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nothoughtsjustfic · 2 months ago

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Finding Yourself - C.SC [Teaser]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Total Fic Word Count: 50.3k. Teaser: 1.5k 🐢Estimated release date: 19th February 🐢General Warnings: Reader is referred to with a nickname throughout. Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Gang typical content. Hospitalisation and medical stuff that will not be accurate. Mentions of past child abuse/abusive parents. Each part has more part-specific warnings. Teaser Warnings: Mention of suspected murder. Mentions of past child abuse/abusive parents. 🐢Summary: “In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

A/N- I need to thank my beabie @ourdawnishotterthanourday for reading this monster of a fic for me and picking out the section for the teaser because I am absolutely hopeless at that kind of stuff. And also the endless support and beta-ing. Basically, JiJi, my love, you are invaluable to me.

It’s almost midnight when there’s a knock on the door and you look over from being curled protectively around your sleeping brother. Something about the knock is different to how Mingyu knocks, it’s firmer, yet still gentle in a strange contradiction that makes your stomach flitter with anxiety.

Silently, as to not disturb Chan, you get off the bed and walk to the door to open it just as the knocking starts up again.

On the other side is a man, who although you’ve never met before, you’ve seen his picture many times in files in your father’s office to be able to recognise his dark gaze and full lips.

Choi Seungcheol, the current leader of Choi’s Centaurs as of ten years ago when his father passed through means that have never been publicly verified. Many even think that Seungcheol himself had a hand in his father’s death just so that he could take over the gang sooner.

You don’t know enough of the man to have an opinion on that matter, but what you do know is that he makes an intimidating figure as he looms over you in riding leathers with his motorbike helmet still in one gloved hand at his side, whereas the other is bare and raised in a fist from knocking on the door.

“Pearl, I assume?” He greets, raising an eyebrow slightly in question while lowering his arm to hang at his side.

You don’t know if the dark look is intentional or not, but you do know the shadows under his eyes aren’t. He looks exhausted and you can’t imagine he’s very happy about having to come to you upon returning home instead of going to bed like he no doubt yearns to.

You nod in confirmation. “Your brother is asleep?” Another nod. “Alright, step out here so we can talk without waking him.”

Silently, you step into the hall when he moves aside, before you pull the door up almost entirely shut, yet cracked open enough that you can hear if Chan needs you.

“So, what I hear is that a couple of my guys found you in the warehouse where it seems as if you’ve been sleeping with your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good, you speak,” he places his helmet on the floor so that he can remove his glove and tuck it into his jacket pocket with the other before unzipping the protective jacket, showing a plain black t-shirt tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “You’re homeless?”

“Yes.”

“Any family to go to? I can’t send you back onto the streets with a kid.”

“Just like that?” You ask, looking at him puzzled. “You’re just sending us out again?”

“What do you expect me to do with you? I know you’re aware I don’t condone violence towards children, nor do I agree with leaving any kid in a position where they don’t have an adult to look after them. I’m not going to hurt your brother, and hurting you would hurt him too, so my only option is to send you off and hope you won’t try to cause me any trouble by saying shit about whatever you saw and heard at the warehouse.”

“And here.”

“What?”

“Your men brought me into your home; as far as I’m aware that’s pretty fucking unheard of.”

He nods slightly in confirmation. “This situation is unheard of, you’re right, Mingyu fucked up by bringing you into the manor when he could’ve left you in one of the empty houses in the outer wall, but I can’t blame him when he did it to make sure he knows you two will be safe and looked after. So tomorrow I’ll personally drive you to the closest family you have, so that I know you arrive safely.”

“No.”

“No?” He frowns at you in astonishment. “The fuck do you mean no? I don’t think you understand what’s going on here, sweetheart. I’m in charge and you’re under my roof, you’re alive because of my rules and you have no fucking place to say no to me.”

“I’ll say no to whoever I need to if it means protecting my brother.”

“I just said I’m not going to let anyone hurt him.”

“Sending us to family will mean him getting hurt.”

“Did you run away?” You nod in confirmation. “Because your parents hurt you?”

“I took him and ran because I knew it would only get worse for him now that… Look, I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you can do to me; I’m not letting you send my brother back there. I won’t do a thing that puts us back on their radar. So just take us back to the warehouse so I can grab the shit I had to leave behind and we can see the last of each other.”

Seungcheol stares at you consideringly for a long moment as his arms cross over his chest before he nods once in understanding and acceptance. “Alright, no family, but I’m not sending you back to the streets. There must be some kind of women’s and children’s refuge that would take you in.”

“Separately. I’m not his parent and as I’m not a kid myself, we’d get separated.”

“Then lie and say he’s your son.”

“I don’t like to lie.”

He scoffs a laugh. “You wouldn’t last a day in my world with that mindset, sweetheart.” You don’t answer and just stare at him silently, well aware of how wrong his assumption is. “Right, so not that. Well, and this is a once in a lifetime offer, but I’ll buy you a house, put it in your name, give you money to cover costs for a few months while you get on your feet, and we never cross paths again. You won’t owe me shit either; I have more money than I know what to do with anyway, I can afford to help someone in need.”

“If I use my name they will find us, Seungcheol,” you plainly state.

He blinks at you a few times dumbly before responding. “Oh, that’s my name.”

You can’t help but look at him in concern for his odd reaction. “Yes.”

“You seriously do know who I am. I didn’t even introduce myself.”

“You’re the head of the most famous gang in the country, of course I know who you are.”

“Mm, many might know me by name, not by face.”

“Mingyu told me the boss will be by to see me once he’s home; you are the only person who has knocked on the door other than him. And you said you’re in charge; I’m under your roof. It’s not hard to put two and two together,” comes your logical rationalisation, easily explaining how you didn’t fail to recognise him despite his lack of introduction.

He’s right in that most people may know his alias, yet have no idea what his first name is, even if they know his family name, or who the name belongs to if they passed him in the street without introduction.

“Huh, guess so. Just threw me hearing my name suddenly, especially as nobody actually calls me that.”

“I don’t like your alias,” you admit bluntly, and to your surprise, the man lets out a laugh. “What?”

“Nobody has ever said that to my face before. Wow, either you have the biggest balls I’ve ever seen, or you’re so sleep deprived that you’ve forgotten how to act.”

Once again, you don’t answer, just silently stare at him. You truly have no idea what category you fit under right now, if either.

“You’re an interesting one, Pearl,” he declares with amusement tilting the edge of his lips up ever so slightly. “Well, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with this tonight so we’re both going to go the fuck to bed and get some much-needed sleep, then we’ll talk again. And I’ll meet your brother; the guys say he’s adorable and shy, so I’m real curious about him.”

“Right,” you mutter in response, not sure what you’re expected to say right now.

“Alright, well, seeing as you’re not an idiot and know who I am and what you risk if you try to fuck me over, I won’t have anyone outside your room anymore and no-one will bother you until the morning when someone comes and gets you for breakfast.”

“Get us? Like, to join?”

“Yeah, we can talk over breakfast; I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and the sooner we sort this shit out, the better.”

“Right.”

“Go back to your brother and make sure you sleep too. You look like you’re about to pass out any second,” he says as he bends over momentarily to swoop up his helmet into his hold.

“Says you.”

Seungcheol snorts a laugh as he turns and walks off. “Definitely an interesting one.”

You watch him until he turns at the end of the hall and is out of sight before you go back into the bedroom and lock the door so that when you curl up under the covers with your brother, you feel safe enough to close your eyes and sleep in a soft bed for the first time in months.

Maybe today hasn’t been quite as unlucky as you initially thought.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

#wkcnet #svthub #kvanity #thediamondlifenetwork #keopihausnet #dovenet #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol angst #choi seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic

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ivyfauna-ii · 1 month ago

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DONT VOTE WITHOUT REBLOGGING

The following text is from this instagram post from Tamer

“I live on the rubble of the past. There is no present. I am trying to make glory again from the largest garbage dump in the world, from the most unsafe place in the world. I am doing this to immigrate outside this country and achieve my dreams.”

Please donate and share Tamer’s campaign so that he can afford basic needs for his family and to immigrate to another country!

His campaign can be found on the verified Gaza evacuation fundraisers google doc on line 286

If you have a instagram account then please boost Tamer’s posts!

(Tagging ppl so that the post gets more attention. If you’d like your @ off the list let me know in the comments) @rob-os-17 @terminarch4 @ralseinumberonebiggestsupporter @toshiirou @duaepuellaesubarboresedent @selznick @cosmicbiologist @void-lantern @t4tklonoa @call-me-ace22 @millionthcephalophore @jlemonster @dallasdrevis @toonirl @vaas @livefungus @terezbian @rowans-blues @histrynerdss @nothingmuchreally5 @king-dail @applesxuce @eroticmargarine @bingusoclock @moonaska @soullessjack @emeraldoo @felixnorstubblewealthington @krispiblueberry @ssluggishh @dartp @s1nful-sa1nt @theevilestvillainofthemall @great-eagle-bow @wheels-of-eyes @dilophosaurid @impgender @misscheetahroo @crab-enjoyer @realboutfatalfury @sirsteampunk @gamb0fficial @chaossequence @ghost81194 @murderbot @good-old-gossip @lordzannis @batricity @astylos-theburntrat

#indie animation #the walten files #indigo ✦#tadc #bigtop burger #monkey wrench #dream catchers #gaza strip #gofundme #palestine #gaza under attack #famine #please donate and share now!!!#Help Tamer #Poll

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doberbutts · 7 months ago

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Why doesn't privilege come into play in the conversation, what is the preferred way you would prefer trans women refer to the privilege to side step all of the worst concequences of transmisogyny? how do we communicate that?

Bringing up Semenya is a great example of an intersex woman having less privilege to escape transmisogyny than perisex women. This is not really the slam dunk you think it is because the terrible intersexism (with transmisogynist intent) she has been receiving since the transvestigation is it's own separate horror from what would happen to a trans woman- her exclusion no better or worse in my mind than the exclusion the trans woman would face but it is my (good faith) understanding that distinction is important to the intersex community- and it is that marginalization as an intersex woman that makes her less exempt from transmisogyny.

I hope you have a nice day. thank you for talking about this with me.

Because I am not talking about privilege- which I again have already stated is there. I'm talking about the idea that one is somehow exempt from their own experiences.

I have no problem with whatever way trans women want to talk about their own experiences. I do have a question and it is this: how is one *exempt* from systemic oppression? Systems of oppression are, well, systems. They are something that affects everyone. A cis woman who is forced to undergo a genital inspection, a blood test, a cheek swab, a birth certificate check to verify that she is not a trans woman is still being affected by the system of transmisogyny because it is the explicit fear and hatred of trans women that is creating this issue.

A cis woman that suddenly fails this check because it is discovered that she is intersex, such as Semenya, is now sorted into the same file as the trans women whether that is "correct" to label her such or not. There are many people insisting that Semenya is a trans woman specifically because they do not understand what intersex means or even is.

It does not escape my attention that the particular examples I gave- both Khelif and Semenya- are also falling under misogynoir and interphobia. That is the basis of my logic, so you still really aren't in disagreement with me- all of this is interconnected because that's kind of how intersectionality and systems of oppression work.

I also brought up Semenya specifically *because* she is intersex. Khelif swears she is not intersex. The supposed "authority" that Rowling got her information from says she is. According to Khelif, she has never submitted to any medical testing. And Khelif's country has made being LGBT illegal, so I am unsure exactly where that would leave her if it is discovered that she is intersex after all and that may be a significant portion of why she is so resistant to the idea of testing (also bc it's genuinely not anyone's business).

The point is that both Semenya and Khelif went into their Olympic careers as perisex-assumed cis women. Both were transvestitated. One managed to side step the majority of material consequences though I do still see people swearing that she is "secretly a man". The other was not able to do so. So it is not necessarily true that a cis woman is automatically able to dodge the consequences of being transvestigated just because she is not a trans woman. That's my point.

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mistydeyes · 2 years ago

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a panacea

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pan·a·ce·a noun

a solution or remedy for all difficulties or diseases.

summary: In pharmacy school, patient interaction was a core part of the curriculum. You tirelessly remember long, coffee-fueled nights going over your notes for each Professional Practice Skills class. The 141 boys make sure you can exercise these communication skills daily.

141's medical file reference

pairing: Task Force 141 x pharmacist!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and needles, fluff, flirting, and mutual crushes

a/n: i'm an american pharmacy student so sorry for some inaccuracies about how pharmacy across the pond

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As you walked into the pharmacy and began your shift, you paged through a few recent scripts and checked in with your technicians. Your graduation from university, years of clinical experience, and now your more recent military training seemed like a distant memory. You would constantly see a variety of service men and women every day without much thought. Yes, there were some repeat individuals but overall everything seemed to blend.

Despite this, you still attempted to form a meaningful interaction with each patient regardless of what they’d be picking up. Doctors were constantly bothersome with questions about the recommended treatment and asking for a drug not listed on the formulary. Patients were different though, you would always try to have a friendly conversation and wonder what missions they would be deployed on once they left the queue. As you prepared to work through today’s prescriptions and tackle a new medication supply, you reminded yourself that today was filled with a new set of faces to meet.

price

The members of 141 were all too familiar with a distant employment in a foreign country. It was part of the job description, something you do without question. However, some countries had the luxury of also having medication to take for the duration of the trip. Malaria is no joke and you always had to ensure you ordered an abundant supply of antimalarials for the soldiers constantly going around the world.

Today was no exception, your new order had literally been flying off the shelves. It was the post-breakfast rush and you had a few boxes left of atovaquone/proguanil (Malarone). Although the frequency of taking these was a pain, you loved the easy verification and packaging of the box.

As you continued to provide the queue with their prescriptions, a familiar face and hat made its way to the front.

"Ah Captain Price, back again?" you grinned as he approached the counter.

"Back too soon," the man chuckled, the deep baritone of his laugh bouncing across the walls. "I believe I have a couple of things to pick up from you, love."

With that, you pulled his file up and confirmed his array of medications. Generally, nothing out of the ordinary you noted and acknowledged the new addition of Malarone.

"Yes just give me a moment," you replied as you went to grab his bag.

As the bottles rattled around in the bag, you took a peek and counted the correct number of bottles/boxes, and verified their appearance.

"Now are you going for leisure or work? I saw the newest order for an antimalarial." Secretly you knew the answer but there was always the possibility that the Captain was going on leave.

He let out another small chuckle, "I think you know the answer to that one, doll. Duty calls."

You smiled back, the small inclusion of pet names brightening your day. "Alright then, and I'm assuming you know the regimen. This isn't your first rodeo."

"Yeah, take one for the next day, every day there, and for the week when I get back." You hummed in agreement with his response and he gave you a quick thanks before turning to go.

"Oh but while you're here, any interest in some smoking cessation recommendations!" Like before, you knew the answer. This man was loyal to his country and even more loyal to his cigars. The air filled with the fragrance of musk and cigar smoke whenever he came in definitely made an impression on you.

With this last comment, he let out a final, breathy laugh before responding, "You are many things, Captain, but that's a fucking miracle I don't believe you can pull off."

soap

Infections were no surprise to you. Especially working in the military, there was plenty of incidence for it. Most of the time and even after the doctor patched them up and directed them on proper care, there would still be a select few that would return with an infection.

The rest of the morning was quiet, you were able to catch up on some documentation and had time to pop into the medical wing to provide your pharmacist expertise. That's why when everyone's favorite Scot came by to pick up his antibiotic you didn't mind the company.

"Hi gorgeous, I'm here because of some doc's slipshod job stitching me up." He beamed as he raised his forearm to reveal new stitches and a clearly red, inflamed area. You quickly pulled up his file and your suspicions of an infection were confirmed.

"Sure, MacTavish. I completely believe that the medic specifically botched yours out of the whole team," you sarcastically replied. You served multiple tours with the "guilty" medic and knew they were of equal expertise to you. There was a reason they were performing surgeries while you provided insight and the medication. "I also trust you managed to keep the wound clean and didn't do anything stupid like, I don't know, training instead of resting," you finished as you raised an eyebrow.

He looked like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Ah good one, Doc, I guess nothing is getting past you."

"Mhmm, I'll make you think twice about negatively referring to my colleagues. And again, you know I'm not a doctor. If I were, you know I wouldn't be so willing to stitch you up and send you on your way" you jokingly threatened. He shuddered slightly, he wouldn't want to imagine a world where you were his medic on the battlefield. But then again, his constant injuries would mean frequent visits.

"But I would get to see that gorgeous face of yours more," he joked and you could feel your face flush. His flirty antics and your eye rolls were a staple of this relationship.

"Do you talk to everyone this way?" you countered, "I bet your superiors love the constant flow of compliments and just blush at your tone."

"Oh yes, they do. My Lieutenant turns into a giggling mess underneath his mask. Do you know he's bloody handsome under that? You should try flooding him with pet names and admiration to see for yourself." He responded, a clear sarcasm in his voice evident even with his familiar accent.

"Will do, MacTavish. Now will you let me get your medication so I can return you to your loverboy?"

"Of course, Captain" he saluted exaggeratedly as you walked to the rows of shelves.

You opened the bag and then placed the verified medication into his hand. "You know the routine and for the love of God, please finish the amount in here. I don't want to be seeing another order for Augmentin from you any time soon!"

"Yes, love, but nothing can stop this machine from gathering more illnesses and wounds requiring your expert care." You rolled your eyes as he explained and gave a cocky gesture showcasing his chiseled injured body.

"Don't mess with me, you know I can easily sneak my way into the med ward and make sure you go nighty-night." You were bluffing, the Hippocratic oath painfully engraved in your mind. But it didn't hurt to joke back.

"Oh I'll be sure to watch out for you, scary legal drug dealer." With this last jab, he walked out and left you chuckling to yourself at his antics.

gaz

The flowers and trees were in full bloom around the base. It reminded you of the days studying outside and crying over learning your Year 2 immunology coursework. However, just like immunology, pollen just made your job more difficult. It seemed like the scripts for nasal sprays and allergy medication were endless. Day after day you would go to work with your technician as you helped their workload by filling the myriad of prescriptions.

Following the quiet lunch hour, the pharmacy quickly became flooded with people. As a younger soldier presented to your counter, you could immediately guess what they were here for.

Although he was not one of your repeat offenders, his watery eyes and the constant flow of sniffles made it clear that he was another victim of the unrelenting pollen.

“Garrick, Kyle,” he said and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he stood there a sniffling mess. You typed his name in and checked his credentials as he turned to sneeze.

“Ah yes, you have a nasal spray and another prescription here. Just give me a moment.” You walked away from the counter as you heard him chuckle and call out, “You wouldn’t happen to have a panacea back there would you?”

“Unfortunately I do not,” you said and frowned upon your return, “But just take these once a day with water and use the nasal spray as needed. One puff in each nose should do the trick and don’t forget to shake it!” You explained. Holding the small container of pills you noted, "Plus this is Piriteze, so you won't feel tired after taking but I usually recommend taking a half hour before you know you're going outside or having any interaction with pollen."

He nodded in agreement and took out a tissue to blow his nose for the hundredth time today. This action didn't relieve his congestion. Allergies were really the bane of everyone's existence and you felt for him as he let out a couple of sneezes and apologized.

As he took the bag you gently said, “Sometimes something spicy really clears everything out. Spice has the benefit of being both delicious and working as a decongestant. You’ll definitely need some tissues but it’s worth it in my opinion.” With that, you offered a wink and sent him on his way.

"You're truly an angel. I'll be sure to update you, love," he beamed at you with a dashing smile. You would be flattered if it had not been for his subsequent barrage of sneezes.

A few days later, a pleased Gaz returned to you and explained your life hack had worked. One half bottle of hot sauce later and he had been congestion free. Brushing your astonishment at his spice tolerance aside, you explained that it had been just the medicine. However, Gaz would soon be giving everyone an earful of your non-conventional methods. Although his mates constantly joked about the image of him drowning in snot (a picture gracefully captured by Soap), he was thankful for you, the pretty pharmacist, and the help.

ghost

You could feel the headache forming from the fluorescent lights and the busy day you were currently having. This morning new missions called for you to enforce the regimen of taking antimalarials and in the afternoon, returning soldiers required pain medication and antibiotics (although you were thankful these were tablets and not through IVs). However, this was no challenge to you and you were further encouraged by the recent positive interactions you’d been having.

Just as you stepped away for a water break, your desktop notified you of a patient awaiting their prescription. You sighed and walked over to see the patient file as well as what medication they’d be receiving today.

You read the name carefully and slowly, partially because of your tiredness as well as your irrational fear of giving the patient the wrong medication.

“Riley, Simon” you mumbled and kept repeating the name as you walked amongst the rows of bags to retrieve the medication.

Just some routine painkillers. You examined the container to verify the oval, white pills of paracetamol.

As you notified the waiting soldier, your computer showed a reminder that they were due for a flu shot. You smiled, immunizations were often done routinely through a clinic but sometimes, you would get a break from your day and be able to administer one.

You acknowledged the reminder just as the soldier walked up. Tall, brooding, and donning a unique balaclava, you presumed this was Simon Riley. Your earlier conversation with Soap made you realize that this was the man who put up with all of his antics. You wondered if the paracetamol was for an injury or his raging headache from his Sergeant.

Recognizing his rank, you greeted him warmly and went to verify his patient credentials. He was a quiet man, only replying to your necessary prompts. This further added evidence that the medication was because of Soap, the chatterbox that he is. As you handed over his prescription, you let him know the bad news.

“Unfortunately, you are due for a flu shot but I can have you out of here in less than 15 minutes if you’d like?” you smiled, "or you could always just have me refer you out to get it while you're on leave."

"I'll do it now, don't know the next time I'd be returning," he spoke lowly. You wondered where he would be off to next as he pocketed the medication and nodded in agreement.

You motioned for him to sit in the designated area and prepared the necessary materials. As you walked over to the vaccine area now occupied by the large man, you positioned yourself to the side of him. You performed your typical routine of verifying the prescription and noting the necessary numbers before you felt the need to break the silence.

“You know, I used to be terrified of these as a child. I hope you didn’t have the same experience, Lieutenant,” you chuckled as you began to clean his bicep. You admired the tattoo on his right arm, so intricate and beautiful.

“I’ve had much worse, trust me,” he replied and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. Well, I guess the man of few words has a sense of humor.

“That’s good to hear! You wouldn’t imagine the number of recruits that squirm even before I’ve begun to prep their arm. I thought all that training taught you guys to be tough.” With this, you both laughed and you began to position your hand ensuring the needle was going into the proper area.

You felt him slightly tense under your touch but you gave him a reassuring pat on the hand. You knew as a child that the best way was to finish the vaccine before they even had time to react.

“You can hold my hand if you’d like,” you joked, not realizing that he was pink under his mask. "Or you could be a good little soldier and I might give you a lolly" you continued further, teasing the man. He was so glad to have the safety of concealment as you were really rubbing it in. He waved you off with his other hand and you went about a quick administration.

“See that’s not so bad,” you smiled and you went to apply a bandage. Unfortunately, you realized you were out of your typical issued bandaids and quickly grabbed a colorful, neon star one.

He glanced down and responded with a low, “What the hell is that?”

“I’m sorry it’s the only one I have at the moment, but you should be able to take it off before bed tonight!” you apologized and you fastened it onto his strong bicep.

Little did you know that your small talk and neon bandage had endeared you to the Lieutenant. Your reassuring touch and soft actions made him believe you’d be a better fit for a position in pediatrics than here. Although he would have to explain the ridiculous stars, he found himself wanting to get all of his vaccines from you.

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first time writing and posting here in like forever! hope you enjoyed this mw2 content :)

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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WAITTT poly!marauders doing stuff for y/n bc her nails get in the way (picking up cards, coins, tieng her shoes, ect) but w fluff at the end of them living head/back scratches w the nails 😝😝😝

The second the three hear your coin purse thump to the ground, as well as the telltale sound of metal clattering onto the wood floor, they're on you like vultures.

"Got it," Remus grumbles, but Sirius and James pay no mind to the man as they dive to their knees too, fingers scrambling to pry coins off of the floor by your feet.

"Here!" Sirius shoves a hand towards you, palm sweaty as three quarters practically stick to his skin, "75 cents, pet."

"Thanks, Siri," You hum, taking them from him and stuffing them back into the purse, "And- oh! Thank you, James."

"Mhm!" The man grins cheerily at you, cheeks flushed from how fast he'd crouched to the floor. He stuffs a handful of coins into your purse, already swooping towards one that Remus is after.

"Hey!" Remus huffs, struggling to his feet while James and Sirius pick over the last few coins like men starved, "They took mine."

"it's okay, Remus," You croon, gratefully accepting the few coins he pushes into your palm, "I'll play with your hair extra when they're asleep."

"Hey!" Sirius clamors to his feet next, mouth agape and eyes aghast, "No fair! I helped more than him."

"Cheaters never prosper," You hum, taking your coins and stuffing them back into the bag. You hand the pouch over to James who's hunting for a stray penny beneath the couch, and you ruffle your nails through the curls billowing from his scalp. A shiver runs down his spine and you laugh breathlessly, taking Remus's hand with your free one.

"But I still get some head scratches?" Sirius verifies, looking for all the world like he might riot if your answer is no.

But you nod, leaning in to kiss the corner of his pouted lips, "Yes, Siri, you still get some head scratches."

"Just not as much as me," Remus boasts, sticking his tongue out at Sirius, "Maybe you can get Prongs to do it, he bites 'em enough to make 'em almost as sharp."

James bumps his head on the underside of the couch in an attempt to protest the accusations against him, and you pet over the sore spot as he glares up at Remus, "Not true!"

"Yes it is," You gasp, peering intently at James's fingers and noticing jagged edges on the thin edges of his nails, "James Fleamont Potter, no scratches at all until you stop biting your nails!"

"No fair! I'm sorry," James pleads, brandishing the slightly dusty penny towards you as a peace offering, "Please, love, I'll stop, I promise."

"I'm filing them down," You decide, "Or- someone is. And if you bite them again then no more back scratches."

"Understood," James nods vigorously, and Sirius grabs his hand to head to the bathroom.

"Come on," Sirius drags James away, and you're left hand-in-hand with Remus, "Let's tame those talons, Prongs."

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wobblyficwriter · 1 year ago

Text

It's Okay, Little Doll

My second fic, and the first time I've tried writing about agere. I hope it's okay! Constructive critism welcome! Sorry I don't know how to do the cut thing.

Bucky Barnes x Little reader.

You're desperate to regress, but your house mate is home and you try not to. He has other ideas.

Can't think of any trigger warnings. I guess *slightly* forced regression, but in a caring concerned way?

You walked into your apartment with a tired sigh. Work had been awful, your creepy co worker had spent the day hitting on you no matter how many times you had told him you had a boyfriend. You didn’t have a boyfriend, but he had no way to verify that. He did know you lived with Bucky though, so you just let him assume that you were a couple.

You dumped your work bag and the stack of files you’d been carrying onto the table and kicked off your shoes. You just needed to get changed into something comfy, find some snacks and chocolate milk, then you could go to your room and regress. Bucky was on a mission and wouldn’t be home for a few days so you knew that he wouldn’t catch you in your little state.

You were just about to go into the kitchen to get your snacks and chocolate milk when you heard him.

“Hey, doll, you okay?” A soft voice said from behind you, making you jump and drop the packet of goldfish crackers you’d been about to pour into a bowl.

“Bucky!” You spun around, wide eyed and desperately started trying to fight off the regression that had been starting to take over your mind.

He chuckled and held his hands up showing you he meant no harm. “Jeez doll, it’s just me!” He didn’t raise his voice, continuing to speak softly, though amusement was evident on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me coming.”

You shook your head and smiled. Internally you were screaming. “No, no no! I can’t regress in front of Bucky!” “I’m fine, sorry I must have been in my own world. You’re back early?” You questioned. Maybe he was just back to get something? You needed to regress and it was hard to fight it. Just had to get a snack and retreat to your room.

“Yeah” He nodded. “Turns out they don’t need a full team, Nat and Steve have gone alone”

You were fighting the need to slip with every ounce of will you had. “Oh.. what are you gonna do now?” You didn’t hear the slightly higher pitch of your voice, or the way you were fiddling anxiously with your sleeves. However it didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he tilted his head, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Doll, you okay?” He stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder, his eyes widening in surprise when you stepped back fearfully. He removed his hand, the concern now more prominent on his face. “Doll? You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

You nod and wring your hands anxiously. You could feel yourself slipping and were desperately trying to stop it. “‘M fine” you said, and you wince inwardly, you heard your voice that time and realised you were slipping faster than you thought. You grab the bag of goldfish, deciding to forget about the rest of your snacks and chocolate milk for now, intending to rush to your bedroom and hide in there for the rest of the night. Bucky stops you with another hand on your shoulder as you try to push past him.

“Hey, hey, where’s the fire? What’s wrong?” He was concerned, he’d never seen you act like this, and you had certainly never acted scared of him before. He waited for you to answer him, frowning when you stiffened under his hand. He let go again and let you go with a sigh. He wasn’t going to force you to stay and talk to him when you very clearly didn’t want to. He figured he’d give you a little while to calm down and check on you later. He made his way back to his room and lay on his bed with the book he’d been reading. He would have stayed there if he hadn’t heard you muttering anxiously in your own room. His super soldier senses made it easy for him to hear, though he usually did his best to block it out. He couldn’t this time though, not when he could hear that you were so worked up about something.

“No no, not in front of Bucky, come on y/n. You can fight this!” You were pacing in your room, desperately trying not to slip. You knew that now Bucky was concerned about you, he wouldn’t leave you alone the whole night. You knew he would come and check on you and you couldn’t afford to be in your littlespace when he did. He couldn’t see you like that, no one could. If you’d known he was going to be home, you would have been more prepared to stop it, having the whole day to work through it. Unfortunately, you hadn’t known he would be home and had been planning for it all day, so now you were home it was getting harder and harder to fight off.

You’d already put all your little items in the wardrobe so you couldn’t see them, including the plush toy that usually lived on your bed. You were hoping that not being able to see the things that you usually used in your little time would make it easier for you to stop the slip.

You gasped when he knocked on your door, calling out to see if you were okay.

“J-just a minute!” You hastily looked around your room, checking for anything that might give it away before sighing and telling him to come in.

He opened the door and walked in, taking a breath when he saw you. He could see your whole body was tense and you looked on the verge of a panic attack. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” He moved toward you, careful not to touch you this time. He knew you didn’t like to be touched. You tolerated the occasional short hug from him, but that was all. The hands on your shoulders earlier were normally okay too, but you’d made it clear to him that they weren’t at the moment, so he just kept his hands where you could see them and crouched in front of you to be less intimidating.

“J-just a bad day” you whispered and gasped when you heard your voice. You were still slipping and you couldn’t stop it! This was bad. You quickly looked to the side, trying to look anywhere but at Bucky. This time, Bucky gasped quietly as it clicked in his head. You were regressing! Well, you were trying NOT to regress, but he recognised the signs. He’d never been in the lifestyle himself, but he knew that Steve had had a little at one point and he’d seen them interact a couple of times. Nodded to himself, unseen by you and decided to just treat you like he would a scared child.

“Shh, shh it’s okay, little one.”

He saw you freeze and your breath catch in your throat. “N-not little!” he heard you say frantically, your voice still in that higher pitch but not quite childlike yet. He could see that you desperately needed to regress, and that you were trying not to so he decided to just carry on, hoping to make you feel safe and go into your littlespace. He edged closer to you, still not touching you yet, keeping his movements slow so you could see everything he was doing.

“Oh I know you’re not, not just yet, but you want to be so badly, don’t you little doll?”

You froze again, slowly turning to look at Bucky. “N-no! D-dunno what you’re talking about!” you had to fight the urge to stomp your foot. This was bad, Bucky was going to see! You couldn’t let that happen!

Bucky just smiled at you, slowly reaching out and curling his fingers around your wrist, gently tugging you toward him. “It’s okay little doll, I’m here. You’re safe with me.” his voice was soft, doing his best to sound calming as he pulled you into him, gently wrapping his arms around you. He felt you stiffen but didn’t let you go this time, he simply gently ran his metal hand up and down your back in soothing circles while gently pressing your head into his chest with the other. You stayed stiff, starting to tremble and he worried that he’d pushed you too far. He keeps going though, murmuring softly to you, taking the fact that while you were anxious, you weren’t pulling away as a sign that it was okay to continue. He stops rubbing your back, using that hand to scoop you up into his arms and moving to the bed with you, he sits on it, leaning back against the headboard and pulls you fully onto him, still making soothing noises and starts rubbing your back again.

“That’s it little doll, you just relax here in my arms. Let Bucky take care of you. Just let it happen… everything’s okay”

You keep fighting desperately but you feel yourself losing the fight. You knew for certain that you were going to lose it when you felt yourself relaxing into his touch despite yourself. “There you go… good girl..” when he called you a good girl you could no longer fight it, and just let it take over. You cuddled into him, your thumb sucked into your mouth and closed your eyes. You heard Bucky chuckle quietly.

“There you go little doll, that’s much better isn’t it?” You blinked up at him and saw him smiling softly down at you. You nodded at him shyly, still worried about being little in front of him, but now you’d slipped, you were much more open to accepting the comfort and safety that his presence offered.

“Nothing to worry about little doll, you just relax here in Bucky’s arms. I’ll take care of you.” He started stroking your hair softly and rocking from side to side slowly, smiling gently at you as your eyes started falling closed.

“Shh, that’s it, little one.. Just let yourself drift away. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

You sighed contentedly and let yourself drift off to sleep. Maybe being little in front of Bucky wasn’t so bad after all.

#sfw agere #Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky barns x y/n #Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader #Bucky Barnes x little reader

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peachjagiya · 3 months ago

Note

https://x.com/katrinap79/status/1834147164441673961

im sorry but this is crazy.

They should have debated harder and decided not to.

This is a jimkooker. That's the first clue that this will be an absolute powerhouse of bullshittery and fuckaboutery.

Putting it in a wordy thread doesn't make it more accurate. Sheer novel length ramblings, numbered neatly, doesn't make it more accurate. Using big words and important sounding theories do not make it more accurate. There is absolutely nothing here that I haven't read from the most unhinged JmKKrs but they've just formatted it in a way that makes it look like they're talking sense. They aren't. They're, as per usual, driven by envy and anti-rhetoric.

They make the same logic leaps they accuse TKKrs of. They have no definitive proof and half the time, they contradict themselves with the assumptions.

We've learned nothing here. They don't actually know a damn thing more than a Taekooker but where we're going off pictures, they're going off a desperate need for the opposite to be true.

And then I seriously lost all faith in this person's ability to approach this sensibly when they said "Bam looks unimpressed." Yeah you get right into that dogs head, dog whisperer!

I particularly like where Hawaii gets them so riled up that they lose their cool, start swearing and claim it's a staged picture because Taehyung is wearing shorts and only solo jumpers wear shorts otherwise NO instructor would EVER take a guy wearing shorts tandem jumping.

It took me approximately 15 earth seconds to find these pictures of the exact skydiving company tandem jumping with people wearing shorts:

Like it was comically fast, even I was surprised.

Another reason not to be fooled by the length of this tirade is that it's full of anti Tae nonsense, with such delights as "JK wasn't in the room to verify Taehyung's story about their private trip" and by the end just openly accusing him of faking pictures.

And it's full of anti-Jungkook nonsense too with the offensive implication that Taehyung took Jungkook to the Hyoshin musical either to boost star power or "like your mom telling you to take your baby brother."

That is gross infantilising of a grown man and diminishing his character to that of an annoying little brother as if nobody could ever want to just spend time with him for who he is.

Despite the fact that Taehyung is very open about enjoying Jungkook's company. Jungkook is one half of their ship and they can't even believe someone likes him? Yuck.

Unreliable narrator behaviour from a jimkooker AGAIN. Nobody is surprised. I'm printing it out and putting it in my special filing cabinet:

#my asks #y'alls

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simmerandwrite · 1 year ago

Text

Sink Into Me - 08 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Wordcount: 8.3k

Warnings: canon level violence (guns, physical fighting), allusions to dog fighting (but no mention of any kind of abuse), some angst

Notes: HI I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY. life, ya know? but enjoy this little treat, please. and.. uhm.. sorry.

---

“We need to talk about Steve Rogers.”

You took in a hard breath and scanned the man - he had a permanent smug look to him, something that made you feel unsettled. The tag around his neck with his badge indicated his name was Grant Ward, NYPD detective.

“Give me back my phone,” you said, slowly emptying your lungs in an attempt to stay calm. “Now.”

Ward shook his head, grinning. “Not yet. C’mon, let’s chat.” He slipped your phone inside his jacket pocket and grabbed your elbow, urging you to step further across the sidewalk in front of a closed down shop. “I got your info from Hammond’s file. You were a witness on a little vehicular assault case a while back, right?”

Nothing about this felt proper or to procedure. But you wanted it to end as quickly as possible, so you nodded.

“What I need to know is why Steve Rogers asked you to lie on your witness report and identify the wrong person.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice cracked as you tried to piece together what he was saying. “I didn’t lie about anything. Shouldn’t - shouldn’t Officer Hammond be following up with me - if there was an issue?”

“I’ve reopened the investigation.” Ward leaned against the building, glancing up and down the street casually as he spoke. “Your intentional misidentification put someone innocent in jail. How do you sleep at night?”

“I didn’t lie,” you repeated, swallowing hard. Hercules paced at your feet.

“You’re lying right now. Rogers told you who to point out in that police lineup, didn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in this man’s face but given he was technically a person of the law, you resisted. Instead, you pursed your lips and opted to stay quiet. Shouldn’t you have a lawyer or something to represent you? God, why weren’t you into legal dramas instead of reality tv?

“Here’s what it looks like. Rogers asks you to help him out and in turn, you get a fancy new apartment. Isn’t that right?” Ward took a step forward and pointed past you, towards the rest of the block. “How else can you afford a luxury apartment working your little 9-5 gig? I verified your record of employment and something just doesn’t add up.”

Before you had a chance to reply to his asinine claim, he was reaching for his buzzing phone. “This is Ward.” You tried to listen to the other end of the call, but couldn’t make out the voice.

He looked back at you, eyes roving up and down as he carried on with his phone conversation. “You’re kidding. That was all true? Wow. Okay. Yeah, I’m with her. Sure.” He raised his free hand and suddenly a nearby SUV was pulling up. “Heading there now.”

Your stomach twisted when Ward turned back to you.

“Let’s go.” He tipped his head towards the vehicle, where the driver had gotten out to open the back door. “We’ve gotta move this chat elsewhere.”

Your eyes blew open, head shaking. “Absolutely not. Give me my phone and —“

Ward stepped towards you again, grabbing your hand that was holding onto Hercules' leash. “If you don’t get in that car willingly, you’ll have a dead dog on your hands. Is that what you want?” He flashed you a smile. “Let’s. Fucking. Go.”

“Storm coming tonight..”

Steve looked up from his plate of pasta, watching his mom across the table as she put down her cutlery. Sarah rubbed her hands together, tired with the weight of time and the pressure of weather changes that seemed to grow worse with each passing season.

“I can feel it in these old joints,” Sarah continued, leaning back in her chair before glancing to the window above her kitchen sink.

“Ma,” Steve finally replied, quietly returning his own fork to the side of his plate. “Why don’t you skip the rest of this monologue about the weather and tell me what’s really on your mind?”

Steve tried to have dinner with his mother at least once a week, if time permitted. The last few months had been a bit chaotic for him though, mostly his own doing of course. And Sarah hadn’t pressed when he canceled. But, something about her tone and strange casual conversation wasn’t sitting well with him. In fact, he could read his mother really well and she was upset, maybe even mad at him. If there was one thing Steve hated, it was when his mother was upset with him.

He liked to nip it in the bud as quickly as he could.

Sarah sighed, slowly crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed down her son. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you about who I ran into at the hospital a few weekends ago.”

“You gonna give me a clue?” Steve smirked, taking a long pause to enjoy a sip from his wine glass. “Who?”

When your name left his mother’s lips, Steve felt his chest tighten. He had very quickly and casually explained to her that you and he had called things off, respectfully asking Sarah not to press him for details. Surprisingly, she hadn’t asked any follow up questions, though Steve knew she hadn’t been feeling positive about the news. In fact, he had assumed his mom would have had a much more passionate reaction. And maybe it was still coming.

He took a deep breath. “Oh. And.. how is she?” Would it be possible for this conversation to only last one more sentence? Would he be able to get out of it without his mother making him feel any worse?

When Steve met his mom’s gaze again, he knew that question wasn’t what he should have asked. He was starting to think maybe saying nothing would have been best.

“How is she?” Sarah repeated, letting out a hard laugh. “Steven.”

“Ma, listen, what happened between us is..” He hesitated. Complicated was not the word he wanted to use, but what else could he say? “I had to cut things off. She’s safer this way.”

There. His heart was torn off his sleeve and slapped onto his plate.

“Steve,” Sarah was softer this time, releasing the anger from her shoulders as she reached across the table for his hand. “You’re not being fair. To yourself. How are you supposed to live this way? Don’t you want a family in the future? Or a break from.. everything?”

Steve squeezed her hand but didn’t respond. Sarah waited another moment for him to say something, then stood and carried her plate to the sink.

Without turning back around, she continued. “I told her about Hamilton House.”

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair again and shaking his head. “Ma..”

“Why didn’t you just talk to her? She would have understood.”

“You barely made it out of that fire alive!” Steve pushed back from the table and met his mother at the sink, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And I can barely live with myself as is, but if something happened to her too, I’d..”

“Honey,” Sarah’s voice was even quieter now as she pivoted to look at him. She reached her hand up to cradle his face. “You need to stop blaming yourself, please.”

How could he ever do that? The scars were still quite obvious on many parts of his mother’s body -

“Steve.” Sarah took in another deep breath. “I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself. And so is she.” There was your name again, coming off of Sarah’s tongue like it just warmed her soul. “She’s good for you.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” A painful laugh gurgled up in Steve’s throat. “I made pretty sure she’ll never talk to me again, unfortunately.”

“Steven.” This time the soft edge had left Sarah’s tone. The disappointment was back. “Don’t tell me you pushed that girl away on purpose.”

“I’m a grown man who can take care of himself,” Steve repeated back to her, stepping away from the sink and turning to grab his coat. “I’ve gotta go, Ma. Thanks for dinner.”

Sarah grabbed his wrist, eyes bright with words she wouldn’t say. Instead, she shook her head and sighed quietly. “At least take a container of pasta for Bucky.”

---

The further the vehicle traveled beyond your neighbourhood, the further your stomach sank. You did your best to listen to the conversations happening between Ward and his driver, but nothing seemed clear.

Where were you going? Were you in trouble? You hadn’t lied to the police - you knew better than that. But how could you prove that when clearly they had another story created? Was this about Steve? You weren’t even talking to him. What the hell was going on?

The only thing saving you from a breakdown was Hercules resting his head on your lap. Gently you scratched behind his ears, doing your best to reassure your dog as he did the same for you.

You were going to be okay. There had to be a positive solution to this mess.

Eventually, the vehicle slowed down in an industrial area you weren’t familiar with. In the growing darkness of the night, everything kind of looked the same - rows of large warehouse style buildings, some in much worse shape than the others. As you approached one of the buildings, a garage door opened up to allow you access.

“Let’s go,” Ward barked out as the car stopped, quickly sliding through his door and throwing the one closest to you open. He reached for your nearest wrist. “But first..”

Handcuffs. What you could only assume were police-grade handcuffs joined your wrists together, despite your protests. Ward was choosing every opportunity to remind you he had a gun, so when he told you to head towards the staircase leading out of the parking area, all you could do was comply.

The driver, some other nameless brute listening to Ward’s every word, held on to Hercules’ leash and followed behind. The panic within you stirred.

The building had clearly once been a thriving warehouse or multi-level business hub. Now, it was reduced to whatever criminal activity these men were tied up in. Every second window was boarded up or leaking in cold air through broken shards, with the evidence of previous occupants littering the floors. Old desks, chairs, appliances laid strewn about.

Ward guided you across the second floor, leading towards the far side of the room. You could hear other voices as you approached. He yanked the door open and pressed against your back for you to enter ahead of him.

You stumbled past the threshold, lifting your head up to look around the room. It felt out of place, given the state of the building. This room remained intact from days before, the remnants of an executive office with a large boardroom table sitting opposite the broken windows. A man you didn’t recognize was seated behind an oversized mahogany table, a burning cigar hanging off his lips. Behind him, a disheveled blond wearing an ill-fitting suit jacket stood scrolling through his phone.

That man you did recognize – you were certain he had been one of the men who had broken into your apartment. You could feel the familiar wave of panic come over you again.

Sitting in a pair of chairs in front of the desk were another two men – one dressed in a long overcoat over his suit, with perfectly coiffed hair. The other donned more casual clothes, well worn with a scowl across his face, strong and silent. You thought perhaps you recognized them, too. You might have seen them at Shield or maybe they had worked with Steve?

“This is her?” The man with the cigar asked, rising from his seat. The other two seated men had turned their heads to look in your direction, then stood the same.

Ward laughed, returning his gun to his jacket, and reaching a hand to grip your neck. He urged you closer to the desk.

“Russo – you’re sure?” The same man asked again, shooting a glance at one of the other two men. Ah, nice suit, nice hair - Russo. He had interrupted you and Steve, that day at his office.

“Yep. I know, doesn’t make sense to me either,” Russo replied with a dry laugh, stepping away from the desk and waiting to the side with the other man, Mr. Strong and Silent.

“Walker, you’re on dog duty,” Ward added after. He snapped his fingers and the guy scrolling on his phone was at attention, rolling his eyes as he grabbed Hercules’ leash from the driver.

Hercules whimpered at the back of the room.

You tried to look towards your confused pup, but Ward’s hands landed on your shoulders. He pushed down to encourage you to sit in one of the vacant seats at the desk.

Finally, the man with the cigar looked at you. A tight smirk curled up on his face as he said your name out loud. “Well, nice to finally meet you. I’m Brock. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

You sat still, hands resting on your lap. You resisted replying with some snappy commentary and instead dug your fingernails into your palms. Maybe you needed to comply, but God, what was the point of all this?

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” you said quietly, letting out a long breath. “I told him-” you jerked your head at Ward, “-everything I said to Officer Hammond was true. Steve didn’t ask me to lie about anything and I’m sorry if someone you know ended up in jail but I had to tell the truth.”

Brock raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, I don’t give a shit about any of that. We’ve gotta fix this and you’re going to help.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line.

“You’re going to meet with Hammond and tell him you lied about-”

You shook your head. “I didn’t lie.”

Brock abandoned his cigar and slammed his hand on the table. “Don’t interrupt me, darling.” He took a breath and started again. “You’re going to meet with Hammond tomorrow morning and set things straight, alright?”

“And if I don’t?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you asked your question.

Brock leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You’re really asking that? Damn. Well, if you don’t - you’re never going to see your dog again, for starters.”

Your face fell and you shuffled in the chair again, turning to look back towards Hercules. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“What do you think, Walker? The mutt would be good for the pit, huh? They could use some fresh meat for the next fight.”

You gasped as Hercules pulled at his leash, trying to walk to you. Walker held the leash tight.

“P-please. Don’t. He doesn’t deserve that, he’s just..” Your voice shook as you turned and looked back at Brock. “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Hammond.” You just had to agree and get out of here. Once you were home, you could call the police station and tell them the truth and and and–

“Hammond is expecting you first thing tomorrow morning at the station.” Ward was looking down at your phone, tapping away at the screen. Great, he was just sending messages on your behalf. You hated that. Clearly you were not getting your phone back. Fuck, how were you going to get out of this?

“Now,” Brock leaned onto his elbows on the desk, returning his cigar to his mouth for a long drag. “Let’s talk about Rogers.”

You gulped.

“I need every little dirty secret you’ve got,” Brock said with a snap of his fingers. “Let’s go. Talk.”

“I don’t..” You faltered, glancing around the room quickly. Russo was watching you carefully while his partner seemed to be preoccupied with his feet, his eyes were drawn down. “I don’t know what you think I might know.. Steve and I.. We.. He broke up with me a while ago.”

A laugh escaped Brock. “I heard that wasn’t the case.”

Russo stepped forward. “Rogers took you home from Shield a few weekends ago, did he not? Drove you right back into your apartment then even walked you to the door?”

You stilled. Why did these men know about that? Were they following you? Or Steve? How did they know where you lived?

“I don’t know anything, I swear. Even when we were..” You closed your eyes. “We didn’t talk about business.”

“You know, I don’t believe you.” Brock let out a frustrated huff and tapped his cigar ash to the floor. “Let’s start easy, alright? Rogers has a ledger, the Bible for all his transactions. Where does he keep it?”

You shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I don’t remember ever seeing a ledger or–”

“Bullshit.” It was Russo jumping in now. “You were fucking him for months. Christ, give us something.”

If you shifted your head back and forth in a shake anymore, you were going to give yourself whiplash. “I-I don’t, really.” You didn’t like how they were both crowding in on you, guns visible on their hips as their voices escalated. “Steve didn’t tell me things - he.. I didn’t..”

“Where does he keep his safe? What buildings did he take you to?” Brock continued on, reciting any thought or question that seemed to jump into his head. “I need to know which Senator is really in his pocket. And what he promised to Rhodes.”

You repeated yourself again and again and again as they bombarded you. “I don’t know, I don’t know! He would never tell me those things.”

“Think harder then.” Brock stood up in a fury, circling the desk to plant himself in front of you. “I need something fucking useful.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to think of something, anything to stop this. Everything you retained about Steve wouldn’t be what they wanted - that he was an old soul, a gentleman who kept your best interests at heart. Who loved old musicals and his mother. Who cared deeply about things but had hurt you deeply, too. None of that would have been helpful so what the fuck were you supposed to do?

“I..” You let out a breath. Would it be worth it to lie?

“If you say ‘you don’t know’ one more goddamn time..” Brock leaned forward, closing in the space between you and reaching for your jaw. He held it between his fingers, keeping you in his grasp waiting for an answer.

When you didn’t respond, Brock growled and reached for his cigar, flipping it in his fingers and bringing the burning end closer and closer to your exposed neck. You could feel the heat before it even touched your skin and all you could do was scream in anticipation.

“I don’t– please! Please don’t-” You pressed yourself into the chair, trying to get as far away from him as possible. But, the burning sensation never came.

“Hey–” This was a new voice. The Strong and Silent man lingering near Russo had rushed between you and Brock, shoving him away before the cigar made contact with your skin. “You said you weren’t going to hurt her.”

Brock pushed him back. “This has nothing to do with you, Castle. Back the fuck off.”

Castle didn’t move - acting as a barricade between you and Brock. They stood at a standstill, and eventually Brock let out a long dramatic sigh. “Ward.” He snapped his fingers again and Ward came forward. Once again, a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Take her up to the roof.”

---

“Do we not fucking knock anymore?” Steve called out as Bucky burst into his office, dragging Peter by the collar as he did.

Steve’s patience had run thin following dinner with his mother. She had managed to stir everything else up again, the feelings Steve was desperately trying to eliminate from his heart. Yet, they hadn’t dulled over time like he wanted. They remained steady, as steady as the beat of his heart.

“She’s good for you.”

On top of that, they had managed to clear out most of the out of territory drug dealers creeping into Brooklyn. But it hadn’t really stopped. The drugs still found their way in, and the problems were escalating moreso. Angry clients, aggravated partners, a particularly frustrated future Mayor who needed Steve’s compliance and trusted network underground for insight.

The last thing Steve wanted to deal with now was another issue. But when Steve saw the panicked look in Bucky’s eyes as he grabbed Peter’s shirt, Steve paused.

“Show him.” Bucky urged Peter forward, eyes wide in a panic. “Now.”

Steve stood from his chair slowly, meeting the young man in the middle of his office. “What’s going on? Is this about Beck again?”

“No, sir. No. It’s uh..” Peter’s hand was shaking as he gripped his cellphone, tapping on the screen before he glanced between Bucky and Steve again. “I keep an eye on social media - mostly just to see what’s happening, who’s hanging out where. My friend Ned he..” Peter shook his head. “Whatever. No one knows it’s me who watches their stuff. So. I was clicking through John Walker’s Instagram stories - that guy is an idiot, by the way. Always trying to bait women to find him at clubs or wherever. And..”

Peter tapped through something on his screen then turned it toward Steve. “Mr. Barnes said he recognized the dog in the background of this video..”

Steve snatched the phone and pressed play on the screen recording. John Walker was in the middle of the frame, filming himself with the front camera as he talked about which bar he’d be showing up at later. But none of that mattered to Steve. What did matter was the dog tied up in the background, pulling at his lead as he started to bark.

“Christ. Sorry about the mutt. Dealing with something for work..”

Steve raised his eyes from the screen, eyebrows furrowed. “When was this posted?”

Peter swallowed before he replied. “About 20 minutes ago.”

Bucky turned to Steve. “Is that..?”

All Steve could do was growl, shoving the phone back at Peter. “Send that to me. Right now.” Steve reached for his own phone, heading out the door of his office towards the primary club facilities. Bucky was at his feet, asking what he could do to help.

“Buck, call Kate. I need a timestamp for when Hercules was picked up.”

Bucky nodded and tore off, phone to his ear.

Steve called Clint directly. “Barton, I need your help.”

---

Kate confirmed you had picked up Hercules just before they closed. She didn’t notice anything concerning, aside from your general demeanor seeming quiet.

Clint reviewed security footage outside your apartment building entrance, back door and lobby. No sign of you. It’s possible you had picked up your dog then gone elsewhere, but Steve wasn’t convinced.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Steve paced his office again and again, waiting desperately for some information. Peter and Thor had stolen off to a few well known bars to see if they could track down Walker or any of his friends.

Clint had gone to your building to troll the neighborhood and seek out any additional video footage that might help.

Steve called Vision to see if he could connect with Wanda to get some information about where you might be, without leading to anything especially suspicious.

Steve needed to know where you were and if you were okay. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to settle until he knew you were safe - until he saw you himself.

This was the fucking risk, wasn’t it? Letting you in. People were going to use your relationship against him. It was staring him right in the face all along. Fuck, how could he live with himself if you got hurt?

Steve let out a fit of rage that had been brewing within him. He grabbed the rocks glass off his desk, still half full of melting ice, and sent it flying into the back of his door.

God fucking damnit. He didn’t like any of this. With no news from Vision and Wanda, his mind was going to bad places.

Steve stalked across the broken glass and threw his door open, grabbing his coat as he left. He found Bucky downstairs at the bar, phone in hand as Natasha leaned beside him.

“Please tell me someone has some fucking news to share,” Steve growled out as he approached. He didn’t even have to ask Natasha to pour him a drink, as it quickly appeared on the bar.

“No Walker sightings yet,” Bucky said as he glanced at his phone. As he turned the screen, a new message appeared.

The text didn’t contain any information or words, just a simple location pin. Bucky tapped on it, revealing an address on the outskirts of Brooklyn.

“Who sent that?” Steve asked, eyeing over Bucky’s shoulder as he drained his glass.

“No clue. I don’t know the number.” Bucky replied quietly. “No message either. Just a thumbs up emoji. But the timing is suspect.”

Steve shook his head. What did he have to lose? “Let’s go. Have Sam meet us there.”

---

You should have worn more layers, warmer clothes. Not that you anticipated being abducted on your way home. But you trusted the warm fall morning and now all you had was regret. A thin sweater barely kept you covered and the looming thunder overhead meant the threat of rain was very real.

Ward had dragged you up the barren staircases to the roof, where he had then removed one of your handcuffs only to attach it to some external pipe system that hugged the outside wall of the building. You could sit on the dirty cold roof or stand and try to peer down, but nothing else. You were stuck.

When you tried to plead with Ward for your escape, he only smirked then offered an alternative.

“Tell you what - if you get on your knees for me, I’ll remove the handcuffs altogether.”

As an answer to that proposal, you spit in his face. He really didn’t like that - which left you pushed to the ground and cuffed with no coverage from wind or impending rain. God fucking damnit.

Once Ward disappeared through the door again, you yelled for help. If it made any lick of difference, you had no idea. There was another building very close by, yelling distance at least. But it looked abandoned just the same. On the other side of the roof, it looked like an emergency staircase existed.

Not like you’d be able to escape. You seemed very stuck.

Were they going to leave you out there all night? Was this some scare tactic? What did they want from you - a detailed breakdown of everything you knew about Steve? You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. Despite the ricochet of emotions you had been through with Steve, you still felt.. something to him. Be it loyalty or kindness or whatever, you couldn’t throw him under the bus.

Steve was a good person. You saw that in him often. But these men? You weren’t so sure.

What if they left you until you had to meet with Hammond? Ten hours in the cold and rain. You could survive that, maybe. Maybe.

Thunder rumbled above you. Rain started to fall.

Fuck. Maybe not.

In an attempt to make yourself as small as possible, you sat against the side wall and wrapped your free arm around yourself. It didn’t do much to protect you from the rain, but it helped retain what little body heat you still had.

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the rain before you heard the access door burst open. You looked up and braced yourself, but felt almost relieved to see it wasn’t Ward again.

It was Castle.

He hesitated when he saw you, then quickly hurried in your direction.

You closed your eyes in a panic. “I’m sorry - I don’t have anything to share about Steve - I can’t remember if there was—”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not here about that.” Castle crouched down in front of you. “I can’t let you go but let me help, alright?” He reached into his pocket and took out what looked like a Swiss Army knife. “I’ll get out of these cuffs at least.”

You braced yourself as he gently touched your wrist, using his tool to work through the lock mechanism. “Thank you.. uhm, Mr. Castle?”

He chuckled, barely. “Frank.”

You nodded, grateful as he freed your hand and left the cuffs dangling. “Thank you, Frank.”

“Over there,” Frank turned his head and pointed to the middle of the roof, where a small maintenance structure stood. It had a sloping roof that could provide more coverage. “Go. You’ll be covered at least.”

Frank got to his feet and offered you his hand. Once you were standing, he shrugged off his own heavy coat and handed it to you.

“Frank,” you clutched the coat and met his gaze, eyes blurring from the rain. “Can you just.. make sure my dog is okay? Hercules? He’s a lover, not a fighter. But he’s all I have and- and..”

Frank gave you a curt nod. “Go.” He motioned back to the small shed and you nodded too.

You had no idea why Frank was helping you. But you decided it had to be a good sign, right?

---

Steve had no idea what he was walking into. He had done this before – going in blind to certain situations was the nature of his entire job. It wasn’t always possible to anticipate who he would run into, if the person he trusted would deliver, if weapons were involved. But given his state of mind and the all-consuming worry he had about your wellbeing; he didn’t really care what he was faced with.

He just needed to figure out where you were and ensure you were safe.

The location that had been sent to Bucky was outside of Brooklyn, just barely. Along an industrial neighbourhood, where plenty of abandoned factories and distribution centers lived, the coordinates lead them to a nondescript building.

Steve and Bucky climbed out of the car, strapped with more than enough guns and ammunition to fight their way through whatever and whoever they were about to face. As they approached, Sam jogged into view, too.

“Thor couldn’t find Walker anywhere,” Sam provided as an update once they were waiting outside. “But Peter’s little tech friend managed to track a location for some recent postings to this general area..”

“Sounds like a likely place to look,” Bucky concluded, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Steve.

Steve took in a deep breath, eyebrows narrowed as he gazed at the doors ahead of him. Raising his hands, he tugged at the collar of his coat and smoothed it out before nodding. He was ready to deal with this.

“If she’s anywhere in here, her safety is priority, you understand?” Steve glanced from Bucky back to Sam, waiting for their own nod of understanding. “If anyone put her in danger, they’re going to pay. But not at her expense.”

Bucky pressed his knuckles into his metal palm, a coy smirk raising on his lips. “Here’s hoping I get to fuck up Walker’s face again.”

Sam took the lead and yanked the dilapidated entry door open, busting open the lock mechanism with little effort. The main level they entered on was mainly being used for vehicle parking and what looked like some storage. A staircase led up to the next level.

Steve carried on - striding to the top of the staircase and heading through the doors. The entire building was in bad shape but this wasn’t their first rodeo.

Someone was hiding out somewhere. And when he found them, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Sam - call everyone to be standby, including Thor and his brother. Get Barton to scope out next door, too. Lots of windows for coverage, the rooftop. Remind him about the Bullseye protocol.” Steve ran a hand through his hair then glanced to his right, motioning to the far door with Bucky. “You’re with me.”

In a few long strides, Steve reached the door and waited. Then, he raised a hand and knocked against it. Bucky stood behind his left shoulder.

Someone on the other side of the door was yelling, then eventually they heard heavy stomping as someone approached. When the door opened, Steve didn’t hesitate - he leaped forward and reached for the collar of whoever it was.

Steve growled. Grant Ward.

“Oh Jesus fucking–” Ward yelped out, trying to pull away from Steve’s grasp as Steve backed him into the room. “Take it fucking easy, Rogers. What the fuck are you–”

“Where is she?” Steve’s voice boomed, holding Ward in his grip as he glanced around the room. It was a fairly sparse leftover office, but sitting at the end of the large boardroom table was Billy Russo, Frank Castle and Brock Rumlow himself. A few other nameless thugs waited behind them, guns at the ready. “Where IS SHE?”

Steve threw Ward to the ground, reaching for his gun as the men at the table stood up and drew their own weapons, too. Bucky followed in behind Steve and kicked Ward down when he tried to get back on his feet.

“Stay down,” Bucky said to Ward.

Rumlow moved from his spot slowly, waving his gun around and placing it down on the table as he walked towards Steve. “Rogers.”

Steve didn’t respond, darting his eyes from Rumlow back to Russo and Castle at the table. Russo looked away, suddenly preoccupied with anything else but Steve. Castle, though, also put his gun away.

“Rumlow.” Steve growled out your name this time. “Where. Is. She?”

Brock smirked. “Who? Oh.. yes. Sure. We just met. As far as I know, you two aren’t together anymore. What’s the concern?”

“If you fucking touched her-” Steve raised his hand again, gun pointing directly at Rumlow as they stood apart. “Tell me where she is.”

“Me and Russo have been talking. I think the three of us could be working together better. If you haven’t been picking off my dealers one by one, the pot could be a lot sweeter.”

“You and your drugs aren’t worthy of Brooklyn.” Steve stepped forward. “Tell me.”

“You know, I didn’t want us to meet like this.” Rumlow brought his hands up, in a faux act of surrender then slowly moved one of them forward to encourage Steve to put his weapon down. “In fact, I went through a lot of trouble to keep your pretty face away from here.”

“Not much trouble, it seems. And it sounds like you have a mole,” Steve shot back, sparing a quick glance back around the room. Russo looked away again but Steve met Castle’s eyes for a beat, then turned back to Rumlow. “Loyalty is rare around these parts.”

“Speaking of loyalty - your girl.” Rumlow stepped back and let out a long breath.

Steve matched him and stepped forward, raising his gun up once more. “If you laid one fucking hand on her–”

“I’ll tell you where she is after we chat, alright? I need a promise from you - to share the territory.”

Steve huffed, lips pursed as he scanned Rumlow’s face. “Tell me where she is.” Steve could hear Bucky shuffling behind him, metal fist clenched, growing just as impatient as Steve was.

“Nah.” Rumlow shrugged, glancing around the room. “If you won’t negotiate, my lips are sealed. I still need her, gotta clear something up with the cops. Then, I don’t know. I guess she’s nice enough on the eyes, bit thicker than what I usually go for but maybe I’ll get her to warm my bed for a–”

Steve wasn’t an idiot. Rumlow was baiting him. And god fucking damnit it worked. Steve surged ahead, letting out another growl of rage as he attacked Rumlow with his fists.

On the other side of the room, Ward slid over to kick against Bucky’s knee - angering Bucky all the same. Sam rushed in to join them at the first sound of chaos. It wasn’t quite contained and really, it didn’t come as a surprise that everyone in the room was more than prepared for a fight. Rumlow’s extra lackeys seemed more than charged enough for the action. Bucky easily took care of Ward on his own, as Sam darted between helping Steve with Rumlow and the others as Russo tried to keep his distance.

“Where is she?” Steve had Rumlow on the ground, pummeling his fists into Rumlow’s jaw. He didn’t get a response, as the sound of gunshots sounded out, ending with shards of glass flying across the floor. In a brief moment of hesitation after, Steve took in the rest of the room.

Russo had slipped out. Castle too.

“Sam!” Steve stood quickly, keeping his foot against Rumlow’s neck.

Sam hurried over and tagged in as Steve rushed through the door to follow where the other two had gone. Running towards the staircase, he looked upwards and could hear the distinct sound of hurrying feet and the slamming of a metal door.

He bounded up the stairs towards the roof.

---

The rain continued to fall, although it had at least slowed down to a cool drizzle. It didn’t mean much since you were already soaking wet, though the coat from Castle had helped. It hadn’t really fit you but the extra layer kept you marginally more comfortable, despite the fatigue and hunger setting in. Was anyone else going to check on you? Would Castle come back to help?

Did.. did Steve know what was going on? Although - how would he even find out? Fuck, you kept going over everything again and again and again. The steps you took today, the conversation you had with Sarah a few weeks ago, Steve’s last words to you at your apartment…

You wish things had gone differently. Maybe in a different life or timeline, it might have all worked out.

Gunshots.

You could hear gunshots from somewhere nearby. Downstairs in the building, maybe. Truthfully, at least up on the roof, you were away from the reality of this situation - that these people had guns and clearly weren’t afraid to use them. Up there, in the rain, you could ignore all of that.

But no, here was the glaring reminder. A few more shots sounded out then it seemed to stop. You tried to keep ignoring it, laying your back flat against the wall of the structure until you heard the door open again. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look until you heard someone barking out your name. This time the voice belonged to Russo.

A set of footsteps tracked further onto the roof, but you held your safe position. Russo finally appeared ahead of you, a scowl etched on his face. “I thought Ward tied you up. Whatever, let’s go.” He grabbed your closest wrist, urging you away from your hiding space. You tried to yank yourself away.

“Please, I don’t want to-”

“Bill - come on, can’t we just drop all this?” Frank came into your eyeline next, looking you over quickly then back towards the door. “Rogers isn’t dumb, he’ll follow us up here anyway.”

Your heart jumped at Steve’s name. He was here, he was going to get you away from this.

Russo’s grip tightened on your wrist, though he turned to look at Frank. “The plan remains the same - we need her to talk to Hammond so Rogers can land some jail time. It’s the only way we can get ahead.”

Frank let out a noncommittal sigh. “Rumlow is a fuckin’ idiot. You don’t think his plan is to screw us over later too?”

“I don’t give a shit about that right now,” Russo growled, looking back towards you. “Let’s go.”

Frank hesitated again, but didn’t argue any further. You pleaded again as they took you to the far side of the roof, where the emergency fire escape stairs were. Russo let you go momentarily as he stalked over, peering down towards the stairs.

“They should hold up, I hope” he said with a shrug, motioning his head for you to go. “Ladies first.”

You shook your head, taking a step back and glancing towards the door instead. “No, I..” You turned on your heel.

A gunshot sounded out behind you, loud and piercing. You screamed, eyes wide as you turned back. Russo was scowling again, holding his gun high as he shot it upwards into the sky. He lowered it slowly, pointing it at you directly instead. If that wasn’t enough of a warning. “Down you go. Now.”

You glanced at Frank, who remained completely stoic as he looked between you and Russo.

Suddenly, the door flew open again. You all turned to look.

A wave of relief flooded through you - it was Steve. He called your name as he walked towards you, never breaking his eye contact with you. In an instant, all your worries and doubts and everything seemed to shatter as he looked at you with such gentleness and grace.

Russo let out a hard laugh, waving his gun for a brief moment before aiming it back at you. “No time for your cute reunion. Let us walk away, Rogers.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve didn’t even bother replying to Russo, though he did stop in his tracks when he realized Russo had a gun pointed at you. But, Steve carried on, repeating your name. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, jaw shaking as you nodded.

Steve softened, for a fraction of a second. You knew he could tell you weren’t being honest. But what were you supposed to do? You were a hostage, soaking wet on a roof, with a gun pointed in your direction - no, you were not okay.

You watched as Steve transformed again, soft eyes replaced by hard lines, a tight jaw. He finally broke your gaze and turned his attention to Russo and Castle. “Let her go and we’ll all walk away from this unscathed.”

A loud laugh escaped Russo. “Right. I don’t think so. We’re walking away from this with the leverage we need.”

You watched as Steve took in a deep breath, then reluctantly put his hands up. “What do you want, Russo? Money, territory, names? What? I’ll give you whatever you want - just put your gun down and let her go.”

“You think I’m an idiot?” Russo shook his head. “No, I’m not playing this game.”

“This isn’t a fucking game,” Steve continued, reaching his hand slowly for his gun. He raised it up then just as quickly tossed it behind himself. “Please, Bill. Just leave her out of this.”

“Billy..” Frank finally spoke up too. “Let’s call it, okay? Sounds like Rogers is willing to talk and–”

“No.” Russo took a step closer to you, gun firm in hand. “No, we’re going to–”

Before you realized what was happening, you weren’t even standing on your own two feet anymore. A flurry of noises rang out around you - screaming, gunshots, shouting. Someone had wrapped their arms around you – you fell towards the ground – you landed on.. Steve. It was Steve.

He had run towards you in the action, caging you in his arms as you both landed on the rooftop together. Safe. Alive. Steve shielded you with his own body from the noise and chaos happening around you. You didn’t know who had been shooting who, if anyone escaped or made it down the fire escape. All you knew is that you were safe, in Steve’s arms.

Steve was whispering out your name, again and again, like some sort of prayer on his lips. His words were wrapped in apologies, in cries for your safety, in hushed words that begged for reassurance. As everything else seemed to quiet down, he gently pushed himself up to peer down at you.

“Sweetheart, I’m so–”

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m okay.. I’m..c-cold.”

He shook his head and quickly shifted again, standing up and helping you back to your feet, too. He shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over you. Slowly, he raised his hand and slid it down the side of your face, wiping away stray droplets of water with his thumb. His palm was warm against your cheek, you could feel his whole heart pulsing as he held you.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m–”

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice broke you both from the spell. Steve reluctantly looked away from you, pivoting slightly as he looked towards Bucky running in their direction. Across the roof, both Frank and Russo were on their knees, hands wrapped behind their backs. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around one of Russo’s biceps.

Wait, had someone shot him? It couldn’t have been Steve, he had put his gun down. Would Frank have..

Bucky leaned in slightly and mumbled into Steve’s ear, then they both looked across the roof towards the adjacent building. Bucky waved in that direction and Steve nodded, then they both turned back to you.

Before Steve could say anything else, you reached for his shirt. “Steve - you..we need to find Hercules. They said.. They..” You closed your eyes tight, head shaking as you tried to form your words. “They were going to take him somewhere to fight. I don’t know if..”

Bucky stood up tall again. He said your name firm, like a promise. “I’ll find him.”

As Bucky left, Steve wrapped his arms around you again - tighter this time. With one hand, he secured your back and the other cradled your head against his chest. He didn’t say anything and you couldn’t find any words either.

---

You were back at Steve’s apartment. You thought you’d never see those big windows overlooking Brooklyn ever again and yet, there you were. Safe.

Safe and warm, following a long shower in Steve’s guest bathroom. Stripping away your damp clothes and stealing away into the stream for longer than probably necessary had been a nice escape. Especially given that Steve had driven you back to his place in silence - though it wasn’t as awkward as before. It just felt like maybe there were things you both needed to say but couldn’t bring yourself to mention yet.

Before you had left the building earlier, Steve hadn’t let you leave his sight. Well, except for about ten minutes where Bucky hovered over you instead.

Steve brought you inside, back downstairs to that same boardroom and office space. But this time, you weren’t faced with bad guys with guns. Well, the bad guys remained but the guns were gone.

All four of them were bound and seated at a chair. Ward’s head was lolled to the side, Brock had a bloody face, Russo and Castle were mostly left without much damage. But you had a feeling that wasn’t going to last.

Steve squeezed your hand, gently turning you away from looking at them.

“Hey,” he said quietly, tipping your chin up with his thumb. “Can you tell me what happened? What they did?”

You swallowed hard, eyes wide for a moment as you considered his question. What was he going to do?

“Don’t overthink it, okay? Just tell me what you think I should know.”

You let out a breath then recounted everything. Ward ambushing you on the sidewalk, Brock threatening you, Russo joining in…

“But Frank he..” You finally spared a glance over your shoulder. Frank sat up straight in his chair, resigned to whatever fate awaited him. “He helped me. Tried to protect me, gave me his coat..”

Steve nodded, looking in Frank’s direction the same way. Steve called for Sam, then gave him another nod and Sam went to untie Frank from his chair.

It was only a few moments later that Bucky showed up with Hercules, who - thank god - looked unharmed, if a little worked up. You couldn’t help but start to cry as you broke away from Steve and rushed to your son.

But, It wasn’t lost on you how quickly Bucky led you away from the room with your dog. Or how the door shut behind you, leaving Steve and Sam in there with the rest of the men, the overlapping sounds and sounds of distress…

When you finally decided you had wasted enough water and regained all the proper feeling in your body, you shut off the water and let out a long sigh. Outside on the counter, folded neatly beside your warm towel, was some clothes you had left at Steve’s ages ago. Soft and clean layers to keep your temperature steady as you got ready for bed.

You supposed it was a choice you made - agreeing to go home with Steve instead of back to your own apartment. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep there - not tonight. And you knew Steve would insist on staying and keeping guard outside your door anyway. So it made more sense this way.

After you changed, you found Hercules waiting for you in the hallway. You could hear Steve in the living room, speaking quite passionately on his end of a phone call.

“Jim, this is the only deal I’m making. Proof of your dirty cop aside, I’m handing you Rumlow alive on a silver platter, even though I should have let him bleed out. So you have to do this for me. I don’t give a fuck about protocol..” There was a heavy pause. “Every instance of her name on any police report - gone. I don’t want her attached to any of it, do you understand? No trace of her. I don’t care - redact it or burn it. Get that done and I’ll deliver Rumlow to you in the morning. Understood?”

You knew you probably shouldn’t be listening, but it was your name he was mentioning.

“As for Russo, I’m dealing with that myself. But keep him on your radar. If you need another arrest to clench your win, you can have him once I’m done.”

You quietly slipped into the guest bedroom once you realized his call had ended. Once Hercules followed you in, you shut the door. Fuck. What happened now? Maybe you and Steve needed to talk about all of this - you definitely needed to talk about it.

You heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards the bedrooms and Steve stopped outside your door. You held your breath, wondering if he would say your name or knock. But - nothing. His phone buzzed again and he disappeared into his bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the door.

---

Mentally, Steve was exhausted.

Physically, his energy peaked in the midst of the action and hadn’t seemed to peter off yet.

You were safe, you were safe, you were safe.

Why couldn’t he calm down? You were one wall away, falling asleep. Safe. He got to you before anything critical happened. Christ, nothing should have happened in the first place.

Following his long frustrating phone call with Rhodes, he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to say everything that was weighing down his heart - but your door was closed and he couldn’t even find it in himself to knock.

You were probably even angrier with him than before - given that this was all his fault. But that was fine with him. He could deal with your anger if that meant you had any feelings towards him left. Anger counted.

He rinsed off in the shower then pulled on a pair of pajama pants before falling into bed, not that he was tired. His brain was wired and maybe an allnighter was in his future.

Steve sent off a few last messages to Bucky and Sam, then discarded his phone on the nightstand. He leaned back against the headboard and–

There was a knock at his bedroom door. You were knocking. He swung his legs off the bed and hurried to open the door, just as you were about to push it open yourself.

“Hi,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes in the low light streaming in from his lamp.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning you for any signs of distress.

You shrugged, drawing in a deep breath. Then Steve took a step back, waving his arm to invite you in. You released your lungs slowly, nodding and following him inside. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed and offered the open blanket to you, arms wide. You just nodded again, crawling in and finding a spot - your spot - underneath his arms.

---

CHAPTER 07 - CHAPTER 09

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #steve rogers x you #mob boss steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #story: sink into me #simmerandcry #simmerandwrite

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diminuel · 5 months ago

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Ohhh, the Rocks / Edward D. Ace name idea is glorious, the reactions to that alone are great, Wani's would either be angsty or grumpy depending on which one is his father but imagine Whitebeard and/or the other Rocks pirates seeing that first wanted poster, regardless of which name is used, both gotta get a reaction out from them. Big Mom would definitely start hunting Ace down right away.

And I don't think Garp told Sengoku about Ace in canon, I imagine they had Roger's blood on file thanks to the execution or something and used that to check Ace's, I mean, they had to have some real confirmation because otherwise why dig up the rumor of Roger's heir and remind everyone of that clusterfuck? So they really had to be sure that they got the correct person.

I'm always craving angst, so I'm thinking about Rocks D. Ace now because I wonder if that would have changed Whitebeard's reaction to Ace. And oooh, Teach's reaction to Ace! Because all of them know that it's not possible for Ace to be Rock's son, the guy died many years ago. But could the marine have messed up, could Rocks' child have survived?

(It's of course possible that WB knows that the child survived.)

I can imagine that maybe WB is curious but apprehensive about him, but once he meets him he realizes that the fire that burns in Ace is not the same that he saw in Xebec or Xebec's child. And he might advice him not to use that name in public due to the heavy weight it carries (which Ace wouldn't have known. Maybe he artfully dodged any snail calls and letters his family tried to send him. Or maybe the marine even suppressed his chosen last name once Ace left the East Blue and got on people's radars.)

For a bit of WB angst I might also suggest that when Ace fesses up about who his real father is (and who raised him?) he also admits that he found WB's name as well and was contemplating using that. Because maybe for a while Crocodile had seen WB as his father figure? Maybe he had tried out the name? But there must have been a moment of "rejection" from WB so that he buried it again and was just "Crocodile" from then on out.

I just find the whole situation in Marineford a bit strange. It really paints Sengoku (and also Garp) in a bad light... which just clashed with their "eh, I'm retired, this doesn't matter to me anymore" attitude later on.......

Yes, maybe they did have his blood on hand to verify it... (Makes one wonder what they did with Roger's body. Was it "donated" to Vegapunk for research?)

#Anon #Diminuel replies

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therobotmonster · 10 months ago

Text

So... Shapeways is going bankrupt.

This is particularly irksome for me, as that's a good 1/3rd of my monthly income, so I'm crossing my fingers while I start setting up a new store on cults. I have literally thousands of items so getting them all up is going to take ages.

But why did this happen?

Well I'll fucking tell you what I think happened.

It was a company run on arrogance and cowardice.

Shapeways made its mark as the cafepress of 3d printing. The weight of this was their marketplace that let people sell prints directly to customers without having to do the printing themselves. At its peak, I made more from Shapeways than from my day job.

The problem was that Shapeways put zero effort into the marketplace. They'd send some of us to a con to promote the idea of 3d printing game minis a couple of times, sure, but when it came to actual site maintenance and design every suggestion and request by sellers was roundly ignored. We asked for better search and categorization options. We asked to be able to name variants in our stores. We asked for better communication from the print techs. We asked for accurate subcategories that actually reflected how customers looked for items. None of it was done.

As such, the site was baffling to customers and difficult to understand. This was made worse by Shapeways' continual renaming of their materials. So after a couple of years Shapeways announces that they're not going to do anything for the marketplace because it's underperforming, and are going to focus on B2B, and in doing so they buried the marketplace in a tiny little link on the front page.

Overnight sales plummeted. We complained again, nothing was done. We asked for a different URL that went straight to the marketplace (something that would literally cost them $80 to do) that we could direct customers to, we were ignored.

The marketplace is underperforming, so we won't put in the effort needed to make the marketplace perform. Makes perfect sense.

Prices go up. Shipping goes up substantially, and then it was a thousand little cuts. The auto-checks were altered to make it impossible to verify anything manually with any accuracy, so it became harder to design for the limitations of their printers.

The site slowed down substantially so every click had a several second pause, making shopping and maintaining frustrating and unpleasant. Shipping costs to many areas of the world became insanely high, effectively cutting off entire markets.

Want to not be Shapeways? Then remember this:

Your users know more about your site experience and their own needs than you do.

If you have a sales site, and the people selling through it say "this isn't working, we need this" then maybe you should listen to them and not just say 'you're wrong' to their faces.

Oh, and also, if goddamn Rolls-Royce comes in filing false DMCA claims over the use of the word "Phantom" in any context on your site, you don't take every item through a multiple day review for every edit and say "LOL, we can't do anything"

You take them to court for abusing the system on behalf of your user base, you fucking bootlicking cowards.

OH, AND I ALMOST FORGOT!

I HAD TO FIND OUT ABOUT THIS FROM A DM ON TWITTER.

They've sent me a check every month for half a decade and they don't even send a "We're closing shop" email.

Look upon my prints, ye mighty, and despair.

If you want to help me though the meantime, here's my paypal.me and my gofundme.

#shapeways #late stage capitalism #3d printing #failure #corporate incompetence #corporate greed

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cheezybiscuits · 4 months ago

Text

Field log: Elliot Manor

Note: The following is an illustration and transcription of audio and video recordings streamed from investigation of ground zero for SCP-468395. Instances of SCP-468395-A will continue to be referred to as Corrupted Security Drones (CSD) despite recent discoveries on their origins as standard drones.

Michelle: You hear that? behind the door over there, there's two voices talking.

Jordan: Yep. Could be the target. Stay on guard, she has weapons.

Team proceeds to the end of the hallway. Agents get into position in front of the doors and Jordan kicks it open.

Tessa Elliot: What-

CSD: Yeah NOPE!

Six rapid gunshots are heard and visual feed is disabled. Only one microphone records the following segment.

[04 level clearance required to access full file. Verify clearance level to continue] (Click keep reading)

Tessa Elliot: Wow…uh…okay…you just killed some SCP staff?

No one speaks for 3 seconds.

CSD: Well…yes! They’re hostile and intend to capture us, right?

Tessa Elliot: What happened to the boot licker you described a minute ago?

There is no talking for another 3.5 seconds and the CSD vents air as if to sigh.

Tessa Elliot: Anyway, back to those questions, so [SCP-468395-1-C] wore my skin huh? Is that why my corpse over there looks fresh from the slaughterhouse?

CSD: That’s correct.

Tessa Elliot: And now some gothy lookin' drone ate Cyn’s core and…survived? And has control of the solver now?

CSD: I’m skeptical of the twerp’s success myself.

Tessa Elliot: (chuckling) You keep calling her a twerp but the more you describe this kid the cooler you make her sound.

CSD: You think N is cool, because you’re kind like that.

Tessa Elliot: Psh, nah. He’s pretty cool, especially with the vampire-angel thing going on now.

CSD: Now you’re demonstrating what I just said.

Tessa Elliot: Do you think N would be cooler if he drove a company car?

CSD: On the condition that he'd get an upgrade for his cognitive processor.

Tessa Elliot: Are you sure you'd like that? You'd get competition for employee of the month.

CSD: Not if leadership and being cool are in the criteria.

Both chuckle.

Once again there is no talking for 3 seconds.

CSD: I have questions too.

Tessa Elliot: Oh?

CSD: How do I know I can trust you’re the real Tessa? You could be an anomalous doppleganger, an illusion, or any other type of deceptive SCP.

Tessa Elliot: Huh. (Pause) You got me there. I can’t exactly prove I’m not any of that. I betcha can tell my fingerprints are different, right?

CSD: And your facial structure has slight differences, along with your brain. Oh and I don’t need to scan you to see you’re 4 centimeters shorter than you should be at your alleged age.

Tessa Elliot: Hm. Well that tracks with me being a clone right? And there’s bound to be differences with how fast they grew my body. As for the height uh…I’m not as exactly well fed as I was from before the apocalypse?

CSD: Okay. Next question: How does a technical genius that's avoiding the foundation think it would be a good idea to go to ground zero?

Tessa Elliot: I kind of wanted to see what was left of my stuff here.

CSD: How is that enough reason to risk all the dangerous-

They pause yet again. This time for 2 seconds. The CSD sighs again.

CSD: You wanted to look at your own corpse didn’t you?

Tessa Elliot: That and see if Dad’s SCP collection is still here.

CSD: …You know what, that passes as Tessa behavior.

Tessa Elliot: Right! Knew you'd come around!

CSD: Next question. You said you're avoiding bunkers since most of them are extensions of SCP-2000 right now and you'd get caught. How do you expect to survive outside of bunkers? What happens if you’re starving and can’t wait out a six-week glass-dust storm to take off your helmet for food or water?

Tessa Elliot: I got my own shelter for that. But I don’t know how much I can tell you about it.

(Transcribers note: What they’re saying next was sometimes hard to make out because they started talking at the same time and interrupting each other a lot. Francis if you find anything inaccurate here I just want to remind you, minimum wage, minimum effort.)

CSD: What? Why? I was completely transparent with you. That’s not-

Tessa Elliot: I kind of….have my own team I’m working with as you’d say? And, I dunno, you said you’re not working for the foundation right now

CSD: Yes but I wasn’t finished-

Tessa Elliot: And we're both different from the last times we saw each other-

CSD: That's true but I still haven't mentioned-

Tessa Elliot: To be blunt I don’t know who your next boss will be but they definitely won’t be friendly to me.

CSD: Yes but please Tessa wait second!

Tessa Elliot: I-alright.

CSD: (Pause) I said I was between employers, but I meant under the previous circumstances. I-it's different now. You're...alive now. Before, you were gone, I had nowhere to apply. Then I read about SCP-2000, and-

They pause again for 4 seconds.

CSD: As long as you’re alive, you’ll always be my boss, Tessa. Just, please, if you'll accept my application.

The subjects pause again for 6 seconds.

CSD: Wait shit-

Tessa Elliot What? What is it?

CSD: Wireless signal in the corner of my eye- son of a bi-

Audio picks up a single gunshot before disconnecting.

[Additional notes: Tessa Elliot has accessed files on recent 05 council members. It is a top priority to capture and either amnesticize, or terminate the target.]

#Murder Drones #Jessa #Tessa James Elliot #Serial Designation J #ripping royals #murder drones J #MD J #MD Tessa #MD SCP au #cheezy art #SCP foundation

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the-penguin-of-baskervilles · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 26

Summary: Princess makes a worrying discovery while looking through Lloyd’s briefcase. Zach and Lloyd search Copper Ridge Quarry and have an argument. Meanwhile, Princess becomes entangled in the issue of a spy operating inside of Bishop & Howard.

Word Count: 5,024

Warnings: This story contains content that is intended for those who are at least eighteen years old, such as explicit sexual content, strong language, references to spying, murder, kidnapping and criminal elements.

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I did get this chapter published today as promised but editing took a really long time because it snowed here today, which was really depressing for me (come on, it’s March, give me sunshine) so I was feeling very unmotivated and lazy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Twenty-Six

As promised, you reviewed the footage of Nguyen’s interrogation. Two moments raised red flags. The first occurred when Lloyd mentioned Tate Corbin’s witness statement. From his previous interviews and court testimonies, you knew Nguyen wasn’t easily drawn into speculation, but the topic of his neighbor’s observations caused an abrupt change in his demeanor. Suddenly, he was eager to speculate. You marked the timestamp and wrote a note for Lloyd. The second red flag was more significant. As an interrogation subject, Nguyen was usually willing to answer questions, though the quality of his responses varied. That said, an outright refusal to respond was rare; in fact there was only one instance where it cropped up.

When questioned about his former colleague who testified against him at trial his evasion stood out sharply in contrast to his typical style of guarded cooperation. It caught your attention, so you annotated that spot as well. Nothing in particular jumped out at you as significant in the rest of the footage, but watching it all together, it irked you that Nguyen hesitated to challenge his colleague’s testimony. Most murder suspects protested vehemently when confronted with false accusations.

The fact that Nguyen didn’t was unsettling.

A staccato rap of knuckles on your door startled you from your musings. Landon stepped into the room and raised an eyebrow when he saw you massaging your temples.

“Headache?”

"Yeah. Re-watching Nguyen's interview is driving me nuts."

"Skip the aspirin this time."

You snorted. "Never again. What's up?"

"Jake and I have a stakeout. Need a ride home?"

"No. Lloyd's my ride, whenever he gets back."

"Text if you need us. Remember the silent alarm triggers are under the receptionist’s desk and in Zach’s office. He showed you?"

"Yeah, he did. Thanks."

- - - - -

After the guys left, the office was silent. You finished reviewing the interview footage and made an attempt at Lloyd’s strategy of listening to the interview audios alone, which proved fruitless. The audio alone was too dull to be endured. After saving your notes to the shared drive, you strolled around the office to stretch your legs. It was nearly nine o’clock, and there was still no word from Lloyd or Zach. You opened the tracking app on your phone and verified their location in the woods near Copper Ridge Quarry.

You needed a distraction, so you poked around in the share drive and read the report Lloyd had filed on his meeting with Tate Corbin. When you clicked through the attachments for his handwritten notes nothing came up. There were no attachments anywhere in his last few uploads so they hadn’t been filed mistakenly. Your gaze landed on the hazelnut leather briefcase he’d left beside your desk. After a brief debate, you decided he wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t snooping if there was a purpose, right? You lifted the briefcase to your desk and took a deep, steadying breath. As you unzipped the main compartment, your phone rang, making you almost jump out of your skin.

Jen’s face flashed on the caller ID.

You sank back against the cushioned backrest of your chair and answered. “Hey, Jen. What’s up?”

“Not much, just checking in. How’s working from home?”

"It’s different. Kind of boring, but I’m getting a lot done.”

“I haven’t seen much of Lloyd around the office lately. Is he working from home, too?”

“He’s been doing a lot of field work,” you said, ducking the question.

“Mmmhh, really throwing himself into it, is he?”

Knowing Jen as long as you had, the dry tone of her voice tipped you off that she wouldn’t let the matter of Lloyd's absence go. She’d poke and prod and side-step you down the garden path until she had an explanation. You should’ve anticipated that the cover story Bishop had spread around the office, spinning your attack as a slip and fall by the pool, wouldn’t pass the smell test with Jen.

“Yeah. Things picked up a bit in the investigation… uh, new leads….”

“I’ve always appreciated that Lloyd goes after things like a force of nature.”

“Have you?” You raised an eyebrow, reaching into the front divider of Lloyd’s briefcase and pulling out a stack of files. The third degree was coming, and you knew it.

“He takes the bull by the horns,” Jen said.

“Interesting. Are you developing a soft spot for Lloyd?”

Jen snorted. “He’s right up there with Hawaiian pizza in my book.”

You laughed, flipping through the files. None of them were related to the Harmony case, so you set them aside and searched the second pocket in the briefcase.

“Wanna know something else about Lloyd?” you teased, hoping to distract Jen.

“Hmmm?”

“I only found this out recently, but he actually was a cowboy.”

“Are you for real?”

“Would I lie to you? He called me when he was in Idaho and told me about herding cattle and roping and my ovaries almost exploded.”

“I love that for you. Did he bring you pictures? Also, does this have anything to do with his odd choice of facial hair?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Right, you’re too young to remember Westerns. You know the old movies about Doc Holliday, The Sundance Kid, Wyatt Earp…? I could go on, but you get the point.”

“I’ll have to ask him,”

“How’s your neck?” Jen asked.

“A lot better.”

You cringed, waiting for the attack to begin.

“Mmmhh. Glad to hear it.”

There was a long pause and you held back, distracting yourself from the temptation of talking by opening the next compartment of Lloyd’s briefcase. There was a padfolio and a few more files. You opened one of them and found insurance paperwork for a 1971 Mercury Cougar.

“Listen, I heard about your fall by the pool from Bishop, and I know it was bullshit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t really talk about it, Jen. I’m sorry.”

“Talk about what, exactly?”

“Jen… I can’t tell you what’s going on, okay?”

“Is it personal? Professional? Does it have something to do with Lloyd?”

You blew out a breath, considering your answer. The stalking was personal, but the IP address that the stalker had used to hack your work laptop was definitely professional. If he’d hack your laptop, who was to say he hadn’t tapped Jen’s work line, too?

“I’m dealing with some personal stuff.”

“And you were in the hospital twice this past month. There was an ER visit at Georgetown University Hospital and another in Harmony.”

“How do you know about those?” you demanded.

“Your apartment building forwarded over a stack of mail. I saw the medical bills and figured they were ER visits, thanks for confirming, though. I didn’t actually open them.”

“I can’t share it yet, but me staying out of the office is what’s best for right now.”

“Why were you in the hospital?” Jen asked.

You rubbed your forehead and wondered why you chose to develop friendships with people who had the personalities of Jack Russell Terriers. “I hurt my neck, just like Bishop said. The other one was for a medication reaction, but it turned out fine.”

“Fine? But who picked you up from the hospital? Did you call your Mom? Never mind, don’t answer that, I know you didn’t. Have you told your Mom what’s going on?”

Jen meant well, and you knew that, but she’d never comprehend that your Mom didn’t take her responsibilities as a parent to heart the same way Jen did.

“I didn’t tell her I was in the hospital because it’s just not something she could handle. She’s kind of high strung,” you gently reminded her. “Lloyd drove me home both times.”

“So, Lloyd is taking care of you? Adequately?”

You rolled your eyes at her suspicious tone. “Yes, he’s shockingly good at playing nurse. And he can cook.”

“Thank goodness, I’ve been worried that you were subsisting on takeout alone.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” you said.

“Mmmhh. Well. I’m not trying to be pushy, honest. I just… worry about you.”

“I know that, Jen. Give me some time, okay? I’ll tell you everything when I can and hopefully I won’t seem like such an asshole then.”

“You’re not capable of being an asshole except when you’ve been provoked to it,” Jen said. “That’s why I’ve been so worried.”

“Thank you.”

You picked up another file that had been in Lloyd’s briefcase and leafed through it. Once you realized that it was a copy of Joe Hansen’s will, you snapped it shut. Jen’s voice morphed into the background as she turned the conversation to a recap of current affairs at the law firm. Why was Lloyd still carrying a copy of his father’s will? On a scale of one to ten, how much of a violation of privacy would it be to read… maybe just the first page? The first few pages? Your internal debate was interrupted by a gasp from Jen.

“I almost forgot to tell you! I met Mr. Howard the other day!”

“Mr. Howard?” You drew a blank, having been more preoccupied with the will than the conversation.

“Wilson Howard? The other half of Bishop & Howard? The infamously silent and absent founding partner of B&H…?”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, it was crazy, like stumbling on a unicorn on a jogging trail. He actually came into the office.”

“Why did he come in?”

“Because of you,” Jen said.

“What did I do?!”

“Remember the emails that you forwarded to HR? The ones from Westin Tafferty? According to the grape vine, they made their way up to Bishop, who responded by siccing Mr. Howard on Westin.”

“Oh, shit.”

Jen chuckled at your dismay. “He was here all morning and met with paralegals to get the tea on Westin before coming to visit me. He asked about you.”

“This is not good.”

“Relax,” Jen said. “He just wanted to know if Westin had harassed the whole paralegal department, or if he’d focused on you. And you’ll never guess what else I found out…”

“I’m afraid to ask,” you said.

Jen snickered. “Per Mr. Howard, there was a conversation between Mr. Bishop and Lloyd a month ago where Lloyd threatened to ‘use the Geneva Conventions as a to-do list’ if Westin kept bothering you.”

You buried your head in your hands, groaning, while Jen laughed.

“Anyways, after he’d interviewed the team he went down to HR and had a two hour chat with Westin, who denied everything, but given that it was a two hour meeting, I think we can guess how that went.”

“No one called me about this.”

“You’d already done your part by reporting him,” Jen said. “Also, according to my sources, Westin left that meeting looking very rattled.”

“I almost feel bad for him.”

“Ugh. Get a grip and cut that out, girl. You have no idea how incredibly therapeutic it was for the whole paralegal department to vent about Westin. The best part was that Mr. Howard just listened and took notes. If a man ever listened to me that attentively on a date, I’d jump his bones.”

You commiserated with her about Westin, and let the conversation drift back to the latest gossip from the office. When you finally hung up, you stood over the mess on your desk and examined the damage. It was littered with a treasure trove of mundane artifacts - five khaki file folders, a tin of mints, sticky notes, a travel tube of cologne, a power bank and phone charger, airpods, reading glasses, and three hundred dollars in cash. The files were what drew your eye.

Curiosity was killing you, especially about Joe Hansen’s last will and testament, but you forced yourself to set them aside. It would be a betrayal of trust and if the situation were reversed, you’d be offended if Lloyd went through your private documents without asking. You surveyed the items you’d strewn over the desk from Lloyd’s briefcase and sighed, dipping your hand into the last, smaller back pocket of the briefcase in search of the missing interview notes. Your fingers brushed against paper and for a moment, excitement surged, but instead of papers you pulled out an envelope.

Inside were three laminated bookmarks.

They were delicate and beautiful. One featured a bold splash of golden petals with a dark center like a miniature sun in bloom - a long stemmed Black-Eyed Susan. The other two flowers weren’t familiar. You inspected the bookmark that contained pale lavender flowers with tinges of blue, then examined the third marker, which featured pink petaled blossoms. Frustratingly, it was another flower you didn’t recognize. The pink flower reminded you of Prairie Phlox and Fire Pink, except to the best of your knowledge, no one had ever crossed those plants. There was no receipt in the envelope but when you flipped it over, the outside read: “Josephine.”

Your eyebrows raised. Josephine? Who the hell was Josephine? Why had she given Lloyd pressed flower bookmarks, and more confusingly, why had he accepted them?

It crossed your mind a second later that the floral bookmarks might be a gift for you. That was a logical enough explanation but it didn’t hold up to closer inspection. Lloyd took pride in being an excellent gift-giver. He knew your tastes, interests, and preferences. The bookmark with the Black-Eyed Susans would be the kind of gift he would give you, but the other two were decidedly not.

Using the plant identification app on your phone, you scanned the bookmarks to identify the flowers. The lavender flower was Common Camas and the pink was Elkhorn Clarkia. You didn’t recognize either name and when you checked the map of their native range, it made sense why you wouldn’t - they were native to the upper Northwest. Lloyd must have gotten these in Idaho. Frowning at the bookmarks, your mood slid from confused to suspicious, then darkened.

Your chest was tight and your heart pounded out a chorus of eighth notes, turning your skin hot. The floral bookmarks weren’t something Lloyd would keep without a good reason. On the envelope, you inspected the handwriting of the name ‘Josephine’ and confirmed it was Lloyd’s. Who was Josephine? Did she live in Idaho or had she traveled there for his father’s funeral? Did they spend time together while he was there? Was she the real reason he’d neglected to call you while he was gone? There was a horrible feeling in your gut that you couldn’t ignore.

The realization that there were parts of Lloyd that you were completely closed off from hit like a slap in the face. There were sides to him you’d never seen. He had a past that transcended the three years you’d shared. Of course that was normal, but the utter lack of awareness you had of Lloyd’s past wasn’t normal at all. If you knew who Josephine was, maybe these bookmarks wouldn’t make your heart slam against your rib cage. You’d know if she were a matronly ex-neighbor or an ex-girlfriend. That was something you ought to know, and the fact that you didn’t have a clue made your stomach churn. It seemed that beneath the veneer of trust you had in Lloyd there was an abyss of uncertainty. While your friendship had been built on healthy habits, it was painfully obvious that your romance lacked the same sturdiness. The dawning awareness that all it took was three flimsy bookmarks to fracture your relationship burned.

You took a deep breath and tucked the floral bookmarks into the envelope and returned it to the same pocket. Then you began methodically returning all the items back to their original position, careful to order them exactly how you’d found them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A strange chemical scent hung in the air. Lloyd wrinkled his nose and swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste of rotten eggs. He stood with Zach at the chain link fence that sealed off Copper Ridge from the rest of the world, looking up at the double rows of twelve-foot high razor wire topped fencing. The sight reminded him of prison.

Decorating the fence were brightly colored posters signaling danger lay ahead.

Zach coughed into his elbow. “This place smells like my grandmother’s garden, but way, way, worse.”

“What?” Lloyd asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Her garden plot had alkaline soil, so she treated it with Lime-Sulfur every spring.” Zach coughed again, then examined the warning posters. “Arsenic, sulfur, lead, benzene, radiation… What did they do? Nuke this place?”

“That probably would’ve done less environmental damage.”

“Check those security cameras,” Zach said, tilting his chin at the gate post.

“We can assume the killer isn’t just driving up to the main gate.”

“Given what they’re containing up here, those cameras probably aren’t new.”

“He must have a more discrete method of accessing the site,” Lloyd agreed.

“So, we’re hiking the perimeter?”

“It’s due diligence. The three bodies we have prove that we’re looking for an experienced hiker who isn’t afraid of moving his victims over rough terrain.”

“The perimeter is thirteen miles and the sun’s about to go down.”

“Got an extra flashlight?”

Zach smirked, and quipped, “one is none.”

Their flashlight beams were necessary under the thick canopy of vegetation, even with the sun still shining overhead. The trees cast long shadows and stretched their fingers across the forest floor. Recently fallen leaves squished under their feet as they followed the fence line, still too wet to crunch. Crisp air whipped against his neck and Lloyd flipped up the collar of his jacket.

“I hope Princess doesn’t intend on letting your genes into her bloodline. Not after this.”

“Shut up,” Lloyd muttered.

Zach snickered. “Touched a nerve, eh?”

“You’re getting exposed to this shit right along with me, asshole.”

“Not really. I had a procedure in the 90s to ensure none of my swimmers were medal contenders.”

“For the love of all that is holy, please shut up.”

“Why didn’t you bother with a vasectomy? Nervous about someone poking around down there?” Zach asked.

“Getting clipped has never been on my agenda.”

Zach stopped abruptly. “You want kids? Really?”

“Fuck no! You of all people get why.”

“I do. Hence, the vasectomy I got at twenty.”

“I don’t want kids,” Lloyd stated.

“Your actions say otherwise,” Zach said.

“No, they don’t. All my actions say is… Why are we having this conversation?”

“What about Princess?”

“What about her?”

“Does she want kids?” Zach asked.

“How should I know?!”

“You’re dating her.”

“This is what you want to talk about right now?” Lloyd demanded.

“Does she?”

“Come on, we’re in the middle of something. Now isn’t the time.”

“What are your intentions towards Princess in the long term?”

“Zach, are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“Why would I bother digging a grave when I know this place exists? Answer the question. Where is this thing with Princess going? Are you serious about her?”

“She’s important to me, of course I’m serious.”

The blond man’s eyes sharpened. “Serious is different than being serious about her. Are you going to move in together? Get married?”

“Move in where? The townhouse? Her place? She was nearly strangled in my backyard and Aiden planted a camera at her apartment.”

“Fine, sell both places, combine funds and get a house with a yard for the kids. I’m in Thursday night golf league with a couple realtors. You want me to hook you up?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Zach agreed cheerfully. “Look, the past three months are the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Princess, too. But I also know your track record with relationships so I need to know that you’ve got your head screwed on straight when it comes to her.”

“I appreciate that,” Lloyd said.

“Good. When are you going to talk to her about moving in together?”

“Have you always been this pushy?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know, damn it!”

“You’ve been dating for three months. Figure it out,” Zach said.

Lloyd sighed. “Three months isn’t very long.”

“Sure, but the math is different for you two. You were friends first.”

“She’s my best friend. I don’t want to see her hurt. Not by a stalker, or anything else.”

“Look, Lloyd, Princess is a good friend to me, too. I don’t want to see her hurt either. She’s going to need a commitment from you soon and what I’m trying to ask is this: how close are you to giving her that?”

“You know my track record with relationships,” Lloyd deflected.

“I also know your track record with Princess. You’ve never disappointed her before and I’d prefer not to see you screw that up.”

“I care about her, Zach. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and I don’t want to lose her or hurt her.”

“But you’re afraid you will.”

“My issues with women are legendary.”

Zach snorted. “Let’s not pretend they’re just with women. You’ve got issues with everything.”

“I’m not the white picket fence happily ever after type of guy.”

Silence descended, lingering in the air, as if Zach was waiting for Lloyd to continue. He gritted his teeth and held his peace, refusing to add fuel to the conversation.

“Figure it out, man. Lay your cards on the table soon, because Princess deserves to be with someone who’s all in.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but-”

“What? You’re waiting for the right time to make up a bullshit excuse and end things with her? Once we catch her stalker, and we will, you can’t just turn around and break her heart-”

“Shut up.”

Zach sneered. “Like hell I will. Don’t tell me-”

Lloyd grabbed the Texan by the collar and covered his mouth, silencing him.

“Shut up and listen, damn it!”

Zach froze, alertness sweeping over him in an instant. They waited, silent. From somewhere ahead of them in the woods came a rustling sound.

“You heard that?” Lloyd murmured.

“Yeah.”

Lloyd reached into his jacket and pulled out a Glock 19 while Zach took a .38 pistol from his boot. The gun clicked as Zach chambered a bullet.

“Turn off your flashlight,” Zach whispered.

From ahead there was a flurry of rustling accompanied by the sounds of breaking twigs and branches.

“An animal wouldn’t make that much noise,” Lloyd muttered.

“Whatever it is, we’re not alone out here.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You struggled to focus on the computer screen. It was 10:30 and your eyes stung from too much screen time. Blinking against the dryness, you watched the rapidly moving footage flashing on the monitor. You’d shut off the lights in the office and re-played Nguyen’s interview at 4 times the normal speed. The rapid fire images helped to exaggerate changes in body language, which was what you’d decided to focus on.

After attempting Lloyd’s technique of listening to the interview without visuals, you’d come to your senses and realized that while Lloyd could listen more accurately than anyone you’d ever met, you needed visuals, especially body language. Therefore, you turned off the audio and sped up the footage, watching Nguyen speak, noting his facial expressions and movements.

Your eyes watered in protest at the excessive amount of blue light they were enduring and you squeezed them shut.

When they opened again, the laptop screen wasn’t as bright. You tapped the trackpad and the screen brightened. The laptop was plugged into the wall socket next to the desk. You leaned down and double checked the connection, then looked at the icon menu on the bottom right corner of the screen. The battery was at fifty percent and the plugged-in symbol was conspicuously absent. Your eyes darted to the digital clock on the wall and found its dial frozen, displaying the time as 12:00 AM.

Your stomach dropped.

No electricity. Shit. How long? You had no illusions that the source of the electrical disruption was anything other than man-made. There was no heat wave, thunderstorm, or high winds. You moved to the window and peaked through the blinds to see that the lights were still functioning in the shopping mall. Zach’s suite appeared to be the only one without electricity.

You grabbed for your phone, only to find that the spot where it had been was bare. Goosebumps broke out on your skin. The room was eerily silent. Your heart raced as you scanned the deep shadows and debated whether to run or scream.

“Sorry to drop by after visiting hours.”

The voice from the darkness was calm, almost conversational, but laced with an undercurrent of humor that was more terrifying than malice. You lurched back, eyes focused on the barely discernible silhouette of a man standing in the corner of the room.

“Who are you?” you gasped, the catch in your breath turning your voice into a whisper.

The figure moved and you lept backwards, then screamed when your back slammed into the solid barrier of the wall. A man stepped out of the shadows, into the pool of light from the east window. He had sandy blond hair and cerulean eyes. Something about him triggered a wave of recognition, but you struggled to place him in your memory.

“Hello, Princess.”

Your muscles bunched and your nostrils flared at his casual use of your nickname. The man raised his hands in surrender. Despite his overture of peace, you didn’t relax.

“My name is Court Gentry. We met briefly in Singapore.”

“When and where?” you challenged.

“The casino bar. It was your birthday.”

The memory came flooding back. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

Hair rose on the back of your neck, but you defiantly tilted your chin.

“I know Lloyd,” Court said, taking your lack of response for confusion.

“Yeah, I’m aware. Why are you here?”

“Because Lloyd refused to help me.”

“Sorry?”

“I need someone to help me get into Bishop & Howard,” Court said.

“By ‘get in,’ I’m going to assume you actually mean ‘break in.’”

Court’s lips twitched into a split second smile that faded into seriousness.

“There’s a spy in the firm,” he said.

“And you know this, how?”

“I keep tabs on Lloyd. I assume you’re aware of why?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“A few months ago I was on a job and… came into possession of a laptop. There was a reference to Bishop & Howard on the contents of that device, so I followed up. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I’d uncovered a plot to steal top secret information from the U.S. military.”

“You thought Lloyd was behind it, didn’t you?”

Court inclined his head, conceding the point. “It wouldn’t be the first time he betrayed his country, Princess.”

Your eyes narrowed. “That’s why you were in Singapore.”

“Yes. Events in D.C. from the law firm proved Lloyd innocent, so I approached him and asked for help. His answer was a very vehement ‘no.’”

“He doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore.”

Court nodded. “But that puts me in a bind, because the spy is making his final transmission tonight and I need someone to help me get past security. That’s all I’m asking, Princess. If you can get me to the sixth floor of the firm-”

“Bishop is the spy?!”

“No. He’s not behind this. I already cleared him as a suspect.”

“Executives and administration are the only departments on the sixth floor. What kind of government secrets would they keep up there?”

“There’s another department on the sixth floor,” Court said. “Patents.”

“Right. I knew that, but there’s only like five people in the patent department. They keep to themselves and everyone else kind of forgets they exist.”

“Will you help me?” Court asked.

“What, exactly, am I helping you with? You never told me what these secrets I’m supposed to be protecting were.”

The blond man studied you, weighing his words, before he spoke.

“It’s a Department of Defense project called Project Prometheus. Whenever the government enlists private groups to develop top secret technology, they allow them to file patents on their inventions with a private firm. Only once the technology is de-classified do the patents become public record.”

“What’s Project Prometheus?”

Court sighed. “If I tell you, will you help me?”

“Maybe.”

“Project Prometheus is next generation jet fuel. It’s designed to power the upcoming F-37 Valkyrie fighter planes. The spy at B&H already sent information on the chemical structure of the fuel and how to synthesize it. All that’s left for him to transmit is the engineering specs of the jet’s fuel system.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think the cat’s already out of the bag if they have all that.”

“It’d be more accurate to say that they have the cat, but no bag. Without the right bag to put the cat in… ka-boom,” Court said, illustrating an explosion with his hands.

“Why are you reaching out to me now?”

“Because the spy contacted his handler today to let him know that he’d be sending the rest of the documents at midnight tonight.”

“All I would have to do is get you past security?”

“You have access to the sixth floor,” Court said.

“What about the security around the patent department? I’ve seen their door. It looks like Fort Knox.”

“Doors, plural. I have a plan for that. All we need to do is get in, set up some equipment and hole up in your office while we wait for the spy to show.”

“Are you going to turn him in or capture him?”

“My goal tonight is only to block his transmission and learn his identity. Once I have that, I’ll go to the FBI. Confronting him on my own would be counterproductive. If the authorities can get him to flip on the Chinese, that would be the best outcome.”

Lloyd would kill you for even considering this, but at the same time, you felt compelled to help Court. He’d go after the spy with or without you and his chances of success were a lot higher if you went along.

“Okay. I’ll help you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Chapter XXVII

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Masterlist

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