these fandom wars are so STUPID. 🙄😒 These actors don't hate each other! It's silly fans pitting them against each other for dumb reasons. 😤

It's obvious Tom and Timmy have NOTHING against each other.

Anyway....We actually DO know that Tom and Timmy have met each other before irl because Timmy says so in the last link above at min 4:00. So you all have to realize that just because there aren't pictures, it doesn't mean they haven't met before. 🤷🏾‍♀️ You have to keep in mind too that Tom lives primarily in London, and until recently, Timmy was living in NYC. So while they've met before, it's probably hard to sync schedules to "hang out". They're busy actors.

But even if they HAD never met before, there are these things now days called cell phones you know... and it's so revolutionary, but you can actually see someone on a screen by using this thing called FaceTime, and you can talk to that person as if they're actually there! Right there in real time! 😃 Isn't that crazy?? 😄

And lastly, I choose to believe what ppl say out of their own MOUTHS. And Tom has hinted several times before that he and Timmy are friends. I'm not gonna argue with what the man has said out of his own mouth Anon. 🙄 Y'all should know me by now when it comes to stuff like that.

But if you think you know better than Tom himself on what his relationship with Timmy is, then go right ahead. 😒🤷🏾‍♀️ Believe whatever you want. That's what most ppl tend to do these days anyway, instead of looking at real FACTS and evidence. 🙄

[freepassbound]

50,51,54,59

50: What do you expect from a friend or partner?

My first reaction is that there are some very different aspects to those two things - though also, since I would want a partner to be a friend (indeed, a best friend), there is some overlap as well.

My second reaction is that 'expect' is a bit of a loaded word? What can any of us expect from one another? Everyone will be in different places and be able to give different things and different levels at different times.

So what can anyone expect?

Kindness, and love, however they can offer it in that moment.

51: What question could you ask to find out the most about a person?

Anon, I'm afraid you've come barking up the wrong tree for a useful answer to this question. 😅

I'm on the spectrum with significant social anxiety - I can barely ask people for directions to the men's room!

However, I will share an anecdote, and then have a go myself:

The first (and thus far only) lady I dated asked, as her first question on the dating site, what my biggest kink was. Which (given that I somehow actually managed to answer, and answer honestly) was certainly very informative - and revealing - about me! 😅

In the event that I were going to ask (and able to ask) someone a single question to find out the most about them...

I think I would I would ask what they thought the best and worst class they'd ever taken was, and why. I don't know that an answer would tell me the most about them... but I think it would tell me some things that would be very illuminating about them.

54: Can humans really understand the complete nature of the universe, space and time?

I can only concur with J.B.S. Haldane:

"My own suspicion is that the universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose."

But what a great joy it is in trying to understand!

59: What do you think the next era of music will be like?

Well, I don't know that I'm the best person to answer this question, given that I know as much about trends in modern music as I do about the cyclical valuation of the Algerian dinar (which is to say: absolutely bupkis). 😂

But... from what knowledge I have acquired, it seems there are two basic possibilities - one pessimistic, one optimistic (though in fact they may not be mutually exclusive).

The pessimistic outlook is that popular music will essentially come under the control of algorithmic generation (currently more commonly known as "AI"). Beats and hooks and everything else will be thoroughly analyzed for their ability to draw and hold a listener's attention, and computer programs will generate 'music' designed to maximize listenership - probably for 15-30 second chunks (all the better to sync with viral social media videos). Songs themselves will continue to get shorter in length (something that's already been happening) as a result.

Some artists will fight against this trend - a few, already too big to fail, will succeed; most will experience brief success by putting out unique, personal music - but, with streaming not providing sufficient royalties to live on while also creating a fanbase too diffuse to make touring feasible, won't be able to maintain it.

(Like I said, it's a pessimistic outlook)

The optimistic outlook is the idea that the diversification of popular music - already ongoing with genres like reggaeton and Afrobeats - will continue and expand, and the fusion of genres will create entirely new types of music, adding incredibly to the richness of music globally.

[n7punk]

(I failed my "stay off tumblr" thing btw) okay my actual preliminary thoughts on Ellipsus is that I really like it in concept. It follows through on some Scrivener promises to me when it comes to editing (I know revision mode exists, it's just bulky to me) and it is literally one of four text editors I've found that lets me get as specific with the line spacing as my brain requires (1.08 line spacing with 8 points after paragraph and none before), but it doesn't have Calibri, which is a dealbreaker to me as far as main use, which is a real shame because like I said, I love this drafting feature they have going on. However, I'm going to try to use it to replace Google Docs as my late-night/on-the-go story notes/outlines that come to me, which I then copy to my word doc to use myself, and we'll see how that goes. The syncing also seems a little wonky when I had it open on both my phone and browser, which makes me think collaboration wouldn't be seamless but I don't really do that anyway.

Obviously this project is new and still in development. This is what I would actually love to see from them to make it more of a mainstay for me (with the right growth I could see this replacing Word for me):

Font expansion (I'm sure right now they're limited by what's free/cheap, but if they added the ability to add in your own font that would help. I just really need Calibri man. Right now I'm using Open Sans because I think it's the most readable of their options).

Custom dictionary option - you add a word to your personal dictionary and it not only never flags it in any future work, it might even suggest it in spellcheck when you type very close to it. Word's ability to have multiple custom dictionaries you toggle on and off is great as a writer - I can easily have the SPOP dictionary on for all my fics, turn that off in case I type "Adora" in place of "adore" in my novels, and then turn on my novel dictionary for them. I'm not even asking for individual toggling, just a custom dictionary you can view and edit that persists between docs. I honestly don't even toggle them off and on that much.

Word's spellcheck feature has me in a stranglehold overall. It's very good, very intuitive, and corrects my most common mistakes. Here's the spellcheck features I find lacking everywhere else except maybe Google Docs: 1) making more corrections automatically in general rather than just highlighting them, 2) when the program makes a correction, hitting backspace before hitting any other key immediately undoes the correction without actually deleting anything (sincerely fucking stupid Scrivener doesn't to this) - actually can I rag on Scrivener for a second, it autocorrect is so sincerely fucking stupid it might be more useful to not be included at all, when I paste the word into duckduckgo I get better corrections, what the hell - 3) when I capitalize the first two letters of a word rather than one, correct it so just the first letter is capitalized, 4) automatic emdash maybe by a single " - " with a space and word after it, NOT by typing two dashes instantly. I understand this is a different convention but I need to put two dashes next to each over - separately - for things! This feature makes it literally impossible on 90% of word editors, I had to get deep in Scivener's settings to make it happen. I'm sure there's more but that's what's coming to me right now

Also I still can't figure out how font size works. It seems when you adjust font size for even One Word it changes the font size of every word to match. Maybe it's just all the words classified as "body" text change and headers and such would be left alone? But it's absolutely baffling to me, I've never seen anything like this.

A desktop app even if it results in no collaboration functionality please I'm begging. Do the Scrivener thing and charge like $40 "for the version" (and its bugfixes) and when you add a new feature require a license/upgrade fee so you can reasonably maintain your business model while being consumer friendly.

I envision the desktop version of the app being its own branch you can manually push to the online version as a draft before comitting to a merge so you can then show it to collaborators or work on it on another platform, but changes on the web won't appear in the desktop version unless you pull them. We're already halfway to GitHub let's commit LOL

Things already there that I do really like:

The drafts and merging, obviously

The different color pallets

The line spacing options

Overall layout, though I wish the outline was on the same sidebar as the drafts, not with the formatting options, since I'm going to want to have both open most of the time (oops a critique I'll pull back)

The easy-access timer

The focus mode

The interface and how smooth it is to move between drafts

Unlike Scrivener, extremely approachable even if it loses a lot of functionality and customization in doing so (sidenote: I love Scrivener but still don't write in it because I fucking hate how its spellcheck/autocorrect/spacing works and don't get me started on how they can't figure out the dark mode)

The homepage shortcut works flawlessly even in place of an app - this has not been true for other Google Docs alts I've used and has been the dealbreaker keeping me in the ecosystem for notes

Native word count right there. We'll see if it stops working after a few thousand like Google's does lol

My thoughts on Ellipsus so far is it's like if one of the freaks (affectionate) who writes their fiction in fucking github (yes this exists) was like "what if this, but actually made for it (aka capable of formatting)"

[oriigirii]

Streamer MC headcannons with the brothers 💞

"You were quite a known face on social media back in the human realm, playing games, doing unboxings, just vibin in general, fans around the globe looked forward to your streams a lot! However, considering the sudden (unannounced) invitation to the exchange program, you had to leave all of that behind out of the blue. It wasn't as bad at first, but you have to admit you do miss the feeling of being able to do goofy shit online. Luckily for you, with the advance technology of Devildom and some spicy magic, the internet had synced with the human realm, and thats when you decided to finally re-enter the streaming scene. How will the brothers react upon seeing your peculiar past time?"

Head empty, No thoughts aside from the brothers just bothering the MC while they stream so here you go haha

Warnings: None, just crackhead energy and a lotta mispellings

Gender: Neutral!

Hotel: Trivago

* [ ಠ╭╮ಠ ] Lucifer *

{How did he know about your career?}

I honestly don't see him as someone who goes on the internet a lot

(He screams boomer to me, change my mind)

He doesn't have the time either, he's too focused on work!

So him finding out is gonna take a while

But! He did find out the hard way when shrilled screaming was heard from your room when he was passing by with some paper stacks in his arms (courtesy of Diavolo)

This man felt his instincts kick in, he ran as fast as he could, papers forgotten, and he immediately slammed your door open. Splinters scattering around, your door definitely damaged, as his eyes held a glare and his demon form was out, wings spread in a threatening display.

He was ready to beat someone's ass as he had thought someone had hurt you in here.

But all hes met with is you, infront of your chair and PC, and a game over on the screen...

To say he was unamused was an understatement cause you just lost your internet priviliges for giving him a heart attack (He said it was because you were being rowdy and noisy but with what you saw you knew that wasn't the case)

Good luck tryna puppy-eye your way to his heart to let you continue streaming lol.

If by some miracle you managed to wriggle your rights back from his hands, he'd warn you not to be so loud next time.

You already learnt your lesson though~ (Hopefully)

{How does he feel about your streams?}

Not everyone's the same, so if you were the shy soft streamer who does more art streams or something akin to a podcast, you can bet that Lucifer will be putting you on while he works, he kinda knows your streaming schedule at this point and if you were running late, he'd force one of his brothers to take over your dish washing duties or any chores you were stuck with

If you were the loud obnoxious meme type, hed still try to watch out of curiosity, and as much as he appreciates that you were getting comfortable here in Devildom with how you laugh and joke around, he still can't approve of it. Its too loud, its much like his brothers energy and he has enough of that already, so he probably doesn't watch as much.

He has countlessly came to your room to shush you and at this point your fans had made a compilation of each time Lucifer had barged in to tell you off

Look he likes it when you scream, but not when hes in the middle of work okay--

At this point, chat has deemed Lucifer as dad and you as their mom/dad.

If he ever catches wind of this he'd definitely be teasing you in private for centuries to come.

Overall fine with it, as long as don't do something stupid on stream.

* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ Mammon*

{How did he know about your career?}

I would say he found out by him crashing into your streams midway but that's too predictable, hence why you've Mammon-proofed your bedroom during streaming hours!

Thanks to our wizard daddy, you have managed to cast a simple lock spell on your door and as well as a sound proofing

You love your broke idiot, but you did wanna keep the tone of your stream today a bit more chill, you wanted to have a proper Q&A with your fans to hopefully clear any bad vibes around your 3 month disappearance.

When Mammon has learnt your door was locked he definitely was a bit pissy, he knocked on your door loudly even and was calling out for you to let him in, but to no avail.

Bro he's scared.

He usually was allowed to enter, and you usually answered if you did need to be left alone for a bit, so just leaving him hanging got his mind racing and he had to press up his ear on the wooden door to try and hear if you were okay

When this continues on he finally resorts to getting help, but the only one in the house ws Levi, so he kicks down HIS door.

Levi boutta summon Lotan for interrupting him honestly

But as Mammon exclaim you weren't answering and he worried for your wellbeing, Levi rolls his eyes and scoffs,

"Idiot Mammon, they're streaming don't bother them…"

Streaming? why didn't you tell him???

Rude much.

He did huff and now was forcing his way to use Levi's PC for a moment

Can Levi stop him?

Nah.

He was busy on his console, and if he stood up now hed be breaking his world record so he was at a terrible state so he just resorts to threats of him drowning the Avatar of Greed if he does anything stupid on his PC.

He immediately logs in to your streaming platform and he watches for a bit,

You were more dolled up now just to look decent on stream, and he felt this jealousy rise as you interact with your chat, especially to those saying I love you's and stuff, and you even said it back? the audacity! You were his werent you? Were you replacing him with these nobodies?

He huffs as he realized that those who paid got their message highlighted, and thus, he starts donating. (Mind you this was Levi's account...)

"Mcccccc Open the dooorrr"

"Ill behave i promiseeeee"

"Cmon pleaseeee?"

Chat is c o n f u s i o n

NGL, they thought Mammon was a creepy stalker and red flags were being waved everywhere

but as chat was pondering who the hell he was, you can only sigh and look at the camera with that unamused expression, but ugh! you just KNOW hes doing that kicked puppy expression of his, and maybe it really wont be so bad

So you snap your fingers and say, "Okay MonMon, its open, Im giving you 3 seconds"

Mammon wasnt deemed to be the fastest out of his brothers for nothing

As soon as you got to '2', you were already tackled by the white haired male and chat went wild.

Now that you've shown your life in Devildom, maybe its time to introduce chat to your boyfriend no?

{How does he feel about your streams?}

You get paid to sit infront of a camera, do I have to say anything else?

But really though, as much as he enjoys the thought of getting so much cash from something so simple, he prefers the joy of being able to proudly exclaim that he was your first man!

ohhhh he thrives on the salt of your overly attached stans

but for those who fully support you, he always feels so mushy and shy when they say the ship you guys so hard

The fanarts has him WEAK (he may or may not have saved a few)

You usually do streams alone, but now you've allowed the door to be left open to let Mammon join whenever

Chat pogs when he enters with so much confidence, only for it to crumble when you kiss his cheek on stream.

Overall finds it fun to spend time with you, but just dont play scary games cause Lucifer might hang him upside down on stream.

* ▘▂▝ Leviathan*

{How did he know about your career?}

He is honestly the most attached to his D.D.D and he catches wind of almost anything going down in the internet, so your 'revival' being hyped up was something he definitely saw and he was just s wo o o ned

His Henry 2.0? a famous streamer?

Were you truly a blessing gifted upon him or was he dreaming?

He definitely didn't bring it up at first as he didn't wanna make it a big deal, but you notice hes been more in his head lately, and you have tried asking him what it was but to no avail.

You have to corner this little snake if you want answers and he eventually admits that he knew of your persona online and was incredibly shy to ask you to stream with him

He's a streamer himself afterall but maybe he doesnt stream as much as you do nor does he have as large of a following, so his intrusive thoughts attacked him and made him think that maybe since he wasnt as famous he didnt deserve to be in the same stream as you

Please tell him to join you and gib him kiss U3U

He'll absolutely m e l t

But now, as you make the announcement to your viewers and Levi to his, the internet explodes as a special collab stream was hapening between the expert gamer and avatar of envy of Devildom along with the beloved exchange student and streamer of the human realm

Your usual viewers reach between 10-15k, but as you start stream, that number boosts higher and beyond

Before streaming though, Levi was incredibly nervous, he'd picked the games for you to play that he knew you would enjoy with him, but his mind kept racing about whatthe fans thought, he didnt wanna disappoint them

But you had to remind him that whatever they say will not matter in the end as this was merely for fun, this was YOUR stream and you guys were gonna do what you want and nobody can have a say on it. (Maybe except Lucifer)

You usually talk for him with your bubbly personality, and to calm his nerves, he hs your pinky wraped around his where the camera can't see it.

Regardless, his thoughts subsided as you two delve into your stream that lasted a solid 7 hours, you definitely promised your chat that you and Levi will be doing more streams together from now on.

Once the cameras cut and yall are left alone, Both of you collapse on bed, and despite you being asleep already, Levi was just far too giddy as everything dwells on him.

Having a player 2 by his side now had never felt so intoxicating and he as just so lucky to have you.

{How does he feel about your streams?}

He obviously adores it, although some streams he wouldnt join just so he can play games on his own

He's still an introvert afterall, he needs his alone time

But he prefers that alone time with you, his Henry.

So when youre about to go stream, he kinda becomes a bit pouty, but with a simple promise of kisses (and maybe even more if youd like) he would let you go, but his attention would disappear from his game altogether.

He might just end up watching you instead

May or may not, at some point, just chat you and ask if its too late to join you

You do allow him to join you and play from the comforts of his room as both of you can simply play via internet, you give him the comfort to not turn on his mic or webcam either and you have no idea how he appreciates that.

Will definitely fight someone online when they start claiming you as theirs (-cough- stans) Please make sure it doesnt escalate to him summoning Lotan

Although the comments would often get to him, and as much as he can fight them online, he still does find himself pondering if they were true, so you need to give him a lotta lovin and reminder that he is your player 1 and no one else can ever fill that place.

------

Wow 3 brothers this time, what an improvement, anyways hope yall enjoy! I think its pretty clear who I simp for depending o nthe length of each lol, but do let me know if you guys want a part 2 for the rest of the brothers, or even the undateables!

[sunnyrinusstudies]

Going FOSS: An Intro to Open-Source software for studyblr (and also some privacy related bits)

Source for Header Image

Intro & attempt at TLDR

Hey everyone! Today I’d like to tell y’all something about Open Source Software, and also Why this should matter to you! This’ll probably be the first post of a series I intend to do, because I believe the Studyblr community, even the non-nerd folks, could really benefit from switching some things out in their digital environment. Since this is a long post, I attempted to summarise it below, please do read on if you have the spoons tho!

TLDR?

FOSS stands for “Free and Open Source Software” the “free” part doesn’t necessarily mean it’s free as in free pizza, but mostly means free as in freedom.

There’s a humongous amount of variants on this concept, but the core of FOSS specifically is the four freedoms:

1. To run the program however you want and for whatever you want

2. To study how the program works and to change it in whatever way you want

3. To be able to share it with whomever you feel like

4. To be able to share your modified version with whomever you want

There’s a whole host of software licenses built around these concepts, you can check those out at the Open Source Initiative website, or at Choose A License. Both have a good summary of what they all stand for.

Open Source software is used for a lot of products, nearly every single webserver is an Apache Linux server, Google chrome is built on top of their open source chromium (google is still the devil, but y’know, it’s an example), and even deep deep down, Apple computers run on top of a Linux Kernel. Many more can be listed, but I won’t do that otherwise this isn’t a TLDR anymore.

Now, Why is this important for you? The Open Source Initiative summed it up real nicely already, but heres a short paraphrase:

Control & Security. If software is open source then you can check if it really works the way it does, and to make sure it’s not spying on you. Even if you don’t have the skills for it, someone else who does will be able to check. Also if you don’t like how something works in a program, then you’ll be able to change it or find someone else’s changed version that you like more.

Training. People who want to learn programming can use the code to see what makes programs tick, as well as use it as a guide for their own projects.

Stability. Because everything’s out in the open, that means someone else can take up maintaining a project or make a successor of it, in case the original developers suddenly quit working on it. This is especially important when it’s software that’s absolutely critical for certain tasks.

Community. It’s not just one program. It’s a lot of people working together to make, test, use, and promote a project they really love. Lots of projects end up with a dedicated fanbase that helps support the developers in continuing to work on the software.

I’d like to add one more tho: Privacy, which ties in a lot with the security part. Nowadays with protests going on and everything being online due to the pandemic, folks have been and will be confronted much more with the impact of privacy, and lack thereof. Open Source software means that if any company or group tries to spy on you, then you and anyone who feels like checking, will be able to know and take action on it. Here’s the EFF page on privacy and why it should matter to you

If that got your attention then read on past the readmore button! Or, if nothing else maybe check out the Free and Open Source Software portal on Wikipedia? Or maybe the resources page of the Open Source Initiative?

Terminology: Let’s get that out of the way first

Open Source: The source code that a program is made up of is freely accessible, anyone can look at it and check whether it works well enough or to make sure it doesn’t spy on you.

FOSS: Free and Open Source Software. This doesn’t mean that you don’t need to pay for it, it’s free as in freedom and free speech, not free pizza.

There are four freedoms associated with FOSS:

The freedom to run the program as you wish, for any purpose (freedom 0).

The freedom to study how the program works, and change it so it does your computing as you wish (freedom 1). Access to the source code is a precondition for this.

The freedom to redistribute copies so you can help others (freedom 2).

The freedom to distribute copies of your modified versions to others (freedom 3).

By doing this you can give the whole community a chance to benefit from your changes. Access to the source code is a precondition for this.

FLOSS: Free and Libre Open Source Software. This time it is “free” as in free pizza. The “libre” is french for “free” as in freedom.

GRATIS: Sometimes people use this word to mean “free” as in free pizza. Usually alongside “FOSS”

Licenses : A license is something that tells others what they can or cannot do with your code. Licenses also apply to art and literature, those are copyright licenses. There are many different software licenses and I’m not going to be able to list them all.

The biggest players however are:

Apache License 2.0

The 3-Clause BSD License

GNU General Public License (also known as GPL)

MIT License

Mozilla Public License 2.0

There’s even more and you can find a list of them Here on the Open Source Initiative site There’s so many licenses that there’s even a Choose A License site, where you can pick a license depending on what you want it to achieve

Who and/or what even uses open source software?

You don’t need to be some nerd to benefit from Open Source software, in fact, you’re using open source software right now! The biggest example is the whole entire internet. Websites are stored on servers, and nearly every single webserver is a Linux server. The second biggest browser Firefox is open source, and even google chrome is built on top of “chromium” an open source base. If you dont use an iPhone, then you’re probably on an Android phone. Guess what? Android is part of the Android Open Source Project, which is then built upon a GNU/Linux base. All Open Source. Chromebooks? Built on top of a Linux kernel (like a non-patented engine you could put into any motor vehicle you’d like). Heck, even Apple computers are, at their core, built on top of a Linux kernel.

Neat apps you may wanna check out!

I’ve made a little list of apps that might be especially useful for studyblr folks, but depending on how well this post does I’ll probably make some more posts for specific apps.

TiddlyWiki, has a bajillion different ways to organise your thoughts, and also a lot of variant builds out there. Check out their table of contents if you feel lost! There’s versions available for most big browsers, as well as windows, linux, mac, android, and iOS.

AnyType, is an app that looks and almost exactly like notion, but is much more decentralised. They’re currently still in development but if you want to support them, sign up for early access and give them some feedback so they know what works and doesn’t! They’re still in closed alpha, but are intending to give beta access to about 100 folks at a time throughout 2021, so please sign up if this looks interesting to you!

Trilium Notes, is slightly more like a “notebook”, however you can arrange your notes in nearly infinitely deep folders. You can use things like Relation Maps & Link Maps to visualise your notes and how they go together. There’s even more they do and I just cant list it all, so go check out their stuff for a more comprehensive overview! Works on windows, linux, and (unsupported) mac

LibreOffice and ONLYOFFICE are two office suites that function just as well as micro$oft office, often Even Better in my experience. I’ve used LibreOffice for years now and honestly? never going back. OnlyOffice is technically free (as in pizza), but it’s a slight hassle to get everything set up, cause you need to set it up on a server. They have a paid and hosted version available with educational discounts, but honestly i’d go with LibreOffice.

OnePile, is an app I haven’t used myself since it only runs on Apple stuff. But I’ve heard a lot of good things about it so that’s why it’s in here. It looks like it works similar to most general “note taking notebook” apps. Looks really pretty too honestly.

EtherPad, is similar to ONLYOFFICE, however this one’s a lot more focused on specifically text documents. Works with real-time collaboration which is really neat.

Anything that FramaSoft has going on. They’re a non-profit organisation, dedicated to promoting digital freedom. A lot of open source cloud related things are not really useful to people who don’t have the time and/or money to set up a whole-ass server. That’s where FramaSoft comes in, they do it for you. Just about everything they offer (here’s a full overview) are free (as in free pizza). They also have a separate site to help you get started!

It’s not free to run it all on their side, so if you find yourself interested in using their services please try to support them any way you monetarily can! (they even have a “minetest” server (not minecraft, deeeefinitely not minecraft))

Joplin!! Which is also what I used to write this post so I wouldn’t have to use The Tumble’s post writing thing. It’s good for taking notes, has a bunch of neat plug-ins, and can also sync with a variety of cloud services!

Nextcloud For if you want to go just that little bit further on the open source and the privacy. Nextcloud has honestly way too many features for me to list, but the important parts are that it’s a nigh perfect replacement for office365, and probably even GSuite. The one caveat is that you either gotta host it yourself, or get someone else to host it for you. Framasoft (mentioned above), has a nextcloud instance. It works on just about every single platform, and can integrate with an absurd amount of services. Here’s a list of providers that work with nextcloud, and what different apps they have installed on their server.

I personally use Disroot, because they’re a local (as in, my country) non-profit that offer about 2gb of free storage, and then for about 15 cents per GB per month you can get more storage if you want. They also have an email service which is hella neat. Their one main rule is Do Not Use For Business Purposes, because they’re here to help the individual folks, not companies.

Neat Links you may also want to look at!

Here are some sources, and also resources that I used for this post. There’s also some stuff here that I think folks may be interested in in general.

General Wikipedia Article on Open Source Software

The Free and Open Source Software portal on Wikipedia

Resources page of the Open Source Initiative

Free Software Foundation definition of “free software”

itsfoss page on what FOSS means

itsfoss page on the history of FOSS

Open Source Software Foundation list of projects and apps they really like

Open Source Initiative on “the open source way”, and how it goes beyond software

Check out literally anything the Electronic Frontier Foundation has going on maybe?

TED talk on privacy and why it’s important

The Surveillance Self Defense project by the EFF

This EFF page on privacy for students

ExpressVPN article on privacy (not necessarily endorsing this company, just a good article)

What’s next?

I’ll probably make some more posts on specific kinds of software that I think folks may like. Or maybe a general overview on the more privacy forcused reasons and solutions for doing all of this.

Future post ideas, none of these are set in stone:

Open source Note taking apps

Replacements for just about Every Single google service I can think of

My personal setup

Open source / privacy conscious social media that studyblr folks may be into

Chatting, Calling, Videocalling: Discord and whatsapp alternatives etc

??? More studyblr apps that could do with a FOSS alternative??

How to support open source when you’re not a big fudgin nerd

How to be better at digital privacy and security, while still maintaining that studyblr aesthetic

Apps, software, other stuff, for specific areas of study maybe?

Feel free to suggest other ideas! Or leave feedback! This is my first big resource post so I wanna know if/how I can do better when I make another one!

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[transfemrecusant]

wow tysm for the tag!! ive never done anything like this :3

1. Are you named after anyone?

not after anyone in particular, though i do have a funny story about my first name :3 my parents had brought it down to two names depending on if i was going to be AMAB or AFAB, but on a whim just decided on going with the more feminine one. ive always joked that that's the reason im trans hehe

2. When was the last time you cried?

my gf and i have been playing elden ring together, and we did something in sync and i thought it was cute. i... cry a lot.

3. Do you have kids?

no, and never will this bloodline ends with me baybee

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

honestly, not really. might just be the autism, but i tend to accidentally be wayyy too blunt and literal.

5. What sports do you play/have played?

i've never been very into sports, unless you count marching band :/

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

hair! im bad at eye contact and looking at faces so hair is the most memorable thing for me

7. What’s your eye color?

greenish brown :3

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

i love love love horror movies they're definitely my favorite kind of movie

9. Any special talents?

honestly- none in particular. im a big jack of all trades kind of person and hop projects a lot :) as of late ive been writing/programming a text based game

10. Where where you born?

united states

11. What are your hobbies?

as previously mentioned, i tend to project hop a ton. i love writing and drawing though, even though im not particularly good at either. i just do whatever sounds fun :3

12. Do you have any pets?

i have two cats!!! the one that's really mine though is salem, a stray that just got absolutely fixated on me and refuses to leave my side

13. How tall are you?

5'9 :3

14. Favorite subject in school?

ive always had a love for english and language arts. :3 i took a philosophy class once in my senior year and the teacher was probably my favorite i've ever had. it was fun having a class where the teacher and i could just talk back and forth and i'd get a high grade for that

15. Dream job?

im studying sales right now and looking to get into digital security in the long term, but really? being able to subsist myself off of my creative work is the ultimate dream.

going to tag people to keep it going, but no pressure in the slightest if you don't want to i know this isn't everyones thing :3

@willowillowillowillow @bluelightning42 @hubear @transdicegoblin @blackheartriven

15 questions, 15 mutuals

tagged by @hxilstorm my love :)))

1. are you named after anyone? No, fun fact my parents still hadn't chosen a name for me when we left the hospital! They chose my name pretty randomly from a baby book I think. My middle name's from some great aunt on my mum's side but I never knew her

2. when was the last time you cried? umm two weeks ago when i realised I was gonna have to submit my final essay a day late

3. do you have kids? um NO at this age??? Maybe down the track but yk, depends on the partner/circumstances/general state of the world I guess

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? yeah I probably do, I don't really notice though

5. what sports do you play/have you played? I've been playing soccer nearly 10 years now and it's one of my favourite things, I also did gymnastics, AFL and swimming when I was a kid.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? their voice and the way they talk

7. what’s your eye colour? blue baby

8. scary movies or happy endings? I don't dislike scary movies it's just that I don't really get it? so I guess I'll say happy endings

9. any special talents? define special- I can juggle, I'm ok at devils sticks. OH and I'm pretty good at using and fixing printers!!

10. where were you born? a while outside Melbourne, abt half an hour from where I live now

11. what are your hobbies? I play the piano! I also like to embroider, make friendship bracelets, and I'm learning to sew

12. do you have pets? yes yes yes! I have 2 dogs, a cat and 2 horses. I'm so excited atm bc this holidays we're hopefully going to start building a chicken shed and I can finally have chickens again after 5 years!!

13. how tall are you? around 5'7? I don't actually know exactly

14. favourite subject in school? tbh i didn't really have one- literature, maths and french are probably tied but they it depends on the teacher

15. dream job? dream job is no job, I would very much like to just sit around and make things all day. Is that an option? I wanted to be an artist when i was a kid. More realistically though, I'd like to teach or do some kind of support work in schools

u don't have to if u don't want to but I'm passing it on to @glitchydyke @startingfires, @megadan94, @thelonelyrainbowdude, @thedumpsterwizard @learnyourlessonswell, @bedrock-sedodn @violet-prism-creatively @omg-a-shark @boobie-fucker, @sentimental-lil-thing, @skyward-nerd, @emilreloaded, @punkocelot @my-dude-james, @dinsicle

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 14: Nothing Personal

Summary: Steve confronts Fury about the Lemurian Star mission and the Director reveals just exactly what it is he’s been working on. However, when Fury is later gunned down in Steve’s apartment right in front of the Captain and Katie, the two are forced to run from the very people they’ve called colleagues and friends for years.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Violence.

A/N: I love this edit from @angrybirdcr​

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

Chapter 13

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“You just can’t stop yourself from lying, can you?” Steve seethed as he crossed the floor of Fury’s office.

Nick didn’t even need to ask him what he was talking about. Without turning round the Director spoke calmly. “I didn’t lie. Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours.”

“Which you didn’t feel obliged to share” Steve pressed, raising an eyebrow as the Director spun in his chair to face him.

“I’m not obliged to do anything” Fury replied simply, looking at him.

“Those hostages could’ve died, Nick.” Steve pressed, holding the man’s gaze.

“I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn’t happen.” Fury stated, and Steve could feel his temper rising even more. He hated the blasé attitude the Director was discussing the issue with, like it was simply something he wasn’t all that bothered about.

“Soldiers trust each other, that’s what makes it an army.” He said after a short pause. “Not a bunch of guys running around and shooting guns.”

He wasn’t expecting the response he got. Fury leaned forward, frowning as he levelled Steve with a look.

“The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye.” Fury spoke, his tone steely. Steve cocked his head to one side, crossing his arms but maintaining his silence. “Look, I didn’t want you doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

“I can’t lead a mission when the people I’m leading have missions of their own.” Steve pointed down at Fury’s desk, stressing his point.

“It’s called compartmentalization” Fury eyed him. “Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.” Steve snorted silently and gestured at Fury. “Except you.” Fury took a deep breath and levelled Steve with a look. “You’re wrong about me. I do share. I’m nice like that.” Steve frowned as Fury stood up and motioned for him to follow.

“Where are we going?” Steve’s frustration was evident on his tone.

“You’ll see.” Fury stepped inside the elevator. Steve followed. “Insight bay.”

A photo of Nick’s SHIELD ID flashed up on the screen, surrounded by a green light. Then Steve noticed his, but the light was red as the SHIELD computer spoke. “Captain Rogers does not have clearance for Project Insight.”

“Director override, Fury, Nicholas J.” Fury spoke, without missing a beat.

“Confirmed.”

The elevator started to moved downwards. Steve leaned against the rail which ran round the middle of the glass box and clasped his hands in front of him by his belt. Despite his initial annoyance, he had found himself beginning to understand what the Director was saying. SHIELD had so many secrets, many a matter of national security. It made no sense for everyone to know everything, it was a security risk, he got that. But it still irked him.

“You know, they used to play music.” Steve said, his tone softer as he broke the silence, making a joke at his own expense.

“Yeah. My grandfather operated one of these things for forty years.” Fury mused, somewhat nostalgic. “My granddad worked in a nice building, he got good tips. He’d walk home every night, roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He’d say ‘hi’, people would say hi back. Time went on, neighbourhood got rougher. He’d say ‘hi’ they’d say, ‘Keep on steppin’. Granddad got to grippin’ that lunch bag a little tighter.”

The flash into Fury’s personal life surprised Steve somewhat. He cocked his head to one side and looked at the man. “Did he ever get mugged?”

“Every week some punk would say, “What’s in the bag?”

“What did he do?”

“He’d show ‘em. Bunch of crumpled ones and loaded point twenty-two Magnum.” Fury smirked “Granddad loved people. But he didn’t trust them very much.”

Steve had to smirk slightly, thinking that Fury sounded a hell of a lot like his grandpa. He looked down for a second, and when he looked up he was aware that they had now travelled down the side of the Triskellion and were descending further, underground even. As Steve looked around he realised he was in some sort of below building hangar, and he looked out of the glass, spotting three giant Helicarriers. His mouth fell open in surprise, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, I know. They’re a little bit bigger than a point twenty-two.” Fury remarked.

Eventually the elevator stopped and Fury stepped out, Steve hot on his tail as he watched people bustling around the hangar shouting, carrying things, fixing things. The helicarriers were bigger than the one they’d used during the Chitauri invasion, each being able to house at least twenty Quinjets.

“This is Project Insight.” Fury explained as he led Steve across the floor of the hangar. “Three next generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites.”

And then Steve understood. “Launched from the Lemurian Star.”

“Once we get them in the air they never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight courtesy of our new repulsor engines.” Fury stopped underneath one.

“Stark?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Well, he had a few suggestions once he got an up close look at our old turbines.” Fury nodded, as they continued. “But don’t worry, that’s not something Nova is keeping from you.”

“I wasn’t” Steve said honestly, as he looked up and around the hangar. “I trust my girl.”

Fury looked at him before he turned his attention back to the matter in hand and pointed up again “These new long range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist’s DNA before he steps outside his spidy hole. We gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.”

Steve crossed his arms. “I thought the punishment usually came after the crime.”

“We can’t afford to wait that long.”

Steve could feel the nerve twitching in his jaw. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once we’re way ahead of the curve”

“By holding a gun at everyone on Earth and calling it protection?” Steve looked at the director, frowning. He didn’t like this. It smacked of something HYDRA would do.

Fury picked up on his tone and he looked at Steve, arching an eyebrow. “You know, I read those SSR files. Greatest generation? You guys did some nasty stuff.”

Don’t I know it? Steve thought to himself as he took a deep breath. “Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free.” He turned and pointed at the helicarriers before looking at Fury “This isn’t freedom, this is fear.”

“SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be.” Fury stated simply. “It’s getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath.” And with that he left.

He changed quickly, eager to put as much distance between him and SHIELD as possible for the rest of the day. After a short conversation with Rumlow about a mission report, he was on his bike and heading for Katie’s apartment, his mind whirling. What was Fury playing at? This wasn’t what he signed up for, at all. It felt so far removed from what he had joined the army to do, to keep people safe, free. Had he really changed that much? He felt a sudden pang for his Howling Commandoes, for Bucky, for Peggy, for Colonel Philips, for all those damned missions which had been simple- destroy HYDRA before they destroyed you.

Despite the fact he had woken up that morning and felt so happy with his girl being there, he couldn’t help but wish life was as simple as it had been back then.

*****

Katie’s morning had been far more productive. She had looked at a couple of transcript extracts her editor had selected. She had to admit, the guy had a good eye for a future blockbuster, and this one she particularly liked. After discussions, they settled on an initial run of two hundred hard copy of the books to be sold online, along with a downloadable kindle version, and if they went they would review how many more we needed.

Pleased with her mornings work and having cleared her diary for the afternoon, she had lunch in the kitchen and had just finished when she heard the elevator door open. She headed into the main area of her apartment to greet Steve, taking a deep breath as she noticed how drained he looked.

“Dare I ask how it went?”

His response was a sigh as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug, simply wanting to feel her close.

“That good huh?” She squeezed him back gently before she pulled away and headed towards the kitchen, him following behind her.

“Debrief was fine. Fury, however, went on about compartmentalisation, the usual crap.” Steve sighed, running his hand over his face, smiling softly to himself when he saw she was gathering stuff out of the fridge to make him a sandwich “And then shared something I really wish he hadn’t.”

“Like what?” she asked, throwing some turkey and mayo onto a sub. “Ever heard of Operation Insight?” Steve looked at her, even though he knew the answer. There’s no way she would have and not told him.

“No?” She handed him the plate containing his sandwich.

“Well apparently your brother has. Thanks.” He took the plate from her sat at the breakfast bar taking a bite of his food. He swallowed and then continued “Three huge hellicarriers that are basically designed to go up in the air and never come down based on Tony’s arc reactor tech. Programmed to monitor potential threats and wipe them out before they get chance to do anything.” She frowned, settling on the stool next to him. “And Fury has sanctioned this?”

Steve nodded, taking another bite of his food. “I don’t like it. Like I said to him, punishment normally comes after the crime.”

Katie could see he was really struggling with this and that his faith in SHIELD was running very, very thin. A lot of what the Agency did was political, not just about keeping people safe. She’d tried to explain that the lines were a lot more blurred than back in the 40s, but still had to admit she was kind of with him. As she pondered for a moment, Steve could see the cogs whirring in her brain, the slight v shape crease that always formed in the middle of her eyes when she was thinking was present. Steve didn’t blame her, it had thrown him too and he’d had the full explanation. The hangar had been huge, and there were enough people in there to make him realise that a LOT of people knew about it. What he didn’t know was who on his immediate team knew about it.

“I just wanna know who I can trust” He sighed, looking at Katie as she reached out gently, touching his cheek.

“I know, Soldier.” she said, softly before she shook her head. “Okay, no more talk about SHIELD or hellicarriers, or whatever.” She moved to pick up her soda. “What do you want to for the rest of the afternoon?”

Steve wanted to go to the Smithsonian. He’d been thinking about it since they had emailed him to invite him to open the exhibit on him, which he had politely declined. But he was curious to see what it was like, curious and also eager, after today, to be reminded of a time when he worked with people he knew inside out, people that he would trust with his life. And he was keen to share that with his girl, the woman who had months ago before they even started dating, been the one to help him pick what the museum would display.

“You know, we’ve still not been to the Smithsonian since they opened the exhibit.” He shruged, hoping his tone was casual enough to make it sound like he hadn’t been thinking about it enough. He failed though, smiling as Katie looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

Busted.

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged.

“You know what curiosity did don’t you?” Katie quipped back, her eyes flashing playfully.

“What?”

She grinned as she delivered the punchline “Killed the Cap.”

*****

“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honour, bravery and sacrifice,” the narrator at the Smithsonian museum said as we entered the exhibit.

Steve paused to pull the collar of his blue jacket up a little further, a gesture that, along with the cap that was pulled down over his face, he hoped would prevent him from being recognised as they made their way to the start of the pieces.

"Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world’s first super soldier,” the Narrator continued. Steve paused to look at the display to his right when Katie gently nudged him.

“Think you’ve been rumbled.”

Steve looked down at her, and then followed her gaze as she looked to her left at a small boy dressed in a light blue T-shirt adorned with the design of his shield who was watching the pair of them, his eyes growing wide. Steve smiled, put a finger against his mouth to indicate for him to keep quiet. The boy nodded and then turned, running back off to find his mum.

Without speaking Steve took her hand and led her over to the part of the exhibit that had an older looking motorcycle on a platform and some black and white footage playing beside it. The footage was of him in his older Captain America uniform, also currently on display, running through a battlefield.

“In this rare footage, everyone’s favourite war hero, Captain America…”

He didn’t stop to hear the rest, he could remember that mission by heart. It had been on the outskirts of Toulouse, liberating another HYDRA prison camp. Katie allowed herself to be led by him, this was his moment after all. They slowly walked to a display of mannequins dressed in his original suit, plus those of the Howling Commandos, which had been donated by their families. His eyes lingered on Bucky’s for a second and he took a deep breath.

“Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission, taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division,”

Katie looked at the uniforms, a smile on her face. She had only seen photos of Steve’s war suit, never seen it in person and it intrigued her. More so because this was something that her dad had made, something physical he had touched. She felt a tug on her hand again, and she looked up to see that she was being led to a section dedicated to Bucky. The familiar (albeit again, only from photos), handsome face of his best friend looked back at them as they wandered over to read what it said in more detail.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both school yard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country…”

The narration didn’t cover half the text on the black, glass screen and in Katie’s opinion it wasn’t a particularly good tribute to a man who had lost his life in such tragic circumstances. She read the rest of the text as Steve’s eyes skated over it, reading, despite the fact he knew it all. He wished he could have saved him, he really did. He’d loved him to have been able to meet Katie. But then, he wouldn’t have anyway. As he would have most likely been dead now. Or what’s to say things may or may not have ended up differently. Would Buck have been on the Valkyrie with him?

He watched the black and white footage playing, where the two of them were talking and then laughing about something and he felt the sadness hit his chest again. And as if she sensed it too, Katie gripped his hand a little bit tighter and lay her head against his arm, her weight giving him something to anchor himself too, and he was grateful for it.

They carried on walking and then they found there was a small cinema area a bit further round the corner playing footage and interviews. Steve paused for a second and then looked at Katie, the question stayed silent. She nodded and together they walked in, taking a seat on one of the benches. There was a bit of introduction footage, and then a familiar face appeared on the screen.

Besides him Katie took a deep breath and whispered a single word “Dad…” and he automatically dropped a hand to her knee, where she placed hers on top of his as the two of them watched her father an animatedly talking to the camera.

“Rogers was different” Howard spoke, smiling, the caption on the screen telling him the footage had been filmed in 1953. “He was constantly striving to do the right thing, with no fear or care for how it would affect him. He, err, when we dropped him behind enemy lines we had no idea if we would see him again. I narrowly escaped myself, the machine guns nearly took our aircraft down but without thought to how he would get back, he told us to leave him behind. When they declared him missing in action the entire company was devastated but, lo and behold… well they can’t keep a good man down.”  Howard paused and then looked down and back up at the camera “I can only hope that if I’m graced with Children, they grow up to be half as driven as he was to do the right thing…”

As Katie looked down at her feet, a stray tear fell down her cheek. Seeing her dad there like that was raw. She knew that Tony felt the loss of their parents far more than she did, she had only been seven after all when they had died and Tony had been her father, if you will, for far longer than her actual dad had. But still, seeing him in front of her so candidly, talking about his hopes for his future children, made something in her chest tighten and she couldn’t help but feel sadness at the fact she never got the chance to really know him. Steve gently squeezed her knee, but then as they looked back up at the screen it was his turn to still as someone he recognised extremely well, her face painted into his memory for life, entered the screen and began speaking, also in 1953. 

"That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve, Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months.” Peggy Carter stumbled slightly through the interview. “He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would become my husband as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life,” And despite the fact that she smiles slightly at the end of this line, it’s clear to see that talking about Steve affected her a lot.

Katie leaned against him and with a breath he lay his head on top of hers. “We haven’t seen her for a while…” she whispered as the video finished. “Shall we go on the way home?” He gave a soft chuckle and dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You read my mind.”

*******

Peggy was pleased to see them, as always when she was having a good day. They both greeted her and after a few pleasantries they told her about their trip to the Smithsonian. Peggy smiled, informing them that she remembered the interview, like it was yesterday, apparently the man interviewing her had been an “utter rogue”, but she didn’t elaborate on what that meant further than saying he was worse than Barnes, which made Steve laugh.  They chatted a little about her time as Director at SHIELD before she trailed off with a sigh as she noticed that Steve was uncharacteristically quiet. After a little gentle coaxing from her and Katie he told her what was on his mind.

“My whole life I’ve just wanted to do what was right, I guess I’m not sure what that is anymore.” He paused for a moment, thinking of how to voice his worries about SHIELD “And I thought I could just throw myself back in and follow orders, it’s just not the same.”

Peggy chuckled as she rolled her eyes and looked at Katie. “He’s always so dramatic.”

Katie let out a small laugh, nodding her agreement. “Tell me about it!”

Steve shook his head, a smile on his face as he raised his eyebrows slightly and looked away as Peggy continued to speak.

“Look you saved the world, we rather mucked it up.”

“No you didn’t. You know, knowing that you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay.”

“And the other half being?” Her eyes strayed to Katie who smiled, looking down and then up at Steve as he caught her eye, his hand resting on her knee.

“I quit remember?” Katie reminded her.

Peggy smiled “Indeed, a woman with principles. That I can get on board with. ”Katie gave a little smile as Peggy continued. “Look, the world has changed and none of us can go back.” She spoke softly. “All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.“

At that she started to cough. Steve quickly picked up a glass of water from the table and rounded the back of the chair Katie was sitting in to try and hand her the glass. 

"Peg?” He held the glass out as her coughing subsided and she took a sip. Once she had finished she looked up and stared at Steve as if she was seeing a ghost

“Steve?” Peggy breathed out in an amazed yet broken voice.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, his heart sinking as he recognised the look in her face. Her memory had gone, again.

“You’re alive! You, you came, you came back,” Peggy whimpered. Tears were gathering in her eyes at this point as she tried to hold them back and Steve was struggling to do the same with his own. One of the smartest, nicest, bravest women he had ever met was being betrayed by an illness that was literally rotting her brain. It was cruel, and every time she did this, they went through the same routine.

“Yeah, Peggy.” Steve responded forcing a smile onto his face as Katie squeezed his hand gently, standing up so he could take the chair next to Peggy.

“It’s been so long. So long,” Peggy started to cry, giving up on holding back her tears.

“I’ll leave you with her.” Katie spoke softly as she gently touched Steve’s shoulder. His hand briefly reached up to lay over hers before he leaned over to take Peggy’s.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you.” He forced himself to smile. “Not when you still owe me a dance.”

Normally that calmed the old lady down, but not today. She was becoming more and more confused and in the end he had to press the call button.

“Again?” The nurse who attended asked softly, and Steve simply nodded.

“I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Outside Katie took a deep breath and headed towards her car. Ex partners could always be an issue in relationships but this was something else, something completely different. She opened the passenger side to the car and sat side on in the seat, door open, legs dangling out. She felt sorry for Peggy, she really did, and her heart ached for Steve. It can’t be easy seeing the woman he once loved, and probably still did in some way, fading like that in front of your eyes.

She ran her hand over her face, rubbing at her eyes slightly and waited as she watched various people coming and going out of the main doors of the hospital. It wasn’t that long before a familiar figure appeared, a flash of white T-shirt standing out against his dark navy jacket and equally dark jeans as he walked towards her, hands in his pockets. She stood up, not saying a word as she wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face into the nook of her shoulder and neck, his safe place, his hands gently resting on her hips as he breathed out a sigh.

“Is she okay?” she asked gently. “Yeah they sedated her.” He said as he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry Steve.”

“What for?” “Peggy…it’s so unfair.” “Yeah…” He replied simply. And it was. He wished things could be different, that Peggy wasn’t ill. That she could be home, with her family, living out the last years of her life with the dignity she had lived the rest of it. She deserved more. He looked over the car roof across the street and watched for a second, everyone milling about their business, getting on with their lives. Like he was, and whilst he wished things had been different for Peggy, he suddenly found himself thinking and wondering if he would change anything if he could.

He felt Katie still in front of him, reacting to the fact he himself had changed posture, and as he looked down at her he was suddenly struck with the answer to his question. Despite everything, despite his sudden feelings of nostalgia sparked by the events of the last twenty hours or so, no he wouldn’t. Because whatever had happened, every action, every decision, it had led him to the girl now in his arms, and he loved her so fucking much it hurt. Yeah he had loved Peggy, he still did in some ways, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing.

He reached out and took Katie’s hands, pulling up her arms so they were round his neck, pulling her closer to him as his own hands joined at the bottom of her back

“I love you.” He said gently, needing her to understand, to believe him. “My best girl.”

“I hope I’m your only girl, Rogers.”  She sassed back with a sniff, and he smiled softly, happy that she understood.

“How about we head back to mine and not leave the flat for the entire day tomorrow?” Steve looked down at her, the idea suddenly coming to him and her face lit up. Katie loved lazy days. It was rare Steve was in the mood for them, his incessant energy normally meant he had to be doing something. But on the odd time he agreed, it usually involved them staying in bed till about midday, then watching old movies on the TV under a blanket on the couch, maybe a bit of fooling around and then calling a take out before retreating back to bed. Right now that sounded like a damned fine idea. “Can you clear your diary?”

“Consider it cleared.”

“I just wanna make one quick stop on the way home” He suggested, his journey of contemplation was leading him to one more place. He glanced at his watch before planting a kiss on her lips as she looked at him questioningly. “Thought we could pay our jogging friend a visit.”

********

“Look who it is. The running man and his pretty girl.” Sam joked slightly as he came over to the doorway where Katie and Steve were stood.

“Hey.” Katie smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her cheek.

“Caught the last few minutes. It’s pretty intense,” Steve commented as Sam shook his hand.

“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret,” Sam shrugged.  As his sentence went on his voice got more serious and softer.

“Have you lost someone?” Steve asked, perceptive as ever. Katie mentally cursed herself for not filling him in fully, but Sam didn’t seem too bothered to talk about it. He nodded gently.

“My wingman, Riley. Fly in the night mission. A standard PJ rescue op, nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before, till an RPG knock Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It’s like I was up there just to watch,” Sam paused to cross his arms over his chest, his posture slightly tense. “After that, I had really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

“But you’re happy now, back in the world?” Steve asked

“Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So, hell, yeah,” Sam joked, loosening up slightly, before getting a bit serious, “You thinking about getting out?”

“No.” Steve replied quickly before he took a breath. “I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”

“Ultimate fighting?” Sam shrugged and Steve laughed as Katie snorted.  “It’s just a great idea off the top of my head. But seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”

Steve turned his head to look at Katie, an unconscious movement, smiling gently as he shrugged. “I dunno…”

“Oh I think you do.” Sam said, smirking slightly as Steve placed his hand on the small of his girl’s back.

“Oh, stop by the front desk on your way out,” Katie turned to Sam, smirking, and he raised an eyebrow in question,

“We asked for you by name.” Steve clarified.

“She seemed thoroughly impressed.” Katie finished. Both of Sam’s eyebrows rose at that and he looked down the hallway towards where the front desk was.

“You two are the best.” A smile stretching across his face as he began to turn to head down the hall. “Stop by anytime.”

“No problem.” Steve grinned in amusement as Sam jogged his way down the hall.

It was gone eight by the time they got home, having made a pit stop for a beer on the way. Steve held the door open for Katie, and she stepped into the apartment building and started to climb the stairs in front of him, giving him a quite pleasing view of her ass as her hips swayed side to side in front of him.

“Sam’s right you know.” She continued their discussion from the bar. “And so is Peggy.”

“What about?”

“If you wanted to get out you could do, start over.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I want, but spending the rest of my life playing janitor for Fury is not it.”

“I can write you a resignation note.” She grinned and Steve chuckled slightly and then took a deep breath.

“You know, it’s funny when I think about it. Us, stuff, what we’ve done and how far we’ve come in a year.”

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” She teased as she stepped onto his landing.

“No, that’s not what I mean at all.”  He took a deep breath as she headed towards his door and turned to face him “You know, I’ve never really talked to anyone or shown them about my past in detail or introduced anyone to Peggy bar you.”

“Well I am your girlfriend.” She shrugged, holding onto the hand that wasn’t digging into his jeans pocket to fish out his keys.  “Your best girl.” At that he smiled. “So you should be able to talk to me about anything.”

“I know, I’m not explaining myself very well.”  He remarked, finally succeeding in obtaining his keys. And he wasn’t. He was trying to tell her that he couldn’t imagine his life without her, that he wanted her to share his everything, including his home.

“Spit it out Rogers.” She teased as he slid the key into the lock.

He took a deep breath. “Coming home last night and you being there…and then this morning…it was perfect, Doll, and I want that all the time.” He turned to face her leaving his key hanging from the door. “How would you feel about us maybe moving in together?”

She paused for a moment, looking at him, realising he was deadly serious. She raised her eyebrow.

“I thought you came from a time where man and woman didn’t live together until they were married?”

“We could get married if you want.” He blurted out. That made Katie raise both eyebrows as she studied him again, her mouth dropping into a small ‘o’. Steve looked back at her, trying to keep his face passive, as if it had been a joke, even though he knew it wasn’t. He’d known for months she was the one.

But to blurt it out like that? Outside his apartment door, in such a dumbass way?

Way to go, Rogers.

Katie cocked her head to one side, there was a funny look on Steve’s face that she couldn’t place. But whatever it was, even if Steve was serious about them getting married, she knew him well enough to understand that was not how he would want to propose, and that he was probably kicking himself about stumbling it out the way he had done. So she broke the nervous tension, as she always did, with a slight joke.

“You know, that’s not much of a proposal.” She slid her arms up around his neck. “But its one step up from you’d make a great housewife, I suppose.”

“Should I try again?” A cheeky grin spread across his face, glad the tone was playful, his arms circling her waist “Yeah, with a big, fuck off Tiffany diamond.”

“I didn’t think you were so materialistic?”

“Well, you know what they say? Diamonds are a girls’ best friend.”

“And there I was, thinking it was me.” He muttered, his lips pressing onto hers.

“That’s so sweet!” A voice interrupted and they both turned to look at Kate, his neighbour from over the hall. For a split second Steve thought she was talking to them but it soon became apparent she was on the phone. “That’s so nice…but hey, I gotta go…okay bye…”

She dropped the phone into the basket of laundry she was carrying before grinning at us both “My aunt, she’s kind of an insomniac”

Steve smile before looking at the basket of washing in her arms as he dropped his arm round Katie’s shoulder “you know if you want…if you want, you can use my machine. Might be easier and cheaper than the one in the basement.” “Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs actually, and you really don’t want my scrubs in your machine.” She grinned. “I just finished a rotation on the infectious diseases ward, so,”

“Ah, well, we’ll keep our distance,” Steve grinned, holding his hands up, palms out.

“Hopefully not too far.” She chuckled. “Don’t want to lose my best neighbour. Okay, well I better be off.” She turned to go before she stopped and spun back round to look at Steve. “Oh, by the way, I think you left your stereo on.”

“Right, thank you.” Steve watched her go, frowning. He looked at Katie as they both pressed their ears to the door. The record player was certainly on but…

“We definitely didn’t leave that on before.”  Katie looked at him, as the gentle tones of Kitty Kallen Long Long Time hit their ears.

Steve held his finger up to his lips and gestured to the window, before leaving Katie where he was. He ran off, down the stairs as fast as he could and then he scaled the gate on the fire escape easily. Once he reached the steps which were parallel to his window he took a running jump, easily pulling himself up over the sill and into the kitchen area. Quickly and quietly he moved along the wall, picking up his shield which was leaning against the shelving unit. Holding it up, he cautiously peered round the corner of the room into the living area and instantly relaxed when he saw Fury lounging in a chair.

“I don’t remember giving you a key.” He said, somewhat sardonically.

“What, you really think I’d need one?” Nick replied. Steve shook his head and headed to the front door of the flat, pulling it open.

“Fury.” He said with a roll of his eyes, turning and walking back into the apartment.

“Huh?” Katie asked as she followed him into the living room, where the music was coming from, to see Fury sitting on the couch in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded.

"Nice to see you too, Nova. And in answer to your question my wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” She continued, frowning. And she didn’t. And she wasn’t sure that he was.

“There are a lot of things you don’t about me,” Fury replied casually.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve grumbled walking forward as Katie remained where she was, eyes narrowed at her old boss. Steve flipped on the light switch, instantly recoiling in surprise when he noticed Fury’s injuries. Besides him Katie gasped slightly and moved to get closer to help but Fury indicated for her to stop and the both of them to stay quiet. He turned off the light again and typed something on his phone.

'EARS EVERYWHERE’.

Bugs? His apartment was bugged? By who? They both exchanged a glance and instantly Katie looked up and around the room, as if she expected to see a microphone glaring at them.

“I’m sorry to have to do this but I had nowhere else to crash,” Fury looked around a bit before he typed something else up on his phone:

'SHIELD COMPROMISED’.

Steve and Katie shared another glance, the pair of them wide eyed. This was bad.

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve asked, keeping his voice even.

Fury showed them another text;

'YOU TWO AND ME’.

“Just my friends,” Fury grunted in pain while getting up and walking closer to them.

“Is that what we are?” Katie blinked at him. She still hadn’t completely forgiven the man for lying to them all about Coulson. 

“That’s up to you.” Fury replied, his eyes darting from Katie to Steve.

Then out of nowhere came a rapid succession of gunshots. Steve quickly pushed Katie out of the way, the pair of them taking cover behind the kitchen wall as Fury groaned before he collapsed down to the floor. Steve scooted forward, keeping as low as he could, pulling him into the kitchen. Katie knelt next to him and tried to check his injuries through his black clothing when he reached up and handed something to Steve.

“Don’t, trust anyone,” he coughed before passing out.  Katie and Steve both looked at what he had been handed and saw that it was a flash drive. Steve curled his hand around it and looked at Katie, but before either of them could say anything else there was the sound of someone breaking into the apartment. Steve quickly moved into a defensive position, in front of Katie and Fury, raising his shield.

“Captain Rogers?” a familiar voice suddenly called out and they watched as Kate, his neighbour, cautiously walked in with a gun pointed. “I’m Agent Thirteen of SHIELD’s Special Service.”

“Kate?” Steve frowned, shaking his head. He’d just about had his fill of surprises.

“I’m assigned to protect you.” She continued

“On whose orders?” Katie snapped.

Kate stopped as she spotted Fury lying on the floor. “His,” she dropped besides Katie, checking Fury for a pulse and then spoke into her radio

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?” A SHIELD agent questioned through the radio.

Then there was a movement on the other side of the window, on the roof adjacent to the building.  Steve instantly glanced up and saw a flash of silver and the shadow of a figure running across the rooftop.

“Tell them I’m in pursuit.” He said and with that he took a running jump and smashed straight through his window, and through into the office building opposite. Steve ran, keeping his eye on the man, smashing through walls, windows, anything in his way. Eventually he caught up with him on the roof and flung his shield at the assassin who, to Steve’s shock, caught it with one swift move in the hand of his metal arm. There was a pause as Steve could do nothing but eye the man with surprise before the shield came flying back. Steve caught it, with both hands on its rim but the force pushed him back a few yards along the gravel surface of the roof. By the time he had stopped the momentum moving him, the assassin had jumped. Steve ran to the edge of the building and looked down.

He was gone.

*****

“What happened?” Hill asked as they all looked through the glass window at the hustle and bustle of the operating room. Steve moved his arm from around Katie and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently.

"He was at my apartment when we got home.” Steve started. “I hadn’t even had chance to ask why when there were two blasts, then another. Someone shot him through the window- three times. I tried to go after the shooter, but I lost him on the roof of the building across the street.”

Steve had no doubt in his mind that if there was anyone else in SHIELD they could trust right now it was Hill, but both he and Katie kept quiet. He had taken Fury’s warning of trusting nobody seriously and had told Katie as much as they had strode through the ED of the hospital. Both were aware that Hill was studying them, side on, her face stony.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked quietly.

“Nothing.” Katie answered for them.

Before Hill could drill either of them anymore, the door to the observation room flung open and heavy footsteps crossed the room, stopping at the other side of Katie.

“Is he gonna make it?” Natasha asked, almost inaudibly, staring through the window.

“We don’t know,” Hill mumbled.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha whispered

“He’s fast and strong. And he had a metal arm,” Steve said, letting go of Katie’s hand to fold his arms across his chest and as he did, they both caught the look of recognition and slight fear on Natasha’s face reflected in the window.

“Ballistics?” She swallowed heavily.

“Three slugs. No rifling and completely untraceable,” Maria answered softly.

“Soviet made?”

“Yeah,” Maria looked at Natasha in shock. Steve turned to face her, as did Katie, but she didn’t look back. She stared straight through to the operating theatre but before Katie could ask what it was that she wasn’t saying, the operation room went into overdrive. Machines started beeping erratically, the doctors and nurses were rushing around the room and the panic was palpable even behind the glass. But they couldn’t save him.

“Time of death, 1:03 A.M.”

A few moments passed as the four of them stood completely in shock. Katie reached up to wipe a tear that had trickled down her cheek away, before Natasha turned and almost sprinted out of the room.

Steve pulled his hand out of his pocket, turning the flash drive that Nick had given him over in his hand. Nick had been killed because he knew whatever it was that was on that drive. What could possibly be so bad, so secret, so dangerous that the Director of SHIELD was deemed a threat for knowing? He glanced up at Katie who was watching him, tears in her eyes. She might have had her issues with Fury, but he was a good man and would never have wished him dead. With a sigh Steve placed the item back into his pocket and pulled her in for a hug.

******

A little later, they were all in the same room as Nick’s body. Natasha was by him, hardly having moved a muscle, almost like she was in shock. And it unnerved Katie. Nat wasn’t one to really show emotion but then again, Fury had meant a lot to her. The door opened and a doctor entered, speaking to Hill. She nodded and then walked over to Katie and Steve, coughing to clear her throat.

“They need to take him.” She said, her voice cracking slightly. Steve nodded and stepped forwards.

“Nat. Natasha…” But at that she turned away from them all and made her way quickly into the corridor of the Hospital. Katie and Steve looked at one another, before they hastily followed her.

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” Natasha span around to ask Steve. Her eyes were filled with sadness, but Katie could also see suspicion etched on her pretty features.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed shrugging his shoulders, and before the conversation could go on further they were interrupted by Rumlow.

“Cap, they want you back at Shield,” He informed them, gently touching Katie’s shoulder. “You too Nova.”

“Alright, give us a second,” Steve nodded dismissing Rumlow, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended, as he turned back to Natasha but Rumlow was insistent

“They want you now,”

“Alright” Katie spoke firmly but calmly. Rumlow nodded and then moved back down the hallway.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Natasha shook her head at Steve with her trademark smirk that didn’t reach her eyes before she turned and left.

“What the hell is on that drive?” Katie asked Steve after a moment of silence.

“I don’t know, but it’s what Natasha was saving data to on our mission the other day.” He replied before he looked up staring very focused into a vending machine to his right, which was open as a janitor filled it up. He didn’t want to take the drive back to the Triskellion, just in case. He knew that something wasn’t quite right.

Katie caught his eye before glancing around the hallway that was mostly full of SHIELD agents, luckily they were all congregated on the other end.

“Do it.” She nodded, figuring out his intention to hide the item “I’ll distract them.”

Without another look back at him, she began to stride forwards towards Rumlow.

“Its almost four am.” she glanced at her watch. “What do they want us for Brock? We already told Sitwell what we know and I don’t work for SHIELD anymore, remember?”

Rumlow shrugged “Honestly, I don’t know Nova. I’m just under instructions to get you both back to base.”

At that point Steve reached them, but he wasn’t stopping. Taking Katie’s hand he nodded to the STRIKE leader

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” Rumlow fell into step with them, fixing his earpiece. “Strike! Move it out.”

Steve drove to the Triskellion, Katie’s car flanked by the Armoured SUVs as they sped through the streets of DC. Katie dozed off for ten minutes and Steve let her sleep, lost in his own thoughts. He had expected her to be called in alongside him, especially after she had been, along with him, the last people Fury had spoken to him before he died. But he wasn’t happy about it, he wanted her as far away from whatever the hell was going on as possible. Once they arrived he gently shook her awake and the two of them were given an hour or so to grab something to eat. Neither were hungry, but they forced down their sandwiches, Katie’s brain working in overdrive as she did so. Something was nagging at her, and she was trying to make the connections, figure it out, but her head simply kept replaying Fury getting shot over and over.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?”

She frowned.

“What is?” Steve asked, coffee in his hand as he sat back on one of the large chairs in one of the common rooms by the kitchen area.

“Before…when Kate…Agent thirteen, whatever the hell her name is called back to base…she said Fury was down and needed EMTs…”

She paused and Steve waited, knowing how her analytical brain worked. She had to follow threads, talk them over or write them out, letting them weave together as she did. A look of comprehension crossed her face as the threads connected.

“Sitwell…” She whispered.

“What about him?” Steve asked. “He was the one that replied, at least it sounded like him.” She bit her lip, but not in the seductive way that made his crotch twitch, the way she did when she was thinking “And he asked…do you have a twenty on the shooter.”

Steve frowned, not quite sure where this was going. “Okay…”  “Well, how did he know Fury had been shot? How could anyone know he had been shot?”

Now he understood. He understood completely. Damned it she was clever. “They couldn’t.” He sat up and leaned towards her, his voice dropping. “Not unless they were there or Kate…whoever, told them.”

“And she didn’t. She just said he was down and unresponsive.” “Which means…” Steve began, but Katie finished for him. “Sitwell knew about the hit. Because he was in on it.”

The both looked at one another, their faces wearing similar looks of shock. Fury was right, SHIELD was compromised. But how far, they had no idea.

Before Steve had chance to say anything else, the door opened and Rumlow stepped in

“Secretary Pierce is ready now guys.” “Thanks.” Katie nodded, shooting Steve another glance as they both stood up.

“Not a word.” He mumbled as they got into the elevator “We say nothing, not until we figure out who we can trust.”

“If we can trust anyone.” She mumbled back.

*****

“Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?” Secretary Pierce looked at Steve as he sat on the couch next to Katie in the large office.

“I don’t know.” He answered in a soft voice.

“Did you know it was bugged?” Pierce pressed on.

“We did.” Katie nodded meeting the secretary’s eye. “Because Nick told us.”

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?”

Steve took a breath and glanced at Katie, his expression stony but the two of them shared the understanding.

No, no he had not.

“I want you to see something.” Pierce continued, and gestured to a monitor just behind the couches we were sitting on. On the screen was a man tied down to a chair, he looked to be currently being interrogated. Katie didn’t recognise the man, but Steve did.  It was Batroc, the lead merc from the hijacking of the Lemurian Star.

“Is that live?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not so safe house in Algiers.”

“Are you saying he’s a suspect?” Steve didn’t take his eyes off the screen “Assassination isn’t Batroc’s line.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to hijack the Lemurian Star. He was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer, and then the money was run through seventeen fictitious accounts. The last going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech.” Pierce said handing Steve a folder.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Steve skimmed through the file offered to him in curiosity and confusion.

“Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick, his mother lived at 1437.”

“Wait,” Katie frowned as she gathered what Pierce was suggesting. “Are you saying Fury hired the pirates? Why?”

“The prevailing theory?” Pierce shrugged. “The hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Nick’s death.”

“If you really knew Nick Fury you’d know that’s not true.” Steve replied strongly, and he believed it. Fury was a lot of things, but a traitor he was not.

Pierce nodded in agreement. “Why do you think we’re here talking?” He then got to his feet and began to walk towards the window. “See, I took a seat on the council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy, and the hand shaking and the rhetoric, to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down. And that makes enemies.”

Steve didn’t like the way this was going. He looked at Katie and gestured for her to stand as he did. Pierce turned back around and looked at them both.

“Those people that call you dirty because you’ve got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today,” Pierce shoved his hands in his pockets. “Makes me really, really angry. Captain, you and Miss Stark were the last ones to see Nick Fury alive. I don’t think that’s an accident.” Pierce said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think you do, either. So, I’m going to ask again was he there?”

“He told us not to trust anyone.” Steve said honestly.

Pierce made a humming sound. “I wonder, if that included him.”

There was a tense moment of silence before Steve spoke again. “I’m sorry. Those were his last words. Excuse us,” He turned to leave, picking up his shield that he sent down upon our arrival and attaching it to the harness on his back, before ushering Katie out of the room slightly ahead of him.

“Captain,” Pierce’s voice halted him mid step and he turned to look at him. “Someone murdered my friend. I’m going to find out why. Anyone who gets in my way is going to regret it.” Pierce’s voice rang out again, a pointed look in their direction.

Steve wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew that was a veiled threat. He took a deep breath, considering his response, before he decided appearing un-rattled was the best option.

“Understood.” He nodded, holding the door open for Katie to step through keeping himself between her and Pierce as he followed, anchoring his hand on her back to keep her moving.

“You should have lied.” She whispered.

“Huh?” “Back then, said we didn’t know why Fury was there. By telling him that he told us not to trust anyone he knows we know and that we’re hiding something.” Her tone was a little panicked and Steve simply took a deep breath.

“We need to get to the hospital and get that stick.” He looked at her, remaining  adamant that whatever it was that was on there would hold the answers. He looked up and down the corridor before they stepped into the elevator.

“Operations Control” Steve spoke as the elevator scanned his face and Katie’s Guest ID.

“Confirmed”

Just as the doors were about to close, Rumlow stepped in with two other STRIKE agents.

“Keep all STRIKE personnel on site” He was saying.  Both the agents nodded and voiced their acknowledgement of his order. “Forensics.” 

“Confirmed.”

“Cap, Nova…” Rumlow nodded to them both.

“Rumlow.” Steve acknowledged him as the doors closed and they started to descend.

“Evidence Response found some fibres on the roof they want us to see.” Rumlow turned his head to look at Steve. “You want me to get the tac-team ready?”

“No, let’s wait and see what it is first.”

“Right.” Rumlow turned back and Steve looked out of the side of the elevator, pondering what his next move was. Chase down the man responsible? The drive? The elevator stopped at the next floor and Rollins plus a few more SHIELD and Strike agents entered, Steve moving over slightly to allow them in.

“What’s the status so far?” Rollins was saying.

“Administrations level” another one asked, before they continued whatever it was they were talking about, moving round to find a space behind Steve and Katie.

He noticed Katie look round, a frown on her face, but before he could say anything Rumlow spoke, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Fury. Messed up, what happened to him”

“Thank you.” Steve nodded.

Katie could sense something was off. Years of training as an Agent didn’t just leave you when you quit, and those years of training had taught her very well to read body language. Rumlow was alert, too alert, and it was more than just a nervousness because Fury had been killed. There was an atmosphere in the lift, and she glanced at one of the agents that had joined them at the last floor. He was still talking, normally, but he there was a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek from his temple.

Steve could sense it too. He watched as Rumlow and Rollins exchanged a glance and looked down at Katie who was watching him, nervous expression on her face. He shook his head gently, instructing her to keep calm.

The elevator stopped and another agent entered.

“Records”

This one stood in front of them, facing the elevator doors and it was then with a slight air of exasperation at allowing it to happen, Steve realised they were surrounded. Whilst he wasn’t too concerned, he knew he could more than likely fight his way out, it was his girl he was bothered for. It had been months since she had been in active combat, and this was going to be brutal. Besides him Katie stiffened, feeling very underprepared for what was about to go down. She had no weapons, nothing. Instinctively Steve gripped her hand and pulled her forward so she was stood next to him instead of behind and moved his feet apart slightly, hands on the buckle of his belt, adopting his Captain stance, preparing for what was coming.

“Before we get started,” he sighed, looking down before he stared straight ahead, “does anyone want to get out?”

His eyes flicked to the back of Rumlow’s head. There was a moment’s pause before all hell broke loose. They both put up a good fight, ducking, diving, punching. Steve was then shocked with a baton, but he simply grit his teeth, absorbing the electricity into his body. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. And then, three of them managed to snap one of his arms to the wall of the elevator using some kind of metallic clamp, before five of them piled on him at once, attempting to pin his other arm in too. He kicked out, taking down as many as he could.

Just as Katie had floored the second of the agents who had launched at her, she was grabbed from behind by her hair and hauled to the edge of the elevator, being wrestled roughly to the floor by Rumlow who was instantly on top of her, trying to get her wrists from where she had positioned them underneath her body in an attempt to stop them restraining her.

"Brock…” She spoke gently, looking at him as she swallowed. “What’s going on?” “I’m sorry Stark.” He shook his head. “Just following orders.”

“Yeah well follow this.”  She snarled, the anger brewing in her as she jerked her head forwards as hard as she could, feeling it connect with his nose.  He yelled, and then her head snapped painfully to the right as he back handed her straight across the face. She felt her lip split and the warm, metallic taste of blood hit her taste buds, stars flashing in front of her eyes as her ears began to ring from the harsh knock.

Steve saw Rumlow land the blow to Katie’s face and let out a growl of anger and aimed another kick at the final agent standing, causing them man to collide with the side of the elevator before slumping down. He turned, pulled on his arm as hard as he could, wrenching the cuff off the side of the elevator and looked up in time to see Katie, who was now pinned against the wall by another set of those damned cuffs, take a blow to the ribs from Rumlow causing her to cry out in pain.

“Rumlow!” Steve yelled causing the man to whip his head round, surprise on his face. Katie, using her arms as leverage, swung her legs upwards, kicking Rumlow with both feet. The STRIKE leader stumbled slightly as Steve snarled at him, his entire body and face alight with rage “Touch my girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rumlow got to his feet, holding one of his arms out, electric rod in his hand “Whoa, big guy. I just want you both to know, this ain’t personal.”

He then lunged at Steve with his electric rod but one on one Steve was easily able to defend himself, he moved to the right, dodged and grabbed Rumlow, throwing him harshly upwards where he crashed into the ceiling of the elevator, before falling to the floor, unconscious.

“Yeah well, it kind of feels personal” Steve said, his breath slightly ragged from the exertion. He used his foot to flip his shield over like a Frisbee, catching it perfectly.

“You alright?” Steve asked, stepping over the bodies that littered the floor of the elevator to get to Katie.

“Yeah.” She assured him. Steve cut the cuffs that were restraining her into two pieces with his shield and she bent over, his hands gently on her back as she rubbed at her side before straightening up and stalking over to where Rumlow was beginning to stir slightly. She kicked him hard in the face, causing him to flip backwards and he was out, unconscious.

“Nothing personal.” She spat, then looked up at Steve. There was a moment during which they both looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened, before the elevator doors opened and Steve pulled Katie sharply behind him. They both stared at a team of STRIKE agents pointing their weapons into the elevator. Steve raised his shield.

“Drop the shield! Put your hands in the air!”

Steve looked round, and spotted the elevator wires to the left of Katie’s head

“DUCK!” he yelled at her, and as she did, he swiped with his shield over her head sending them plummeting. Eventually the emergency brake systems kicked in and the elevator stopped, slightly misaligned with the doors by a few feet. As Katie bent down to retrieve a gun and some ammo off one of the Agents, Steve forced the door open, intending to climb out but more STRIKE agents were approaching. He closed the door again and looked at Katie, then around the glass walls, looking down below us at the glass roof of the main Triskelion atrium.

It was a long way but they could make it.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Katie exclaimed, realising exactly what he was thinking.

“Give it up, Rogers! Get that door open! You have nowhere to go!” came the yell from the floor outside the elevator door.

“Do you trust me?” Steve asked, both his hands cupping Katie’s face.

“Of course I do, but…”

“Then hang on…”

She sighed and jumped onto his back, swinging her legs round his waist and her arms round his neck. Steve raised his shield in front of him, before he propelled them forward and broke through the glass in the elevator, spreading his arms out wide as he fell to prevent them from tumbling through the air before tucking his body as tightly in to his shield as he could. Katie did the same, burying her head into his back as they crashed through the glass ceiling and hit the floor with a loud clang, to screams and shouts from people all around the atrium.

Katie gave a soft groan, rolling off Steve who moaned and stretched out, having been winded from the impact. But Steve knew they had to keep moving. With a monumental effort, he pushed himself up onto his knees, took a deep breath and offered his hand to Katie to help her stand. They both took a quick glance around before he started to run, pulling her with him. She stumbled slightly, but Steve kept hold of her, not letting her fall until her legs seemed to be working again.

And then they ran.

**** Chapter 15

**Original Posting**

[savedbybangtan]

Not Delulu (1)

Summary: You always hated women who dated kpop idols and are so glad that your ultimate bias, Kim Namjoon, has never disappointed you by being involved in such a scandal. You swear you’re not a delusional fan who doesn’t want him to be happy. You truly just want what’s best for him.

                 Apparently, He just wants whats best for you, too <3.

3,197 words

Chapter warning tags: mild invasion of privacy?

 Part One

Fingering through wistful fabrications of reality is my favourite hobby. Who knew time travelling was so easy? With a simple turn of a page, - something that takes mere nanoseconds - I can transcend dimensions and look into the past while reading the lines of a page. The only problem with reading books is that when you travel through time and space, your body is still in the present, operating on some badly programmed autopilot mode. As your eyes scan the books, other body parts mindless wander if you do not pay attention. Hence, you shouldn’t read as you walk.

However, as you walk through the aisle in this nook of your local bookstore, busily scanning the shelves for a particular new stock, you realise that not everyone had gotten this memo of the faulty autopilot mode.

A hard, large object seemed to be hurled at you, making you stumble to the floor. Your shoulder took most of the impact of the collision, but there was no other damage done. Your fall was broken by the shelves you grabbed onto during your descent.

“Wh-What,” a raspy voice from above turns about confused. He must have been the hard, large object. His oversized, grey hoodie is low on his head. His white hair conceals his face even more.

A book is opened in his hand. The same exact book that you were dying to get your ,hands on. You try to grab onto the floor to get up and that is when this tall figure looming over you finally notices your presence. “Oh!…” He grabs onto your forearm to help you up and you allow him to.

Somehow, he lost his footing, so when you brace yourself on him, he ends up falling too. The book he already had, the few in his other hand, and an entire row on the shelf he bumped into are now on the ground.

“Shit!,” you exclaim. “I’m so sorry.” You frantically begin picking up the books. You really didn’t have time for this. Your shift will soon start. You were only supposed to be in here for a few minutes, but not only did you spend about 10 minutes looking into the tiny store for the title, but now you’ve made a mess.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I lost my footing,” he admits shyly, but obviously upset.

His voice…It can’t be…

“I was the reason you fell in the first place.” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as he picks up the books quickly, not even bothering to organise them. “I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” You both simultaneously reach for the final book on the floor, another psychology book. You only knew it was a psychology book because you had that exact title sitting on your desk home. He adds it to the little pile of books he wanted to buy. “I apologise.”

You were sure now. You realise he is the love of your life, your idol, your ultimate bias – Kim Namjoon, RM of BTS. You recognise that low, deep, sultry, raspy, sexy voice from anywhere.

Don’t scream. Don’t get weird. Don’t scream. Don’t get weird.

It must be annoying when people get weird so DON’T get weird.

“I-It’s okay! I don’t blame you… Youuu… were reading Into the Spine by Montgomery.” Shit, why were you stumbling on your words so much? Be normal. “I understand. I’m actually looking for that same book. Just tell me where you got it and its all forgiven.” While you spoke softly, you straightened your work uniform.

“Sure,” he smiles politely. “They’re by the entrance since they’re new.”

“T-T-T-T-T-They are?” Shit, why are you stuttering after realising it was Joonie- Namjoon. It might be weird to be called a nickname by people you don’t know. He’s a celebrity so he might be used to it though… You realise, even with his black face mask on, he was smiling awkwardly at you.

“Yeah. You must have missed them when you came in.” He grabs your arm and it feels as if a lightning bolt hit your body. If you moved or jerked, he hadn’t noticed because he continues to lead you to the table near the entrance where the stacks of copies were.

You blush profusely, but he takes this as you being embarrassed for missing something so obvious. Act normal. “I must have been so excited to just get this book I made a beeline straight to the nonfiction section.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t blame you,” he mimics the first words you say to him. “Montgomery? Great author. I can’t wait to see what he has to say now about ‘brain power’,” Namjoon laughs. “He might go a bit overboard with his imagination, but he sure knows how to put things into perspective.”

“Yes! Everyone I talk to tell me that he’s a quack and says they don’t understand why I read this word vomit, but this guy is a genius!” You laugh, getting comfortable.

Namjoon just stares at you for a while. He nods. You can feel the conversation ending but didn’t want to let it go.

“Uhh… That book,” you point at the other book in his hand that you recognised earlier. “It’s good. Be prepared for some of the remarks in that one!”

Namjoon follows your eyes to see what you were talking about and throws his head back in laughter when he realizes. “Yes! It was a wild ride from cover to cover. I have my own copy at home, but I am getting this one for a friend.”

“Oh my God! Then, have you read Going into the Lamp? Oh my God, when she drowns her sister! I don’t know why she thought it was a good idea to include that in the book!”

Namjoon just looks at you with his eyes slightly widened. “I… I’m actually reading it now… I didn’t reach that part, yet.”

You accidently spoiled the book for him. “I’m SO sorry. First, I bump into you, and now I’m giving out spoilers you didn’t ask for. Please, forgive me,” you drawl with your head down.

He tuts and you want to crawl into a hole and hide. “What am I going to do with you? You’re so bad… Tell you what, have lunch with me and I’ll forgive you…”

What?!

You snap your head to look at his face and see mischief in his eyes. You decide to play along. “Sigh, I guess that’s the least I can do.” Fuck work. You are not passing up the opportunity to eat with your earthly god.

You pay for your book quickly and meet him by the door.

“Where do you want to eat?” You ask.

“I’m actually not familiar with this area. You tell me what’s good.”

He likes Korean food, meat to be particular. You should know this after watching every interview that includes in about twenty times over. There’s a little restaurant just a few blocks from there that you know he would love. You often had lunch there thinking about how much he would love it.

You spoke about books and theories about them on your way to the restaurant, feet falling into step together, but getting out of sync once in a while due to his long legs.

It was so natural. Sometimes, you forget that he was a normal human being.

The scent as you approach the building has your stomach growling and you do not miss the way his pupils dilate when he smells it too. In there was quiet and not crowded, as usual. It sucks for the owners, but that’s why you love this place. It was often empty. Honestly, if not for their deliveries, they would be out of business. You both go to the counter and order. It takes a while since this was his first time there. Your card is in your hand the entire time he speaks, but when he finishes, he gives them his card.

“Wait! I thought this was me apologizing, that I was buying you lunch.” You hold onto his card to stop the server from taking it. Three people were now grabbing onto it and looking at each other in confusion. You offer your card that was in your next hand and the server looks at Namjoon for permission, as if she wasn’t listening to you. He shakes his head.

“I only wanted company. I planned on eating alone,” you further your argument. “At least let me pay half.”

Someone coughs behind you. There are about two other people waiting their turn, looking angrily at the two of you. He takes the opportunity of you being distracted to give his card to the cashier again.

Because you were holding up the line, you just let him win.

Namjoon grabs a seat in the corner, facing away from the windows and door. He makes sure his hoodie is secure over his head as he huddles into himself. You realise he is doing this to avoid being caught.

Caught!

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He can get in trouble for this! It finally dawns on you that it looks like you’re on a date. Who do you think you are to even sit across his excellence? It would not be fair to the rest of his stans.

But, its not like you’re like other girls. You don’t want him just because he’s cute. No, your bond is much stronger than any other. You would take care of him. Heal him.

You don’t deserve a Namjoon, but he deserves a you.

You worship him.

Imagine the headlines if Dispatch sees this. Finally, everyone will know for good that Namjoon is yours. You wouldn’t mind if the world found out and misinterpreted the scene.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by food being placed in front of you. Namjoon pulls down his mask to his chin, but his face was still obscured by his bangs.

How long were you sitting across from him imagining these crazy things? You say an expletive in your heart and play it off. “Uwaah, no matter how many times I come here, I’m still amazed by the food. I promise you will love it. I’ve been eating here ever since I started working in this area.”

“It looks great.” He takes a tentative bite into the beef. His eyes light up and a sense of pride washes over you. You knew your man. His shoulders move into a little dance absentmindedly.

You’re endeared by his actions so you sit and admire him eating. Namjoon stops when he realizes how quiet you’re being. He coughs to clear his throat. “So…” he ventures embarrassed. “What made you get into Psychological fiction?”

“I always loved reading. I guess I just realized I liked reading these books more. I think Kafka was the pivot that made me go deeper.”

“It’s the same for me actually.” Namjoon went on to explain how he started reading about psychology, which led to a conversation about both of your favourite authors, reads, stores, forums, clubs, etc. The food was long gone but the refill of their beers are full.

You practically scream at the story he tells where a friend of his thought he was reading erotic novellas the entire time. “It was really so embarrassing. We were in public and really said, ‘don’t you read about romance and sex all the time. Tell me what I should do to be more sensitive.’ I wanted to die on the spot.” He slumps further into his seat to express this, but he is smiling brightly looking at you laugh so hard it looked painful.

“Hey, I never got your name,” he points out mid-chuckle. “I don’t think I asked before, but I’m K-“

“Kim Namjoon,” you finish his introduction for him for him. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit here and act like I didn’t recognize you. I’m army and I know my bias from his voice. Also, I’m ____.” You look up at him worriedly. Its true. You didn’t have it in you to lie by letting him introduce himself.

Namjoon is caught off guard and goes red. “You’re lying about me being your bias I’m sure. You don’t have to do that,” he flusters.

You open a compartment of your phone case revealing his photocard, “I keep it there to look at whenever I feel unmotivated or insignificant. Your words during lives really helped me with my anxiety. I even watch videos of you at the end of concerts to hear what you have to say. It really pumps me up,” you express with your body.

This shocks him visibly. “Don’t look at me like I’m lying. You really helped me a lot when I was trying to study for college entrance exams, and when I failed and found that I didn’t make it to my top, and only, choice. I didn’t apply anywhere else and decided to work part time and follow my dreams, like you sort of did.”

“Either way, I’m glad BTS could have done that for you.”

“Me too. My parents were hella mad, especially since they thought I should have been a doctor or lawyer just because I got good grades in high school. I don’t care too much about what they think, though. Most great people’s parents didn’t approve what they did. I mean, look at Pip from Great Expectations.”

“I don’t think there is one single happy person out there who does what their parents wanted them to,” Namjoon agrees.

“Like in the great words of Aristo-“ you begin, but get cut off by a loud ringing in your pocket. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you whisper as you scramble to answer it.

Embarrassingly enough, it was your boss and you were sure that Namjoon could hear what is being screamed at you even though your phone was not on speaker. He looks at you in wonder as you try to explain to her that you will be coming soon and how you were running late. A particular jab concerning your coworker’s incompetence to handle yours and her own work, especially when you couldn’t handle your own station, has Namjoon railing over in laughter.

“Yes, ma’am. I will be there in a few minutes! I’m sorry ag-“ the dial tone sounds before you can even finish your sentence. Dejected, you could not help the pout as you lift your eyes to take your one last good look at your obsession. “I’m sorry, Joon, I was only supposed to stop to the bookstore for five minutes. I had work after.”

“Do what you have to do.” He looks at you sympathetically. “You’re such a bad girl. This would make you,” he checks his watch beneath his hoodie, “an entire hour late.”

You both get up to clear the table. “Thank you for lunch again.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” he retorts.

You walk outside the store together, but had to walk opposite directions. This is when Namjoon realises that he wont ever see her again. Unless…

He spins around and grabs you wrist. “Um…” He can’t speak with her looking at him like that. “Can I… have your number?”

He spoke so quietly, you wonder if you have heard correctly, or if it was the wind playing tricks on you. His hand is surely on yours, and he is certainly looking at you, but you still are in a rush.

Grabbing a napkin and pen from your pocket, you quickly jot your name and number down. “Hey, you can just put it in my phone.”

You shake your head. “Sorry, I’m in a rush and I do not want to mess this up.” You always make such terrible typos on the regular. You don’t trust yourself to input the correct the number when youre filled with adrenaline. You shove the napkin to his chest which he grabs for. “I’ll talk to you later,” you ask, unsure. Not waiting for his response, you begin to sprint into the direction of your job.

Namjoon stood there staring after you for a few heavy heart beats. You were perfect. From the arch of your brow as you hung onto every word he enunciated to the sloppily tied tennis on your feet that did not shaking once during your conversation.

He holds the number out to admire your handwriting. It was so neat, cute even. He brings the napkin up to his nose to see if he can smell even a little of you on it. Of course, with his mask on, he was not able to smell much of everything. As he pulls it down to appreciate the napkin more, a white van that had passed him rather quickly slammed brakes and was now reversing towards him.

He scanned the area and notices someone just across the street from him filing him with a smartphone.

His identity is well hidden today. So he does not feel threatened by the filming. He is afraid of the man coming out of the van with a huge, high tech camera.

He shoves the napkin he cherished so ardently before in his back pocket and makes a run for it.

Or so he thinks.

The napkin flutters to the ground slowly, heavily contrasting the speed that Namjoon ran away.

Later that evening, he rummages through his clothes. He strips to his boxers, standing in the middle of his apartment with a blank stare. Your number is nowhere to be found. He had no way to speak to you. His last interaction with you will have been his last interaction with you.

Tears fall down his cheeks proudly when he realizes this.

He takes a few deep breaths. This is not over.

You mentioned that you worked in the area. He will just have to go back there and look for you.

You wore a black golf shirt, leggings, vans, a black sports bra (from what he can tell by the print through your top), probably a thong (since there were no pantylines shown as you walked), and…

And…

His erection stood proudly looking up at him.

He let his mind get carried away thinking about you. Trying to focus again, he fights through his memories to figure out which store’s workers wore black shirts with no logos or crests.

Nowhere.

That’s it – nowhere he’s been. Meaning it’s a store he had no purpose for, and judging the direction in which you ran, it had to have been that local shop. Namjoon searched Google maps street view for a few minutes before he finds the only place that can be where you worked.

He smiles proudly. All was not lost.

Fucking creep! Stop following me! Namjoon’s ex’s voice rang through his head.

“Will it be creepy if I show up on her job? She never told me where she worked…” he thinks aloud to himself.

Namjoon opens his phone again, but this time to find your work phone number. He calls the number provided, but since it was 10:34pm, he can assume that the small tailor shop was closed.

Tomorrow.

A/n:

I hope there weren’t too many mistakes! I originally made an outline for this months ago as a joke, but as I wrote it, I realised that it was kinda deep lol. satirical even.

Also, fics are so hard to find on tumblr, but I feel like theyre so good here! I use ao3 to search for authors and follow their tumblr if they have one. I think I’m gonna start cross publishing. 

[aggresivelyfriendly]

To Be So Lonely- Chapter 4

California Dreamin

Hi all! It has been ages, but at least one person is still interested, so nanny chapter ahoy! I gave this a revise and a quick read, so.... all mistakes, as ever, are mine!

Enjoy!

Harry didn't like to think of it as plotting.

He was just taking care of her. Right? She needed to relax. She ran herself ragged. We're all attorneys so dedicated? Admittedly, he didn't know a lot of lawyers, it didn't seem a career people were borne for, but if anybody was made to wear the wig, it was Vee. It was admirable, how hard she worked, how much she worked. She might be the most productive person he knew, that may also be because he came from academia. Some people published so fast your head spun, others, didn't. But Vee put the p in productivity. That's why she got the heavy cases, like the one she was coming off. Plus, when she got home, she tried to do as much as possible with the twins. She'd totally kicked him out of last week's wakings though she hasn't slept much.

"Go, I need time with my babies." With a hand wave and a look that brooked no argument, he was dismissed like a case she saw holes in from day one. He'd lingered, just a moment, to watch her scoop up Teo. Belli was still sleeping, but stirring from the noise. A swirl of her tummy with Vee's manicured hand, and she was out. Mateo was quiet now on her shoulder too now. Her beautiful hand splayed over his back at the moment. Harry had no idea when she had time to get her nails done. Maybe her Lunch hour? Though she came home then when she could. He knew it was devotion, to the babies, not her nails. That was probably required to look "professional." She must squeeze those in on the days she wasn't huddling home to see the twins, she loved them so, said it was worth it.

However, he suspected it was guilt as well over the case taking so much time, lots of late nights and missed bed times. She's worked herself to the bone, and he knew better than to mention the dark circles bruised beneath her eyes. He still saw them though. So he'd called his uncle, his pseudo uncle, and got them the place. Even promised he'd help pay for the trip James and his family had take last minute so Harry, Vee and the babies could be alone.

"With what?" His uncle chuckled. "I Know your da tied up your trust fund because you aren't doing an MBA!"

"I'm thirty. I can make my own decisions." Harry insisted. And if that meant he had to pay his own way, that was a learning experience, real adulting too. He told himself everyday he worked to go back to school, and now just did because he couldn't imagine not, that this was the way it was supposed to be. His life hadn't been Normal. Even compared to the other students on his Ivy League program with him.

"You can, but you have to then pay your own way." He could hear the shrug, and the pride. It's why his Dad's best friend was his favorite. Harry knew he sided with him. "But, enough of the tough love stuff. On to the real thing. Why do we have to make ourselves scarce? Something going on?" He left the insinuation heavy in his voice.

"No, C'mon man. She's my boss. She just needs a break. Case has been a killer. And then she's always trying to be super mum when she's home too and not let me do night duty." Harry rolled his eyes like James could see him.

His uncle whistled, "She must be a looker, if you're talking like a husband not the help."

Harry scoffed without any control. The help. Ouch. He didn't feel like help, he felt, needed. "Fuck off. It's not like that. It's professional. She doesnt see me like that anyway. Not her type."

"Oh, I see, that why she did a donor dad? She like ladies?" Harry honestly couldn't tell if he was taking the piss, plus he wanted to give a social justice rant, but knew his Uncle was more messing with him than bigoted, he hoped.

"No! No, least I don't think so?" She wasn't, was she? "Not that it would matter if she was." He protested. He honestly could not tell why it bothered him.

"Oh, quite." James was still amused and Harry was going to make more heavy weather of it, but Harry decided to ignore his uncles tone and teasing.

"James?" He cajoled.

"So, daddy," he'd even ignore the occasional dig, he was glad his uncle couldn't see his lip curl, and that he got back to brass tacks. "What dates are we being kicked about?"

"In two weeks for two weeks."  Harry was looking at the calendar she had of Selena to see how she'd marked it. Everything went into calendars, paper ones. Even though their google one synced to her iPhone. Victoria needed the order, she was so busy. The Selena calendar was just a nod to the other part of her, that wasn't run by a clock and schedule. She loved Selena.

He'd discovered this by accident.

She was so cute when she was unguarded. He was sure that he never would have found out the personal morsel if she hadn't been super stressed and decided to dance it out. She hadn't been expecting him home, he could tell that for sure, she had a red dress on, for the occasion he supposed, though her hair was still up in the mom bun her long tresses were usually scraped up into, and she was barefooted. The dress and her feet were making the most of the Latin beat. Harry was sure he would have watched for quite a while longer had she not performed an impressive turn and opened her eyes to sing "bidi bidi bum bum." He assumed she was looking to use the microwave as a mirror. Give her self a wink maybe.

He couldn't dance, but watching her made him want to learn.

"Ayyy!" She placed her hand over her heart. "Por favor Harry! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

" I didn't mean to!" He proclaimed. "The kiddos," he gestured to the dowsing twins in their Bob double stroller. "Were just done with the park. You ok now?" He was suppressing his mirth, it's not like he caught her with her hand in a cookie jar.

"Yeah, yeah, my heart rate is back to normal." He wasn't sure that was true, her breath was still rapid. "Put those dimples away!"

"There are no dimples." He tried to make his face as flat as the pancakes the kids liked from a Trader Joe's. He knew his face was probably betraying him. That muscular defect showed unless his face was truly neutral, and he was definitely engaged, amused.

"Stop laughing at me!" She glowered. Oh! Her flush was lovely.

He finally just burst out, with the ridiculous laugh, the one that was like a opening shot at the races.

Vee was certainly off. She dissolved into giggles too. And then they were laughing together until they were just looking at one another. Harry let the dimples bloom fully then, Couldn't help it, really.

Victoria took a big breath, notched her chin back and forth an inch or two, and said, "Pardon, I'm gonna go change."

"Dress is pretty." He let slip. She shot him a warning look, but she was smiling, so he felt the need to push a bit more. "A little formal for nap time." Her flipped up middle finger as she rounded the hallway entrance made him snicker. He controlled it so he didn't hear that tone she used on the phone some times. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of that, he didn't think.

He'd been clicking a button on Amazon a moment later on the Selena calendar. Well, after he googled the lyrics to figure out who she had been dancing to. Then he remembered another little detail they'd need in the beach house.

"Oh, set up the crib!" The babies could have the third bedroom. Between him and Vee, so they could share duties. She needed rest. He was gonna try to slyly make sure he took the first night shift. She'd want to hear them, and he was sure he couldn't pull it past her if he put them on one end and her on another.

James laughed. "Jesus, should I also call the chef?"  He was joking. Harry wasn't.

"Yeah, at least give me the number. She doesn't cook. Maybe buy a second crib."

"Do you cook then?" His uncle could barely keep the mirth from frothing over.

"Yeah, when she works late. So she doesn't have to eat out all day." Where was the shame in being kind?

"Oh, Harry, you better hope she's a looker and does like men, cuz if you aren't gunning for daddy, you are most certainly the help." He wasn't even trying to hide the cackle.

The help? That smarted like a slap across the ass cheek, though it was definitely unreasonable to be bothered. "Well, I am the nanny. And I definitely try to be helpful."

"Yes, employee of the month." James kept laughing at Harry while they said their goodbyes. He could hear the snickers and was sure he would be telling Jules the moment they got off then phone.

He'd got off the phone and thought about whether he was the help for ages. Railing against the insinuation.

Then accepting it, of course he was the help! He was hired help. Must be his upbringing that was showing in his annoyance at the term. He'd need to work on that. Get over himself and his privilege.

And be the best damn help he could be.

The alternative as to why he was so bothered, he couldn't think about that. Or James's ideas about his design on daddy. Though his mind did a little wander down that trail.

Gunning for daddy, how ridiculous! He just appreciated her, respected her, liked her. He tried to make her life better, like she did him, dancing to Selena and smiling and such.

Shit.

Or giving him a job and gifting him with time with her enchanting, infuriating babies. That was where his locus of gratitude was, right? Not for the chance to be close to her.

He decided to distract himself from surfacing realizations. So he dove into planning.

He thought about his own time there, and did some googling. At first he was thinking they'd just sit on the beach a ton, he'd spent hours staring at the waves like he'd once inhabited the waters and they were calling him home. When he thought more of it, he realized that was what Vee needed, but she'd bail by day three if laying about was the only plan. They'd have to get into something else too. He reckoned outside, with sunshine, and something physical.

Hiking, once she got sick of the beach, or pool, or both. That would do the trick.

This was going to be so relaxing. He wondered if they could take the twins hiking? He was researching back pack carriers when she came home.

"Do you like hiking?" He asked immediately after he said hi. He had to restrain himself from kissing her cheek hello while he scrolled through his phone.

He'd ask himself what was going on, but it would be a lie. He'd kinda known, that he was feeling at the very least familial towards her, but ever since his Uncle razed him about liking her, he was much more aware of it.

Ignorance really could be bliss. Because he was now aware of what he was missing and his subterranean wants. It had started normally, with no romantic inclinations. When he'd come for his interview, she'd impressed him, and she'd looked really tired. But pretty, really pretty, and she had made some gorgeous kids. She could use him, his help, and he could learn from her. He just knew it.

Then his crush has sort of just grown in the background, like the tomato plant his mum had growing up. He was sure it took tending, but he never saw any take place. His only memory of it was when he was forced to help build the raised bed, and picking fat green caterpillars off of it once until he put one in his sister's hair, he was off tomato duty then. After that, all he recalled was being overwhelmed by the hordes of red ripe fruit that came from it when the sun was high. He supposed he'd had a foundational moment he didn't recognize during his interview either.

Partly, he remembered really wanting this job, to help and support this family, this woman. So he supposed his level of engagement was different even in the first stage, a compulsion, just not parental.

He didn't do much tending, not to his budding crush, but he supposed when he caught her dancing and not only was moved by her hips but couldn't help but notice her lively eyes and her vanished dark circles, was some sort of middle stage.

Today, getting off the phone with his uncle was seeing all the fruit of the labor he wasn't even aware he was doing. He'd been tending and tilling, spacing and watering, nurturing his interest.

Now he just had to decide what to do about it.

Option one, ignore it, and they continue living as they have been. Like some version of a family; they're certainly a team, but one where he is the impermanent piece, like the quarterback about to graduate onto new things. Harry doesn't want new things, well he doesn't think so. He's fairly certain he wants this team, Vee as his coach and the twins as the freshman walk ons. He's just not sure how to get it.

So, option one seems no good. He doesn't want to just pretend he hasn't realized his feelings. He's known since day one he admired Vee, adored the twins. He still felt those things, they'd just deepened and he wanted to put their needs right before his own for the foreseeable future. Which was why he'd once again delayed going back to school. Another extension. He'd told himself it was about the money, and he did need that, but really he wasn't ready to be here less.

Option two, he's direct. He's imagined that scenario in his head. The setting as the living room they share. He can tell they've just gotten back, their cheeks sun kissed by the California sun, and their suitcases still full in the living area.

"Vee, have a seat. It's been a long day. Want some wine?" Should you be able to hear the nerves in your voice in a daydream?

"Yes please." She'd sigh. And he'd only heard that like twice when he made this offer in real life, so further proof he was imagining best case scenario. After a few sips, he can imagine he'd get caught up watching her relax and be mesmerized by the working of her throat. It would take courage, but she'd be relaxed and he'd be keyed up by the two weeks of her in swimsuits and watching her lick the rim of her wine glass with her eyes closed. Sometimes excitement was related to bravery.

"Vee," he'd start, "Victoria," so she'd know he was serious. Her eyes would open, connect to his. Then, he'd just say it.

But what? I'd like to take you out. I think I have feelings for you. No. I do have feelings for you. Should I just move into your bedroom? What does your kiss taste like?

He had no idea how to tell her his heart, and that seemed like an odd place to start considering they basically lived together. Shit, would she fire him? He needed the job, and the twins, oh god! He'd miss them so.

He couldn't come out of left field then. He'd need to feel her out, flirt, watch for reactions. Malibu seemed like an ideal place to move beyond the support he showed her. The sunsets and skin had to be romantic. It felt romantic to him when he was there alone, the feeling would magnify with a love interest. He'd roll his eyes at himself if he could see his reflection. He just had to see if he was interesting to her, on her romantic radar. If she seemed bewildered or put off, he'd save his job and let his feelings fester, save money and go back to school. Try to move on.

He'd have to find a way to stay in touch with the twins.

Or, she'd be receptive.

That might have been a scarier thought. More exciting too! He'd start sooner. A glass of wine, he'd let his hand linger when he handed it to him.

But she'd just begged off for her bed.  "You're so charming, Styles!" He'd teased himself as he went to bed, well tossed and turned all night. He'd needed mountains of iced coffee to stay awake the next day on their flights, the babies were cranky too. They must be feeding off his energy, and Hers. Vee looked wiped as well, so every time he got himself a refresh, he got her one too. Everything took forever, and he was vibrating by the time they picked up their rental. The babies were slowly fading and Vee looked more keyed up than him. They needed to relax, a way to unwind.

That's when the idea sparked him. The pool, the sunset, and a night cap that he could extend into drinks. All the makings of a romantic evening, or a relaxing one. He'd just lean into whatever way she seemed to be veering.

His imagination had hoped though, as he distracted himself from waiting for service in the line.

He started with thoughts of kissing her, tasting the cool water beading on her lips and the contrast of the warm recesses of her mouth. He might have groaned out loud if Belli hadn't whined.

The traffic was a welcome distraction from his nerves and though he knew the way, Vee drove and it took just that bit longer for her lack of familiarity. Especially with traffic. He offered to do it, but she'd got the rental, at her insístanle since he'd put so much work into the trip and found free accommodations. Her name was on it. "You get to play navigator, and she'd found the energy to wink!

Good sign?

The drive knocked out the crank pots in the backseat, though they had screamed until the Mulholland Pass. Until Harry realized the sun was in their eyes directly. He'd hopped over the seats and blocked it with his hands. It wasn't comfortable, but got took away the overstimuli for all the occupants of the car. Once they pass out, he and Vee shared a relieved pair of sighs. That got his mind wandering again, about other shared exhales. Soon they were pulling up the familiar beach side road and parking, each taking a baby in hand and communicating with their eyes to get them in the house.

Once Teo was in his crib, Harry cocked his head to the driveway and moved behind her. She nodded, understanding he'd unload the car while she settled Belli. She was the hard case. Harry tried to be businesslike about it, though he admitted the brush of his front to her back was more than accidental plus, he sniffed her, inaudible. She smelled of plane, and baby, and coffee. And Vee. He smiled on his way out the doorway and it encouraged him, how well they did this together.

He dropped the bags, the many bags, she'd packed just inside her door and was in his room and rooting for the swim trunks he'd packed on top before he knew it. He text her directions to meet him out back and went before his nerves could get the best of him.

Did she like tattoos? Would they turn her off? She knew about his arms, he was fairly certain he'd been wearing a t shirt at his interview. His collection was extensive though. Eye-catching, in his experience with romantic interests, usually compelling. Unless she hated body art.

Too late to do anything now, years late, and since when was he self conscious, especially about his tattoos.

He needed to get a move on if he was gonna be ready for her. He thought he knew James, well, in this case Julia, well enough that they'd have what he was looking for, probably already chilled.

He found the Moët and grabbed the glasses by the stem and huddled outside. The gorgeous weather wrapped around him, more comfortable than any sweater and the water enveloped his thighs. If she came out soon, hopefully in a suit. They'd just catch the sunset. Her skin would look so pretty in the golden light, and then moon light, probably any light. Still, he was going to keep track of her changes. He tanned well, he could show imagine how tawny she would get. His confidence was returning with his plan working out so well and his desires so near the surface. Should he pour the champagne, or would the bottle popping be a nice official start to the vacation? He was mulling it over waist deep in the water when her voice caught his attention.

"Dios Mío!" He heard from over his shoulder, and when he looked back, he would have said the same but it had little to do with the sunset he assumed she was marvelling over and everything to do with Vee.

He nearly forgot the champagne and cavemanned her over his shoulder and straight into where he was in over his head.

But that was overly forward. He at least needed to get her wet before he dove into the deep end.

[virtchandmoir]

Tessa Virtue on retiring from skating, starting her MBA and the women who most inspire her

March 15, 2020

When we arrive on the Montreal set of RW&Co.'s spring campaign, the shoot is well under way. Tessa Virtue, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, is only too happy to show us around the styling room that has since become command central. Jewelry, accessories and shoes line nearly every surface, yet the ice-dancing superstar is unfazed, slipping into a pair of trendy white boots ahead of her next outfit switch.

For London, Ont.-born Tessa, 30, adapting to change is par for the course. Having announced her retirement from professional skating last fall after more than two decades (and five Olympic medals) on the ice with partner Scott Moir and wrapped their subsequent Stars on Ice tour, she's undaunted by what the future holds.

"It was a decision that, like most things in our career, came naturally," she tells HELLO! Canada of stepping away from competitive ice dancing. "We looked at each other one day and said, 'I really think this is it.' And it was as simple as that."

Perhaps because she made a name for herself as one half of a duo – albeit a gold-medalling one – Tessa (the youngest of four children) is keen to forge a path all her own. Having dipped her toe in fashion and beauty with several collaborations, she's ready to take on new challenges. Chief among these: studying for her MBA at Queen's University (she has almost completed her BA in psychology and holds an honorary doctorate from Western University) and launching her own business.

Modelling pieces from RW&Co.'s spring collection, Tessa says, "There's a refined sense of elegance to their clothing, but there's also this whimsical, fun element that allows people to express themselves in a really unique way. And I love finding that balance." Photo: © Andrew Soule

"I've always had this dream of building something from the ground up," shares the star. Love could be in the cards, too – Tessa reveals that she's taking a date to Scott's wedding this summer!

HELLO! Canada: How has your life changed since your retirement?

Tessa Virtue: I have to say, it feels quite natural to be off skates for extended periods of time now. I think without that singular focus of wanting to be the best, I don't feel such a void. What I might miss is the desire to perform and share in that moment with a crowd, or create something with Scott. It will be a task, to find a creative outlet in a different capacity – maybe business or school.

You're going back to school in September. Tell us about that decision.

I've stayed in school part-time, basically since I entered university when I was 17 – I'm just a few credits shy of my psychology degree. That semblance of normalcy of being on campus was important to me, feeling like I was broadening my horizons outside skating. And I've always known that I wanted to be in business. I have a very fierce entrepreneurial spirit, reinforced by being my own boss as an athlete. I'm so excited to embrace the MBA program. I can't wait – I think it will be just a thrilling challenge academically when I've done something physically for such a long time.

Does this mean you'll be able to put down roots?

It's funny, because in figuring out my schedule, that seems a little limiting already. Mentally, I'm fighting that restlessness because I've become so accustomed to life on the road. But I do think it will be healthy for me to be more grounded. It doesn't mean I have to say no to opportunities, but it will be nice to have my suitcases unpacked for longer than an hour! As it is, I'm home in London about one day a month. And every time I do get home, it's such a respite – it's calm, and as someone who's real-estate-obsessed, I'm always looking. I do look forward to being in Toronto a lot more.

Tessa and Scott at the 2018 Canada's Walk of Fame induction ceremony. The two, who are both from London, Ont., hold honorary Doctor of Law degrees from Western University. Photo: © George Pimentel/Getty Images

Are you hoping for more balance in your life?

Yes – I was so specialized for so long and now I'm trying on different hats, but that's also what's keeping me inspired after 20-some odd years of showing up at the rink and doing the same thing over and over again in the same way. I loved it, but that kind of lifestyle is difficult to maintain. And I realize now that [Scott and I ] did sacrifice a lot. You kind of live a life of depravity when you're training like that, and it's nice to feel somewhat free; it's liberating.

What are you incorporating into your life now that you couldn't before?

The biggest thing is personal relationships and friendships. Everyone in my life has been so supportive for such a long time, but that takes a toll. For me, quality time is the most important thing in any kind of relationship. It will be nice to establish that with the people closest to me, and reconnect and maybe redefine success, because I have to figure out who I am when I'm not in that Moulin Rouge costume.

It's clear you have a passion for fashion.

I come by that pretty honestly; my mom ( Kate) is the most stylish human I've ever met. It's how we express our individuality. I look to my wardrobe to help foster a sense of confidence and self-worth.

Scott and Tessa performing the routine that clinched them the ice-dancing gold medal at the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympics. Photo: © MLADEN ANTONOV/AFP via Getty Images

What will you miss most about not seeing Scott every day?

We'll always have that deep-rooted respect for one another, but I'll miss being so in sync that we didn't even need to speak. I'll miss knowing his sense of humour inside and out and getting to share our fears and vulnerabilities. It builds such trust.

Are you taking a date to Scott's wedding to skater Jackie Mascarin in July?

Yes – I like keeping that part of my life really private. It's always something I've kept to myself and it's nice when you get to just enjoy that part of your life.

In honour of International Women's Day on March 8, 2019, Tessa was one of 20 female role models to be re-imagined as a Barbie doll. The only Canadian in the group, "Tessa, like other honourees, was chosen because through hard work, determination and dedication, she shows girls every day that you can be anything," said Lisa Perry, brand manager at Mattel Canada. Photo: © Mattel, Inc.

You inspire millions of women and girls. Do you have people who inspire you in your own life?

People laugh at me because I'm sort of obsessed with connecting with people who inspire me. [Olympic rower] Marnie McBean has been a mentor right from the beginning... and one of my best friends is [Olympic skier] Jennifer Heil. After the Olympics I thought I was unique, and that maybe because the high was so high, the low inevitably needed to be low, but [now I realize] everyone is facing change and dealing with transition. I'm not alone. And that's reassuring.

—HELLO! Canada

Click here for link to scanned article.

[disastrousbarnes]

Not without you (6)

Pairing: (Dad) Steve Rogers x Reader, (past) Bucky x Reader

Warning: swearing(?)

Summary: Ever since Steve lost Angela he hasn’t been the same, live hasn’t been the same. The only reason he was still doing this was for his kids, because they need him. So when a new chance at love comes on his path, will he take it? Will either of them take it?  

Authors note: Hi well last time I gave ya’ll a chapter it was may 2019, It’s Januari 2020. But hey, A bitch is back! This chapter includes a lot of talk about Bucky, but don’t worry, it’ll become more Steve x Y/N centered soon. 

FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME AND HONESTLY WANTED!

Wordcount: 2222

Tag List:

@lunadanvers @dangerdolns @stevieboyharrington @tessvillegas @lanabgil @cecedofficial @lovingrxgers @celebsimagines @pizzamyhearts @leaveittosteverogers @saroo-hawks @ellaprime68 @grace-wheeze @bxxbxy @lovvliies​ @marvelismysafezone​

TAG LIST IS OPEN!! So if you wanna be tagged just message me x

Read Chapter 1 Read Chapter 2 Read Chapter 3 Read Chapter 4 Read Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Old and new friends.

“So, Steve?” Tony’s eyes meet Y/N’s over the dinner table.

Y/N just rolls her eyes, of course Tony had to bring that up. “Not during dinner. Tony, please?” She pleaded. An awkward silence fell over the table. Y/N and Tony used to share everything during dinner, no topic was off the table. Not today though, Y/N didn’t want to talk about Steve, not in front of the kids.

“But-” Tony started, but he was quickly cut off by Pepper.

“Tony, she said no.” Potts and Stark shared a look, after which Tony silently went back to eating.

Y/N mouthed Pepper a ‘thank you’, the strawberry blonde responded with a sweet smile.

“So Alex, I read you became the captain of the football team?”  Stark Industries is Jacob High, the high school the triplets attend, biggest sponsor. Pepper, being the CEO of Stark Industries, likes to keep up with projects the company invests in.  So naturally she knows all about Alex being the youngest captain of Jacob highs football team ever.

Alex face immediately lights up. “Yeah, I guess the guys felt I was good enough of a leader to, well, lead them.” After his father’s death, the teen had really thrown himself into sports, something that was clearly reflected by his muscled physic.

Pepper gave him an encouraging nod, “The article did speak very highly of your capabilities to get the team together.”

“Teambuilding is the most important part of it all,” Alex agreed, “Thankfully Y/N allows me to get the guys together at our place. So each Friday we get together, cook dinner and just talk, play games, watch a movie. You know just something to make sure we’re all in sync.”

Y/N can’t help but feel happy to see Alex talk so passionately about his role as team captain. She still remembers the silence that had fallen over the boy the first few months after Bucky’s death.

All three of teen boys had taken their dads unexpected death really hard. Which was of course to be expected, but out of all of them Alex had taken it the hardest. He and Bucky had always been the closest. It also took him the longest to not treat Y/N like an outsider when she first started dating Bucky. Bucky had told her that this was because Alex didn’t want to get attached to anyone and then have them leave again. That when their mother left when they were very young really hurt and confused him.

“Y/N?” The feeling of a hand resting on her shoulder startled Y/N, causing her to quickly turn around to face Caleb. “Are you okay? Mister Stark has been talking to you for 5 minutes now.”

Y/N frowns, how could she have zoned out like this?  “Oh.” Is all she says, not sure if she should make an excuse or not.

Tony just laughs, “What do you say, we go to my office have a drink, bet those boys have their license by now, so they can drive back and I know for sure Miss Potts and Morgs wouldn’t mind spending some time with Anna. I have kept her to myself all day, after all.” He winks.  

Y/N is a little hesitant, but agrees. Tony used to be one of her closest friends and she can’t just continue to block everyone that reminds her of Bucky out of her life, everyone except for Sam that is.

 Not much later the pair stood in Tony’s office.

“Last time we were here you were pregnant.” Tony chuckles. Y/n had been about 6 month along back then. Her belly had already been huge, he even remembers she was wearing Bucky’s favorite maroon sweater. He only remembered that because Bucky complained that he actually wanted to wear it, about 24 times during dinner.  

“And my husband was still alive.” Y/N had meant it as a joke, but the look on Tony’s face clearly showed that that didn’t get across. “I- It was a joke T.”

Tony lets out a sigh of relieve. “Oh.” A small smile plays on his lips. “I was afraid you’d yell at me again.”

When Bucky died Tony had insisted to personally tell Y/N of Bucky’s passing. Something  she didn’t exactly take lightly. In the rush of emotions she had blamed Tony for all of it. She had told him it was his fault for getting Bucky to help him with the program in the first place and that he should have never have let him go to Afghanistan.

Though truly she knew Bucky was the one that came to Tony with the idea in the first place. Stark Industries had stopped manufacturing weapons years ago, but Bucky convinced Tony to get back into it. To help him make safe weapons that would cause as little destruction as possible.  That wouldn´t kill so many innocent people. He wanted to create a way to end wars as quick and peaceful as possible.

And hearing that that had been the thing to kill her husband had broken the -then pregnant- woman. When the shock had settled she of course apologized to Tony for her accusations, but to say that had put a rift in their friendship would be an understatement.

“Never.” Y/N said, sitting down in the big red office chair. “I still don’t understand why you need an office.”

“Yeah yeah I know. I am always down in the lab, but having an office is nice for-“

“Drinking.” Y/N finished the sentence, a bottle of jack had already found it’s way into her hand. “That’s the only thing we have ever done here.”

Sam, Bucky, Pepper, Tony, Bruce, Rhodey, Clint and her used to have dinner together every Friday night, to end the workweek right. After which they would get drunk and dance in this very office. The triplets would watch Morgan upstairs, which was an easy way to make some money. So they never complained about it.

“Does the rest still work for you?” She hadn’t really been in touch with anyone since the incident.

Tony nods, “Rhodey is still our main connection with the military. Clint is running the weapon testing department right now. Bruce and I have been working on some really interesting tech, it would make the weapons non killing, just rendering our opponents unconscious for about 12 hours max. Buck had been pressing me about that  for so long, we just weren’t able to crack the code. Of course something like this already on the market, but the danger with that stuff is that 1 it is always bad for the environment  and 2 you never know what the cognitive damage is with that stuff. Which is dangerous cause most of the time you aren’t just taking out the bad guy, but also the innocent bystanders.”

Y/N enjoyed seeing Tony ramble on so passionately about the new ‘weapon’ he and Bruce are making. It reminds her of sitting on the couch at home, just watching Bucky walk around the room, talking about all he wanted to achieve with S.T.W.P. He had been so enthusiastic, so willing to do everything to create a brighter future. One of peace.  

“But enough about weapons and work, what about that Steve dude? He’s a friend of Buck’s you said?” Tony had a way of smoothly swaying into topics Y/N didn’t exactly want to talk about.

“Used to be.” Y/N felt her body tens up at just the mention of Steve’s name. Something about the fondness and respect Bucky still had when he used to talk about him didn’t match up with the Steve Y/N had met. “Left New York and never contacted James again.”

“James?” Tony cocked an eyebrow, Y/N had never called Bucky James, not in public at least.

“Shut up.” She felt her face get hot, “It just flopped out. I only call him James when no one else is around.”

“Cause he didn’t mind it when you said it?”

“He didn’t.”

Tony smiles, putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “Of course he didn’t he loved every word you spoke.”

“It’s still weird when people talk about him in past tense.”

“It really is.” The man agrees. “It’s also weird that Steve and Bucky lived in the same town and never saw each other.”

“It is isn’t it?” Y/N had never even thought about that, honestly she hadn’t given Steve much thought outside of him being Luke’s dad and the man who left Bucky behind.

The rest of their night is spend making up weird theories of how Steve and Bucky ended up in the same town. That and getting very drunk.

//

“Steve?” Sam found himself standing in the doorway of what appeared to be Steve’s bedroom. He decided to check in when after half an hour Steve still hadn’t gotten back from getting a sweater.

Steve was sitting in front of the bed, holding a fluffy black sweater close to chest. He looked up at Sam but didn’t respond. Not that he needed to, the lost look in his eyes spoke volumes. He was hurting, really hurting..

Without speaking another word Sam sat down next to Steve.

“It’s hard isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Everything around you continuously reminds you of her. The kids, the house, all her stuff. Everything.”

“Yeah.” Steve frowns, looking at the piece of clothing in his hands.

“You don’t want to get rid of it because it reminds you of her, but at the same time all the memories are just way too much, aren’t they?”

Finally Steve’s eyes met Sam’s, they were filled with tears. “How did you just put all of my feelings into words?”

“I´ve been trough war and lost the people that mean the most to me. I´m just speaking from personal experience.” Sam’s fierce loyalty and insanely loving heart had only made his life harder, “Plus being a gay black man in the military, well lets say that doesn’t exactly bode well with some of those conservative white boys.” A sad smile adorned his lips.

Steve wrapped his arm around Sam, pulling him close, “Thank you.”

Sam felt confused at the random act of gratitude.

“Thanks for your service, thanks for all you have done and are doing for this country despite of the way you’ve been treated by the people living in it.” Steve had felt a bond with Sam the moment they shared a drink at O’Malley’s, now an immense amount of respect had been added to that. Sam had been trough so much and yet here he was running a countrywide V.A program and if he was right, helping Y/N raise Bucky’s kids.

Now Sam’s eyes were also filled with tears. The only time he had ever been thanked for his service is during award ceremonies, but the words had never felt as sincere as they did this very moment. A soft ‘Thank you’ made his way out of his mouth as he too wrapped an arm around Steve.

“Bucky would laugh so hard if he saw us like this.  Sitting here, snot covered and all mushy emotional. Then he would ask us if we’d like a cup of tea.”

“And he’d never force us to talk about it.” Steve adds.

“Never, but we would tell him anyway. Cause that’s just his effect.”

Steve loves the fact that the way Sam talks about Bucky makes him sound as if he hadn’t changed one bit from the Bucky he grew up with. The take no shit, but it’s okay to feel like shit sometimes, caring best friend.

“Bucky really was something else.” Sam says and releases his arm from Steve’s. “He was a little different after the war though, a little harder. That’s until he met Y/N. Something about her just sometimes a little too honest, completely open personality made it easier for Buck to deal with everything that had happened in his life. He was almost like the young, overworked, hopeful young guy I met during training. Almost.”

“She’s young isn’t she? Like a lot younger than Buck?”  Steve felt a little stupid asking, it wasn’t really his business after all.

“She’s almost 26 yeah.” Sam says with a chuckle. “Buck met her in New York when she was only 20. It was at some small 40’s themed bar she was working at. God the man tried so hard not to fall in love with that girl. He couldn’t help himself though, she just made her way into his heart, I remember right before he asked her out, she was all the idiot could talk about. Plus when you love someone the way Y/N and Bucky loved each other those 14 years feel like nothing.”

14 years, Jesus Buck, that’s a lot. Steve felt weird for even thinking that. He was judging a dead guy, who apparently really loved his wife.

“That’s uhm..” Steve wasn’t sure what to say. “She seems lovely.”

Sam lets out a loud roaring laugh, “She’s a fucking pain in the ass.” The comment might sound harsh, but his voice is filled with adoration and love.

“Isn’t that what you said about Bucky the first time we met?”

“I mean they both are, but I am decently sure I just called him an idiot fuck face.”

That night Bucky Barnes’  youth best friend and adulthood best friend became friends.  

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Nachtmusik Chapter Twenty-Six

A Little Night Music (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik) Chapter Twenty-Six: Synchronicity

It was the middle of June, and the weather was perfect. All Adrien wanted to do was lie out on the deck of the Liberty, basking in the luxurious warmth of the sun and the soft strumming of Luka’s guitar.

Luka was more than happy to have him. After all, Adrien was good company: quiet in a companionable way when words weren’t needed but always ready with some witty retort or astute piece of insight whenever Luka did feel like talking.

Their musical collaborations were fulfilling in a way Luka had never experienced with another musician. It was as if Adrien instinctively knew where Luka was going with a piece, and whenever Luka got stuck, Adrien always had the perfect suggestion to get him out of his creative slump. Adrien was a well of inspiration, a genuine muse.

After two and a half months of friendship, Luka found that he’d quickly moved from an affectionate crush on Adrien to deep devotion and adoration.

Adrien was fast becoming a staple in all aspects of Luka’s life from family dinners to evenings spent cuddling and watching movies to jam sessions and lying about the houseboat to one-on-one basketball and teaching Adrien to do chores. Adrien was filling up the nooks and crannies of Luka’s life.

Even when they weren’t together, Adrien was always on Luka’s mind. Luka would be out and about and see something in a shop window that made him think of the other teen. Someone would say something funny, and Luka would later text it to Adrien so that they could share the joke.

Adrien stayed in close contact too. Luka periodically got texts throughout the day, even if Adrien was busy, letting Luka know that he wasn’t ever far from Adrien’s thoughts either.

It felt so good to be that in sync with someone, so on the same wavelength.

Nothing had become official yet, and Luka wasn’t one hundred percent sure that Adrien viewed things between them in a romantic light…but the relationship was going well, so Luka decided to take the next step. He invited Adrien to meet and hang out with his friends.

Luka started with a small group from the music program at his university and then introduced Adrien to some of his classmates from the Literature Department. Luka took Adrien to a few of his concerts and let him mingle with his bandmates.

Adrien was a little shy at first with new people but still very friendly. Once a conversation started to flow, though, Adrien held his own well, often talking more than Luka himself.

It was reassuring to see his prospective partner getting along with the other people in Luka’s world. It made him wonder if soulmates really did exist because Adrien just…fit. In less than three months, Adrien had slipped into the grooves of Luka’s life to the point where Luka couldn’t remember how things had been before Adrien and couldn’t imagine things without him.

One Saturday at the end of the school year, a group from the Literature Department was congregating on the Liberty to review course material for the exam. It was during a time when Adrien was typically over, so Luka told him that he was free to join them but needn’t feel obligated, as the class content might be a little boring for someone not studying Literature.

Adrien surprised Luka by showing up anyway.

Luka’s classmates took turns teaching Adrien about different aspects of the pieces, authors, and literary movements that they had studied, and Adrien eagerly asked questions, giving the students a very thorough review that turned out to be objectively better and subjectively more fun than simply reviewing notes and passages from their texts like they had initially planned.

“You’re really interested in this, aren’t you?” Eugénie chuckled, giving Adrien a fond nudge. “Are you thinking about going into Literature in uni?”

Adrien blushed sheepishly, shaking his head. “No, not really. I mean, I love reading, but I wouldn’t want to formally study it.”

“Well, you fooled us,” Gérard laughed. “You seem like you’re soaking this up like a sponge. What’s up with all of the probing questions, then? You just helping us study?”

Adrien’s cheeks darkened further.

He shrugged, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he smiled. “Well, it is interesting…on top of being a good way to learn more about what Luka’s studying. I want to understand so that he can talk about this stuff with me without having to dumb it down.”

“Aww,” Hélène cooed. “Luka, your boyfriend is so sweet! Thierry never takes an interest in the things I care about. You’re so lucky,” she half-pouted.

Luka’s cheeks burst into flame like embers finding dry brush. “Well,” he hedged, “he is sweet, and I am lucky, but…we’re not dating.”

“Wait. Seriously?” Eugénie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Why not?”

Luka’s blush deepened as he averted his eyes, glancing longingly at the guitar propped against the wall by the drum set. His fingers twitched in agitation as dozens of possible answers to that question swirled around his head: because Adrien isn’t interested in guys, because what could Adrien Agreste possibly see in me, because he’s out of my league, because I don’t want to make things awkward and ruin our dynamic by asking him, because I don’t think he’s ready, because I’m afraid of messing it up and losing his friendship, because he’s still in love with someone else…

Adrien instantly picked up on how uncomfortable Luka was with the topic and rushed to take some of the pressure and attention off of his friend. “Does anyone want more of the chocolate lava cake?”

Gérard took mercy on Luka and helpfully raised his hand. “I could definitely go for seconds.”

Adrien scooped up Gérard’s plate and smiled sweetly at the girls. “How about drinks? Can I get anyone a refill?”

“Uh…I’ll just take water, please,” Hélène awkwardly replied.

“Me too, please,” Eugénie added uncertainly.

“Me three!” Gérard jumped in, even though his soda was still half full.

“Luka, could you please give me a hand?” Adrien requested with a practiced smile.

Luka readily acquiesced, following Adrien across the room to the kitchen.

Adrien set about cutting Gérard another slice of lava cake while Luka got out the bottle of Evian from the fridge and poured three glasses.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding,” Luka whispered so quietly that his lips barely moved. He trusted that Adrien’s sharpened hearing would pick up the words.

Adrien turned to rest a hand on Luka’s arm, giving it a bolstering squeeze. “Honestly, it doesn’t bother me,” Adrien assured, voice hushed but strong. “I mean, I do kind of act like your boyfriend, so it’s not like it’s a far-out conclusion to come to. I’m sorry, Luka.”

Adrien’s eyebrows curved in remorse and guilt, taking Luka completely by surprise.

“P5, what do you have to be sorry for?” he wondered, feeling like the ship beneath his feet had suddenly stopped rocking, leaving him off balance.

“Always hanging on you and teasing and flirting,” Adrien whispered back, brow furrowed, bottom lip jutting out slightly. “I didn’t think about how it might give other people the wrong idea. I promise I’ll tone it down when we’re in public going forward.”

If Luka were being totally honest, he would have to admit that Adrien’s affections were a guilty pleasure he savored. Other people seeing non-platonic motives in Adrien’s behaviour put Luka over the moon because that meant that he wasn’t just hallucinating or reading too much into things. It meant that maybe he had a chance. He was loath to lose a single touch, a single flirty line, a single puckish grin.

“You don’t have to do that,” Luka hastily countered, voice a little loud and high in pitch.

Adrien’s guilty expression turned into a puzzled one. “Are you sure? Luka, I saw how uncomfortable you were.”

“I was uncomfortable because I thought the topic made you uncomfortable,” Luka fibbed. “I’m used to straight people assuming that just because I’m bi, I’m automatically interested in every other guy in my age range. Besides…” Luka looked back down at the water glasses. “…it’s really flattering that someone would think you’d date me, so…” Luka cleared his throat. “…so, you don’t have to change anything. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks,” Adrien replied, but he was still frowning. “I’ll be touched about that in a moment, but, first…why did you say you’d be flattered if someone thought I’d date you as if I wouldn’t date you? Why wouldn’t I date you?”

Luka’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Meanwhile, Eugénie, Hélène, and Gérard were straining their ears to hear while, at the same time, trying very hard to look like they were studying their notes intently.

“Luka, you’re wonderful,” Adrien supplied when he saw that his friend was at a loss for words. “Anyone would be thrilled to date you.”

Luka wanted to say, “even you?”, but he was afraid of the answer. Part of him thought this sounded like confirmation that he should make his romantic interest known. Another part suspected a trap, like Luka would confess, but then Adrien would say something like, “oh. No. Sorry. When I said, ‘anyone would be thrilled to date you’, I didn’t mean me”.

“You’re the most perfect guy I’ve ever met,” Adrien continued, trying to build up Luka’s self-esteem.

“I’m not perfect,” was the first thing that Luka could get his wits together enough to say.

Adrien rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say you were perfect. I said you were the ‘most perfect’, as in ‘most close to perfect’, so don’t talk down about yourself, okay? You’re always telling me that, so practice what you preach, okay?”

Luka nodded, a fond smile slowly blooming on his lips. “Thanks.”

Adrien winked, grabbing one of the water glasses as well as Gérard’s plate. “We good?”

Luka’s grin widened as he picked up the remaining two glasses and followed Adrien back over to the others. “Yeah. We’re good, Angel.”

“Okay!” Adrien called cheerfully as he set the plate and glass down in front of Gérard. “Someone explain Magic Realism to me. I don’t get it.”

The group reluctantly let go of the relationship drama and got back to work.

 Eugénie, Hélène, and Gérard left a little over an hour later, brains successfully picked clean by Adrien.

Luka began collecting the dirty dishes, but Adrien shooed him away, insisting. “I’ll clean up. You go get your guitar and decompress.”

Luka blinked at Adrien. “Decompress?”

“Mmhm,” Adrien confirmed, gathering the forks before stacking the plates they’d eaten cake off of. “That thing you do after you’ve been around other people for too long.”

Adrien looked up and into Luka’s aquatic eyes. “Because being around other people for too long stresses you out, doesn’t it? So get your guitar and decompress. Either sit in here or leave your door open so I can listen to you play while I tidy up, okay?”

So stunned was Luka by the fact that Adrien had been paying close enough attention to identify one of Luka’s stressors and corresponding coping mechanism, that he actually went and got his guitar, sat on the wrap-around couch, and began to play instead of arguing and insisting on helping Adrien clean.

It was ten minutes and one clean plate later that Adrien spoke up.

“I’m around an awful lot, aren’t I?”

“Mmhm,” Luka agreed, eyes closed, still wrapped up in the song taking form at his fingertips.

“…Do you get stressed out when you’re around me too long?” Adrien wondered tentatively, half-afraid of the answer.

“You don’t count as another person,” Luka replied automatically, the filter between his brain and his mouth down for maintenance.

Adrien’s eyebrows danced in confusion for a second before Luka added, “You’re an extension of me.”

Adrien hummed softly, pleased with the response.

Luka opened his eyes and blinked, what he had said finally catching up. “Uh…I mean…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien assured, rinsing the second plate and then reaching for the towel to dry it. “I know what you mean.”

Luka continued to stare. “You…do?”

Adrien nodded. “That’s how I feel when I’m fighting beside Ladybug.”

Luka’s heart sank, his fingers landing a little too high on the strings and creating a dissonant chord.

Ladybug. Of course.

In his disappointment, Luka almost missed the way Adrien’s cheeks began to color.

Adrien paused, gripping the plate in his hands as he looked down with an embarrassed smile, continuing, “…and…”

Luka looked back up, breath catching.

“…how I feel when we’re making music together or lying up on the deck at night talking…or even when we’re just sitting in silence. It feels like you’re an extension of me too.” Adrien set the plate aside and grabbed another as he laughed softly. “It’s actually a relief to hear you say you feel the same way.”

“Yeah,” Luka whispered, in a bit of a daze. “Yeah. I thought it was just me.”

Adrien shrugged. “Nope. Looks like we’re in this together.”

Luka hummed happily, going back to the song he’d been playing and transitioning into G major. “Glad to know.”

The conversation slipped into a comfortable lull, filled by Luka’s music, the clink of dishes, and the swoosh of soapy water.

It didn’t take long for Adrien to get the negligible number of plates and cups clean, dry, and put away, and then he joined Luka back on the couch, closing his eyes and sinking into the notes.

The song eventually found its natural conclusion, and Adrien applauded.

“You need to adapt that one for one of your bands,” he encouraged. “There were some real gems to be polished in there.”

“Yeah?” Luka chuckled, opening his eyes to study Adrien’s earnest expression.

Adrien nodded enthusiastically before hooking one arm over the back of the couch and leaning in to rest his chin on top. “Definitely.”

“All right. I’ll pick it apart and put it back together again later and see what happens.” With a pleased grin, Luka turned back to his guitar, starting with a new melody.

He fiddled around and worked on developing the idea for a few minutes before picking up on a subtle shift in Adrien: the purse of his lips, the slight crease of his brow, the set of his jaw, the cloudy look in his eyes, the slightly heavier feeling to his presence.

Luka tipped his head to the side, focusing his attention away from the guitar. “Something on your mind, P5? You look like you’re puzzling through something.”

Adrien smiled sheepishly, straightening up on the couch with a shrug of nonchalance. “Just…you.”

“Me?” Luka echoed.

Adrien nodded. “Lately, as you’ve been inviting me to hang out with your other friends, I’ve kind of noticed something.”

Luka’s eyebrow cocked slightly.

“You act differently around them,” Adrien answered reluctantly.

The bottom dropped out of Luka’s stomach like an elevator car with its cables cut. “Different…in a bad way?”

Adrien hurriedly shook his head. “No, no. Just…different. I mean, I like you better when you’re just with me, but…it’s not a negative difference. You’re just…a lot quieter around other people. You don’t talk much, you look uncomfortable more often…I mean, sometimes you joke around with other people, but…it’s not like when it’s just the two of us or when we’re with your family. I was just wondering why the difference.”

Luka gave a little chuckle and looked back at his guitar. “Ah. You’ve discovered my secret. I’m socially awkward and fairly introverted.”

“No, you’re not,” Adrien laughed, completely incredulous.

Luka shrugged. “I am one hundred percent serious.”

“You? Socially awkward?” Adrien scoffed lightly. “Luka, you say the suavest things. You’re always teasing and joking and making me laugh. You’re funny and kind and emotionally sensitive. You always know what to say. How am I supposed to believe that you of all people are social awkward?”

Luka smiled sheepishly and shrugged again. “Well, I’m glad you think so, but…look at the evidence. You’re the one who said I’m different around other people. Different how so?”

Adrien frowned, considering before he responded, “…Quiet. Withdrawn…maybe a little shy. Not at ease. It’s not a constant thing. I mean, sometimes you’re totally fine, but…other times…” Adrien’s eyebrows pinched together. “…I guess you are kind of awkward in big groups.”

Luka nodded. “Acting ‘normal’ and determining what’s socially acceptable around a bunch of people for an extended amount of time is really draining. It doesn’t come naturally to me.”

“But…” Adrien pursed his lips. “…you’re not like that with me.”

“No,” Luka confirmed with a warm smile. “I feel at ease with you. I rarely have to think about what I’m going to say—what I’m supposed to say. You’re one of the few people I can just be me around. With you, things just fit.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed, scooting in closer.

He could feel his cheeks burning with pleasure.

“I feel the same way about you,” he whispered, carefully slotting himself in at Luka’s side so that he wouldn’t get in the way of the guitar. He rested his head on Luka’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Luka let his head tip so that it rested against Adrien’s, Adrien’s hair soft against Luka’s cheek.

“Thanks, Perfect Fifth,” he whispered.

Luka couldn’t be sure that Adrien meant it in a romantic way, but at least Luka knew for sure that they were on the same wavelength. Adrien was still hung up on Ladybug, but, maybe, in another month or two…

Luka should tell him. At the end of the summer, before school started up again, Luka would reevaluate the situation. At the very least, he could make Adrien aware of his feelings, put the ball in Adrien’s court. If Adrien just wanted friendship, fine, but if there was a part of Adrien that did think of Luka in a romantic light…

At the end of the summer, they would see.

[nymphl]

Lie to Me - Hux x Reader x Ch. 10: Too close & too far

A/N: Hello xD It’s been a while since I last updated Lie to Me here on tumblr. So here it goes. I still need to reply to some of your reviews, but now that I’m done with my paper (it was a nightmare, when I was almost done with it, something happened to my laptop and I lost everything I had written) I can finally concentrate on my stories... Sorta of... I have another paper to write soon and I need to write a project for a abroad program I intend on participating... Let’s see how it goes... For now, enjoy!

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations.

Wordcount: 5620.

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AS A GENERAL OF THE FIRST ORDER, AMIRTAGE HUX WAS NOT A MAN USED TO WAIT FOR THOSE BENEATH HIM TO OFFER ANY EXPLANATIONS. THEY SIMPLY DID, IMMEDIATELY. NO QUESTIONS ASKED, NO POSTPONEMENTS.

He ordered; people obeyed.

Aurra Sing, on the other hand, believed she was something else. If not above him, at least his equal. The corner of his lips lifted in the hint of a snarl.

She feared him, sure. But that was not enough to make her bend the knee. She was not yet where he wanted her to be. Where he needed her. 

“I owe you nothing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her green eyes were narrowed; her white hair usually held up in a tight ponytail was disheveled, a few strands falling from its confinement. “I will never do anything for a dog of the First Order.”

He did not say anything to contradict her — as she half expected. In a few hours in his company, she found out the General was not as unpredictable as she thought he was. For starters, he was not one who enjoyed small talk and he did take fairly well to any sort of insult.

Better than most men she had ever encountered in her life, at least. But they… Those were typical men. If anything, she learned that Amirtage Hux was no archetypal human male. It made her wonder if he had been raised — at least partly so — by a woman.

She could go on for hours insulting him and she doubted he would ever say anything to diminish her. A General, for sure, but also a gentleman — she wondered if he would not insult her back because she was a woman, an elderly woman or both. Either way, his lack of proper response — at last the one she was expecting — both infuriated and amused her. However, it also made her understand a bit more of the man behind the mask; Hux was certainly not used to exert power over others by lessening them — which was either incredibly smart or foolish of him, she could not decide just yet.

He was a very weird male.

“If you think of yourself more than a dog, then you’re more foolish than I thought, General.”

Again, there was silence on his part. This time, not even the hint of a snarl made itself noticeable on his face.

Aurra chuckled.  

He surely was confident man. All this time, while she talked, he was looking for any weaknesses to exploit. And all she could think was that he was either too smart or too kriffing foolish. Did anyone ever tell him that while doing his research he was left vulnerable for those who wanted to read him as well?

“I heard you now live with Mrs. Syndulla…” she started, resting her chin over her joined hands. She did not know where this could lead her, but she expected somewhere less boring than the General himself. And actually, the girl had to prove herself valuable at some point. Up to now, all she had been was a huge bantha in a room. Useless but impossible not to notice. “How is she faring? Did she get over her husband’s death?”

No snarl.

No nostrils flaring.

No lips pursed into a thin line.

The only visible reaction was his narrowed eyes — which, honestly, was more than enough for a woman as experienced as herself. By now, she noticed the General was not a man to express many emotions, not to her at least. She wondered if his behavior was any different with people he trusted — with those of the First Order.

A small smile titled the corner of her lips.

The girl.

Yes. That was it.

The rumors were true. Aurra was not a woman to believe rumors, but this time she knew they rang truthful. The General not only killed the man — one of hers; she snorted, it was difficult to believe such a foolish creature was one of hers — who threatened the girl, but he was also spotted with her in the streets near the hospital. And if her mind did not fail her, they were caught in a very… compromising position.       

He was… for the lack of better term, obsessed with the Syndulla girl — love was a too strong word for people like them; its meaning escaped those of their likes. It was impossible to know — to deduce with such simple reaction from him — how deeper his feelings for her ran, but there was something there… If he did not feel anything for her — if not an obsession — he would not have done his best to keep any response at bay.

Aurra’s green orbs mimicked his.

“Tell me, General Hux.” She licked her lips, eager for any kind of reaction. “When the time comes, who will you choose?” she paused and looked at her glass, only to find it empty. “The Syndulla girl or the First Order?”

This time, his nostrils flared visibly.

It was clear she had hit a nerve. A small chuckle left her dried lips. She waved her hand and the droid approached with a new bottle of the same Corellian Rum they were having earlier.

“Let me rephrase it: when the time comes…” She brought the glass to her lips, sipping the drink slowly. Savoring as she would do with his next reaction, “…can the Syndulla girl choose you over the Resistance? Will she?”

You could barely feel your heart.

It stopped for a brief moment, then sped up, galloping against your chest. As breathless as you were, you could feel his breath coming out of him effortlessly, caressing your face.  

You completely forgot your naked breasts — and how exposed you felt a minute earlier — or his warm fingers against your waist, holding you close. All you could feel was his nose brushing against yours and the ungovernable pull you felt towards his lips.

It took you less than a few seconds to kiss him — and even less to stop at his lack of reaction. You were so high on his scent, on the closeness of your skins pressed together and the arousal running through your body, you could barely remember his words. Or the fact he had a few broken ribs. If anything, now your heart was ramming against your own ribcages with want.

As soon as you drew apart, he took your lips again. It felt as if he only waited for you to stop kissing him, so he could take the lead and do what he knew best: dominate you; having you at his complete mercy. His right hand wrapped around your throat and his thumb pressed against your windpipe softly. You moaned, making it easier for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth and deepen the kiss. It bordered on crazy how much you enjoyed his little displays of power over you.

He backed you against the wall and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your hips were, once again — to your complete relief, you could not take any more the ache, the burning sensation in your core —, moving in flawless sync.  

A groan left him when you arched your back, offering more of yourself to him. Your breasts fit his left hand perfectly; the hard nub handled between his skilled fingers in the sweetest torture. His right hand was gripping your ass, coordinating your movements against him — the exact cadence to give your clit the pressure it desperately needed. And his lips had left yours to attack — lavish and castigate with kisses and alternated soft and harsh bites — your throat. 

From your mouth poured only lovely sounds of pleasure that stirred him on. Your eyes fell closed on their own accord as you savored the bliss of the approaching orgasm. Your legs quivered around his waist, your thighs gripped him tighter. In tune with your body, he did not change his rhythm. Even if you wanted him to rub you faster against him — you did not have any force left within you to do it yourself; your head thrown back in complete abandon. All you could do was hold him by the shoulders —, he did not seem in a rush to make you climax. On the contrary, he seemed to want to delay it, or at least drag it as much as possible, making the explosion all the more pleasurable for you; the experience unforgettable.

He was torturing you and thoroughly enjoying it.   

His lips left your throat and enclosed around your nipple, trapping it between his teeth. His hand returned to your throat, applying the right pressure to leave you breathless. You gripped his hair forcefully, seeking leverage for a brief moment, then returned to his shoulders as your eyes snapped open and a sultry sound you did not recognize as being yours — a moan? A groan? His name? — left your lips as a powerful sensation racked through your body.   

You sank your nails deep in his skin and you discovered that while you enjoyed having his hand around your throat, cutting your breath short, pain brought him pleasure. He ground his hips against yours once more and a guttural sound left his lips.

Both of you stood in silence for a moment. The only sound was that of your ragged breaths in the bedroom. The General rested his head between the valley of your breasts. He left your throat and trapped both of your hands against the wall. You squirmed in his hold, but that only served to make you rub yourself against him.

A breathless moan left your mouths at the gesture. In spite of his coming, he was still so kriffing hard. You shuddered. And bit your bottom lip.

He kissed your chest, right above your heart — his lips took their sweet, glorious time with your breasts, bestowing upon them the softest of the caresses — and lifted his head to yours. A gasp left you as you saw his bluish eyes — you thought that you had never seen him as vulnerable as in that moment.

His ginger hair was all disheveled, covering his eyebrows and brushing against his lids. You gulped. He never looked as gorgeous and attractive as in that moment. You freed your hand from his and brought it to his strands, moving them away. Although his breath was already back to normal, yours was not and when you eased the furrow between his brows, you felt your heartrate become a mess all over again.

You opened your mouth, but closed it shortly after, unable to find your voice.

He lowered his head to your chest again, kissing your breast one more time and unwound your legs from his waist. You felt so weak you could barely stand by yourself, so he held you close; his warmth made you feel… wanted and not only in a sexual manner. The arousal, the desire, the hunger, the need and want was obvious, but there was so much more than that.

Losing no time, you kissed him. At first, merely brushing your lips against him, then taking him more properly as he allowed you to. It was brief, very brief… not lasting more than a few seconds. In your heart, though, it lasted an eternity you would cherish for the rest of your life.

As soon as you drew apart you hid your head in his chest and hugged him tight — completely forgetting his bruised ribs and the pained sound that left him at your gesture. It was with some sort of surprise that you realized that you were crying — once again — in his arms.

He did not try to move you away, instead, he stroked your hair and kissed the crown of your head. His own hold around you tightened.

A gasp left you as you finally realized what you felt for him.

Armitage Hux was not merely your enemy.

Amirtage Hux was not merely a General of the First Order.

Amirtage Hux was not merely the man who coveted you in the past.

Amirtage Hux was not merely the man who hated your late husband.

He was… He is… You did not know how to put it, but the man you saved some time before became… something… someone you always longed to return to.

Amirtage Hux became home.

Your home.  

Eyes widened, you drew away from him slightly and looked at his face. His usual unreadable eyes were full with concern and… apprehension? He brushed your tears away and caressed your bottom lip, preventing you from bruising it further. 

It took you a while to find your voice — or even think of the right words to say — but when you did, they left you without your consent. They just… came to life in your mouth. And you had never been more truthful than in that very moment.   

“I think I love you,” you whispered, brushing your fingers against his cheekbones. You were still high on his scent, on the powerful orgasm you just shared and the beautiful moment afterwards, you barely thought about what you said or how incoherently the whole situation may have looked to him.

In one day you told him the two of you… the attraction, the lust, the feelings… it was all wrong. It could not be right. And now you were confessing something you did not understand yourself.

You buried your face in his chest and mimicked him, bestowing a kiss right above his heart. He pressed you against the wall, trapping both of your hands again with only one of his and the other returned to your throat, keeping you in place. 

“Please, take me.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Take me now.”

Instead of acting on your words, he drew apart. Not physically. His hand still trapped yours against the wall and it was difficult to know where his body ended and yours started. His cock twitched. He wanted you as much as you wanted him. But if the way he stopped caressing your throat with his fingers was of any indication…

There was no need to look at his eyes to know they held an icy edge to them — long gone was the moment of intimacy you just shared —, yet, he held your chin and forced you to stare at him. You even wanted to close your lids, but you knew it would do you no good.

You swallowed… 

…and felt rather stupid. You regretted your very existence now.

“You should sleep, (Y/N),” he said, his words as icy as his eyes. You bit your bottom lip. “Now.”

“Again.”

You breathed deeply through your nose and did as he commanded. He was above you, his feet not even inches apart from your hips as you did the three hundred sit ups he commanded you to do. You were halfway through it and you simply could not take it anymore.

If you thought he was a merciless trainer before, it was because you did not know how he would act after catching you in your lies — and to think he had only a glimpse of what was the whole picture…

A shudder ran through your spine at the thought.

“I can’t hear you counting, (Y/N).”

And some people even said that an orgasm elevated spirits and eased bad humors…

“This is getting ridiculous,” you whispered, coming to a halt. You sat on the ground, putting both hands behind yourself to keep you in place. You were sure you would collapse if you did not have something to hold yourself up. “I am not training with you anymore.”

His nostrils flared.

And certainly not because you said you would not take any more of his bullshit — you said it every kriffing time you trained; more like he tortured you. Knowing him, he was probably mad because you did not call him General. What a control freak!

He pressed his boot on your stomach lightly, just enough to knock the air out of your lungs and force you back on the ground. A small smirk lifted the corner of his lips as he kept this position for a while longer.

“Careful, (Y/N).”

You could have said you hated him, or that he was such a heartless bastard — which was not far from the truth —, but you held your tongue. You shifted your attention to the ground beneath you and turned your head when you saw his blaster only a few inches away. You had no intention of shooting him, but if you had it in your grasp, he probably would surrender? It is, if only you could outstretch your hand a bit…

“Ouch!”

It was all you had time to say when he removed his feet from your stomach and placed it over your hand, crushing your fingers beneath it. You opened your mouth in a silent scream, not very keen on giving him the pleasure to know how much it hurt.

“We’ve tried that before and you failed all of your thirty attempts…” His voice made shift your attention back to him. A gasp — or pain and relief — left you as he let go of your hand and lowered himself to the ground; his thighs on each side of your hips. He was careful not to put his all of his weight on you, but the entire situation still made you feel uncomfortable. He reached out for the blaster and placed it in its holder, “…which is more than I give to any of my subordinates.”

Sending your pride to the confines of a hell as hotter as Tantooine — or even Dantooine during summer —, you brought your hand close to your face and flexed your fingers. Luckily, nothing seemed broken, but it still hurt beyond imagination.    

“It doesn’t make you a better teacher,” you replied after a while, not unconscious of the position the two of you were in. “Besides, I’m not one of your subordinates, I am your wife.”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

From this close, you could see every shadow taking over his clear irises.

“Are you?”

You closed your eyes.

Blast!

He would never let you go with that story of we have never been intimate. And honestly, you could not judge him. You would be ten thousand times madder if he were the one lying to you about something so substantial. It is… if you were in his place and not the other way around.

You took a deep breath.

It was too late to come back on your word and say you came up with a story you did not even understand the proper reasons behind it to begin with — at first, you thought about helping the galaxy become a better place without him in it. Meaning, without him being part of the First Order.

Now you were not so sure anymore.

“Listen,” you started, wetting your lips. Your eyes were back to his. He said himself you always looked away when you lied. This time, you would lie looking right into his bluish orbs. “I know it sounds like I lied…” That was definitely not going how you planned. “We’ve been married for three years and half, there’s no way we’ve never…” You thought about saying made love, but decided against it. The General did not come across as a man who made love to someone, even you, “…had sex.”

His eyes became a tad dark at your words. The way his back tensed and his body shifted slightly, you knew he was about to move away from you. To prevent that, you placed both hands on his thighs, keeping him in place. It would be easier to lie if he was as uncomfortable as you were.

“In my defense, you were the one to make all those awkward questions about your… sexual prowess. What was I supposed to say? What would you have me do?”

You were not exactly lying.

Well, you were… However, it sounded reasonable that you would be all flustered with those questions of his. They were, indeed, awkward and there was other way to put it. And in truth, even if he had figured out himself the two of you never had been intimate, you had no other option but to keep on lying — if you wanted to live to see another sunrise, you had to lie. And by telling the truth now, you would only enhance the chances of you getting killed.

Most important of it all, now that you had discovered you had feelings from him — you were not sure if it was really love; you could say you were drunk with all the strong emotions after that moment of intimacy between you and spoke what came first in your mind; those words did not necessarily represent the truth —, it was crystal clear you could not take him leaving you for good because of the truth.

“Armitage?”

You calling his name seemed to do the trick. He removed your hands from his thighs and rose to his feet. You mimicked him — at least tried to —, but he placed his boot back on your stomach.

“You are right, Mrs. Hux.” He wetted his lips, his bluish eyes boring into yours. A shudder ran through your spine at how intense his orbs were. You swallowed as the next words left his mouth, “I remember I read somewhere that non-consummated marriages in Dantooine have no legitimacy.”

There was moment of silence between you, as if he expected you to say the truth. As if he wanted you to apologize for lying.

Right.

Now.

A coward, you merely nodded.

His eyes returned to their unreadable color. His nostrils flared. With a motion of his foot, he made you shift position; your belly now to the floor. You bit your bottom lip and prepared yourself for a thousand push-ups.

For the maker!

He was going to have you killed.

“Three hundred push-ups. Now.”

“I take back what I said,” Aurra Sing hummed, both hands firmly placed over her walking stick. She let out a small chuckle and shook her head. “You’re definitely different from the men I have met in the past.”

She did not look disappointed.

In fact, she seemed very pleased that the General had acted in such way. It denoted that he was not the gentleman she thought him to be. Aurra Sing hated gentlemen. They pretended to behave with a woman’s best interests in heart, but in truth, they were just being stupid jerks who believed women bellow them in any capability.

By allowing — asking even — for her to shoot at the targets first, he was analyzing her ability and accuracy; how the targets moved.

“Out of twenty targets, you missed only two.” She nodded her appraisal. Only a few scored such a mark in their very first attempt. “That’s…”

“Unacceptable,” he finished for her. He put the blaster where it belonged and followed her, always mindful to keep himself two steps behind her. He looked at his right hand, flexing his fingers. He was not yet fully in control of his abilities. In the past, he would never miss a target — by making such a mistake it could cost his life.      

In the long corridors of the recently rebuilt Jedi Enclave in Dantooine — she had said he was somewhat predicable, that men like him were, but she was the one to choose the most obvious place to conduct her illegal business —, there was little, to no light. Yet, he could see children running out of their sights and still poke their tiny faces in the corners as to spy on them — on him. Most of them were human, but there was some duros and a few dantari among the children.

He would have arched his brow at that — the dantari were a nomad people; it made no sense to see the specimen kids joining the Syndicate — it is, if he cared. How Aurra Sing headed her little Syndicate was none of his business and as long as she put him in contact with the Old City Boys in Canto Bight, he would never question her odd methods.  

“I’d say impressive, but as you can see, I’m old and my eyes are starting to fail me.”

There was silence between them for a moment, as Hux was in no mood to even acknowledge her joke. He flexed his fingers again, still bothered with his failure; his left hand moved to touch his ribs. She caught his movements and narrowed her eyes…

…something very precise for an old lady whose eyes were failing her.

“There’s talk among my boys that you’ve lost your memories…”

…Is it? was left hanging in the air. It was obvious she would never finish her sentence, nor mold it into a proper question.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but if she saw it in the darkened corners of the Jedi Enclave, she gave no indication.

At his lack of answer, she chuckled.

“Or…” She stopped all of a sudden, placing both hands on her walking stick with more force than necessary. “You’re smarter than everyone thought and is pretending to have lost your memories when it never happened in the first place.”

Hux remained in silence. Aurra Sing could almost say he was amused at her attempts. Well, she was dying to see how long it would take for that mask of his to fall completely.

“I wonder how the Syndulla girl will take the news… She’s a poor, gullible little thing, isn’t she?”

His clenched his jaw before he could control himself. However, no word left his lips. No word would.

“Has she fallen in love with you already?”

Once again, she was met only with silence. A small chuckle left her lips at his blank expression. It was clear that albeit in some sort of arrangement with the Syndulla girl, it did not cross the General’s mind the possibility of her having feelings for him — not romantic at least. It was well known how soft-hearted she was, how she had a penchant for broken things and Armitage Hux certainly fit the category. However, there was a stark difference between caring for and loving someone — especially someone who did not deserve anyone’s love.

The only indication that she had started moving again was the sound of her walking stick hitting the stone floor. It took him a while to follow her, but with his long legs it was easy for him to catch up with her slow steps. She headed towards a gigantic set of double doors.

“I hope you don’t mind the blindfold, General.” One of her men spoke. It was the same Duros of before, the one who said he had killed one of them. Who stated she should not trust him.

She held her hand up and shook her head.

“That won’t be necessary. The General and I have reached an agreement.”   

His lack of expression to her news surprised her, even though it should not have. He was confident, from the very beginning, that she would bow to his wishes.

Tsk.    

“I will see you in a fortnight, General.”

He nodded, entering the landspeeder. He sat between two of her men. They eyed him as if he was their prey. He merely snorted. Although he was not looking for a fight, he would gladly engage in one if necessary. He was beaten when he arrived, he was in no mood to get beaten in the exit too.     

“Hand him some bacta, you morons. We wouldn’t want Mrs. Syndulla to worry over nothing.”

And for him, she spoke in a perfect Ryl that put his to shame,

“After all, we both know you don’t deserve her.”    

The sun was still high in the sky when you left the house and met the General outside. He was holding a bottle of Tihaar and a cigarette was resting between his fingers. You wrinkled your nose but said nothing to stop him.

Aware of your presence, he shut off the electronic cigarette and took a sip of the Tihaar. He did not look at you, nor greeted you. He was facing the horizon when you arrived and that was what he continued to do.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He offered the bottle to you, but his eyes remained on the distant, scalding sun.

You brought the bottle to your lips and grimaced when the strong liquid hit your throat. You handed it back to him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand — you definitely needed some Corellian Brand or something like Jawa Juice —, but the very movement made you gasp. And you thought he had been harsh last week…

“Are you hurt?” he asked, finally shifting his attention to you. At your lack of answer, he placed a strand of hair behind your ear and caressed your chin. “I have been too harsh with you.”

Is that an apology? you felt like saying, but held your tongue and instead repeated your earlier question, “Where are we going?”

It was obvious he would not take lightly to any sort of teasing. Did the man ever laugh? You found yourself wanting to hear the sound of his laughter.

“We’re dining out,” he replied, making you blink. You felt your mouth growing dry at the possibility of him taking you to the Festival. “We’re not going to the Festival,” he offered kindly.

A small sigh of relief left you.

“Thank you.”

In a gentlemanly gesture, he outstretched his hand to you and you slowly put your fingers over his. He made you spin in his arms twice. When he stopped you, your back was to his chest and his mouth was on your ear.

You drew in a sharp breath, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth. He ran his hands over your nude arms, arousing goosebumps all over your skin.

“You are gorgeous, Mrs. Hux.” His voice was a bit lower; his lips caressed the sensible spot behind your ear. Your fingers entwined with his, you brought them to your throat. Such a bold action made his breath a tad heavier. “The dress suits you.”

A small smile lifted the corner of your mouth. The dress was a suggestion D-Five came up with. As soon as you left the refresher you met protocol droid’s shiny face. He held in his mechanic arms two different attires: a flowery dress and a pair of black breeches and two different shirts to match. You eyed him with surprise, but said nothing. You were afraid of asking and end up with an answer of thirty minutes duration — or more.

The droid suggested the dress. According to him — you refused to call him it —, it would suit both you and the hot weather. You were glad you decided to take upon his suggestion.

It is… the General seemed very pleased you chose the dress over the breeches. You felt naughty at the mere thought of how easier it would be for him to slide his hands — or even his cock — between your thighs and touch you where you needed most.   

You closed your eyes when the General’s lips took upon yours, molding your mouth to his wishes. You even reached for his hair — combed back to perfection, not even a single strand was out of place — but he held both of your hands down and his fingers tightened around your throat.

It did not take long for him to stop kissing you. You furrowed your brows, but before you could open your eyes, you heard his voice, “Speak, D-Five.”

Now you would not open your eyes even if your life depended on it. He turned you to face him and allowed you to hide your face in his chest.

“I apologize for disrupting your moment together, General Hux and Mrs. Hux.”

You could barely see him bowing dutifully.

Talk about awkward.

“If I knew you were—

“Hand the comm to me, D-Five,” the General ordered. You felt him outstretching his hand to accept the small device.

Your heart thundered in your chest. You furrowed your brows. Was it that comm? Your husband’s comm-relay? The one he used to contact the Resistance back in… back when he was alive?

Slowly, you opened your eyes. They landed on the General’s face and then on the device.

“Where did you find it, D-Five?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You were almost sure you had lost it when you moved from your last home. And it had been almost… four years since it last received a message.

The droid looked at you with a confused expression — or his usual expression, at this rate you could not tell for sure. He had no time to reply, however, for Armitage Hux snapped it open, and a small, trembling image of General Organa appeared before your eyes.

It was a record message.

An old message.

She was apologizing for not sending help to your husband and sending her condolences for his premature death.

Even if you had seen it a thousand times before, you bit your bottom lip. The feeling of the General’s lips against your temple made the need to cry even greater, more difficult to contain.

“Send a message back.”

You furrowed your brows and stared at him with questioning eyes. When he did not give you an answer, his bluish orbs focused on the comm-relay, you wetted your lips.

“Why?”

“I have some useful information for the Resistance.”

I may have a thing or two to tell General Organa.

A/N - Aaaaanddd that will be all for today. I hope you like it. To the new readers, welcome. Thank you for every like and every reblog. It means A LOT to me.