#the senate isn’t going to remove him from office but this is better than nothing

[fox-stan]

@mamuzzy’s dark fox gave me brain rot too lol. Anyways here’s how I imagine fox gets to that point

Wolffe is already halfway out the door by the time Fox scrambles after him, barely catching his wrist to stop him leaving already.

“That’s not what I was trying to say Wolffe. I swear! It’s just, we need-“

“Shut up.” Wolffe snarls, snatching his arm out of Fox’s grip and spinning around. “I don’t want to hear it from you. I don’t care what you think you’ve been through, you know nothing about what it’s like to loose all the men under your command.”

“But-“ Fox isn’t allowed to finish his protest, isn’t allowed to beg even more for the help his men desperately need. Wolfe shoves him hard, Fox’s bad shoulder clipping the door frame causing his vision to gray out for a moment. By the time his vision returns to normal Wolffe is already gone.

Fox sinks to the ground and lets his head thunk back against the wall as tears start to well up in his eyes. He doesn’t need Wolffe, and he was foolish to think the Wolffe would be in a place to listen to Fox’s problems. Not with the Malevolent disaster so fresh. Still, he had to try. With how things are going he’s not sure how much longer the Guard can last without help.

The door slides open and Fox looks up hoping to see Wolffe, only for his stomach to drop when it’s Thorn who enters. He’s got his helmet clipped to his belt, so Fox can see the sympathetic look on his face as he sits down next to Fox.

“I heard the yelling, I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

He’s kind enough not to say I told you so when Fox shakes his head. Fox knows that Stone will have less restraint when he finds out. Thorn doesn’t say anything, even when the tears Fox has been fighting spill over, running down his cheeks now that he’s got the comforting presence of his brother pressed into his side.

They sit there quietly as Fox mourns his once close relationship with his batch and despairs his helplessness to help his own men.

Fox’s comm rings out in the silence between them and he flinches when he opens it to find a summons from the Chancellor. Shit. Of course he doesn’t get even a few minutes to just sit and be miserable. The Guard doesn’t get nice things like that.

He knows better than to take too long so he quickly rubs away his tears and shoves on his helmet, only stopping to knock his shoulder against Thorn’s in a silent goodbye before heading towards the Chancellors office.

When he gets there he’s surprised to find a lack of Red Guards manning the door, leaving him a little unsure as he steps inside. Thankfully, the Chancellor waves him to stand at attention in his usual spot, standing just to the side of the ornate desk so that he can be forced to kneel at the Chancellor’s feet just as easily as he can be bent over it to receive lashings.

When the Chancellor gestures for him to remove his bucket he hesitates. He’s acutely aware of the appearance of his face right now. It will be impossible to hide that he was just crying, with how swollen and red his eyes are. But the Chancellor is not a patient man so after a brief moment Fox slides his helmet off and clips it to his belt.

They’re alone in the office Fox can’t help but notice, with unease building in his stomach. The feeling only grows worse when the Chancellor gives him a sympathetic smile. The Chancellor hasn’t bothered to use his mask around him in months, not since Fox discovered what he truly is.

“I saw your conversation with Commander Wolffe.”

Fox’s stomach drops, he doesn’t even bother asking how the Chancellor knows. Everything that happens in the senate building makes its way back to him eventually. Even most things outside of the building typically do.

Fox foolishly thought he wouldn’t be punished as long as he didn’t implicate the Chancellor to Wolffe. Clearly that belief was misplaced. Briefly he wonders if the Chancellor is simply going to kill him. Since there’s no Red Guard here to deliver a punishment that seems like the most likely course of action.

“I can offer you the support that the GAR refuses to.”

Fox is still processing the fact that he tried to reach out for help and instead got his hand bitten by the only people in the wretched universe that are supposed to care about him and the fact that the Chancellor seemingly knows about the whole thing. Given the circumstances he thinks he can be excused for his dumbfounded, “What?”

The Chancellor laughs. It’s not the cruel, twisted thing Fox is used to, but rather a truly amused little sound that Fox is unfamiliar with.

“I saw what happened when you tried to reach out for help from lesser beings. The evidence of how that went is all over your face.”

Self-consciously Fox scrubs a hand over his face but he knows that will do little to hide the evidence of his tears.

“They don’t have the resources to help you, even if they cared enough to try.” That stings and Fox can’t help his reflexive flinch but the Chancellor keeps talking. “I, however, have all the resources and power you could want.”

Fox wants to deny him, he’s loyal to the republic he would never knowingly work with a Sith. But. What has the republic done for him? All his loyalty has wrought him is dead little brothers and older brothers who apparently don’t care.

The Chancellor stands, ornate robes rasping across the floor as he move closer, clasping Fox’s shoulder. “I don’t make this offer lightly, and I will not make it again. So I urge you to consider what this could do for you. For your men.”

Fox tilts his chin up. “And if I wanted to kill Senators?”

The Chancellor laughs that strange new laugh again. “Senators are quite replaceable. In fact I think you’ll find my adversaries often find unfortunate ends.”

“Medical supplies?” He probes again, expecting more resistance this time when it’s something that could only help his brothers, not something that can be twisted to suit the Chancellor’s needs.

“My boy you’d have your pick of the Republic’s medical supplies.”

Fox swallows and thinks of holding Thorn down to keep him from thrashing while medics pulled shrapnel out of his stomach and hip. Thinks of the way he wished so desperately for painkillers while his younger brother screamed.

He knows his answer, the Chancellor must realize at the same time because a slow smile spreads across his face and his eyes seem to burn a molten gold.

“All I ask in return is your loyalty. And your willingness to do a few favors for me.”

Fox knows it won’t be that simple. But he thinks of Wolffe turning his back on him, of all his brothers in the GAR ignoring his pleas for help. He thinks of what this could do for the Guard, the ways this could make their lives better and he decides that whatever the price for dealing with a Sith is one he will happily pay.

And so he kneels and swears himself to Chancellor Palpatine.

[wanderinginksplot]

Voices Carry

Mereel seeks advice.

Eventual Mereel Skirata x fem!reader pairing.

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1200

Warnings: Attempted espionage, discussions of assassination, implied threats.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

Part Five

His brothers were the smartest people Mereel knew, but he had still been reluctant to ask their advice. 

For six men who were - according to the galaxy at large - identical, the Null troopers displayed a full swath of personalities with varying levels of pragmatism. Mereel had known they were going to have different opinions on how they should proceed, but he hadn’t expected quite as much blame as he was currently getting. 

“I thought you said you could get the information without a problem,” Kom’rk pointed out. “This sounds a lot like a problem, vod.”

“The problem isn’t the slicing,” Mereel explained again, striving for a patient tone. He failed. “The problem is Julgum’s secretary.”

A’den snorted. “The kaminii wasted their talents on you. One human female and you’re out of ideas.”

“Not out of ideas,” Mereel rejected immediately. “Just trying to figure out how to deal with such an ori'buyce, kih'kovid civvie without attracting the wrong kind of attention. I’ve never seen anyone take such a pointless job so seriously.”

“As much as I hate to point out the obvious-” Jaing starting, pausing to let the muffled laughs from the other Nulls fade. Everyone knew Jaing loved the little details, especially when he was picking up on things the others had missed. “Like I was saying, you’ve already spoken to her. That means you have access to the office. Doesn’t that mean you can slice in to pull the data at any point?”

Mereel scowled. "No. The paranoid chakaar has his system rigged to defend against that. Doubt if it's on purpose, but his office is on a different circuit than the comms in his reception area."

"So the only way to access his files is to convince the secretary to patch you through," Prudii summarized, frowning. "And even if she was amenable toward letting people talk to Julgum, she has to be getting suspicious by now."

"Exactly." There didn't seem to be much more he could add to that, but Mereel desperately wanted to. The failure of his efforts stung, and he was struggling to keep back the panic that always rose up with a failure to complete his mission. Kal'buir had worked to remove that sting, to reassure the Nulls that they still had worth even if a task were beyond them. Sometimes, those first few brutal years of life rose up anyway, refusing to grant Mereel a moment of peace.

"I think you're overlooking the simplest solution, ner vod," Ordo told him, tapping the table decisively.

In a moment, Mereel's melancholy had melted away, replaced by the fire of his friendly rivalry with Ordo. 

"Yeah?" he challenged. "I've been working on a solution for the better part of a week. But sure, tell me the brilliant plan you've already cooked up." 

"I think it's time that Julgum's secretary had a little accident," Ordo told him, gaze steady. "Easy enough to arrange, especially if we pick someone to set up as a scapegoat. Not Julgum, obviously. We want him available for our questioning after it's done-" 

"No."

Mereel's flat refusal made Ordo stop short, the other Nulls staring at them both. For all that his failure bothered Mereel, it bothered him almost as much to think about you being hurt or killed because of your incidental position working for the di'kutla senator. Especially since you didn't seem overly enthused by your boss.

And Ordo had seemed to consider it a foregone conclusion. He had planned your disposal, started thinking about who to blame, and moved on to the eventuality of questioning Julgum for his information. 

Mereel couldn't do it. Not to you, even if you were nothing more than a random stranger from a chance encounter. 

He also couldn't begin to articulate the tangle of his motivations to his curious brothers. Instead, he invented a few believable explanations as he spoke.

"We don't want to draw any more attention than necessary to Julgum and his office, especially after the attack on Coruscant," Mereel told them. “It’ll get blamed on the Separatists and I don’t want to deal with the scrutiny. It might even get people wondering if Julgum has important information, then we’ll have competition for it.”

“Worried about the Guard, Mer’ika?” Skirata asked from the doorway, a fond smile softening his craggy face. He hadn’t spoken much, but Mereel could tell he was listening intently. “Or CSF?”

“I’m not worried - I’m concerned,” Mereel corrected. “We’re good, but I won’t set us up to question Julgum while he’s under Senate protection. Too much attention, and I don’t want to take that risk. Not with this.”

That, at least, seemed to quell any suspicions his brothers may have held. The mission to find Ko Sai was at a standstill, so gathering information about the cloning process had taken priority. 

“Do we even think Julgum has anything?” Prudii asked. 

It was probably the dozenth time Mereel had been asked the same question, but there was no impatience in him. Not when Prudii’s voice had held the subtlest-possible request for assurance. The Nulls had always protected each other, even before Kal’buir came into their lives. 

“I don’t know,” he told his brother. “All I can say is that I think it’s worth checking out. I’ve found more important intel in less likely places.”

Prudii nodded slowly, echoes of the movement trailing around the crowd of Null troopers. His honesty had seemed to put everyone at ease, but there was still a feeling of tension lingering in the room. Mereel decided to break it. 

Mereel tucked his hands into his belt and gave his most exaggerated grin. “I remember one time-”

Ordo interrupted him with a loud groan a moment later. “I cannot listen to the Venestria story again. You’ve told it at least fifty times.”

With a rude noise, Mereel told him, “You’re just bitter because your girlfriend sees more action than you do, lately.”

If Mereel hadn’t already been grinning, he would have done so at his brother’s reaction. Ordo’s face grew flushed, his gaze flicking from Mereel’s face to the table in front of him. It was back in place a millisecond later, but that may as well have been a lifetime. Mereel noticed everything. From everyone. All the time. 

Ordo cleared his throat. “Agent Wennan is very proficient at performing the duties of her job.”

Mereel repeated his rude noise, this time joined by several of the other Nulls. The best was Kal’buir’s quiet sigh. His voice was filled with disappointment as he said, “You know her name, son.”

If Mereel had thought Ordo was flustered before, it was nothing compared to his reaction to outright censure from Sergeant Kal. 

Ordo’s apologies were waved away by Skirata, whose expression had gone from discontented to considering. Kal’s light eyes cut toward Mereel, lips pursed in thought. Mereel met that gaze steadily, waiting for the sergeant to speak. 

At last, Kal’buir said, “If you can win her over, son, we could do worse than to have a contact inside the Senate.” 

As far as Mereel was concerned, that was as good as an order.

---

Author's Note - In case anyone is wondering, this is loosely set between Republic Commando: Triple Zero and Republic Commando: True Colors. Thanks for reading!

You can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here.

Taglist: @jennamelinda12 @thrawnspetgoose @bobaprint @icouldsaythesameforyou @mooncommlink @amaliia @dreamie411

[l0nesome-dreams]

I just realized I’ve never posted any of my writing before! I’m pretty new to writing fics/stories, so don’t expect anything phenomenal (I’m definitely better at drawing). The only reason I ever really write is for background and lore purposes, hence why you never see me writing 😂. Here’s a little WIP of a fic I’m writing based on this drawing. (Please excuse my grammar and what not I haven’t checked this yet lol)

Description: WIP of a fanfic I’m writing

Pairing: Captain Voorpret(OC) x Commander Lee Ruusaar(OC)

Word count: 1282

Warnings: just some kissin and maybe suggestive talk

Tag: @whiskygoldwings

enjoy?

It was too early in the morning when General Taleed called the troops in for a mission brief. It was all so sudden, Lee shot up from her bed blindly searching for her glasses, slamming her hand into her desk in the process. She groaned in frustration, shaking her hand to ease the pain as she finally found her glasses. Now less blind, she scrambled into the refresher to quickly make herself presentable before practically ripping open her locker to remove her clothes. She discarded her sleeping shirt, one of Voorpret’s old shirts he’d left behind one night, haphazardly shoving her legs into her leggings. She frantically searched for a proper top half but opted to give up on the search because it had been 5 minutes already since the call. By the time she was out of her quarters she had her sleep shirt on again and was pulling her hair back out of her face, her rubber band between her teeth. She staggered into the meeting room, everyone turning to look at her. Valkyrie elbowed Voorpret who turned to look at Lee, nearly choking when he realized she was wearing his old shirt.

“Ah, Commander, thank you for joining us this morning,” Taleed said before turning to the rest of the men in the room, “Sorry to wake you all so early, but we’ve been called to attend a gala that may be compromised by the Separatists.” 

He rearranged the holo map to present a outlining of a large building. Many floors and rooms were visible which all circled around what looked to be a dinning hall and ball room.

“The senator of the planet has expressed the concerns of their king and queen of the possible attack. We are to be there as support in case of emergency. Lee and I will be going undercover to try to figure out if there is a Separatist presence there within the gala before we do anything drastic. Captain and some of you boys will be acting as guards. The senator has already informed the normal guards of the planet that you all will be taking over for the night. Do not engage any suspects unless either the commander or I say so.” He explained, making gestures here and there to the table before him.

“Sir, who can we be keeping an eye out for?” Voorpret asked, his voice growly from sleep.

“We’ve got a few faces,” Taleed projected a few holograms of a variety of what looked like to be Separatist officers, “however nothing is set in stone yet. There could be more than just this handful.” He looked a bit wary of the situation.

“We’ll be sure to let you know if we notice anything suspicious that you or the commander didn’t see.” Voorpret reassured.

“Alright, we’ll be heading out at 0630 hours, so be ready in the hangar by then.” Taleed said.

The men left the room heading off to prepare, leaving only Taleed, Lee, and Voorpret.

“Lee I know you don’t appreciate undercover missions, but this one isn’t as bad compared to the others you’ve had to step in on I promise. Just dress nicely, but don’t stand out too much.” The togruta said, smiling at his daughter enthusiastically.

“I wasn’t too concerned buir.” Lee said, returning his smile, though hers was less so enthusiastic. 

“Good, good. I will see you both shortly.” Taleed bowed and existed the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Voorpret sighed heavily.

“Mesh’la is this my shirt?” Voorpret asked, reaching forward and taking the hem of it in his fingers.

“It is in fact your old shirt. I was rushing to get out of my quarters this morning because I wasn’t expecting the general to call a mission briefing at 0400 hours.” Lee grumbled.

“I’m just messing with you cyare.” Voorpret chucked, pulling Lee against his chest softly.

She wrapped her arms around him, she appreciated the fact he wasn’t in his armor, but  just in his blacks. She inhaled the familiar scents of GAR issued soap, slight musk, and a scent that was purely Voorpret. 

“Mesh’la did you not sleep well?” He said after a moment, his arms still securely wrapped around the smaller form of his love. 

“Mhm.” She mumbled against his chest, snuggling in closer.

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry mesh’la. I was going to come lay with you for a little while, but then the general called the meeting.” He rubbed soothing circles on her back, placing a lingering kiss to the top of her head inhaling her scent ever so slightly.

She didn’t answer, but pulled away reluctantly. 

“Don’t worry about it love, I don’t think anyone was expecting the meeting.” She said, yawning. 

Voorpret grinned down at her when she yawned.

“You look so cute when you yawn,” Voorpret cooed and his grin widened when Lee glared up at him, “my little loth cat.” He placed a soft kiss to her nose before releasing her.

“You know I hate when you call me that.” Lee said, walking back over to the holo map.

Voorpret chuckled.

“Mesh’la you will forever be like a loth cat, you will never change my mind.” He stated, coming up to stand behind Lee, wrapping his arms around her waist while resting his head on her shoulder.

“Where do you get the energy this early in the morning?” Lee sighs, zooming in on the doors that lead into the main room of the building.

“You of course,” The captain says, kissing Lee’s neck, “if you weren’t around I’d be just as tired as you are right now.” He muses.

“Well I’m glad you’re in a good mood this morning, but I haven’t had my caf, and I’m not about to deal with all of your brothers without it,” she turned in his hold to face him now, “plus you’re being an active distraction.” 

Voorpret smirked, mischief glinting in brown eyes. 

“Oh mesh’la I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m barely being a distraction.” He leaned into her face, his lips only inches from hers, “But I can turn that around real quick.” He adds suggestively.

Lee deadpans and puts her hand over his mouth, pushing his face away. 

“Again. Distraction.” She grumbles.

Voorpret doesn’t let this slide. He scoops her up, setting her down on the table, and resting his hands on either side of her. 

“You know you can’t resist all of this.” Voorpret says, wiggling his eyebrows while slotting himself between Lee’s legs to emphasize his point. 

Lee flushed deep red looking down at Voorpret’s chest, avoiding eye contact. 

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look when you’re wearing my clothes?” Voorpret asks, taking Lee’s chin gently between his thumb and forefinger to draw her attention back to him.

“So you’ve said.” Lee says quietly, looking at his face now.

Voorpret grins at her before leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips. They sit there a moment before the briefing door slides open abruptly.

“Oh force! Sorry!” Valkyrie chuckles, covering his eyes with his hand before peering through his fingers, “I thought you’d wait a bit longer V. You can’t just have se-“ He started before Voorpret interrupted him abruptly.

“Valkyrie, what in kriffs name are you doing back in here?” Voorpret hissed, still slotted between Lee’s legs, looming over her. 

“Forgot my helmet,” Valkyrie stated picking up his bucket from the chair he’d been sitting in, “I’ll leave you two love birds to it, just for force sake don’t be too loud.” 

Before either Lee or Voorpret could make a remark Valkyrie was out the door just as quickly as he’d come in.

[ladyartemesia]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 

A woman. 

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back. 

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 

“Okay... What about Kang?” 

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 

You shrugged. 

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 

Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!” 

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 

You picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 

“Are you alone?”

You snorted. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red. 

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

He almost choked on his tongue. 

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 

You were exquisite. 

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 

Desire. 

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 

Your head tilted in confusion. 

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION 

“The Park Angel?” 

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!” 

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing. 

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 

Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost. 

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 

Disaster struck at dinner. 

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 

“I-I need—” 

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice. 

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped. 

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 

“Hold on to me.”  

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath. 

“Do it.”

He nodded. 

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 

He gulped again. 

“I can explain.” 

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

I made it home safely. 

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time. 

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color. 

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE 

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one. 

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily. 

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 

“WHAT?!” 

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you. 

Milo nodded. 

“I—I figured.” 

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.” 

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed. 

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 

You grinned. 

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?” 

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you. 

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded. 

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?” 

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully. 

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 

Lord have mercy. 

“Of course not,” he coughed. 

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well. 

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 

Then it was your turn. 

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 

No. 

Milo was still bidding. 

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her. 

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine. 

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 

“One hundred thousand dollars!” 

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 

And hope. 

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it. 

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 

The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?” 

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost. 

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 

He bit back a moan. 

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You nodded. 

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you. 

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 

It was for you. 

He wanted you. 

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 

Touch me… please. 

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 

“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens. 

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you. 

And you wanted it. 

Oh how you wanted it. 

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 

“Speak up.”  

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room. 

You grinned. 

Greedy boy. 

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration. 

She would be a tease. 

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 

He shook his head. 

I have officially gone insane. 

The phone buzzed again. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we… 

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!" 

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling. 

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 

Both men winced. 

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed. 

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped. 

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily. 

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 

Your dress tonight was deadly. 

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 

Oh help. 

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. 

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 

She is definitely trying to kill me. 

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 

It was like stepping into a fairytale. 

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 

You were breathtaking.  

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened. 

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged. 

“I don’t really talk about it much.” 

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 

The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up. 

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 

“Some other time perhaps.” 

Aubrey pouted prettily. 

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned. 

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good. 

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 

Alas. 

You tilted your head speculatively. 

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 

Oh boy. 

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 

You glared. 

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply. 

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 

Yet you made no move to stop him. 

You should have. 

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t. 

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 

“T-Taehyung—” 

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 

Emotions were a funny thing. 

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 

And occasionally eroded your common sense. 

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—  

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 

Well that’s great. 

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 

You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 

Reflection suite indeed. 

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 

He had to kiss you then. 

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 

Finally. 

Everything was him. 

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 

But not today. 

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good. 

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 

Almost. 

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?" 

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 

He grinned. 

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 

Underneath a giant mirror. 

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered. 

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 

Then he was kissing you again. 

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered. 

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 

You gasped against him and he smiled. 

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive. 

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did. 

You wanted it so so bad. 

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 

Then your world caught fire. 

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 

The feel of him was indescribable. 

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 

He was bloomin’ magnificent. 

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 

You were his. 

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 

And now… he couldn’t look away. 

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart. 

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned. 

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous. 

Taehyung groaned. 

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.” 

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence. 

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. 

Taehyung groaned again. 

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face. 

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. 

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

[leupagus]

Who’s your County Executive? and other steps to becoming a valuable pain in the ass

I fired off a tweet thread this morning, but I feel like a lot of folks here might benefit from this info, too. Which is: if you want anything to change, from police abolition to getting statues removed to passing local ordinances requiring masks to removing local legislation putting limits on abortion (just for some random examples), you need to get real familiar with your local reps. As in, you need to know who they are, what they do, how they’re elected/appointed, how long they’ve been doing that job, what their history is and how you can pressure them into doing what you want. Using hashtags and sharing links and signal boosting can only do so much. Talking to the people who are actually able to implement the change you want is a huge part that I don’t think gets discussed enough; and although it requires some preliminary work, once you get into the groove it’s surprisingly easy.

First, find out where you live! Which you may think is a stupid step, but —do you live in a city? Are you sure? I live in a city, for example, but I actually live in a township/suburb of that city, not the city proper. (Fortunately due to what I suspect is some white flight-related weirdness, I can still hassle the city proper.) There are entire towns inside of some cities, like West Hollywood and Los Angeles. Double-check; you might be surprised.

Then, find out who’s in charge of said place. There are quite a few people, actually. You probably have a mayor — but they might be called a supervisor. Or you may have a city manager, or executive, or clerk, or all three, or someone else entirely, who’s actually doing the day-to-day running of the place — for instance, while Austin has a mayor, it also has a city manager, and the city manager does WAY more than the mayor does. You also have people at the county/parish level — a county executive is I think the most common term, although sometimes it’s the county clerk, who can have entirely different duties depending on the county. Whatever way it works where you live, find out. While you’re at it, find out who’s in charge of your local elections. Sometimes that’s the county clerk (actually I think it’s almost always the country clerk, but sometimes it’s the county auditor or something weird like that); sometimes they’re elected and sometimes they’re appointed. Find out. Get names, put their contact info in your phone. (More on that later.)

Then, find out who represents you on the city/town council and the county legislature, or whatever they’re called where you are. Finding out what district you’re in can sometimes be hellaciously frustrating; when in doubt, an email to the county or city council can often get you an answer if you provide your address. Also bear in mind that different places have different ways of apportioning council members; sometimes they’re all “at large,” sometimes they’re elected according to districts, sometimes it’s a combination of both. Sometimes (not often I don’t think) they’re not elected at all but appointed by someone. Find out who! And don’t leave out things like school boards and zoning boards and community college boards and anything else you happen upon that has a representative you didn’t know existed. They exist, and I guarantee they’ve got power.

Note: find out who represents you state-wide, too. Often calling the governor isn’t that effective (at least for me, calling Cuomo ain’t gonna do much; if you live in Delaware or Montana or Iowa or somewhere relatively less populous, definitely get your governor’s information), but your state reps are usually pretty eager to talk to constituents, even — and this is really important these days — ones who aren’t of the same party. I’m represented by a GOP state senator, for example, but he ended up voting for this bill that just got signed into law. Most states are bicameral (except Nebraska, heyooo), so you likely have a state senator and a state rep/assemblyman/whatever. Make sure to get info for both. (Unless you live in Nebraska, in which case tell Ernie I said hi.)

Next, find out what the court system looks like where you are. Are your state/county/district/etc judges appointed? Elected? What are their terms? Who’s your District Attorney? Who’s in charge of your Public Defender’s office? (I actually haven’t bothered to look up that myself until today!) What courts handle which offenses in your area? Collect that information.

And what do you do with this info? You put it into your phone contacts, or whatever you use to keep your contacts organized, I dunno, maybe you still use your Wizard from 1992. No judgement. However you do it, put all of these contacts somewhere they’re all together — for example, if you have a letter in your directory that isn’t used much. I have a kind of weird method of organizing my contacts, which is that I put their first and last names (and their handles, if I know them online) in the Firstname field, then the Lastname field I use to say how I know them. So all of my New York-based friends are listed as “NYC, Holly Golightly/moonrivergoddess” or whatever. So for me personally, I just put all my political contacts under “Y” as in “Y do I have to keep pestering you to make you do the right thing.” So a county clerk would be listed like so:

Y, County Clerk Horace Vandergelder

In the “Company” field, I usually put their party and when/if they’re up for election next as well as term length, so Horace would be “Dem, 2020/2024.″ And then I might add any links I thought were helpful as well as notes about, say, what staffer I may’ve talked to or if there’s an important bill coming up etc.

And now you’ve got that information, it’s time to fuckin’ use it. Was there a protest that happened in your area that ended in arrests or violence? Call your mayor, register your displeasure. Call your DA, ask if anyone’s being charged. Call your city council member, ask them what legislation they’d support to end police violence. What do you know that you want them to know? Alternatively, was there a protest in your area that was really great and positive? Call these people; ask if they attended. If they did, offer support for them and say that you want them to follow up with actionable steps. If they didn’t, ask why. (BTW, it’s election season — look at the candidates, too! That state senator I mentioned earlier is retiring this year, and a pretty awesome Democrat is in a good position to get his seat; I’ve started volunteering for him in part because he’s got a history of agitating for police reform and has been regularly attending the protests here.) You can email, too; you’re welcome to c&p form emails, but once you have all these people’s contact info at your fingertips you’d be amazed how easy it’ll be to write something from you, that will be far more effective.

It’s also important to keep a record for yourself of who you’ve talked to, when you talked to them, what they said, if you want to follow up etc. I’ve got a little section of my planner for this; it has dates, names, topics, the works. It’s been really helpful to me over the past few weeks making sure I’m exerting pressure to a variety of people in a variety of positions, not just repeatedly calling one office and leaving the same message over and over again.

But if you really want to, as I put it on twitter, tighten the sphincter of local government, nothing beats face-to-face (or, these days, facetime-to-facetime). And here you’ve got a shitton of options. You can see if a particular politician/government office is taking virtual one-on-one meetings, where you can lobby either your politician or (more likely) one of their staffers to support legislation or policies or whatnot. This is, and I cannot stress it enough, HUGELY EFFECTIVE, especially if you are a demo they don’t often see (aka if you’re not a white Boomer). Local politicians are both desperate for and terrified of an engaged constituency; they want you to care but they’re very much aware that anyone showing up to an office (or a zoom meeting) could make their lives very, very difficult.

If one-on-one isn’t your style, there are also committee meetings, which... holy shit, you would not believe the number of committees there are. Committees for art festivals, committees for transportation, committees for public safety, committees for pretty much everything you can think of and a few I’ll bet you can’t. Noodle around on your councils’ and county’s websites, including their facebook page (nine times out of ten there will be more — and more up-to-date — info on the facebook page) to find out what committees meet when. And here is where your specific priorities will be important, because usually you can attend and in some cases even become part of these committees. Do you want to advocate for better public transportation? Find out when the transportation committee meets. Go to that meeting. If they have a Q&A, get some fuckin’ Qs ready and demand some fuckin’ As.

And then there’s the big kahunas of council meetings and state legislature sessions. Most city/town councils have a segment of their weekly/monthly meetings to hear from the public (this is different from a public hearing, FYI, although they too are really important and you should find out if there are any going on where you live and when). Do you have something you want to get in front of the whole council? Get your ass on the list! In Austin I think you had to call or email the council’s office by the day before; in my town you just roll up and get in line when it comes time. Then for state legislatures, often there will be specific bills on which they ask for “citizen input” or however else they describe it. This is less practical because we don’t all live in easy distance of our state capital, but if you do, consider getting involved there. (And right now with the pandemic, your state legislatures may have new rules about citizen participation that actually make it easier for you to get involved, for once.)

Mostly, though, this is about local involvement — find out who’s in control of your city, your county, your precinct and district and all the other ways your home is demarcated. Talk to these people, even if it makes you nervous; their power to make effective change comes with their responsibility to listen, and your power to make them listen comes with your responsibility to speak.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 4: The Star Spangled Man With A Plan

Summary: As the SSR deals with the aftermath of the attempted theft of the serum by Hydra, Steve finds himself side-lined until he’s offered a golden opportunity to help fight the good fight…but it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be as he quickly finds out.  

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N:  This series is my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge.  As always, some creative liberties taken.

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

Star Spangled Rebirth Masterlist  //  Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Absolutely not!” Katie blazed her hands on her hips “That is NOT what Erskine was going to do.”

“Well Erskine isn’t here is he, in case it had escaped your notice.” Phillips bit back “And neither is the serum after the last vial of it was smashed out on Brooklyn Pier.”

Steve sighed, his head bowing a little.

“Erskine said that post the transformation, Steve was supposed to be monitored for twenty-four hours before he did any major physical activity.” Katie continued, “Given that, and what just happened, you seriously want to take his blood?”

“She has a point.” Howard stepped in. “Personally, I’m not sure it’s wise. Private Rogers should be given the rest of the day at least under observation as was the original plan, where we can run the physical tests Abe had been planning to do.”  He took a deep breath and bowed his head slightly.

“We owe it to him to do this right.” Katie spoke again, her voice loaded with emotion as she turned her eyes to the Colonel. Phillips gave a little groan, dragging his hand down his face “We can take the samples tomorrow.”

“Do I get a say in any of this?” Steve spoke, surprising himself with his sudden forthright nature and Katie glanced at him.

“No.” She said simply, turning back to Phillips. Steve’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to look at Howard who was silently chuckling at his sister’s bossy nature. He gave a little shrug of his shoulders, and then his brown eyes turned back to watch as Katie stood looking at Phillips expectantly.

“You know, I’m beginning to rue the day I ever asked you two to join this team.” The Colonel shot, and Steve watched as Katie turned to Howard, smirking. “And wipe that look off of your face right now, Agent.”

“Sir.” She nodded, and then everyone’s attention was taken by Agent Carter as she walked back into the room.

“We have it.” She nodded, “The HYDRA Sub. It’s in the Tech Lab.”

“You wanna wait until tomorrow to work on that too? Perhaps, give that time to recover as well?” Phillips looked at Howard who snorted.

“You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” He arched an eyebrow as he looked at Phillips, “But I prefer to think of it as a metric for potential. You’ll be a great man someday, Colonel Phillips.”

Katie’s shoulders began to shake and she turned back towards Steve who was watching the scene play out in front of him, utterly perplexed. He still couldn’t get his head round Katie’s blatant disregard for her Commanding Officer’s authority. Howard, well, he could understand that a little more as he wasn’t in the man’s chain of command but Katie was. And she seriously didn’t seem to give a shit.

“Do we have any more intel on Schmidt?” Phillips turned to Peggy who blinked and looked at him.

“No, Sir. Nothing,” she took a deep breath, “but I think after today it’s safe to say that was another thing Dr. Erskine was correct about. Schmidt clearly has ambitions beyond simply being Hitler’s Chief Scientist. I think we should consider the fact that he’s equally, if not more dangerous.”

At that Steve heard Erskine’s words from the previous night as clear and as loud as if the man were speaking them to him in person. Schmidt must become that superior man.

He cleared his throat a little and felt all eyes in the room turn to him. “I think Agent Carter is right, Sir.” Steve took a deep breath “Last night, Dr Erskine was explaining to me about Schmidt. He said that Schmidt is convinced that there is a great power hidden in the Earth, waiting to be found...”

“So he’s bonkers.” Phillips looked at Steve. “Terrific.”

“You know, we have forces out there fighting the Nazis.” Katie pondered for a moment, “Maybe the SSR needs to concentrate on HYDRA.”

Phillips looked at Katie, “You wanna chase HYDRA?”

She shrugged, “it seems logical to me. A lunatic Schmidt might be, but he clearly has a vast amount of followers that buy into the same rhetoric. That makes them dangerous.”

“And let’s not forget, HYDRA is, or was, Hitler’s deep science department. Now, Steve stopped them from getting the vial of Erskine’s completed formula, but who knows what else they have in their grasp.” Peggy added, “I saw a lot of things when I was under, a lot of things that if perfected could be disastrous. We chose to concentrate on Hitler as he had control of HYDRA. But, if Schmidt is going rogue as we suspect, then I’m afraid Sir,that as Agent Stark suggests, he could prove to be far more dangerous.”

“Just what we need,” Howard groaned, “two enemies to be fighting.”

“Oh pur-lease.” Katie looked at him. “Like you’re doing any actual fighting.”

“Shut up.” Howard glared at her, “You know as well as I do that I was plucked out for this instead of going to the front lines, just like you were.”

“The pair of you can take your squabbles outside.” Phillips looked at them, “I’m done. I need to brief Senator Brandt.” With that he turned to Peggy. “Get onto base and tell them they need to get into the President, inform him of our intentions so that he can approve them. You,” he then looked at Howard, “take a look at that sub, see what we’re dealing with from a technology point of view. As for you,” he looked at Katie, then to Steve, then back again. “take Rogers for whatever observations it was Erskine wanted to do. Then I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep. Back here at Zero-Six Hundred.”

With that he swept from the room leaving the four of them behind. Steve turned to Katie, his arms folded.

“You know, I don’t need a load of tests to tell you I’m fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. I feel, well, I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“That maybe, but I’d feel better if you went along with it, please.”

“Oh, she’s serious, Rogers,” Howard smirked, “she said the magic word.”

At that Katie turned to glare at her brother, who held her gaze, his expression not faltering in the slightest. She threw him a positively filthy look before she turned back to Steve and he looked at her as she once more began to speak. “Erskine wanted to make sure that everything was okay, monitor the effects properly at least for twenty-four hours. We have no idea if it’s permanent, what it’s actually doing to you, whether the effects and transformation is still ongoing.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve held his hand up, giving her a nod, “Fine, I’ll submit for monitoring. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Could someone please find me something to eat?” He looked around, his stomach giving a huge growl at the perfect moment to emphasise his point, “I’ve never been this hungry in my life, and believe me, I’m no stranger to living with an empty stomach.”

**** It turns out that Steve’s appetite had increased exponentially too, which was to be expected considering his metabolism was working far faster than it ever had before. He wolfed down a huge helping of Potato and Hot Dog salad, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, an assortment of vegetables and a huge helping of apple pie. He had no idea where Katie had managed to conjure it from, and frankly he didn’t care either. All he knew was that in that one sitting he’d consumed more food than he usually ate in a day.

The rest of the day was taken up with him being poked and prodded and attached to all sorts of strange machines. Howard explained what each of them was for, but he wasn’t paying much attention. His mind was whirring, finally processing what had happened in the last couple of hours. He had been so sure about what was going to happen post getting the serum, that he’d be shipped out to help in the fight and now he didn’t have a clue where he was going to go, especially if they were now going to refocus their efforts on HYDRA. That said, it was all helping the war effort wasn’t it? HYDRA was a huge threat, if he was able to help take them down in any way, shape or form, then he was ok with that.

One of the doctors and Howard started explaining to him what the serum had done and at that point he tuned in to some of it, picking out the odd phrase like ‘super strength’, ‘increased stamina’, ‘enhanced metabolism’, ‘fast healing’, ‘super-sharp senses’, ‘memory expansion’, ‘logical improvement’. Howard looked at him and explained that as far as he could see, the transformation was complete, and was as permanent as they could hope. But Erskine had said that the serum wasn’t infallible, therefore how long the effects would last into the future they didn’t know. Forty, maybe fifty years or so. Steve wasn’t particularly bothered about that though, by the time that happened he would be well into his sixties or seventies and would he really care then?

Katie arrived back just as the Doctor who had been dealing with him had instructed the nurse to remove the heart monitor form his chest.

“Hi.” She smiled and Steve turned to face her, fulling intending on greeting her back, but before he could, the Doctor made a little noise of surprise.

“What is it?” Howard asked and Steve hastily turned towards them, wondering what was wrong.

“His heart rate just spiked.”

Steve gulped and hastily looked away from Katie as Howard turned to face him. His eyes flicked from Steve, to his sister who was stood in the doorway, a bashful smile on her face but to her credit she held her brother’s gaze as the man gave a groan.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She mumbled, stepping into the room. “You done treating him like a guinea pig?”

“Hey, you were the one that insisted on the monitoring!” Howard pointed at her.

“Yes, because it was what Abe wanted,” she shrugged, “and I wanted to make sure everything was okay before you guys started stealing his blood like a pack of starving vampires.”

“Well you needn’t panic.” Howard arched an eyebrow. “The transformation seems to be text book. Your Super Soldier is as ready as can be.”

“Fuck you.” Katie shot back, and Howard gave a chuckle as Steve let out a little groan at the man’s teasing.

“That bad an idea huh, dating my sister?” Howard turned to Steve and he flushed immediately.

“That…no, I didn’t say that, I mean, not that we…”

“Ignore him Steve, he’s being a jerk.” Katie rolled her eyes. “And if he knows what’s good for him he’ll shut up before I knock his teeth out.”

“Threat received and understood, Kiddo.” Howard held his hands up as the Doctor bustled around and handed Steve back his t-shirt.

“You can leave now, Captain Rogers, but we would like you to stay here tonight.”

“Why?” Steve frowned as he pulled the SSR logo t-shirt over his head.

“Because I want to monitor your levels at complete rest.” The Doctor smiled. “Humour me, please.”

Steve shrugged as he swung his legs off the bed. “Sure.” It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

“Your stuff is being brought over from the barracks.” Katie smiled softly. 

“Any idea on where I’ll be going after that?” Steve stood up carefully, taking his time to pull himself up to his new full height.

Katie shrugged. “I suppose it depends on what Colonel Phillips and the President agree. I suspect we’ll head over to London HQ if we’re going after HYDRA in Europe, but we should find out tomorrow morning.”

“So, we have a free evening?” Howard looked at Katie.

“Well, sort of. Unless you want to get a head start on that submarine thing.” She waved her hand at the door.

“I don’t need a head start.” Howard shrugged, somewhat arrogantly, “I’m a genius, I’ll crack it tomorrow.”

Katie rolled her eyes, “You know I really admire your modesty.”

Howard chuckled, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what I was suggesting was that if we do have a free few hours, how about a drink? I got a bottle of vintage Macallan stashed in my lab.” He paused and Steve watched as his shoulders slumped a little and he took a deep breath before he looked back up at both Steve then to his sister. “Me and Abe had been saving it for tonight."

Katie took a deep breath before she walked over to her brother who wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, gently kissing the top of her head. Steve looked away for a second, not wanting to intrude on the moment as he watched the doctor and nurse leave the room.

“We should have a toast to him,” Katie spoke, her voice cracking a little as she stepped away from Howard. She turned to Steve and smiled, “he’d have been proud this had worked.”

Steve nodded a little side smile pulling at his mouth as he remembered the banter he and Erskine had shared about the schnapps. With a nod he looked at Katie, the smile spreading further across his face. “He owed me a drink.”

*****

It was a strange night.

The three of them had shared a glass each of the smooth whiskey, which Steve had thoroughly enjoyed. It had tasted so smooth yet crisp. And he wasn’t sure if that was down to the fact it was stupidly expensive and high end, or the fact his taste-buds simply worked better. Howard hadn’t raised the issue of him and Katie again, for which Steve was glad. If he had been asked, he couldn’t say how he would have answered because he wasn’t entirely sure what they were. A casual fling? A hook up? He knew what he wanted it to be, but once again he was brought crashing back to reality. They were in the middle of a war. It was impossible.  

Despite the myriad of thoughts and emotions running through his mind, Steve slept better than he had ever slept in his life. His chest wasn’t bad, he didn’t struggle for breath when he lay down flat meaning that for the first time he could remember he didn’t need to sleep propped up. Yet, on the other hand, he felt like he was waking up every five or ten minutes. The slightest sound or movement made by the various SSR staff nurses and guards milling around the small medical wing of the lab woke him thanks to his now enhanced, fine tuned senses. The Doctors and Howard had assured Steve that whilst it might take a while but once he was used to the heightening of his senses it would start to feel ‘normal’ to him in a way and he would learn to use them and appreciate them.

With a yawn, he cracked his head side to side as he raised it off the pillow. Whilst he didn’t know what time it was thanks to the lack of any natural light in the room, he knew that this time he wasn’t getting back to sleep. He climbed from his bed, stretched and waited for the usual pain to shoot down his back, but nothing. He then stood up, a little too fast and pitched forward before he steadied himself and drew up to his full new height, squaring his now broad shoulders back as he stood tall in his new posture. Again, Howard had told him he would soon learn to adjust his movements to compensate for the fact that he no longer needed to put as much effort into them. No sooner had he done that, a nurse appeared with his breakfast and she was followed by Agent Carter who wished him a good morning and then handed him a formal Army Uniform in his new size. With a soft smile and a thanks, he took it before laying it down on the bed, admiring the green wool and crisp shirt. 

“When you’re ready then we’d like to take the blood samples.” Peggy spoke softly, “but there’s no rush. Take your time.”

“Rather just get it over and done with Ma’am.” Steve said politely and truthfully. The sooner he was done being prodded, poked and stabbed the sooner he could find out what was going on.

With that in mind he ate, washed up, dressed and was ready in half an hour flat. He was led out of the bunk room he’d been sleeping in and down the corridor back to the observation room he’d been in the previous day where he was instructed to roll up his sleeves and lay back as they proceeded to siphon off his blood. When they had one bag full they then hooked him up to another, and then another, the Doctor instructing him to tell them if he felt light headed but Steve had a suspicion that the enhancements to his body would simply enable him to generate more as fast as they took it. That said, by the time the third bag was full he was bored. Peggy seemed to sense it and she turned to the doctor who nodded and instructed everyone that they were done.

“Think you got enough?” Steve asked, somewhat sarcastically.

“Any hope of reproducing the program is locked in your genetic code.” Peggy replied simply, “but without Dr. Erskine, it could take years.”

“He deserved more than this.” Steve replied a little sadly and he meant it. The serum had been Erskine’s life work and now there was nothing to show for it as the last vial of the serum had been smashed on Brooklyn Pier.

“Well, if it could only work once, he’d be proud it was you,” Peggy looked at him.

Steve glanced at her, feeling a little embarrassed at her praise but he didn’t dwell on it and neither did she. Instead, she told him that once he was ready she’d take him down to the main lab were Phillips and Katie were talking to Senator Brandt about the plans for the SSR going forward. Keen to understand, he quickly sorted his shirt out.

He followed Peggy into the lab, his ears picking up the conversation as they entered.

“Speaking modestly, I’m the best mechanical engineer in this country,” Howard shrugged. “But I don’t know what’s inside this thing or how it works.”

“So much for not needing a head start, huh?” Katie teased and Howard glared at her before he turned back to Phillips.

“We’re not even close to this technology.”

“Then who is?” Senator Brandt demanded.

“HYDRA,” Phillips responded simply. “I’m sure you’ve been reading our briefings.”

“I’m on a number of committees, Colonel,” Brandt replied simply, completely unabashed at Phillips tone.

“HYDRA is the Nazi deep science division.” Katie explained

“It’s led by Johann Schmidt,” Peggy picked up, “but he has much bigger ambitions.”

“HYDRA’s practically a cult,” Phillips stated, “they worship Schmidt, they think he’s invincible.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Brandt asked and at that point Steve took a deep breath, finally he was about to find out what he was going to be doing.

“Spoke to the President this morning. As of today the SSR is being re-tasked.”

Katie and Peggy exchanged excited glances and Peggy looked back at Phillips, seeking clarification as she asked, “Colonel?”

“We are taking the fight to HYDRA,” Phillips looked at the woman. “Pack your bags Agent Carter. You too, Agent Stark,” he turned to Katie, “you’re flying to London tonight.”

Steve hesitated for a second, but when Phillips didn’t turn to speak to him and inform him where he was going, he hurried forward a little.

“Sir, if you’re going after Schmidt, I want in.”

“You’re an experiment,” Phillips shot back. “You’re going to Alamogordo.”

Steve frowned a little, but then pressed some more, he wasn’t letting this go.

“The serum worked,” his voice rose a little.

“I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough.”

Katie wheeled round to look at Phillips, her face angry, “Oh, come on Sir, that’s-”

“I have put up with your insubordination for long enough. I don’t give a shit what you think, Agent Stark.” Philips snarled, “keep pushing me and so help me God, I will have you taken straight outta this unit and you’ll be back home typing up the Letters of Condolence.”

“But-”

“Enough!” Phillips snapped. “Now I suggest you disappear and pack.”

Katie took a deep breath, an angry noise escaping her throat as she turned and stormed away. Steve watched her go before he opened his mouth to argue some more with Phillips, but the man had already moved away.

They wanted to send him to a fucking research plant? Seriously? This was ridiculous.

“With all due respect to the Colonel, I think we may be missing the point,” Senator Brandt spoke to Steve and he turned to face the man. “I’ve seen you in action, Steve. More importantly, the country’s seen it.” Brandt turned to his aide. “Paper.” His aide obeyed, showing them the paper in his hand. It was today’s copy of the ‘The New York Examiner’ which bore the headline "Nazis in New York - Mystery Man Saves Child" along with a picture of Steve holding the car door in front of him.

“The enlistment lines have been around the block since your picture hit the newsstands," Brandt smiled at Steve. “You don’t take a soldier, a symbol like that, and hide him in a lab.” Steve felt a surge of hope flood his system as the Senator continued. “Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?”

“Sir, that’s all I want,” Steve replied honestly.

“Then, congratulations,” The Senator held his hand out for Steve to shake. “You just got promoted.”

**** Steve’s hopes were short lived when Brandt explained what he had in mind - using Steve to boost recruitment and bond sales. But he knew he was getting nowhere with Phillips, so he decided to take the role and could only hope that it would lead to something else. Besides, it was important to gather support. The Forces needed all the financial and recruitment help they could get, and he could play a key part in that.

So Brandt said.

“Hey…”

Steve looked up from where he was packing the few items he’d unpacked from his trunk and looked at Katie.

“Oh, hi.” He said, turning back to his packing.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” she continued and Steve took a deep breath, straightening up.

“Who told you?”

“Good news travel fast, Captain.” She stressed the last word and Steve had to actively stop himself from rolling his eyes. “That’s a pretty good promotion considering you’ve been a soldier all of a week.”

“Yeah, well, it was too good an opportunity to turn down. In fact, it was the only opportunity to turn down.” He watched her as she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, before closing it again. And then Steve really did roll his eyes, “if you’ve got something to say, spit it out, Katie.”

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me,” she snapped back.

“I’m not being-”

“Yes, you are,” she folded her arms. “It’s not my fault Phillips won’t let you in on this. I’ve tried, believe me, but for whatever reason he’s not moving.”

“He’s not moving because he doesn’t like me.” Steve replied simply.

“Well, that’s his loss," Katie countered. “And what’s with the sudden display of self-pity?”

“What?”

“This, moping around, acting all deflated.”

“It’s easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well you’re off, over there. Fighting the fight but me, well, looks like I’m gonna have to play ball with Senators doesn’t it?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do!” Steve’s voice rose and Katie blinked a little, but besides that she showed no signs of having registered his angry tone. “What choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice, Steve.”

“Oh, yeah?” He snorted. “And my choice here is what? Go to the damned White Sands Proving Ground where they can run more tests on me? Keep me locked up like some kind of lab rat?”

“I didn’t say they were always good choices.”

“Well what do you think I should do huh?”

“That’s not for me to say.” Katie shook her head. “But I can tell you one thing....”

“What?”

“That I have faith in you to do what you feel is right, and continue to be the good man I know you are.” Her words were soft but they hit Steve like a freight train and he swallowed, suddenly aware of how down right shitty he’d been. “And if you’re telling me that it feels right that you go where Brandt wants you to go then…” she shrugged. 

“I have to try.” Steve replied.

“Well, in that case, I’ll say what I came to say in the first place," she gave him a soft smile, “good luck.”

Steve took a deep breath and sighed, “Thanks. Look, I’m sorry I snapped. I just, well, truth be told I’m a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, all I ever wanted was to be a soldier and to fight on the front lines. Like my dad did, and Bucky.” He sat down on the side of the bed, “And I agreed to this procedure because I thought it was my ticket there, ya know?”

“I get it,” Katie nodded, crossing the room to sit beside him. “And I understand how frustrated you feel, believe me.” He turned to look at her to see her glancing down at her hands before she looked up at a spot on the wall opposite them. “I just can’t say anything to make it better, other than repeat what I said before. I have absolute faith and belief that you’ll do what you think is right. And that’s all any of us can do.”

Steve looked straight in her eyes as they flickered across both of his and he took a deep breath, her words echoing round his mind. Throughout this, she and Erskine had been the two people who had utterly believed he was the best man for the job so to speak. Now Erskine was gone, and he was about to be separated from her as well. And it pained him to think about it, as he realised that he was going to miss her, for more than the simple reason that she’d been a friend to him. 

“You know I’m sorry we met the way we did,” his thoughts blurted out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Katie frowned, “what?”

“No, I err…” Steve sighed and then gave a snort. “Guess the serum didn’t enhance my ability to talk to a dame without completely making a total screw up of it.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Katie smiled, “you do a decent job most of the time.” She paused as Steve gave a little huff of laughter before she turned her body a little more towards him, “what’s on your mind, Soldier?”

“I meant, I’m sorry that we met when we did. And, you know, not sooner.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands, “or maybe even later, when all this is over.”

“If it ever is,” Katie sighed and Steve raised his eyes to hers as she licked her lips a little. “Steve, I’m not sad I met you when I did. Quite the opposite actually. It’s been…” she paused for a moment before she smiled “…a little ray of hope in an otherwise very gloomy world.”

“Hope?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “you know, a reminder that no matter how ugly the world seems or how much it changes, it’s still a beautiful place.”

Steve thought on her words for a second, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“What?” She asked as she noted his expression.

“You just remind me of my mom,” he smiled. “She was always a 'look on the bright side' kind of woman. No matter what life threw at us, she was always reminding me there were people far worse off.”

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“She was,” Steve smiled with a short nod. “kind, compassionate. Just more ways you remind me of her.”

He didn’t miss the faint flush on Katie’s cheeks as she looked down at her hands and then raised her eyes to look at him, “I’m honoured.”

Steve took a deep breath, “I meant what I said the other night before we, you know.” He swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat felt like a tennis ball. “I like you, more than like you in fact.”

“Kinda sucks we’re about to be separated doesn’t it?” Katie looked at him, her eyes sad and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“But, I’m a firm believer that if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.” Katie shrugged and at that Steve gave a scoff. She turned to him, a playful look on her face. “What, you don’t believe in fate?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “you make your own luck.”

“Right.” A little side smile broke on her mouth, “you did a good job with that when you happened to be at the Expo the same time Erskine was.”

“Lucky coincidence.”

“And what was me getting accosted by a load of rapscallions in Brooklyn?”

“A not-so-lucky for you coincidence.” Steve shrugged.

“You know what the definition of the word coincidence is?”

“Not word for word, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“Sass bag.” Katie nudged him with her elbow and he chuckled, “but you’re right, I am. It’s a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent casual connection.”

“And?”

“Fate is the development of events outside a person’s control.” Katie looked at him, her eyebrow arched, “just as a coincidence is beyond a person’s control. And if fate is what’s gonna happen to you no matter what you do, and coincidence is merely a matter of being in the right place at the right time, then what if you’re in the right place at the right time because it’s simply meant to be.”

Steve looked at her, utterly sideswiped at her sentiment. Whilst he wasn’t sure he agreed, the logic was surely there and the fact she’d laid it so bare, been so open with him knocked him for six. He saw her eyes flicker to his mouth again, and in a sudden surge of confidence he gently moved, taking her face in his hands and pulling her to meet him in a soft, gentle kiss that was loaded with meaning.

“Yup,” she sniffed a little as she pulled away and Steve was both surprised and horrified to see the tears in her eyes as she pressed her forehead to his, their noses bumping a little, “this definitely sucks.”

“Write to me,” he whispered, his thumbs swiping away her tears and she smiled, nodding, before she caught his lips again, this time the kiss was deeper, and Steve had to fight back the groan that was bubbling in his throat as he felt her tongue slide against his. They were interrupted by a loud noise outside and Katie pulled away, dropping her gaze a little before she sighed and stood up.

“Stay safe, Soldier,” she smiled, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “I’d hate for you to come back horrifically disfigured.”

At that Steve snorted, “would it put you off?” He teased, “I didn’t think you were that shallow.”

“I’m not,” she smiled as she made her way to the door. “It’d just be a helluva waste, a face like that.”

With that she was gone and Steve felt his smile fade, the warmth in his chest replaced by a hollow feeling which engulfed his entire body, as the realisation spread across him that he had no idea when he would see her again.

If indeed, at all.

****

November 1943.

 “I already volunteered, how do you think I got here?”

“Nice boots, Tinkerbell…”

“Hey, Captain! Sign this”

The heckling from the assembled crowd rang through Steve’s mind as he sat dejectedly on the side of the stage, the miserable, cold rain matching his mood. His hand moved absentmindedly, shading in the drawing he’d sketched in his book. A very apt sketch of a Circus Monkey on a Unicycle clutching the damned shield he’d been given as part of his costume. It turns out the “battlefield” that Senator Brandt had been referring to was nothing more than a grotesque road show across the US and various other places on the Allied Map encouraging people to buy war bonds.

“The Senator's got a lot of pull up on the hill. You play ball with us, you’ll be leading your own platoon in no time.”

Yeah, a "platoon" of chorus girls and confetti cannons, complete with ‘Adolph’ himself. Steve had knocked him out countless times, and was still no closer to getting in on the real action.

He’d travelled all over the place during the last four months, the tour had been successful, and there was no denying that it was helping the effort in a way. “Bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazi’s bing bang boom.” But this wasn’t what he had signed up for. Nor did he believe for one second that this was what Dr. Erskine had in mind for how his serum would be put into use.

He’d made a few propaganda films, all part of the course according to Brandt who had then had the bright idea to send Captain America on the USO tour, to attempt to lift spirits. So here he was in Italy, five miles from the front line, having finally made it overseas as a soldier, only to be stood on a stage in front of the men he should have been fighting alongside, being pelted by rotten fruit and vegetables instead of bullets.

It didn’t help that he knew the SSR were fast ramping up their efforts on HYDRA, having been reassigned to somewhere in mainland Europe, not unlike himself at that point in time. He’d had a few letters from Katie, but he had no idea where she was. She didn’t go into details, which was to be expected, she couldn’t and her mail always reached him through the usual military channels. He’d tried to remain positive in his letters back to her, focussing on nights where had a particularly good show, meeting and greeting his ‘fans’ afterwards, carefully omitting details about the women that now seemed to be throwing themselves at him. Be it in bars, back stage or simply as he emerged from the venues; there was no shortage of ladies vying for his attention. And had he been that way inclined, he could have taken any number of them dancing and then back to wherever he was staying that night, but the fact was he didn’t want to.

Because no matter how pretty or forthcoming the girls were, his mind and heart remained with a certain green eyed agent.

It was ironic, when he thought about it. The Star Spangled Man with a Plan, the song dubbed him, yet Steve felt as if he had never had less of a plan in his life.

“Hello, Steve," a familiar voice spoke in his ear and Steve jerked his head up in surprise and turned, doing a little double take as he looked up at Katie.

“Hi,” he instantly felt his heart rate pick up dramatically in her presence, like it normally did as his eyes laid upon her. She was dressed in standard Army green wool pants that were tailored for a man with wide legs and long length that she tucked in to her well-worn mid-calf boots which were brown leather with lace protection straps and looked as if they had happily trudged through mud and been beaten until they broke in and needed new soles. Her unit issued jacket was the same colour green as her pants, but the harsh canvas material gave a weighted appearance across her shoulders as it was buttoned and zipped it up.  Beneath it, she wore her wool tie and collared shirt, no doubt tucked into her trousers for a crisp clean look.

Steve noted how it was a stark (pun intended) difference to the previous smart pencil skirt and jacketed uniform he had seen her in at the SSR base which Peggy, who stood to her left, was still sporting. But then again, the two women were very different, and knowing Katie as he did, she wasn't one to conform and who knew what she had been up to whilst on the front line.

All it did was serve to make Steve feel even more self-conscious and ridiculous in his own outfit, designed for dancing and prancing around not active combat. 

“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, his eyes flicking to Peggy before they returned to Katie again.

“Officially we’re not here at all,” Peggy smiled. “That was quite a performance.”

Great, they’d seen it. His shoulders slumped at little as he turned away.

“Yeah. Uh… I had to improvise a little bit. Crowds I’m used to are usually more uh, twelve.”

“Probably less full of jerks as well,” Katie snorted and Steve looked at her, his mouth curling into a slight smile as Peggy let out a sigh.

“You know what soldiers are like. Present company excepted of course,” Peggy quickly corrected herself as Steve had cocked any eyebrow at her sweeping assumption, before she turned to the other agent. “I warned you-“

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Katie replied with a roll of her eyes.

Peggy took a deep breath, before she turned back to Steve, swiftly changing the subject. “I understand you’re "America’s New Hope"?

“Bond sales take a ten percent bump in every state I visit,” Steve chanted off, the words flowing out of him the same way they did whenever he spoke to someone about the Roadshow and he grimaced as he realised just what a damned puppet he had become.

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?” Katie teased and Steve took a deep breath.

“At least he’s got me doin’ this,” Steve felt a sudden need to defend his decision to take the role in the first place, especially after their conversation before he had left. “Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.”

“And these are your only two options?” Peggy looked at him, nodding to his sketch book which was still open in his lap. “A lab rat or a dancing monkey?”

“You were meant for more than this, you know?” Katie added gently, and Steve looked at her, hesitating as his sarcastic reply died in his throat. Instead he looked away, a little dejected. She was right, he had been meant for more that was the whole point of him taking the serum. But even after he’d been turned into this Super Soldier, been given such power and capability, he still wasn’t enough.

“What?” Katie pressed gently, having noticed his hesitation.

“You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I’m wearing tights.”

Before either of the women could respond there was the sound of a horn honking which diverted their attention. Steve turned to watch as an ambulance pulled to a halt outside the medical tent. The back doors were flung open and several injured soldiers were pulled out of the back on stretches, nurses and medical staff rushing to help as they disappeared through the drapes of the tents, the walking wounded being helped down and aided as they limped behind.

“They look like they’ve been through hell,” Steve commented, a deep feeling of sadness at the sight of the injured men flooded his chest.

“These men more than most,” Peggy commented and Steve turned to look at her, a little confused as to what she meant.

“Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano,” Katie explained. “Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the one-oh-seventh. The rest were killed or captured.”

Steve felt his chest tighten, as if someone had trapped it in a vice and his head momentarily span as the meaning of her words sank in.

“The one-oh-seventh?” He breathed out, begging it to be wrong. But Katie simply frowned as she gave a nod.

“What?”

Steve swallowed and looked around before he rose to his feet. “That was Bucky’s unit.” He turned to face her, his voice sounded alien as he almost choked on his words. Katie’s face slid into a look of recognition, her mouth falling open.

“Barnes?” She asked and Steve nodded, as he ran a hand down his face, once more glancing round desperately hoping for Bucky to appear and rip into him for his ridiculous outfit. But he knew that if Bucky had been in that audience, he would have already found him. Which meant that he was either amongst the injured soldiers in the tent or…

“Who’s Barnes?” Peggy asked form behind him.

“Steve’s friend from home,” Katie replied gently as Steve turned back to look at the women.

“I need to check if he’s there,” Steve nodded towards the medical tent.

“Not a good idea,” Peggy cut him off. “You saw their reaction to you before. If you go waltzing in you’re going to upset them.”

“I don’t really care,” Steve spluttered

“Well you should,” Peggy looked at him sternly.

“I have to know if he survived!”

“Okay, look…” Katie took a deep breath, and he tore his eyes away from Peggy who was still glaring at him to look instead at the other woman. “Phillips will have the list of the-“ she hesitated, clearly searching for the best word “-casualties. We can ask him.”

“Phillips is here too?” Steve frowned, although he wasn’t sure why that had surprised him. Decision made, he turned and started running across the camp shooting a, “come on,” over his shoulder as the heavy rain pelted down onto them all.

He busted into the tent, “Colonel Phillips,” and the man looked up, a disgruntled expression spread across his face before he took a deep breath and looked back down at the papers on his desk as Steve strode purposefully towards him.

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man with a plan, and what is your plan today?” Phillip’s voice was laced with sarcasm but Steve didn’t care. At the moment he had one thing on his mind, and that was Bucky.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.” Phillips snapped, looking up at him once more and Steve ignored his angry tone, his stubbornness showing through as he continued to pres.

“I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

“You two and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy,” Phillips pointed to both Agent Carter and Katie in turn.

“Can’t wait," Katie sassed back and Phillips’ head shot up to look at her as he once more fixed her with a stare that could freeze over hell, but Steve didn’t have time for this.

“Please tell me if he’s alive, Sir. B-A-R…”

“I can spell,” the Colonel stated harshly as he tore his eyes from Katie. He looked at the papers in his hand and with a sigh dropped them to his desk and when he spoke his voice was a little softer. "I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry." 

Steve swallowed, a feeling of cold washing over his body as the Colonel's words sank in. It might sound familiar but there was a chance it could be another Barnes. It was a common name, after all, and even if it was Bucky’s name on the letter, he could be missing assumed dead, not actually confirmed dead. Peggy and Katie had told him before that there were still men from the unit trapped behind lines. 

"What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he’d really had time to consider them properly.

“Yeah! It’s called winning the war.”

Steve frowned, “but if you know where they are, why not at least…?"

Colonel Phillips stood up, the expression on his face belonged to a man who had just lost his final bit of patience. "They're thirty miles behind the lines, through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save." He moved around the desk to stand in front of Steve, his hands falling to his hips as fixed him with a stern and challenging glare. "But I don't expect you to understand that, because you're a chorus girl."

Steve took a breath, the anger coursing inside him at the dig that Phillips had just made, but before he could say anything, he heard Katie scoff besides him. 

“And who’s fault is that?”

Phillips turned to Katie, his face contorted in anger “You are this close…” he held his thumb and forefinger up a fraction of an inch apart.

Katie’s jaw clenched and her chin tipped up defiantly as she glared back at the man. Steve, having had chance to compose himself slightly now the spoke in an attempt to draw the attention back away from her and onto himself.

“I think I understand just fine.”

“Well then understand it somewhere else.” Phillips turned away. “If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes”

As he spoke the last words, Steve took note of the map which lay on the table and he noticed a flag marked with an H which caught his attention. And then, he made his decision.

The Star Spangled Man finally had a plan.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

***** Chapter 5

[alderaani]

All The Things You Say

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Warnings: suggestive themes, swearing, almost smut. Not quite NSFW but trying its best.

Rating: NC-17 prob? To be on the safe side.

A/N: Shout out to my boyfriend for inspiring this because he would not stop laughing at the scientific inaccuracies in The Avengers while we were trying to watch it the other day. I didn’t even mean to write this, it just kinda happened. This is the second time I’ve posted this!!! Actually getting quite stressed with the way the tags just will not work for me - I’m finding the first time I try to post something it will show up in the tags for about an hour, and then just disappear and never come back?? Pls lemme know if you have any hacks for this.

There is a bark of laughter next to your ear, the chest you are using as a pillow shaking with poorly suppressed mirth.

“Come on, there’s no way he’s still alive!” Fives exclaims. You drag your eyes away from the holofilm you’re watching in time to see him throw his head back and laugh again, as on screen the hero dives out of a roll and comes up shooting. “That’s not even how you hold a blaster!”

“Fives,” you whine, pushing your elbow into his stomach. You may as well not have bothered, for all the good it does; the solid muscles of his abdomen don’t budge even slightly. “You’re talking over the good bit!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Fives says, shifting to press a warm kiss to your cheek. He is absolutely not sorry – he’s been doing this the entire holo. You’re so comfortable and warm curled up against him, though, that it’s hard to mind all the interruptions too much. One of his large, calloused hands is resting firmly on your hip, the heat of his palm burning through the thin shorts you’re wearing. Kriff, you’ve missed this. Your apartment is tiny, but somehow it always feels so empty when he’s gone. 

“I take it back, his marksmanship is unparalleled.”

“I don’t care what you think about his shooting as long as you hold it in until the credits,” you grouse. 

You feel him shake with silent laughter again, then he presses his lips to your forehead, the scrape of his beard making you shiver. He is soft and pliant in the sleep clothes you’d delighted in buying him, because they are something comfortable and non-regulation, his in the way few things are. The steady weight of him at your back, the gentle rhythm of his breathing…it feels like coming home.

You only have three days this time, before he will be gone again. He doesn’t offer any details of his next mission, and you don’t ask. It is already hard enough to let him go when you don’t know the exact horrors that you are sending him into. He fights for his life, fights for every citizen of the Republic, while you sit pretty in an office filing data all day. It hurts you to think about, so while he’s with you, you don’t. Instead you desperately fold him into your life on Coruscant in the time you have, trying to give him everything that the Senate won’t. Some things, though, he is evidently less appreciative of than others.

He only makes it ten minutes before he just can’t help himself. The final straw is when two Jedi appear mid-scene and start swinging a pair of lightsabers that even you can tell are badly animated.

“What are they doing? They’re not even trying to go on the offensive! No – you idiot – aim for the –“  

You turn your head and narrow your eyes at him. You’d never dream of admitting it, but the genuine indignation on his face is actually very cute. Fives meets your unimpressed gaze and cuts himself off.

“Right, sorry, no talking.”

You nudge him with your elbow again and squawk when he digs his hand into your hip as retaliation.

“Maybe this was a bad idea, this is clearly reminding you too much of work,” You say. “We should have gone for another romance.”

Fives shudders dramatically. “No, please, I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut this time.”

You snicker into the arm Fives has curled around you. The last time he’d been on leave, you’d made Fives pick a holo at random. He’d landed on, in his words, perhaps the worst, most melodramatic soap-opera ever made. He doesn’t have any others to compare it to, but he’s sure nonetheless. The memory of his absolute disgust at the way the love interests had draped over each other still brings you unreasonable joy.

Abruptly you flop backwards in Fives’ arms, draping your body over the arm of the sofa. He peers down at you, his brown eyes sparkling, his expression amused and open. His hair is soft and rumpled and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through it.

“But Fives…I want you to draw me like one of your Corellian girls,” you say melodramatically, flinging one arm back. 

He groans loudly, and before you can blink one hand has come up to pin down your chest, the other darting out to jab the most ticklish part of your ribs. You jerk and shriek, your hands scrabbling against his thick forearm but it’s no use; you’re not moving an inch until he lets you.

“The long necks never taught me how to draw,” he says loudly over the sounds of your choking laughs. “So I think I should get to be the Corellian girl.”

There are genuine tears in your eyes when he lets you go. You sag down in a limp heap, clutching your stomach.

“You definitely have the tits for it,” you wheeze out, relishing the indignant noise he makes when you reach up and squeeze one for emphasis.

“I still say there was room for two people in that fucking escape pod,” Fives mutters, making you muffle another cackle.

“I know you do,” you say, because it was all Fives talked about for two days after the holo ended. Then you turn your head when there’s a particularly loud explosion on the neglected film you’re supposed to currently be watching. “Oh, shush, this bit’s the best part!”

“I should shush? Who was just talking?” Fives grumbles, but settles down obediently to watch as the film reaches its crescendo, a huge space battle unfolding on the frontier of Wild Space. As it builds, he slides a hand into your hair, stroking your head gently. He even finally sounds like he might be getting into it – you hear his breath hitch when a starfighter explodes on screen and his grip tightens briefly on your hip.

The holo draws to a close with the hero dragging the broken body of their friend from a downed fighter, leaning over them while the rest of their forces look sad at a respectful distance.

“I love you, brother,” They say tearfully. You clutch tight to Fives’ forearm, a little teary yourself as the music swells and the shot pulls out to a beautiful sunrise over the wilderness of an unknown planet.

Fives tenses behind you; it’s the only warning you get before he’s opening his big mouth again.

“If they loved him, they’d be calling for a medic, honestly,” he scoffs. “All the love in the galaxy isn’t gonna remove that shrapnel.”

You roll your eyes heavenward, the moment ruined. It’s your own fault and you know it; you picked this idiot up at 79’s and brought him home and never let him go again, like he was a sad stray tooka you found on the sidewalk. You have nobody to blame for this but yourself.

It’s a good thing he’s pretty.

In a moment you have twisted in Fives’ grip, shoved him down and straddled his waist. Before he can move, you grasp both of his wrists and pull them up to rest by his head. If you’re not going to get to enjoy your holofilm, you’re only going to settle for something better.

“Don’t you ever fucking shut up?” You ask, laughing your way through the words.

Fives smirks lazily beneath you, utterly unbothered by the change in position. He flexes his hands a little, but deigns to let you keep them trapped. The knowledge of how easily he could break free if he wanted to makes your mouth go dry. 

“Only if there’s something to occupy me.”

This is accompanied by an eyebrow waggle that makes you groan in disgust, but you’re grinning like an idiot all the same.

“The holo was supposed to occupy you!”

Fives shrugs a shoulder. His eyes sweep over you slowly, meaningfully. “Can think of much better things.”

“Oh really?” You ask, settling firmly into his lap. “What did you have in mind?”

Instead of answering Fives leans up, his nose sliding along your own. His breath sweeps over your lips and your eyes flutter shut, anticipation curling in your stomach. You give up the pretence and melt into him, meeting his eager mouth with a sigh. He is hot and wet and wonderful. Fives groans deep in his chest, the sound rumbling through you where your bodies join and shooting straight to your core. You feel him work his hands free and then they are on you, sliding firmly over the dips and curves of your body.

When you break apart, it feels like your whole body is on fire.

“So how about it, cyar’ika?” He breathes, his face flushed. He leans up again to mouth at your throat, a quick flash of teeth that makes you gasp. “You gonna shut me up?”

You grind your hips down sharp and sudden, and smirk in satisfaction as Fives chokes and throws his head back. You can feel his interest literally growing beneath you; it’s your turn to lean in and bite your way up his neck, to the spot by his ear that always makes him shudder.

“I think I’ve got a better idea,” you whisper, nipping the shell of his ear and savouring his yelp. “I’m going to make you beg.”

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 4: The Star Spangled Man With A Plan

Summary: As the SSR deals with the aftermath of the attempted theft of the serum by Hydra, Steve finds himself side-lined until he’s offered a golden opportunity to help fight the good fight…but it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be as he quickly finds out.  

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N:  Once again, huge thanks to my beta readers and plugger of mind gaps where I was blocked… @southerngracela and @icanfeelastormbrewing

Any mistakes are my own. I’ll probably spot them once posted but, whatever!

SSR Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist 

“Absolutely not!” Katie blazed her hands on her hips “That is NOT what Erskine was going to do.”

“Well Erskine isn’t here is he, in case it had escaped your notice.” Phillips bit back “And neither is the serum after the last vial of it was smashed out on Brooklyn Pier.”

Steve sighed, his head bowing a little.

“Erskine said that post the transformation he was supposed to be monitored for twenty-four hours before he did any major physical activity.” Katie continued, “Given that, and what just happened, you seriously want to take his blood?”

“She has a point.” Howard stepped in. “Personally I’m not sure it’s wise. Private Rogers should be given the rest of the day at least under observation as was the original plan, where we can run the physical tests Abe had been planning to do.”  He took a deep breath and bowed his head slightly.

“We owe it to him to do this right.” Katie spoke again, her voice loaded with emotion as she turned her eyes to the Colonel. He gave a little groan, dragging his hand down his face “We can take the samples tomorrow.”

“Do I get a say in any of this?” Steve spoke, surprising himself with his sudden forthright nature and Katie turned to him.

“No.” She said simply, turning back to Phillips. Steve’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to look at Howard who was silently chuckling at his sister’s bossy nature. He gave a little shrug of his shoulders, and then his brown eyes turned back to watch as Katie stood looking at Phillips expectantly.

“You know, I’m beginning to rue the day I ever asked you two to join this team.” The Colonel shot and Steve watched as Katie turned to Howard, smirking. “And wipe that look off of your face right now Agent.”

“Sir.” She nodded, and then everyone’s attention was taken by Agent Carter as she walked back into the room.

“We have it sir.” She nodded, “The Hydra Sub. It’s in the Tech Lab.”

“You wanna wait until tomorrow to work on that too, you know, give that time to recover as well or…”

“You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” Howard arched an eyebrow as he looked at Phillips, “But I prefer to think of it as a metric for potential. You’ll be a great man someday, Colonel Phillips.”

Katie’s shoulders began to shake and she turned back towards Steve who was watching the scene play out in front of him, utterly perplexed. He still couldn’t get his head round her blatant disregard for her Commanding Officer’s authority. Howard, well, he could understand that a little more as he wasn’t in the man’s chain of command but Katie was. And she seriously didn’t seem to give a shit.

“Do we have any more intel on Schmidt?” Phillips turned to Peggy who blinked and looked at him.

“No, Sir. Nothing.” She took a deep breath, “But I think after today it’s safe to say that was another thing Dr. Erskine was correct about. Schmidt clearly has ambitions beyond simply being Hitler’s Chief Scientist. I think we should consider the fact that he’s equally, if not more dangerous.”

At that Steve heard Erskine’s words from the previous night as clear and as loud as if the man were speaking them to him in person. “Schmidt must become that superior man.” He cleared his throat a little and felt all eyes in the room turn to him.

“I think Agent Carter is right, Sir.” Steve took a deep breath “Last night, Dr Erskine was explaining to me about Schmidt. He said that Schmidt is convinced that there is a great power hidden in the Earth, waiting to be found...”

“So he’s bonkers.” Phillips looked at Steve “Terrific.”

“You know, we have forces out there fighting the Nazis.” Katie pondered for a moment, “Maybe the SSR needs to concentrate on Hydra.”

Phillips looked at Katie, “You wanna chase Hydra?”

She shrugged, “It seems logical to me. A lunatic he maybe, but he clearly has a vast amount of followers that buy into the same Rhetoric. That makes them dangerous.”

“And let’s not forget, Hydra is, or was, Hitler’s deep science department. Now, Steve stopped them from getting the vial of Erskine’s completed formula, but who knows what else they have in their grasp.” Peggy added, “I saw a lot of things when I was under, a lot of things that if perfected could be disastrous. We chose to concentrate on Hitler as he had control of Hydra. But, if Schmidt is going rogue as we suspect, then I’m afraid Sir, that as Agent Stark suggests,  he could prove to be far more dangerous.”

“Just what we need.” Howard groaned, “Two enemies to be fighting.”

“Oh pur-lease.” Katie looked at him. “Like you’re doing any actual fighting.”

“Shut up.” Howard glared at her, “You know as well as I do that I was plucked out for this instead of going to the front lines, just like you were.”

“The pair of you can take your squabbles outside.” Phillips looked at them, “I’m done. I need to brief Senator Brandt.” With that he turned to Peggy “Get onto base and tell them they need to get into the President, inform him of our intentions so that he can approve them. You…” he then looked at Howard, “Take a look at that sub, see what we’re dealing with from a technology point of view. And you…” he looked at Katie, then to Steve, then back again. “Take Rogers for whatever observations it was Erskine had set up. Then I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep. Back here at Zero-Six Hundred.”

With that he swept from the room leaving the four of them. Steve turned to Katie, his arms folded.

“You know, I don’t need a load of tests to tell you I’m fine.” He looked at her, “In fact, I’m more than fine. I feel…well, I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“That maybe but, well, I’d feel better if you went along with it, please.”

“Oh, she’s serious Rogers.” Howard smirked, “She said the magic word.”

At that Katie turned to glare at her brother, who held her gaze, his expression not faltering in the slightest. She threw him a positively filthy look before she turned back to Steve and he looked at her as she once more began to speak. “Erskine wanted to make sure that everything was okay, monitor the effects properly at least for twenty-four hours. We have no idea if it’s permanent, what it’s actually doing to you, whether the effects and transformation is still on going…”

“Okay, okay.” Steve held his hand up, giving her a nod, “Fine, I’ll submit for monitoring. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Could someone please find me something to eat?” He looked around, his stomach giving a huge growl at the perfect moment to emphasise his point, “I’ve never been this hungry in my life, and believe me, I’m no stranger to living with an empty stomach.”

It turns out that Steve’s appetite had increased exponentially too, which was to be expected considering his metabolism was working far faster than it ever had before. He wolfed down a huge helping of Potato and Hot Dog salad, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, an assortment of vegetables and a huge helping of apple pie. He had no idea where Katie had managed to conjure it from, and frankly he didn’t care either. All he knew was that in that one sitting he’d consumed more food than he usually ate in a day.

The rest of the day was taken up with him being poked and prodded and attached to all sorts of strange machines. Howard explained what each of them was for, but he wasn’t paying much attention. His mind was whirring, finally processing what had happened in the last couple of hours. He had been so sure about what was going to happen post getting the serum that he’d be shipped out to help in the fight and now he didn’t have a clue where he was going to go, especially if they were now going to refocus their efforts on Hydra. That said, it was all helping the war effort wasn’t it? Hydra was a huge threat, if he was able to help take them down in any way, shape or form, then he was ok with that.

One of the doctors and Howard started explaining to him what the serum had done and at that point he tuned in to some of it, picking out the odd phrase like “super strength”, “increased stamina”, “enhanced metabolism”, “fast healing”, “super-sharp senses”,  “memory expansion”, “logical improvement”. Howard looked at him and explained that as far as he could see, the transformation was complete, and was as permanent as they could hope. But Erskine had said that the serum wasn’t infallible, therefore how long the effects would last into the future they didn’t know. Forty, maybe fifty years or so. Steve wasn’t particularly bothered about that though, by the time that happened he would be well into his sixties or seventies and would he really care then?

Katie arrived back just as the Doctor who had been dealing with him had instructed the nurse to remove the heart monitor form his chest.

“Hi.” She smiled and Steve turned to face her, fulling intending on greeting her back, but before he could, the doctor made a little noise of surprise.

“What is it?” Howard asked and Steve hastily turned towards them, wondering what was wrong.

“His heart rate just spiked.”

Steve gulped and hastily looked away from Katie as Howard turned to face him. His eyes flicked from Steve, to his sister who was stood in the doorway, a bashful smile on her face but to her credit she held her brother’s gaze as the man gave a groan.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She mumbled, stepping into the room. “You done treating him like a guinea pig?”

“Hey, you were the one that insisted on the monitoring!” Howard pointed at her.

“Yes, because it was what Abe wanted.” She shrugged, “And I wanted to make sure everything was okay before you guys started stealing his blood like a pack of starving vampires.”

“Well you needn’t panic.” Howard arched an eyebrow, “The transformation seems to be text book. Your Super Soldier is as ready as can be.”

“Fuck you.” Katie shot back, and Howard gave a chuckle as Steve let out a little groan at the man’s teasing.

“That bad an idea huh, dating my sister?” Howard turned to Steve and he flushed immediately.

“That…no, I didn’t…say that, I mean, not that we…”

“Ignore him Steve, he’s being a jerk.” Katie rolled her eyes. “And if he knows what’s good for him he’ll shut up before I knock his teeth out.”

“Threat received and understood.” Howard held his hands up as the doctor bustled around and handed Steve back his t-shirt.

“You can leave now, Captain Rogers, but we would like you to stay here tonight.”

“Why?” Steve frowned as he pulled the SSR logo t-shirt over his head.

“Because I want to monitor your levels at complete rest.” The doctor smiled, “Humour me, please.”

Steve shrugged as he swung his legs off the bed. “Sure.” It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

“Your stuff is being brought over from the barracks.” Katie smiled softly. 

“Any idea on where I’ll be going after that?” Steve stood up carefully, taking his time to pull himself up to his new full height.

“Nope.” She shrugged, “I suppose it depends on what Colonel Phillips and the President agree. I suspect we’ll head over to London HQ if we’re going after Hydra in Europe, but we should find out tomorrow morning.”

“So, we have a free evening?” Howard looked at Katie.

“Well, sort of. Unless you want to get a head start on that Hydra submarine thing.” She waved her hand at the door.

“I don’t need a head start.” Howard shrugged, somewhat arrogantly, “I’m a genius, I’ll crack it tomorrow.”

Katie rolled her eyes, “You know I really admire your modesty.”

Howard chuckled, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what I was suggesting was that if we do have a free few hours, how about a drink? I got a bottle of vintage Macallan stashed in my lab.” He paused and Steve watched as his shoulders slumped a little and he took a deep breath before he looked back up at both Steve then to his sister. “Me and Abe had been saving it for tonight."

Katie took a deep breath before she walked over to her brother who wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, gently kissing the top of her head. Steve looked away for a second, not wanting to intrude on the moment as he watched the doctor and nurse leave the room.

“We should have a toast to him,” Katie spoke, her voice cracking a little as she stepped away from Howard. She turned to Steve and smiled, “He’d have been proud this had worked.”

Steve nodded a little side smile pulling at his mouth as he remembered the banter he and Erskine had shared about the schnapps. With a nod he looked at Katie, the smile spreading further across his face, “He owed me a drink.”

 It was a strange night.

The three of them had shared a glass each of the smooth whiskey, which Steve had thoroughly enjoyed. It had tasted so smooth yet crisp. And he wasn’t sure if that was down to the fact it was stupidly expensive and high end, or the fact his taste-buds simply worked better. Howard hadn’t raised the issue of he and Katie again, for which Steve was glad. If he had been asked, he couldn’t say how he would have answered because he wasn’t entirely sure what they were. A casual fling? A hook up? He knew what he wanted it to be, but once again he was brought crashing back to reality. They were in the middle of a war. It was impossible.  

Despite the myriad of thoughts and emotions running through his mind, Steve slept better than he had ever slept in his life. His chest wasn’t bad, he didn’t struggle for breath when he lay down flat meaning that for the first time he could remember he didn’t need to sleep propped up. Yet, on the other hand, he felt like he was waking up every five or ten minutes. The slightest sound or movement made by the various SSR staff nurses and guards milling around the small medical wing of the lab woke him thanks to his now enhanced, fine tuned senses. The doctors and Howard had assured Steve that whilst it might take a while but once he was used to the heightening of his senses it would start to feel ‘normal’ to him in a way and he would learn to use them and appreciate them.

With a yawn, he cracked his head side to side as he raised it off the pillow. Whilst he didn’t know what time it was thanks to the lack of any natural light in the room, he knew that this time he wasn’t getting back to sleep. He climbed from his bed, stretched and waited for the usual pain to shoot down his back, but nothing. He then stood up, a little too fast and pitched forward before he steadied himself and drew up to his full new height, squaring his now broad shoulders back as he stood tall in his new posture. Again, Howard had told him he would soon learn to adjust his movements to compensate for the fact that he no longer needed to put as much effort into them. No sooner had he done that, a nurse appeared with his breakfast and she was followed by Agent Carter who wished him a good morning and then handed him a formal Army Uniform in his new size. With a soft smile and a thanks, he took it before laying it down on the bed, admiring the green wool and crisp shirt. 

“When you’re ready then we’d like to take the blood samples.” Peggy spoke softly, “But there’s no rush. Take your time.”

“Rather just get it over and done with Ma’am.” Steve said politely and truthfully. The sooner he was done being prodded, poked and stabbed the sooner he could find out what was going on.

With that in mind he ate, washed up, dressed and was ready in half an hour flat. He was led out of the bunk room he’d been sleeping in and down the corridor back to the observation room he’d been in the previous day where he was instructed to roll up his sleeves and lay back as they proceeded to siphon off his blood. When they had one bag full they then hooked him up to another, and then another, the doctor instructing him to tell them if he felt light headed but Steve had a suspicion that the enhancements to his body would simply enable him to generate more as fast as they took it. That said, by the time the third bag was full he was bored. Peggy seemed to sense it and she turned to the doctor who nodded and instructed everyone that they were done.

“Think you got enough?” Steve asked, somewhat sarcastically.

“Any hope of reproducing the program is locked in your genetic code.” Peggy replied simply, “But without Dr. Erskine, it could take years.”

“He deserved more than this.” Steve replied a little sadly and he meant it. The serum had been Erskine’s life work and now there was nothing to show for it as the last vial of the serum had been smashed on Brooklyn Pier.

“Well, if it could only work once, he’d be proud it was you,” Peggy looked at him.

Steve glanced at her, feeling a little embarrassed at her praise but he didn’t dwell on it and neither did she. Instead, she told him that once he was ready she’d take him down to the main lab were Phillips and Katie were talking to Senator Brandt about the plans for the SSR going forward. Keen to understand, he quickly sorted his shirt out.

“Speaking modestly, I’m the best mechanical engineer in this country,” Howard shrugged. “But I don’t know what’s inside this thing or how it works.”

“So much for not needing a head start, huh?” Katie teased and Howard glared at her.

“We’re not even close to this technology,” he finished by means of an explanation.

“Then who is?” Senator Brandt demanded.

“HYDRA,” Phillips responded SIMPLY. “I’m sure you’ve been reading our briefings.”

“I’m on a number of committees, Colonel,” Brandt replied simply, completely unabashed at Phillips tone.

“HYDRA is the Nazi deep science division,” Katie explained

“It’s led by Johann Schmidt,” Peggy picked up. “But he has much bigger ambitions.”

“HYDRA’s practically a cult,” Phillips stated. “They worship Schmidt, they think he’s invincible.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Brandt asked and at that point Steve took a deep breath, finally he was about to find out what he was going to be doing.

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

Katie and Peggy exchanged excited glances and Peggy looked back at Phillips, seeking clarification as she asked, “Colonel?”

“We are taking the fight to HYDRA,” Phillips looked at the woman. “Pack your bags Agent Carter. You too, Agent Stark,” he turned to Katie, “you’re flying to London tonight.”

Steve hesitated for a second, but when Phillips didn’t turn to speak to him and inform him where he was going, he hurried forward a little.

“Sir, if you’re going after Schmidt, I want in.”

“You’re an experiment,” Phillips shot back. “You’re going to Alamogordo.”

Steve frowned a little, but then pressed some more, he wasn’t letting this go.

“The serum worked,” his voice rose a little.

“I asked for an army and all I got was you. You...are not enough.”

Katie wheeled round to look at Phillips, her face angry, “Oh, come on Sir, that’s…”

“I have put up with your insubordination for long enough. I don’t give a shit what you think, Agent Stark.” Philips snarled, “Keep pushing me and so help me God, I will have you taken straight outta this unit and you’ll be back home typing up the Letters of Condolence.”

“But…”

“Enough!” Phillips snapped. “Now I suggest you disappear and pack just like Agent Carter did when I told her to.”

Katie took a deep breath, an angry noise escaping her throat before she turned and stormed away. Steve watched her go before he turned back to argue some more with Phillips, but the man had already moved away.

They wanted to send him to a fucking research plant? Seriously? This was ridiculous.

“With all due respect to the Colonel, I think we may be missing the point,” Senator Brandt spoke to Steve and he turned to face the man. “I’ve seen you in action, Steve. More importantly, the country’s seen it.” Brandt turned to his aide. “Paper.” His aide obeyed, showing them the paper in his hand. It was today’s copy of the ‘The New York Examiner’ which bore the headline "Nazis in New York - Mystery Man Saves Child" along with a picture of Steve holding the car door in front of him.

“The enlistment lines have been around the block since your picture hit the newsstands," Brandt smiled at Steve. “You don’t take a soldier, a symbol like that, and hide him in a lab.” Steve felt a surge of hope flood his system as the Senator continued. “Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?”

“Sir, that’s all I want,” Steve replied honestly.

“Then, congratulations,” The Senator held his hand out for Steve to shake. “You just got promoted.”

Steve’s hopes were short lived when Brandt explained what he had in mind - using Steve to boost recruitment and bond sales. But he knew he was getting nowhere with Phillips, so he decided to take the role and could only hope that it would lead to something else. Besides, it was important to gather support. The Forces needed all the financial and recruitment help they could get, and he could play a key part in that.

So Brandt said.

“Hey…”

Steve looked up from where he was packing the few items he’d unpacked from his trunk and looked at Katie.

“Oh, hi.” He said, turning back to his packing.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” she continued and Steve took a deep breath, straightening up.

“Who told you?”

“Good news travel fast, Captain.” She stressed the last word and Steve had to actively stop himself from rolling his eyes.  “That’s a pretty good promotion considering you’ve been a soldier all of a week.”

“Yeah, well, it was too good an opportunity to turn down. In fact, it was the only opportunity to turn down.” He watched her as she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, before closing it again. And then Steve really did roll his eyes, “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out Katie.”

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me,” she snapped back.

“I’m not being…”

“Yes, you are,” she folded her arms. “It’s not my fault Phillips won’t let you in on this. I’ve tried, believe me, but for whatever reason he’s not moving.”

“He’s not moving because he doesn’t like me,” Steve replied simply.

“Well, that’s his loss," Katie countered. “And what’s with the sudden display of self-pity?”

“What?”

“This, moping around, acting all deflated.”

“It’s easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well you’re off, over there. Fighting the fight…me, well, looks like I’m gonna have to play ball with Senators doesn’t it?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do!” Steve’s voice rose and Katie blinked a little, but besides that she showed no signs of having registered his angry tone. “What choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice, Steve.”

“Oh, yeah?” He snorted. “And my choice here is what? Go to the damned White Sands Proving Ground where they can run more tests on me? Keep me locked up like some kind of lab rat?”

“I didn’t say they were always good choices.”

“Well what do you think I should do huh?”

“That’s not for me to say.” Katie shook her head. “But I can tell you one thing....”

“What?”

“That I have faith in you to do what you feel is right, and continue to be the good man I know you are.” Her words were soft but they hit Steve like a freight train and he swallowed, suddenly aware of how down right shitty he’d been. “And if you’re telling me that it feels right that you go where Brandt wants you to go then…” she shrugged. 

“I have to try.” Steve replied.

“Well, in that case, I’ll say what I came to say in the first place," she gave him a soft smile, “Good luck.”

Steve took a deep breath and sighed, “Thanks. Look, I’m sorry I snapped. I just, well, truth be told I’m a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, all I ever wanted was to be a soldier and to fight on the front lines. Like my dad did, and Bucky.” He sat down on the side of the bed, “And I agreed to this procedure because I thought it was my ticket there, ya know?”

“I get it,” Katie nodded, crossing the room to sit besides him. “And I can understand how frustrated you feel, believe me I can.” He turned to look at her to see her glancing down at her hands before she looked up at a spot on the wall opposite them. “I just can’t say anything to make it better, other than repeat what I said before. I have absolute faith and belief that you’ll do what you think is right. And that’s all any of us can do.”

Steve looked straight in her eyes as they flickered across both of his and he took a deep breath, her words echoing round his mind. Throughout this, she and Erskine had been the two people who had utterly believed he was the best man for the job so to speak. Now Erskine was gone, and he was about to be separated from her as well. And it pained him to think about it, as he realised that he was going to miss her, for more than the simple reason that she’d been a friend to him. 

“You know I’m sorry we met the way we did,” his thoughts blurted out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Katie frowned, “What?”

“No, I err…” Steve sighed and then gave a snort. “Guess the serum didn’t enhance my ability to talk to a dame without completely making a total screw up of it.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Katie smiled, “you do a decent job most of the time.” She paused as Steve gave a little huff of laughter before she turned her body a little more towards him, “What’s on your mind, Soldier?”

“I mean, I’m sorry that we met when we did. And, you know, not sooner.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands, “Or maybe even later, when all this is over.”

“If it ever is,” Katie sighed and Steve raised his eyes to hers as she licked her lips a little. “Steve, I’m not sad I met you when I did. Quite the opposite actually. It’s been…” she paused for a moment before she smiled “…a little ray of hope in an otherwise very gloomy world.”

“Hope?”

“Yeah…” she shrugged. “You know, a reminder that no matter how ugly the world seems or how much it changes, it’s still a beautiful place.”

Steve thought on her words for a second, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“What?” She asked as she noted his expression.

“You just remind me of my mom,” he smiled. “She was always a 'look on the bright side' kind of woman. No matter what life threw at us, she was always reminding me there were people far worse off.”

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“She was, ” Steve smiled with a short nod. “Kind, compassionate…just more ways you remind me of her.”

He didn’t miss the faint flush on Katie’s cheeks as she looked down at her hands and then raised her eyes to look at him, “I’m honoured.”

Steve took a deep breath, “I meant what I said you know, the other night before we…you know.” He swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat felt like a tennis ball. “I like you, more than like you in fact.”

“Kinda sucks we’re about to be separated doesn’t it?” Katie looked at him, her eyes sad and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“But, I’m a firm believer that if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.” Katie shrugged and at that Steve gave a scoff. She turned to him, a playful look on her face. “What, you don’t believe in fate?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “you make your own luck.”

“Right.” A little side smile broke on her mouth, “you did a good job with that when you happened to be at the Expo the same time Erskine was.”

“Lucky coincidence.”

“And what was me getting accosted by a load of rapscallions in Brooklyn?”

“A not so lucky for you coincidence.” Steve shrugged.

“You know what the definition of the word coincidence is?”

“Not word for word, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“Sass bag.” Katie nudged him with her elbow and he chuckled, “but you’re right, I am. It’s a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent casual connection.”

“And?”

“Fate is the development of events outside a person’s control.” Katie looked at him, her eyebrow arched, “Coincidence is beyond a person’s control. And if fate is what’s meant to be no matter what you do, and coincidence is merely a matter of right place, right time, then what if you’re in the right place at the right time because it’s simply meant to be.”

Steve looked at her, utterly sideswiped at her sentiment. Whilst he wasn’t sure he agreed, the logic was surely there and the fact she’d laid it so bare, been so open with him knocked him for six. He saw her eyes flicker to his mouth again, and in a sudden surge of confidence he gently moved, taking her face in his hands and pulling her to meet him in a soft, gentle kiss that was loaded with meaning.

“Yup…” she sniffed a little as she pulled away and Steve was both surprised and horrified to see the tears in her eyes as she pressed her forehead to his, their noses bumping a little “it definitely sucks.”

“Write to me,” he whispered, his thumbs swiping away her tears and she smiled, nodding, before she caught his lips again, this time the kiss was deeper, and Steve had to fight back the groan that was bubbling in his throat as he felt her tongue slide against his. They were interrupted by a loud noise outside and Katie pulled away, dropping her gaze a little before she sighed and stood up.

“Stay safe soldier,” she smiled, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “I’d hate for you to come back horrifically disfigured.”

At that Steve snorted, “Would it put you off?” He teased, “I didn’t think you were that shallow.”

“I’m not,” she smiled as she made her way to the door. “It’d just be a helluva waste, a face like that.”

With that she was gone and Steve felt the smile fade from his face to be replaced by a hollow feeling which engulfed his entire body, as the realisation spread across him that he had no idea when he would see her again.

If indeed, at all.

November 1943.

 “I already volunteered, how do you think I got here?”

“Nice boots, Tinkerbell…”

“Hey, Captain! Sign this”

The heckling from the assembled crowd rang through Steve’s mind as he sat dejectedly on the side of the stage, the miserable and cold rain matching his mood. His hand moved absentmindedly, shading in the drawing he’d sketched in his book. A very apt drawing of a Circus Monkey on a Unicycle clutching the damned shield he’d been given as part of his costume. It turns out the “battlefield” that Senator Brandt had been referring to was nothing more than a grotesque road show across the US and various other places on the Allied Map encouraging people to buy war bonds.

“The Senator's got a lot of pull up on the hill. You play ball with us, you’ll be leading your own platoon in no time.”

Yeah, a "platoon" of chorus girls and confetti cannons, complete with Adolph himself. And he was no closer to getting in on the real action.

He’d travelled all over the place during the last four months, the tour had been successful, and there was no denying that it was helping the effort in a way. “Bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazi’s bing bang boom.” But this wasn’t what he had signed up for. Nor did he believe for one second that this was what Dr. Erskine had in mind for how his serum would be put into use.

He’d made a few propaganda films, all part of the course according to Brandt who had then had the the bright idea to send Captain America on the USO tour, to attempt to lift spirits. So here he was in Italy, five miles from the front line, having finally made it overseas as a soldier only to be stood on a stage in front of the men he should have been fighting alongside, being pelted by rotten fruit and vegetables instead of bullets.

It didn’t help that he knew the SSR were fast ramping up their efforts on HYDRA, having been reassigned to somewhere in mainland Europe, not unlike himself at that point in time. He’d had a few letters from Katie, but he had no idea where she was. She didn’t go into details, which was to be expected, she couldn’t and her mail always reached him through the usual military channels. He’d tried to remain positive in his letters back to her, focussing on nights where had a particularly good show, meeting and greeting his ‘fans’ afterwards, carefully omitting details about the women that now seemed to be throwing themselves at him. Be it in bars, back stage or simply as he emerged from the venues; there was no shortage of ladies vying for his attention. And had he been that way inclined, he could have taken any number of them dancing and then back to wherever he was staying that night but the fact was he didn’t want to. Because no matter how pretty or forthcoming the girls were, his mind and heart were with a certain green eyed agent.

The Star Spangled Man with a Plan, the song had dubbed him, yet Steve felt as if he had never had less of a plan in his life.

“Hello, Steve," a familiar voice spoke in his ear and Steve jerked his head up in surprise and turned, doing a little double take as he looked up at Katie.

“Hi,” he instantly felt his heart rate pick up dramatically in her presence, like it normally did as his eyes laid upon her. She was dressed in standard Army green wool pants that were tailored for a man with wide legs and long length that she tucked in to her well-worn mid-calf boots which were brown leather with lace protection straps and had no doubt been happily trudged through the mud and beaten until they broke in and needed new soles. Her unit issued jacket was the same colour green as her pants, but the harsh canvas material gave a weighted appearance across her shoulders as it was buttoned and zipped it up.  Beneath it, she wore her wool tie and collared shirt, no doubt tucked into her trousers for a crisp clean look.

Steve noted how it was a stark (pun intended) difference to the previous smart pencil skirt and jacketed uniform he had seen her in at the SSR base which Peggy, who stood to her left, was still sporting. But then again, the two women were very different, and knowing Katie as he did she wasn't one to conform and who knew what she had been up to whilst on the front line.

All it did was serve to make Steve feel even more self-conscious and ridiculous in his own outfit, designed for dancing and prancing around not active combat. 

“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, his eyes flicking to Peggy before they returned to Katie again.

“Officially we’re not here at all,” Peggy smiled. “That was quite a performance.”

Great, they’d seen it. His shoulders slumped at little as he turned away.

“Yeah. Uh… I had to improvise a little bit. Crowds I’m used to are usually more uh… twelve.”

“Probably less full of jerks as well,” Katie snorted and Steve looked at her, his mouth curling into a slight smile as Peggy let out a sigh.

“You know what soldiers are like. Present company excepted of course,” Peggy quickly corrected herself as Steve had cocked any eyebrow at her sweeping assumption, before she turned to the other agent. “I warned you-“

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Katie replied with a roll of her eyes.

Peggy took a deep breath, before she turned back to Steve, swiftly changing the subject. “I understand you’re "America’s New Hope"?

“Bond sales take a ten percent bump in every state I visit,” Steve chanted off, the words flowing out of him the same way they did whenever he spoke to someone about the Roadshow and he grimaced as he realised just what a damned puppet he had become.

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?” Katie teased and Steve took a deep breath.

“At least he’s got me doin’ this,” Steve felt a sudden need to defend not only the Senator a little but also his decision to take the role in the first place, especially after their conversation before he had left. “Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.”

“And these are your only two options?” Peggy looked at him, nodding to his sketch book which was still open in his lap. “A lab rat or a dancing monkey?”

“You were meant for more than this, you know?” Katie added gently, and Steve looked at her, hesitating as his sarcastic reply died in his throat. Instead he looked away, a little dejected. She was right, he had been meant for more that was the whole point of him taking the serum. But even after he’d been turned into this Super Soldier, been given such power and capability, he still wasn’t enough.

“What?” Katie pressed gently, having noticed his hesitation.

“You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I’m wearing tights.”

Before either of the women could respond there was the sound of a horn honking which diverted their attention. Steve turned to watch as an ambulance pulled to a halt outside the medical tent. The back doors were flung open and several injured soldiers were pulled out of the back on stretches, nurses and medical staff rushing to help as they disappeared through the drapes of the tents, the walking wounded being helped down and aided as they limped behind.

“They look like they’ve been through hell,” Steve commented, a deep feeling of sadness at the sight of the injured men flooded his chest.

“These men more than most,” Peggy commented and Steve turned to look at her, a little confused as to what she meant.

“Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano,” Katie explained. “Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the one-oh-seventh. The rest were killed or captured.”

Steve felt his chest tighten, as if someone had trapped it in a vice and his head momentarily span as the meaning of her words sank in.

“The one-oh-seventh?” He breathed out, begging it to be wrong. But Katie simply frowned as she gave a nod.

“What?”

Steve swallowed and looked around before he rose to his feet. “That was Bucky’s unit.” He turned to face her, his voice sounded alien as he almost choked on his words. Katie’s face slid into a look of recognition, her mouth falling open.

“Barnes?” She asked and Steve nodded, as he ran a hand down his face, once more glancing round desperately hoping for Bucky to appear and rip into him for his ridiculous outfit. But he knew that if Bucky had been in that audience, he would have already found him. Which meant that he was either amongst the injured soldiers in the tent or…

“Who’s Barnes?” Peggy asked form behind him.

“Steve’s friend from home,” Katie replied gently as Steve turned back to look at the women.

“I need to check if he’s there,” Steve nodded towards the medical tent.

“Not a good idea,” Peggy cut him off. “You saw their reaction to you before. If you go waltzing in you’re going to upset them.”

“I don’t really care,” Steve spluttered

“Well you should,” Peggy looked at him sternly.

“I have to know if he survived!”

“Okay, look…” Katie took a deep breath, and he tore his eyes away from Peggy who was still glaring at him to look instead at the other woman. “Phillips will have the list of the-“ she hesitated, clearly searching for the best word “-casualties. We can ask him.”

“Phillips is here too?” Steve frowned, although he wasn’t sure why that had surprised him. Decision made, he turned and started running across the camp shooting a, “come on,” over his shoulder as the heavy rain pelted down onto them all.

He busted into the tent, “Colonel Phillips,” and the man looked up, a disgruntled expression spread across his face before he took a deep breath and looked back down at the papers on his desk as Steve strode purposefully towards him.

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. And what is your plan today?” Phillip’s voice was laced with sarcasm but Steve didn’t care. At the moment he had one thing on his mind, and that was Bucky.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.” Phillips snapped, looking up at him once more and Steve ignored his angry tone, his stubbornness showing through as he continued to pres.

“I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

“You two and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy,” Phillips pointed to both Agent Carter and Katie in turn.

“Can’t wait," Katie sassed back and Phillips’ head shot up to look at her as he once more fixed her with a stare that could freeze over hell, but Steve didn’t have time for this.

“ Please tell me if he’s alive, Sir. B-A-R…”

“I can spell,” the Colonel stated harshly as he tore his eyes from Katie. He looked at the papers in his hand and with a sigh dropped them to his desk and when he spoke his voice was a little softer. "I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry." 

Steve swallowed, a feeling of cold washing over his body as the Colonel's words sank in. It sounded familiar…so, maybe there was a chance it could be another Barnes, maybe? It was a common name, after all…and even if it was Bucky’s name on the letter, he could be missing assumed dead, not actually confirmed dead. Peggy and Katie had told him before that there were still men from the unit trapped behind lines. 

"What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he’d really had time to consider them properly.

“Yeah! It’s called winning the war.”

Steve frowned, “But if you know where they are, why not at least…?"

Colonel Phillips stood up, the expression on his face belonged to a man who had just lost his final bit of patience. "They're thirty miles behind the lines. Through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save." He moved around the desk to stand in front of Steve, his hands falling to his hips as fixed him with a stern and challenging glare. "But I don't expect you to understand that, because you're a chorus girl."

Steve took a breath, the anger coursing inside him at the dig that Phillips had just made, but before he could say anything, he heard Katie scoff besides him. 

“And who’s fault is that?”

Phillips turned to Katie, his face contorted in anger “You are this close…” he held his thumb and forefinger up a fraction of an inch apart.

Katie’s jaw clenched and her chin tipped up defiantly as she glared back at the man. Steve, having had chance to compose himself slightly now the spoke in an attempt to draw the attention back away from her and onto himself.

“I might just be a chorus girl, but I think I understand just fine.”

“Well then understand it somewhere else.” Phillips turned away… “If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes”

As he spoke the last words, Steve took note of the map which lay on the table and he noticed a flag marked with an H which caught his attention. And then, he made his decision.

The Star Spangled Man finally had a plan.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

[lord-darth-maul]

*With the many visits from Grim, the Jedi healers had seen even more improvement and brought this up to the Jedi council. They took into consideration of Grims pleas to move Maul as well, and decided it could be beneficial to Maul.

It was an early morning when a few officers, along side Jedi came to him room, unlocking it. It startled Maul awake shooting a look to the people entering* “What time is it? What is going on?

“Looks like you get a change of scenery” One said in a very vague way not giving any clue to where. The man spoke agsin* “Time to get up, and show hands” This worried Maul, but complied having the wrist restraints back on but asked*

“Where are we going?” Maul saw more workers come in with boxes for his art. He wanted to watch but was escorted out into the hall* “Be careful with all of that! Some ceramics are delicate! And don’t ruin my paintings!”

“No ones going to break your things, I think the people of this new place will enjoy them” A Jedi healer spoke trying to keep him calm* “And hopefully this will be the last time in those” She gestured to the restraints, which Maul looked down at sadly not sure what that meant either.* “Come, let’s get going, your things will be shortly behind” It was probably the first time Maul was outside since being brought to the facility and had to adjust to the natural daylight some. He saw some new purposed clone troopers, which brought a smile to him with the war over. They lead him into a ship docked at the facility and made sure he didn’t try anything. There were no windows which made the ride quiet and awkward. Maul did fidget with the restraints to see if there was a way to get them off without keys or disassembly part of his feet cybernetics to get the ankle ones off. It was mostly for a distraction to keep busy in thought.

The ship came to a stop and thunk of landing. The troopers continued silence didn’t help when Maul asked again* “Where are we going? To the corrections facility?” he figured it was the other logical place since they thought he wasn’t truly crazy. They helped him up to his feet and lowered the ramp off. It was different than expected, he was met with several of the Jedi council members which greeted him, including to his continued confusion, General Kenobi*

“New quarters given you will be, want to help you we all do” Yoda first spoke, but maul still had a questioning and fixated look at Obiwan until Yoda spoke.*

“What is this place?” Maul only saw other ships, along with the second that was behind the transport he was taken in. He guessed that was other troopers bringing his things from the psychiatric facility from before*

“Somewhere, your friend Grim has been bugging all of us to bring you too” Obiwan spoke finally catching Mauls attention again. The thoughts of past discussions of being at the temple crossed his mind, but this didn’t look like the temple*

“Come, much to show you there is, and go over there is” Yoda motioned for Maul to follow, the other masters pointed out things once entering the temple itself from the ship hangar. Maul looked at everything to even spinning which trying to see all the things pointed out. He thought it was some cruel trick of just a visit, but remembered the statement of ‘quarters’

It was eventually just Obiwan, mace, Yoda, and Plo that remained when getting to their final destination being an actual room, with a view out over Coruscant, a personal washroom though he didn’t see the use for a tub. The sink would help the most with cleaning. He glanced around everything. He felt tears swell with it being something he dreamed but thought wouldn’t happen. He nearly forgot about his wrists when attempting to wipe the tears*

“That is another thing..” Mace spoke being given the keys to the restraints and cuffs..* “let’s get those off of you now” He came up to first do the wrist ones, then the back of the waist which fell to the floor, and finally the ankle ones. The feeling of them off felt like a large weight had been taken off of movements.* “the other ship had to make a pit stop at the senate to pick up the last ... part of the surprise”

“This... this has been more than enough of a surprise” Maul still was cleaning his eyes and looking through all the cabinets and closets, to other things he didn’t know what they did.*

“Well I think you’ll like this part just a bit more. You’ll want to take a seat and bring your head down some” Obiwan added as he moved to let senate officers come in with the device used to remove the collar*

*Maul looked confused, but did what he wanted. He looked at the officers and then machine. Maul rested his eyes not knowing what they were going to do, but soon felt something clamp to the collar which made him open his eyes. The only thing he thought was ‘could it be? Could it come off?’ After some minutes of transmitted code, the distinct sound of the locking mechanisms were heard and it popped open. One caught it and sat it on the cart the device was sitting on. For about several minutes, Maul felt around his neck, the area where collar sat, and had this mix of crying and being overjoyed of it gone. He could slowly feel his connection to the force again. Maul looked back when Mace spoke.*

“You’ll be free to move around the temple, and I am sure you will want to meet with Grim too, but on the one condition that you will have an ankle monitor for tracking, and the healers doing evaluations on progress”

Maul gave a quiet nod still feeling around his neck. It felt like the rawness of the lack of a force connection had been relieved. He stayed seated while the senate officers set up the other less noticeable device around an ankle. The only noticeable indication of it there was a light going from red to green in activation.

Once the senate officers left the room, the other troopers brought his belongs just outside of the room waiting to be told to bring them in for Maul to rehang up.* “we’ll let you get your things situated, along with some better cloths to change into, along with others to have too” Obiwan commented before heading out of the room, mace and others followed.

It all felt like a dream to him. He felt that the force was peaceful there, there was no turmoil.. it felt calming to him, even as a dark sider, but could live with it. He got up to rummage through his things to hang up drawings and paintings. The delicate things where carefully wrapped to keep from breaking, and set them on different shelves. The room was considerably bigger than what was given at the facility, which gave him the space to add to the artworks.

After getting things put up and away, he decided to rest after such an ordeal with the move, and surprises. There were things that he was used to in the other facility, such as the doors always being locked. The Jedi masters shut the door after leaving to give him privacy. It wasn’t until a curious Padawan had opened the door, and no sound of keys was heard when he looked to see the kid* “You feel new here... and hungry, sir”

“How’d you get in? Isn’t the door locked?” Maul asked watching, but did feel the hunger of not having a meal since the move. He watched the Padawan turn the handle on both sides freely meaning he wasn’t confined to the room.*

“Come on, I’ll show you to the Cafeteria” He spoke in excitement of helping Maul. Maul realized he still had the scrub cloths on, but was too curious to change and followed. Between the feeling of the lack of the collar, and not hearing the chains, he actually made a smile. The smells of the food area were already enticing, it was nothing like the facility and had foods that he could stomach being all meat and not some mixture of things. The best part was having normal silverware to cut up his own food and eat with besides just a flimsy plastic spoon. He savored each bite as if he’d never had a proper meal. Of course there other young Padawans looking and had smiles but were quiet with watching him being new to the place. They weren’t afraid of him as he didn’t give off the same ominous presence as before. He looked into the reflective surface of the knife to still see the red and yellow scarring from the dark side, but didn’t feel the need to use it.

Once he finished the first of many enjoyable meals, Maul went to search for his Jedi Knight friend in order to thank her in person*

@grimthejedisith

[redrobinhoods]

Sticks and Stones | Chapter 1, godforsaken mess

AO3 Link | 2,200 words (approx) | Chapter 2

A/N:  Fits between my illicit affairs and no choir. I have a story for Thorn in this timeline and I'm working on one for Thire, so Stone needs one too so I can fill in some gaps.

Story Summary: In the wake of Thorn’s death, Commander Stone is the only thing holding the Coruscant Guard together. Thire is adjusting to a role he’d never expected to fill, and Fox- Fox has fallen for a certain senator from Pantora.

Stone’s hands smelled like blasterfire and bacta, the scent so strong that he could smell it through the apparatus in his helmet that filtered the air he breathed. He himself was physically untouched, but the sight of Fox, motionless and in pain on the museum floor, had unsettled him. Fox was not in the clear yet. The first shot had burned between his shoulder blades and any damage to his spine had not yet been assessed, it couldn’t be until he was removed from the bacta tank and conscious. Stone knew that he would be fine. He’d will it into existence if he had to. Fox had cursed in pain at Stone when he had applied the emergency bacta kit he kept in his belt to the wound at Fox’s waist. That meant that there was no spinal damage, right? Stone refused to think of Fox being decommissioned. He would not lose another commander so soon. Thire could not lose another mentor so soon.

The two troopers at the door saluted him before one punched in the passcode without hesitation. Senator Chuchi was upon him the moment he stepped inside. “Is Commander Fox okay?”

Commander Stone took a moment to collect himself, glancing deeper into the safehouse to make eye contact with Thire, sitting uncertainly on a couch opposite where the senator had sat before Stone’s intrusion, before turning back to Chuchi. “They’ve got him in a bacta tank, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until he wakes.” He turned his body to face Thire. “Commander, have you assigned a detail to this building?”

“Yes, sir.”

Stone bit back the urge to tell Thire to drop the ‘sir’ when he addressed him. Now was not the time. “Then go back to the barracks. Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

If Thire had any protests, they were not voiced. He rose from the couch and with a polite nod to Chuchi took his leave from the apartment.

Stone waited until the door had closed to speak again. “Are you comfortable, Senator Chuchi?”

“I do not believe that my own personal comfort matters, Commander Stone.” She drew herself together and glared directly into his visor. “It is my duty, according to Commander Thire, to let you and your brothers lay down their lives for me. I will not be comfortable until I see Commander Fox make a full recovery.”

“Then you may never be comfortable again.” Stone cringed a little under his helmet at the sudden change in the senator’s demeanor when she drew in on herself and refused to meet his gaze. This was why he had always left dealing with the senators to Thorn, now Thire. He would have to offer her some vulnerability. He sighed and removed his helmet, allowing his brow to settle into a look of concern. “My apologies, Senator Chuchi, I’m worried for him too, but there’s nothing we can do to help him now.”

“I know, Commander, I do. But I cannot help but feel responsible for his injury.”

“Fox would let himself get shot for fun.” And because he had a death wish as of late, but the senator didn’t need to know that. “This isn’t your fault, Senator.”

She nodded sadly; Stone didn’t think that she had believed him. “Thank you for your assurances, Commander Stone. I would like to retire now. I suppose that I shall see you in the morning?”

“Yes, ma’am. I will escort you to your office tomorrow. From there, Thire is preparing a detail to accompany you throughout your day.”

“Please give my thanks to Commander Thire tomorrow. I am afraid I may have been harsh with him this past hour.”

“We are used to far worse, Senator. But I will pass it on. Let us know if you need anything tonight.”

“Thank you, Commander Stone.” She drew herself together once more before stepping away from him and departing to the bedroom. A clean pair of bedclothes would be waiting for her there, as well as the basic amenities needed to sustain a healthy being of any species. It was very unlikely that she would want for anything. Still, Thorn had told Stone enough stories of the desires of senators that Stone had been prepared for the worst. But the night was young, so Stone put on a pot of caf and settled down onto the couch where Thire had been sitting. Plenty of things could still go wrong.

---

“I have a lead.”

“You’re going to have narcolepsy if you keep this up.”

“And you’re going to get addicted to spice if you keep drinking so much caf. We can play the false equivalences game all day.”

Thire’s likeness to Thorn unnerved Stone on the best of days. He often wondered if that resolve was what Thorn had seen in the then-lieutenant that caused him to single Thire out for promotion. Today, the suicidal drive for justice was no exception. “Then let’s play a new one. In your state, you are going to die if you track this down by yourself. Take a squad; your squad, my squad, Fox’s squad, I don’t care. Take one.”

Thire shook his head, the shadows moving across his face only serving to highlight the dark hollows under his eyes. “Then the bounty hunter will see us coming and we will lose our chance. If not for Fox’s sake, then for Senator Chuchi’s. This bounty hunter will be our best chance at finding out who wants her dead. This is our job, Stone, this is my job. Let me do it.”

“Thire.”

“Stone. This is my duty. Let me carry it out.”

Stone shook his head and sighed. “Fine.” Senator Chuchi’s words from the night before came back to him. It was her duty to let him and his brothers lay down their lives for her. It was their duty to die. “Where did your lead come from?”

“The Chancellor.”

And Stone couldn’t argue with that. “Be safe, Thire.”

Thire nodded and stood from the seat opposite Stone where he had been lounging. “You know me, sir.”

“My name isn’t sir. But I do know you, and that’s the problem.”

Thire shrugged. “I have a good feeling about this one. Stone.” Then he was gone.

Stone waited a few heartbeats for Thire to cross the office space before he rose from his own chair and stepped out into the main office area. Glancing around at what was being displayed on the monitors, he found his target quickly enough.

“Bravo.”

His brother jumped at the sudden presence behind him, quickly clicking back to the security tapes from the Galactic Museum. “Sir, I can explain.”

“The tapes are kriffing boring. I know. I’ll get someone else to look them over if you do me a favor.”

Bravo relaxed, letting a loose smile settle over his features. “Respectfully, anything to get out of this, sir.”

Stone nodded in understanding. “I want you to trail Commander Thire. If he engages anyone, I want you to be there in case he needs backup. Do not engage otherwise.”

“I’m on it.” Bravo could almost give Sergeant Hound’s massiff, Grizzer, a run for her credits when it came to tracking. He had come a long way from Geonosis, when he and Stone had limped out of the rubble kicked up by the falling Lucrehulks together.

“Thank you, Bravo.”

Thire would be pissed at Stone when he found out.

Thire was absolutely pissed at Stone when he found out.

“I had everything under control!” Thire would have slammed his trigger hand on Stone’s desk if it weren’t in a sling.

“You almost died!”

“You don’t know that! She was stunned, it was already over. If you hadn’t made Bravo intervene-.”

“She could have recovered by the time you dragged your sorry ass over there! Thire, I can’t-.” Stone brought his hand to his face and took in a deep breath. Yelling wouldn’t make the situation any better. “Thire, there is still a very real possibility that Fox may die and I can’t- I can’t do this alone. Just stay alive, Thire. For Thorn.”

Thire’s face twisted into a grimace of pain and he closed his eyes. “He would be so ashamed of me.”

“No. He would have never been ashamed of you, Thire.” Stone reached over the desk and placed his hand on Thire’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. “He was so, so proud of you.”

Thire sighed and brought a hand to the bacta patch on his bicep. “Does the pain ever go away?”

Stone knew he wasn’t talking about the injury. “Some days. Others, it hurts worse than it did before. We all have the nightmares, Thire.” Two years later, Stone still begged for Aurra Sing to show Ponds mercy in his dreams. The once sparring partners had rarely had time to talk after Geonosis, but his absence had torn a hole in Stone’s heart. “Thorn used to say that the commanders of the Coruscant Guard are cursed. Maybe we are.”

“Give our track records, I’m inclined to agree.” Thire sighed again before his attention was caught by the blinking comm on his wrist. “That’s the Chancellor. I need to go.”

“I understand.” Stone watched Thire rise painfully from his seat. “Thire? We wanted you to know, on the books you made the arrest. You were the highest-ranking officer on scene, and you did do everything but cuff her. You can leave that part out when you brief the Chancellor.”

“I don’t deserve-.”

“Thire.” Stone snapped before softening his voice. “Go easy on yourself.”

“Thank you, Stone.” Thire stepped towards the door to Stone’s office before pausing and turning back to him. “Sir- Stone, I have put together a few security details for Senator Chuchi for your approval. There’s just one issue. I believe the most effective guard would be one where one of our men stays inside the senator’s residence with her. Given the capacity we are running at with the loss of my squad on Scipio and our current assignments, we have no available men who have been trained for intimate guard. Given that Senator Chuchi is a woman, I fear that an untrained guardsman would be too much of an intrusion.”

“What about Jek or Impulse? They were on her security detail at the gala, she’s already acquainted with them. She knows most of us by name, I think that she would feel comfortable with nearly any-.”

“I want to put Fox in.”

Stone’s lips moved to form Fox’s name, though no sound came out. He remembered a time a few months ago, when Thorn was telling him over getting dressed that Senator Chuchi reminded him of Fox. Thire hadn’t been there for that conversation, but Stone hadn’t been privy to all of Thorn’s conversations and it made him wonder what he and Thire had discussed concerning his commanding officer and the senator. “Why?”

“You should have seen her, Stone, right after he was shot. She was heartbroken. From my observations, I think that he’s endeared himself to her. Besides, it will give Fox a few days to kick back and catch up on flimsiwork. He’s going to be hurting, and you know that they won’t give him adequate time to recover. They never do.”

“I will advise Senator Chuchi on the matter. Thank you, Thire.”

---

Senator Chuchi was on her feet the moment Stone entered her office. “Are you to accompany me home, Commander Stone?”

“I am afraid not, ma’am. Your apartment is not yet secure, I will be taking you back to the safehouse.”

“And what of Commander Fox?” She had yet to move from her spot beside the desk.

“I received word on my way here that they will be taking him out of bacta tomorrow if there are no obvious signs of permanent injury. If he is disabled, Senator, I’m afraid he will be retired.”

Senator Chuchi nodded and grabbed a small bag from a hook on the side of her desk. “Thank you for informing me, Commander Stone.”

She didn’t know what he had meant by retire. Stone decided that he would not be the one to inform her that the word was a death sentence for clones. He waited for her to cross the room while he found the words to avoid the topic. “If he is not retired, Commander Thire suggested that he lead your security detail from inside your residence.”

Senator Chuchi tilted her head up at him. “That is not standard operating procedure, is it?”

“No, Senator. But I must tell you in confidence, we are understaffed for senatorial detail at the moment. Commander Fox is the only unassigned man with the training required. If you are not comfortable with his presence, there are other men who we can assign.”

“No. I would be perfectly comfortable with the presence of Commander Fox. But thank you, for your concern. I heard that Commander Thire has captured the bounty hunter who tried to assassinate me?”

“Yes, he did. He is briefing the Chancellor on them now. Whoever wants to kill you will be caught soon.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Commander Stone, for your confidence.”

Once again, he didn’t have the heart to tell her how many lies and half-truths had lined their conversation. Instead, he nodded and fell into step at her side to escort her back to the safehouse.

[mytardisisparked]

When Sunrise Comes Early

(this is based on that one comic where Palpatine takes Padawan Anakin to a bar and a conversation with @cinna-wanroll @wonderlandleighleigh and @dettiot)

Obi-Wan blinked, hardly believing the words coming out of his padawan’s mouth; not really wanting to believe the words coming out of his padawan’s mouth.

“Chancellor Palpatine.... took you to a bar?”

Anakin nodded, not quite meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Master, I didn’t really know what to do so I just let him. He was being so kind and I didn’t know how to say no.”

Obi-Wan felt a tug at his heart. He kneeled before Anakin and rested gentle hands on his shoulders, causing the distressed young man to finally look him in the eye. “Anakin, this is not your fault, and I am glad you told me. The Chancellor had no right to take you there and put you in a place where you were not comfortable.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Or a place where you were too young to even get in the front door,” he muttered under his breath. 

He wanted so desperately to have words with the Chancellor. Nothing would make Obi-Wan feel better about the fact that the man had taken his young charge out drinking, but marching into the Chancellor’s office and reaming him a new one would certainly be a good start. That, however, wouldn’t be very Jedi-like of Obi-Wan, and it probably wasn’t a wise move in terms of making sure actual consequences would be dealt. He would have to talk to the Jedi Council about this and see what could, and should, be done.

But first: Anakin.

Obi-Wan smiled at the teary-eyed 16-year-old and patted his shoulder. “Thank you for being honest with me, Anakin. I’m very proud of you.”

The boy sniffled, but still gave him a half-smile. “Thanks for not getting mad.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “This was not your fault, however, I’m sure you’ll find some other way to try my patience when we resume training.”

Anakin grinned wickedly. “I have figured out a new move I want to show you.”

Obi-Wan stood and ruffled his padawan’s hair. “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

__________

“The Chancellor did what?”

Obi-Wan had never seen Mace Windu outraged and, frankly, it was a bit frightening.

“Believe me, I wish it weren’t true, but Anakin would not lie about something like this.”

Mace and Yoda turned to look at one another, a silent message passing between them as the rest of the council murmured quietly, bits of their whispered words meeting Obi-Wan’s ears.

“What sort of man-”

“-his intentions couldn’t have been-”

“-not appropriate at all-”

“Poor Skywalker must not have known what to do.”

The conversations died down as Yoda tapped his stick on the floor.

“Troubling, this news is, but, I’m afraid, unsurprising. Underhanded, the Chancellor has always seemed. Too long, has he been in office.” Yoda ran a hand over the wispy, white hairs along his green scalp. “Perhaps an opportunity this will be, to encourage a vote of no confidence.”

The whispers that had filled the room moments ago returned at a higher volume.

“I understand that this was an inappropriate move on the Chancellor’s part,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said, “but we are not politicians! We cannot make political moves like this; it isn’t our job.”

“And what, pray tell, is our job?” Adi Gallia spoke up from her seat. “We shouldn’t be too involved in politics, yes, but we are also meant to be keepers of the peace. If the Chancellor is willing to manipulate a 16-year-old with incredible strength in the Force, what other lines is he willing to cross?”

Other chatter filled the room, voices overlapping until no one could be understood. Obi-Wan tucked his cloak tighter around himself, wishing very much that someone would excuse him while the council discussed this matter thoroughly or, at least, that they would allow him to remove himself from the very center of the room. 

“Enough.” Mace Windu’s commanding voice silenced the others in an instant. “No matter what your thoughts are on the politics of all of this, we all must agree that the Chancellor’s actions towards young Skywalker cannot go without consequence.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I believe that the best course of action from here is to let the Senate know what we know and allow the Senate to act as they see fit. I know that the majority of the Senators might like Palpatine, but they absolutely will not stand for this near-perverted act.”

Much to Obi-Wan’s relief, the rest of the room nodded in agreement.

“It’s settled then.” Mace leaned back in his chair again. “I’ll go before the Senate tomorrow morning and we will see what they decide.”

_________

The Senate was positively shocked when Mace Windu stepped in front of them and told them what the Chancellor had done. Some of the Senators demanded more definite proof, but the security holograms from the city that Obi-Wan himself had pulled the day before, depicting Palpatine walking with Anakin Skywalker through the underbelly of Coruscant, were enough evidence to cause almost the entire Senate to call for Palpatine’s removal. Even if they weren’t demanding a vote of no confidence now, the idea had already been implanted in everyone’s mind that the Chancellor was a pervert. No one would be proposing an extension to his term next election season.

As shocked as the senators were, however, no one seemed more surprised than Palpatine himself. 

As Mace had recounted Skywalker’s tale, the Chancellor had gone positively white, his facial expression shifting rapidly between shock, confusion, anger, and outrage. He had the look of a man watching his hand-built house burn to the ground as the Senate voted him out of office, replacing him with Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan.

As he was escorted out of the Senate, however, Mace and Obi-Wan felt his mood change. He became eerily quiet; his earlier shock completely vanished, leaving only a disconcerting silence that made the Jedi feel very uneasy. They left him at his apartment door, informing him that he would be escorted to his office tomorrow to retrieve his things. As they left, Palpatine simply smiled, and wished them a good night.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Obi-Wan muttered as he and Mace began working their way back to the Jedi Temple through the dark streets of Coruscant. “That went too well; Palpatine was too compliant.”

Mace nodded. “I agree. The Jedi will keep an eye on him as he moves back to Naboo over the next week, but I’m considering keeping a permanent watch there for the foreseeable future. The cloud of the Dark Side hangs around him.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “That seems wise.”

They walked in silence for a moment.

“How is your padawan handling all of this?” Mace asked quietly.

“He’s... fine. His trust in the Chancellor has been broken, which leaves a wound that will take time to heal but,” Obi-Wan sighed, “he is quite resilient. That being said, I think he needs to be around people who he can trust right now. I worry that this event will bring up latent trauma from his years as a slave.”

Mace nodded. “I think that might be wise.” He was silent a moment longer. “Does he still miss his mother?”

Obi-Wan’s heart clenched. “Yes. He doesn’t speak about her as often as he used to, but I can still sense his desire to see her again sometimes when he meditates.”

The older Jedi simply hummed in response, leading Obi-Wan up the front steps of the Jedi Temple.

As the two Jedi slipped through the towering front doors they immediately froze, eyes meeting. Something was wrong.

A disturbance in the Force.

They took off as fast as they could, racing up the stairs to find the source of the disturbance in the council chambers. As they flung the massive doors open, they saw Adi, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and Yoda surrounding a dark figure with their lightsabers drawn, meeting the flashes of a red saber with a speed only the Force could provide. In one corner, Yaddle lay, holding a small, clawed hand to a wound in her side. And finally, at the center of the room was a dark figure, fending off the three Jedi masterfully, his dark presence filling the room to the point where it was nearly suffocating.

A dark Lord of the Sith was attacking the Council Chambers.

Hey guys! This is the first chapter of a fic that will be published on AO3. It will explore a world where the Jedi discover Sidious’s plans early on and the ripple effect this has across the galaxy. It will likely skip around a bit between characters and time jumps depending on what I decide to focus on in a particular chapter. It’s not going to be all fluff, but it is going to be a relatively feel-good fic (so not a whole lot of plot). I hope you enjoy!

[solohux]

Okay so i would love to request a something Hux x Reader, where they argue over something. I need some angst. I need some hurtful words, i need some fear!! BUT please let it end good. Or okayish. Or i will literally Die. Thank you c:

You aren’t too sure about how this all began. Armitage is always overprotective, both to your pleasure and annoyance, enjoying how possessive he of you and how he wants to keep you safe but at the same time, you know your limits better than anyone, and most certainly better than him.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Hux says, and you can tell that he’s trying his best not to yell.

“I knew what I was doing, Armitage.” You don’t look at him as you remove your jacket, throwing it across the ice-blue couch and kicking off your muddy boots, happy to be back home after an important mission. “I didn’t need to wait for your permission to take the shot at the Senator. I took my chance and succeeded.”

“Maybe so but the risk of being spotted was higher in that moment than any one previous. You could have been caught, my love.”

“But I wasn’t.” You sigh.

“But you could have. And what would I have done then?”

You shrug, moving past him into the kitchenette to fetch some tea. “Come to save me?”

“What if I couldn’t?”

“Armitage. Stop. Everything is fine.”

“No, no it isn’t, Y/N,” Hux spins around, glaring. He raises his voice now. “You disobeyed me and could have gotten yourself killed and where would that leave me? And yet, you’re insistent that you can handle yourself.”

“Armie—“

“No, Y/N. Do not try to change the subject. You are grounded for the foreseeable future.”

You almost drop your cup in shock, in anger, “You can’t do that!”

Hux, however, seems to remain calm as though he made his mind up hours ago when you first ignored his command to retreat.

“I can, and I already have. You have been removed from the list of eligible field officers and will not leave this ship until I give the word. Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

You can’t believe it. The audacity! You’re the best sniper in the First Order and your General—your boyfriend—has the nerve to ground you. He looks almost smug as he walks away, but you cut in front of him before he reaches the door.

“Let me past, Y/N.”

“Not until you take back what you’ve said. I feel cramped on this ship, Hux. I need these missions to feel free. I’m not like you. I don’t belong behind a desk. Let me go.”

“Absolutely not. If you cannot obey my orders then you will remain here.”

You scoff, “You mean, where you can keep an eye on me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not fair.” You clench your fists in anger.

“Not fair that I don’t want to lose you?”

“No! That you’re so afraid of being alone that you’re prepared to smother me?”

“If you call loving you ‘smothering you’, then you are blind,” Hux grits his teeth. He’s clearly fighting back tears but you presume they’re tears of anger and nothing else.

“Love?” You laugh, so irate. “You don’t know love, General! Or else you wouldn’t treat me like this! You are cold and you are heartless! You’re a droid!”

You regret your words as soon as you’ve spoken. Hux’s face drops immediately, recoiling as though physically hit by your words. The colour drains from his face though his teary eyes remain.

“Armitage. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

But he’s past you, gone out the door, so upset that he’s leaving his own chambers and so has nowhere else to hide but he clearly can’t stay in your presence. Your own words haunt you, twisting like a blade in your chest; how could you hurt the man who only wants to care for you and keep you safe? You admit only to yourself that he was the last thing that flashed across your mind as you took the shot that killed the politician, the old alien who would dare reject proposals from the First Order’s General and laugh at him. Armitage Hux is one of the most intelligent men in the galaxy, handsome and oh-so lovely—

You run your hands down your face, disappointed with yourself. Throwing yourself down onto the couch, you close your eyes in regret and think of your partner, desperate to take it all back—or to simply take a moment and see that he wasn’t trying to control you, just keep you safe.

You are, after all, the only person who’s ever loved him and held him close and kissed him.

You fall asleep like that on the couch, curled up and dreaming of the day you first met General Hux and how you thought his scowl was adorable; the way his nose scrunched up and the way eyes gleamed with a lust for order and neatness. And when he smiled at you—the galaxy fell into place. You can’t help but smile in your sleep, dreaming of your precious ginger General, imagining his hand cupping your cheek.

“I’m sorry, my love.” His voice sounds so real, so close to you. You wearily open your tired eyes and all sleepiness leaves you upon seeing your beloved sitting beside you on the sofa.

“Armitage—!”

“I know, darling.”

“No, you don’t. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. You are your own person and I do not wish to smother you or take away your autonomy. You were right. I am afraid to lose you. I love you. So, so much.”

You sit up, saying nothing else to him but instead you open your arms and take him in, holding him in a tight embrace, an action that speaks more than any more words would. He forgives you, and you forgive him—though, perhaps a candlelit meeting underneath the silk bedsheets wouldn’t go amiss for you both tonight either.

[thanksjro]

The Transformers #23- Chaos Theory Part 2: Everything Ever is Whirl’s Fault, and He Didn’t Even Do Anything This Issue

Before the war, Orion Pax is watching the news. Turns out Nominus Prime got blown up earlier in the day, as Blaster reports from the scene of the crime. We get our first mention of the Militant Monoform Movement as we take a gander at all of Orion’s awards.

Turns out Orion went to college. Wonder what tuition’s like at the Institute of Higher Programming.

An incoming storm messes with the reception, and in walk three guys looking for trouble Whirl. Whirl’s currently in custody, seeing as Orion doesn’t take too kindly to beating suspects within an inch of their life.

General rule of thumb: anyone calling Whirl “popular” or a “friend” is either trying to kill him, or has made the attempt in the past.

So these guys are trying to get Whirl out of jail, using the power of persuasion and being generally threatening. Orion Pax is too much of a good egg to be swayed by such tactics, however, so they’ll have to up the ante.

In the present day, Optimus is having a brooding session in the engine room- I’m only assuming it’s the engine room- and Ratchet checks in.

I suppose “frazzled” is a word we could use, Ratchet, sure.

Optimus feels as if his decision on whether Megatron should be executed or imprisoned for the rest of time is going to be biased either way. Dang, almost sounds like putting it to a vote with the leader of the Autobots would be a better way of handling this, huh Optimus? It’s almost as if you’re compromised here, and we need a little friggin’ democracy going on.

Ratchet asks why he hasn’t consulted the Matrix on this whole situation, breaking out the quotation fingers whilst referring to its wisdom, but Optimus ain’t too sure about all that either. When Optimus first got the Matrix shoved into his body, that shit hurt. It hurt a LOT, and he’d interpreted that as a sort of warning that carrying it was a huge responsibility. Way bigger than taking care of a dog. Now he’s questioning whether or not he actually wants the responsibility.

Hey, if you’re having second thoughts about being Prime, you ought to give Bumblebee a little more room to work and be the leader of the Autobots like you wanted him to be, and maybe consider handing the Matrix back over to Rodimus-

Oh who am I kidding? His martyr complex would NEVER let that happen.

Back in the past, Wheelarch and Springarm are waxing poetic about how cool their new boss Orion Pax is. He’s strong, and heroic, and making a difference in the world, and he’s got just the most beautiful blue eyes-

Anyway, they arrive back at the precinct to discover where all the criminal scum have gotten to- Orion already bagged ‘em.

You know, I think tying suspects to poles in the ground in the office section, packing the room so tightly they can’t even sit or stand comfortably… I think that might be a touch illegal, Orion. Unethical, if nothing else.

A bit later on, Springarm wants to know just what the hell that was all about. Orion’s been thinking about Megatron’s writing, and how he thinks the Senate is institutionally corrupt, and that visit from Whirl’s “friends” is starting to make him think that maybe the guy had a point. It bothers him.

Springarm turns to his faith when he’s feeling bothered by deep questions like whether or not the world government is is enacting a caste-system in an attempt to control the populace.

This just in, the future space pope is a goddamned atheist. Perhaps this is why interfacing with the Matrix hurts him- it relies on a mutual respect between itself and its Prime, and there ain’t nothing less respectful than thinking of the thing as a literal ornament.

Orion thanks Springarm for the advice, but he’s going to work through this without spiritual guidance.

In the present, Optimus meets with Rodimus, and asks a question he’s never been able to ask before: how did it feel to interface with the Matrix?

Well dang, Rodders, tell us how you really feel!

It should be noted that Rodimus does have some level of faith in the gods, the Matrix, the Knights of Cybertron, and several other Cybertronian legends and myths- which sort of makes the MTMTE Knight Quest look like a bit of a crusade, doesn’t it? Does believing in the Matrix let it bond more seamlessly with the bearer? Methinks it just might.

Back in the past, Orion Pax gets back from patrol to find the precinct has been broken into, and his two motorbike boys aren’t doing so hot.

Oh man, Valve’s going to be pissed.

Moving real stealthy-like, Orion moves to the holding cells, where he catches those guys from earlier trying to spring Whirl from jail. Well, two of them anyway. The third guy is behind him, and shoots him in the back.

Luckily, Orion’s old body-frame includes a backpack, and this move doesn’t kill him. He sweeps the leg of his assailant, shoots Whirl in the leg so he can’t escape, then runs to his trophy case to grab the fancy gun someone gave him. Wonder what it was for.

Alas! It’s not loaded. Which you ought to expect from an award gun, unless you loaded it yourself before you put it in the case. Which he didn’t, clearly.

Three versus one, and the solo act doesn’t have any weapons. What’s a guy to do?

This is deeply silly. I adore it.

Thinking quickly, Orion drags Springarm’s headless body into a closet. This isn’t necessarily a smart move, but give it a second. As the three thugs discuss murder-based puns, Orion prepares to enact a Roberts’ writing essential.

Corpse desecration.

Riding his coworker’s lifeless body through the precinct, he runs down his attackers, stabs one of them in the throat with one of his arm cannons in front of all the ‘bots currently in the cells, and goes to find Whirl.

Whirl, who knows to get going while the getting’s good, warns Orion that the Senate has eyes everywhere, and if he so much as touches Whirl his whole life is gonna get turned upside down and inside out, and not in a fun way. And he’d know.

Smash cut to the Grand Imperium, home of the Senate, where everything is blue and gold, fear tactics are at play on the political stage, and everyone is suffering from a nasty case of same-face syndrome. Senator Proteus is about to enact the Clampdown, a strict rule of martial law that will, under the guise of protecting the people and weeding out terrorism, in actuality allow the Senate to hoard power like a bunch of dragons.

Then Orion shows up, after fighting off the entirety of the Senate security force, while carrying a one-legged Whirl.

Got a nice shot of some bird ass, and Orion’s honkers are halfway out. I wonder if this particular chunk of fan-service was specified in the script, or if this is purely Milne.

Sentinel calls off the dogs, and Orion has his say. He throws Whirl on the floor, introducing him to everyone as the cause of every problem ever. Well, not really, but pretty close.

Orion, you can’t just say a guy caused two people to die and then not expect to have to deal with the repercussions of pummeling his psyche at some point down the road.

Orion goes on to mention Megatron, bringing up his writings and how they revealed to him the dark, ugly underbelly of the Senate that he’d been blind to until that point. This is still the guy who arrested drug addicts for using and tied them to a pole, by the by. He’s less than 48 hours into this Megatron kick, and still got a lot to rectify within himself.

Orion coins the term “Autobots”, reclaiming a friggin’ slur the other races in the galaxy have taken to calling the Cybertronians.

I wasn’t kidding.

The Senate members are starting to get rowdy about being called out on their bullshit, and have Orion removed from the building, but not before he can ask Megatron’s three questions:

1. In whose interests do the Senate exercise their power?

2. To whom is the Senate accountable?

3. How can the populace get rid of them?

No answers are given, as he’s taken away. He did use Megatron’s name, by the way. His full one, with the “of Tarn” attached and mentioned where he worked. Smooth moves, Orion. Now Megatron’s going to be targeted for politically-charged murder.

In the present, Optimus Prime’s made a decision on what exactly to do with Megatron- and his decision is to let Megatron decide his fate, because freedom is the right of all sentient beings, and part of that is getting to choose your fate.

Megatron picks death, like, immediately.

Optimus gets the Matrix back from Ratchet, who he left its care in- he wanted to be sure that he was still the person he had been back when he made that speech to the Senate. Glad your crisis of self went well, Optimus.

Back in the past, Orion Pax meets with a senator in front of the Ark-1 memorial, very secret-like. See this senator’s seen all the nonsense that goes on in the Senate, and he’s about had it. Forget what all Megatron wrote about, it’s way, way worse in reality. He can’t prove it, but the attack on Nominus Prime was an inside job, so that the Senate could get their hands on the Matrix and figure out how it creates life.

I know, it’s crazy.

Things will probably pop off very soon, so the Senator’s taken the liberty of modifying Orion Pax’s chest cavity while he was passed out receiving repairs.

So the guy made a little hidey-hole for the Matrix in Orion’s body, so that he could one day be Prime.

Hey.

Hey, Senator.

Consent is sexy, man. Don’t be like that.

[robert-c]

The Pandemic

So far I’ve tried to focus on more fundamental issues that, while currently relevant, are less topical. Today I need to speak about the COVID-19 pandemic.

It should be clear to anyone who is following the real facts, that our response could have and should have been better and sooner, as there were ample early warnings. A global pandemic is a disaster scenario the last several presidents have been briefed about, because all of the experts knew it was a matter of when, not if, one would strike.

It should also go without saying that the primary opinions that matter in crafting a response are those of the medical professionals. Certainly not the “gut” of a “think they know it all”. And certainly not the concerns of multi-millionaires (especially politicians) who are afraid their stock portfolios will lose too much money. It may be possible to cloud the issue of just what could/should have been done sooner, but nothing changes the fact that this president (who deserves no more name recognition) eliminated our CDC liaison position in China six months before the outbreak in Wuhan, and has repeatedly tried to cut funding to the CDC and other critical scientific agencies.

This president’s divisive and ignorant rhetoric came at time when we needed a real leader to help us come together and coordinate a response. Instead, what we’ve been getting are potentially self-serving cure all myths (the malaria drugs which actually had more coronavirus patients die than those not given the drug), definitely dangerous suggestions (that we should look into how we could use disinfectants internally to knock out the virus), strong indications of vindictive allocations of needed supplies (away from blue states and areas in favor of red ones), and attempts to showboat as a leader while doing nothing but claiming credit for whatever good news there actually is (and making it up when there isn’t any.)

Look at what relief this president’s party has provided. A paltry sum for the average citizen (but making sure his name is on the checks), forgivable loans to small businesses with loopholes large enough to allow major corporations to benefit, as well as outright set asides for major corporations in major industries. All while making sure that unemployment funds are not supplemented for the states. While the president has refrained from some of the most heinous suggestions (e.g. that seniors and others at higher risk should just be willing to die to avoid tanking the economy), he certainly hasn’t disavowed those sentiments.

Even so, it is a ridiculous idea even if you are willing to put a dollar and cent value on lives. What sort of disastrous economic impact do you think having 500,000 to 1,000,000 deaths in the US will do to the economy versus perhaps ultimately 100,000 to 200,000 by sticking to our safety measures?

Until now, this president’s buffoonery was something to shake your head at and hope that we could quickly reverse when he is voted out of office. While there would be damage, it seemed like most of it could be repaired. But this pandemic is something we cannot undo. There will be many more dead than needed to be, and many more changes in our society than might have been necessary. Worst of all, more divisiveness, more “us versus them”; because stoking an angry emotional response is the best way to get people to NOT listen to their own reason and rationality. And that is exactly what this president needs to stay in power – people who won’t think things through, who will accept his (ever changing) version of the facts, because it satisfies fears of theirs.

I know the cowardly Republican lap dogs of the Senate won’t ever hold him accountable, but this president has done more to besmirch the office and circumvent the checks and balances of power than any president since Nixon. The lack of principle and courage to even investigate these actions should make virtually every Republican member of the Senate ashamed and rightfully removed from office by the citizens of both the left and the right.

The endless blame games, scapegoating and conspiracy theorizing of this president stand in stark contrast to the sort of leadership President Bush exhibited following the 9/11 attacks. His address to the first responders at “the pile” in NYC was even better than his speech to Congress. It was unifying and connected with people instead of tooting his own horn, or blaming others for our current problems in responding.

An ignorant distrust of science and experts characterizes this president and his hardest core supporters. When their fanciful beliefs were confined to political slander and “junk science” (like vaccines cause autism, windmills cause cancer, or denying climate change) they could largely be ignored as the rantings of the willfully uninformed. But when it comes to a worldwide pandemic that is infecting millions and killing hundreds of thousands, and is not over yet, then it rises to the level that can only be described as “criminal stupidity”.

There are real problems for the small businesses and sole practitioners who are closed completely because they are not “essential” and I sympathize as a former small businessman (actually a sole practitioner consultant). But those wanting to rush the opening of the economy don’t really care about these people, or they would have done a better job of ensuring that the aid reached these folks instead of large businesses with deep pockets for campaign donations. This rush to reopen the economy is a self-serving political stunt and panders to the least informed of the electorate.

The bungling of early warning, adequate supplies and testing put America at special risk because we are a nation of “individualists”. Often that individualism is a good thing, but sometimes, like now, it exacerbates a problem. This is when there needs to be trust in the experts and a unifying leadership to encourage all of us “rugged individualists” to think (just a little for a time) about the good of others as well as ourselves. We are not a compliant populace, so the need for leadership by example is all the more important.

We do not have a long history of being ruled by absolute authorities, like the Chinese. After a short initial period of trying to deny the outbreak for image reasons, when the Chinese government accepted the reality of the situation they moved swiftly to impose controls, and they largely didn’t have to worry about public backlash. The Swedes have avoided full lockdowns, and while there is still uncertainty about this policy it seems to be working because the Swedes trust their government and scientific agencies and their people are taking sensible precautions individually because it isn’t an “all about me” culture.

The US has neither of these situations. The first is our political legacy and the second is mostly an issue of leadership. We have shown in the past that we can come together as a nation and solve problems for our common good. But in every case, we had a leader who showed us the way, who encouraged us to listen to our better angels. We have never endured a crisis with someone who got to his position through the exploitation of fear, anger and divisiveness.

It is my fervent hope that this is not the model for how we go forward, because if it is, we are all doomed; either to die from some natural catastrophe that could have been avoided or minimized, or to fall victim to a dictatorship of self-congratulatory smiley faces – like a Kim Jong Un, whom our president likes so much.

In the absence of scientifically based leadership, I’m calling on all the people still willing to use their brains instead of their emotions to follow the directions and advice of the medical professionals in the field of infectious disease, and ignore the advice of political leaders, looking to score a win with those want a rapid return to business as usual.

For those whose income has not been affected by the closures I encourage you to give significantly to individuals you know have been hurt by the closures. These are the people whose services you used, but cannot at this time. Perhaps the personal generosity of good people can offset somewhat the inadequate and self-serving response that was all our mostly Republican Senate would allow.

[7-wonders]

Inside Out

Summary: After one too many instances of Duncan being the token stuck-up rich guy, you’re ready to show him how the rest of America lives by taking him through a day in your life.

Word Count: 6746

A/N: Oofta, this is long. Sorry about that. Hope you guys enjoy; feedback is always appreciated, my inbox is always open, and I’d love it if you would reblog this. Thanks!

The first time that it happened while you were out with Duncan, you were willing to excuse it. He had been grappling with a stock market dip that threatened to send the Shepherd Foundation into a financial crisis, so him not bothering to look up from his phone to place an order, as well as not tipping the barista, was something that you had quickly forgiven. A smile towards the overworked employee and a folded ten dropped into the tip jar is sure to make their day better, something that you know from experience. Besides, there’s no way that Duncan would be the type of person to not tip; the man has more money than he knows what to do with. Even with that reassurement in your mind, your smile still falters when he takes the coffee from the barista without even bothering to thank him.

The second time that it happened, you were talking yourself through a list of errands that needed to be ran on your day off, trying to figure out the most logical plan of action for what you needed to accomplish. When you had shook your head before angrily muttering that you “can’t fucking afford taking the car to get the oil changed” and deciding to change your own oil, Duncan had scoffed.

“That’s a joke, right?” He had laughed, looking up at you over the thin frame of the glasses he wore for working at his computer.

“Uh, no? I’ve been putting off getting my oil changed for months now, and since I still don’t have the extra money to go and get it changed I just need to change it myself before my engine stops working.” You were sure that the look of confusion on your face was almost comical, but you had never met anyone who was baffled at the idea of a car’s oil being changed.

“Don’t people do that for you?”

“Yeah, but that costs a lot more money than just going to the auto store and buying the oil so I can change it myself. I’ve done it before; it’s not difficult, just tedious.”

Duncan mulled the words you spoke, the idea of goods being exchanged for services such as auto mechanics obviously not having crossed his mind before. He didn’t bring it up again, but you could see the disdain in his expression at the thought of you having to do something as low-brow as changing your own oil. The next day, you “found” a hundred dollar bill tucked in the pocket of your jacket, as if Duncan thought you were stupid enough to believe that you had just missed the money in your pocket before (you didn’t give it back though; although you had already changed the oil yourself the night before, the money was still more than enough to buy you groceries for two weeks and still have some left over).

The more time that you spent with Duncan, the more that you saw the less undesirable aspects of his personality that you had purposely turned a blind eye too when you first got into a relationship with the man. That’s not to say that you’re this perfect human who never makes a mistake; quite the opposite, in fact. You’re clumsy, opinionated, and prone to engaging in heated debates about topics that you’re passionate about with random strangers.

The one thing that you’re not? Entitled.

Duncan Shepherd, you’ve realized after three months of dating, is one of the most entitled people that you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be too shocking that the heir of a multi-million dollar political foundation and one of the most influential lobbyists in Washington expects everything to be handed to him on a silver platter, but you had been wooed by his intelligence and wit far quicker than you could see how he treated those who he thought to be “beneath” him. The little one-off insults, which he probably thought nothing more of once the words left his mouth, were a daily occurence now, although you’re sure that’s because you’re looking for them now.

After a bicyclist blocked the lane because a police car was in the bike lane: “Maybe if they could afford to get a ride somewhere, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting killed on their commute.”

When the waiter at a fancy restaurant apologized for the delay in seating: “Do you people even know who I am? Who my family is?”

Upon seeing a food drive donation center in the lobby of his building: “Again? Didn’t they just do one a month ago?”

After you gave money and food to the nice homeless lady who sits outside of your building: “You know that she’s probably conning you? That’s their game, most of them go to their house after this and laugh at people like you, with your heart on your sleeve and always willing to blindly give.”

The negativity got tiring, if you were being honest. It’s entirely possible that he is right when he tells you that you see the world through rose-tinted glasses, but is it such a bad thing to see the positives in people? To understand their struggles and want to brighten up their day or help them in any way that you can? You really don’t think that it is.

The breaking point comes when Duncan comes over to your apartment after work. You’ve just barely finished putting the perishable foods that you bought at the grocery store away, yelling for Duncan to let himself in so you don’t have to set everything down. You don’t even have to look at him to know that his nose is crinkling as he takes in your small apartment. Small in Duncan’s world, at least. For you, it’s the perfect size and you love how cozy it is. Stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, you turn and kiss him on the cheek when he wraps his arms around you.

“How was your day off?” He mutters into your ear. Finals are finally over, which means that you’ve been able to enjoy a rare day off before your work schedule kicks in.

“Busy. I still have to fold the laundry that I finished this morning, I cleaned the place for almost an hour, and I just got back from grocery shopping.”

“Do you need help putting the rest of your groceries away?” You’re mildly shocked that he’s willing to do any sort of chore, but nod nonetheless.

It’s silent for a minute while you both go to work at removing items from the bags and placing them on the counter. When you finish with your bags, you turn to see Duncan holding a package in his hand.

“What’s this?”

“Uh, coffee?”

“No, it’s not.” You furrow your brows, snatching the bag from him and turning it to make sure that you did, in fact, buy your favorite brand of coffee.

“Yes it is. Same brand I’ve been buying for a year now.”

“But...it’s already ground?” He looks just as confused as you feel right now.

“What other form would it come in?”

“Everybody I know grinds their coffee beans at home.”

“I don’t really have time for that, and plus this is way cheaper than buying actual coffee beans.”

“I’ll have to buy you a coffee grinder.” Duncan muses, pivoting towards the corner where your coffee maker sits. “And maybe a new coffee machine, too? Seriously, (Y/N), did you get this at the Salvation Army? What if--”

Your vision goes red as he starts to nitpick at your personal assets, rage blocking your ears from hearing what else he’s saying. It’s infuriating, to have this man that you deeply care for, and who knows that you’re from two very different upbringings, go through your items and decide what is up to his standard.

“--are you even listening?” Duncan asks, suddenly looking at you now. Breathing deeply, you place a hand on the counter before looking up at him.

“You know, you’re extremely entitled.” His eyes widen, and he looks almost offended by your statement. Good, you think bitterly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not entitled, (Y/N).”

“You, Duncan Shepherd, are arguably the most entitled motherfucker I’ve ever met.” You raise a hand in warning when he starts to open his mouth, letting him know that you’re not finished. “You think you can come in here, look through all of my things, and tell me what I should do better? I’m so sorry that not all of us have the money or means to buy a fucking state-of-the-art coffee grinder.”

“Is this about money?” Duncan says after a long moment. “Because I’ve told you before, I will gladly pay for anything you desire.”

“No, it’s not about the money! Jesus, Duncan, I’m not a charity case.” You throw your hands up. “You think that everyone who isn’t in your tax bracket is below you, and it’s disgusting to watch.”

“Name one example.” He scoffs, leaning against the fridge and glancing at his watch like this is a waste of his time.

“Literally whenever we go out. When have you ever tipped someone?”

“I expect a high degree of service. They shouldn’t automatically expect a tip, they should have to work for it--”

“And when have you ever done a fucking honest day’s work in your life?” You cut him off.

“What are you even talking about?” Duncan asks in disbelief. “I work every single day for countless hours.”

“Yeah, at your family’s foundation.” You bite back, pushing yourself off of the counter and facing mere inches away from him. “The only job you’ve ever had is one in a comfy office that’s had your name inscribed on the door since the day you were born.”

“That’s not the only--”

“Oh, right, I’m forgetting your illustrious college internship with the Senate Majority Leader. Silly me! I forget, Dunc, did your mom stop seeing him four or five years ago?” Duncan grips your wrist in his large hand, yanking you against his chest.

“I suggest you take a few deep breaths before you say something that you’ll really regret.” He warns lowly, visibly seething when you laugh.

“‘Regret?’ I don’t regret anything about this! Do you know when I first got a job? It was right after I turned sixteen. My parents made it clear to me that I needed to work for what I wanted in life, and that it was time for me to start making my own money. I worked two jobs until I was nineteen, and the only reason I cut back to one is so that I could do a work-study and take some of the money off of my student loans.

“And please don’t mistake this as bitterness, because it’s not. I fully believe that money, if taken for granted, poisons people from the inside out. Rich people like you don’t understand anything about living a normal life. I can’t just hire somebody to go get groceries for me, or do my laundry, or drive me around, or buy my fucking stupid-ass goat shoes when there’s a limited-edition release and I can’t be bothered to stand among everyone else.” You shake your head in disdain, tears pricking at your eyes. “Your wealth has poisoned you, Duncan. You can complain about struggling all you want, but your only struggle is that you would be absolutely lost if you weren’t able to throw your money at all of your problems to make them go away.”

The air in the apartment is heavy, feeling much the same way as it does after a summer storm has swept through the area and washed away the heat of a Washington July day, only leaving behind the humidity and steam from the evaporating rain. Your chest heaves, a weight off of your shoulders now that the words that have been building up inside you are finally out in the open. Duncan stares at you, lips parted as he tries to form some sort of comeback to what you just said. You laugh lowly, wiping your eyes on your sleeve and gazing out the window to avoid looking at him.

“You should go,” you say quietly, “it’s almost time for dinner, and I wouldn’t want to soil your refined palate with the three-day old spaghetti I’ll be eating.”

You’re expecting him to leave, to storm out the door and not speak to you until you physically can’t handle the silent treatment any longer. That’s why, the more time that passes without any sign of movement, the more rage that starts to course through your body.

“Why are you still here?” You finally confront, spinning around to face Duncan. His eyes meet yours, the blue shade darkened by the tears he’s been holding back.

“I don’t care how mad you are, (Y/N), but I’m not just leaving after an unresolved fight.” Duncan’s calm demeanor only infuriates you more, and you huff loudly as you roll your eyes.

“Fine, whatever, go ahead and stay! But don’t expect me to say anything to you.” He wants to say something else, but instead he sighs and nods.

“Duly noted.”

It’s easy to ignore Duncan at first. He sits patiently at your counter, almost as if he expects you to apologize to him (for what, you’re not sure). If he’s going to annoy you with his presence, you decide, you’re going to annoy him as much as possible. The music on your bluetooth speaker is turned up as far as it can possibly go without you getting noise complaints from your neighbors, and you’re sure to play the rock music that Duncan absolutely hates. It’s kind of fun to purposefully ignore him, and the giant glass of wine you have with your leftover spaghetti makes you snicker everytime you furiously avoid eye contact with him. The only time you do make eye contact with him is when you go to bed, staring at the man sitting on your couch while you shut the door to your bedroom.

Unfortunately, Duncan’s a master of deciphering when, where, and how to pick his battles. An hour into tossing and turning in your bed, right when you’re starting to get lonely enough to consider opening up the door and begrudgingly asking him to move off of the couch, Duncan sneaks into your room and slides into bed next to you. You sigh when his arms wrap around you, but your body relaxes against his anyways.

“You were right.” Duncan breaks the silence with a sentence that you’ve never heard come out of his mouth.

“Seriously?” You’re shocked and tired, which doesn’t make your sentences the most coherent.

“I don’t understand what it’s like, and I do tend to use my wealth to my advantage and to belittle others. I just didn’t realize I was doing it to you, too.”

“Why is it any different when you do that stuff to me?”

“Because I care about you.”

“See, that’s another thing you don’t get, Dunc. Basic human decency towards everyone, even strangers, goes a long way. You should strive to treat everybody nicely, as opposed to just those you care about. Money can only get you so much, in terms of connections and friendships.” You mutter, breathing steadily so that you don’t launch into another tirade against him.

Duncan stays quiet, mulling over his next words carefully. He’s thinking for so long, in fact, that the steady feeling of his chest rising and falling almost lulls you to sleep. When he speaks, you don’t fully comprehend what he’s saying. Duncan has to shake you slightly to get your attention, making you whine before you turn over to pitifully glare at him.

“I was almost asleep.” You grumble, a yawn slipping out of your mouth.

“You can sleep after this,” he promises quickly. “(Y/N), I want to understand what you go through. Your life is incredibly different from mine, and at the risk of sounding conceited, I want to experience what it’s like to live ‘normally’ for a day.”

“You know that means you can’t use your black card? Or call your driver, or utilize any of your assistants, or--”

“Yes, I understand. I’m completely ready to do things for myself.” You cock an eyebrow at him, but nod nonetheless.

“Okay then.” Wanting to tease him more is quickly nullified by the fluttering of your eyelids as they forcefully drag shut, desperate for you to sleep.

Something’s off when you wake up, but you’re not sure what it is at first. Rolling your head to the side, the first thing that you notice is that your bed is empty of the man who laid there mere hours ago. The second thing you notice, and the thing that has you immediately awake and jumping out of bed, is loud cursing and the smell of something burning. Your mind is racing with all of the possible worst-case scenarios that could have led to the current predicament--faulty wiring, a charger exploding, somebody breaking into your apartment and lighting the curtains on fire (that last one is definitely a little far-fetched, but your anxiety doesn’t really care)--while you round the corner and slide into the living room.

Your fears are extinguished, but your confusion is only increased. Duncan curses between his teeth while he throws a smoking pan into your sink, flipping the water on to help quell the burning. Your nose crinkles at the scent of charred food, and you open the windows to help clear out the smell.

“What the hell did you do?” Duncan’s eyes are wide when he turns to face you, expression mirroring that of a child who just got caught with his hands full of forbidden treats.

“I thought I would try to cook breakfast, but that didn’t really go to plan.”

“Ya think?” You tease, examining the stove to see where he went wrong. “For starters, the burner’s up way too high; that barely gives you enough time to cook your food before it’s starting to char. What were you trying to make?”

“Bacon?” Duncan says sheepishly, cheeks a bright pink as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “And then it started popping and sizzling, and the grease--”

You can’t help the sympathetic smile that pops onto your face as he holds a hand in your eyesight. Sure enough, he’s got his own battle wounds from the hot grease landing on his skin. It’s minor, but grease blisters are still a pain in the ass to deal with.

“Aw, Dunc.” You coo, kissing his hand where the blister sits. Duncan hisses slightly through his teeth at the sudden coolness of your lips against his irritated skin, but he doesn’t move his hand until after you pull away with a wink. “Have you never made breakfast before?”

“No. We always had kitchen staff when I was growing up, and I don’t even eat breakfast until I get to the office now and I can make one of the interns grab me something.” He admits, averting his gaze when he mentions growing up with a kitchen staff.

“At least you wooed me with your pasta-making abilities before you attempted to make breakfast.” You reassure him, kissing him quickly. It’s easy to see that he’s genuinely trying to stick to the challenge that he imposed upon himself last night, and you don’t want to dampen his spirits before the day’s even begun. “I think I have some cereal in the cabinet, if you’re hungry? That’s one food that you can’t burn.”

You notice with delight that Duncan already started the coffee, and you eagerly fill your favorite mug up with some. Stirring some creamer in, you readily take a sip in the hopes that it will wake you up. Although it does wake you up, it’s not from the caffeine being consumed. Instead, the bitter, burnt taste has you coughing in disgust, dumping the coffee out and filling your mug up with water to wash the taste out of your mouth. Glancing over at the table, Duncan smiles awkwardly at you, a mouth full of cereal.

“Sorry.”

Breakfast was rougher than you had thought it would be, so you decide the next ‘task’ for Duncan will be something much easier: laundry. Duncan had blanched when you told him to cancel his laundry service for this week, but he wasn’t going to back down when it came to showing you that he was more than capable of doing things for himself.

“You have this nice laundry room that you don’t even use?” Glancing around the spacious laundry room, that’s arguably the size of your bedroom, you’re shocked.

“No, it’s just easier to get it sent out.”

“It may be more convenient, but it’s also a lot more expensive than doing your own laundry.”

You sit on top of the dryer, waiting for Duncan to return with his laundry basket. You’re still mildly befuddled that you didn’t know this laundry room was a part of Duncan’s penthouse apartment, but it’s a very large place, and it’s very easy to get distracted when your sexy boyfriend makes it his mission to fuck you on every available surface of the capacious apartment. You were even nice enough to bring your own laundry detergent and dryer sheets; it wasn’t necessary to ask if he had the supplies to do his own laundry when you already knew the answer.

Finally he returns, pushing the sleeves of his black cashmere sweater up to his elbows after he sets the basket down. You’re momentarily distracted at the ripple of his muscles before looking away in the hopes that he didn’t notice, but the smirk that paints his face makes it obvious that he’s noticed. He always does. Holding out a large hand towards you, he effortlessly helps you off of the dryer.

“So where do we start?”

“Where do you start?” You correct, snickering at the panicked expression on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“Laundry really isn’t that difficult, Duncan. Surely you did your laundry in college?” The guilty look on his face makes you groan loudly. “Really, Dunc?”

“Look, everybody I knew in college had their laundry sent out--”

“All senators’ sons and the heirs of influential families?” You barely pause, knowing what he’s going to say. “Look, I’ll help you with the first load, but after that you’re on your own.”

“Thank you.” He says brightly, kissing your forehead before dumping all of his clothes into the washer.

“Uh, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna separate those?” He turns around, face a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

“Like, one load for shirts and one load for pants?” You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, shaking your head slightly.

“Not...exactly. More like one load for all your lights and one load for all your darks.”

“Why?”

“So that way, the colors don’t bleed and turn your clothes different colors. Here,” grabbing the first item you see that isn’t black, you turn and hold up his light blue dress sock, “what pile would this go in?”

“The...da--lights?” He guesses, grinning when you nod.

“Yeah, exactly! It’s not as difficult as you think it will be; the lighter colors and whites go in one load, and then your darks go in another. Considering the majority of your wardrobe is black, I wouldn’t be too worried.”

“I think I’ve got it?” Duncan says hesitantly.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. I want to do this myself, I want to prove to you than I can do this.” He’s so eager that it makes your heart twist painfully, but you nod and caress his cheek.

“Alright. Just yell for me if you need me, okay?” He nods, playfully slapping your ass as you turn to leave.

The experience of Duncan doing his laundry seems to go much easier than making breakfast, and eventually the sound of the machines doing their job and Duncan humming has you dozing on his couch. You’re barely propped up on your hand, only keeping yourself awake by your head dropping and startling you back awake momentarily. You’re half-tempted to just say ‘fuck it’ and take a nap, since it really does seem like Duncan’s got the hang of this laundry thing. Of course, the second you actually do let your head drop back against the cushions, Duncan’s loud “shit!” has you jolting up off of the couch.

“What happened, did you set the laundry room on fire?” You’re having visions of Duncan managing to set anything and everything on fire; maybe his family had an actual reason for never teaching him how to do things for himself, maybe it’s because he’s a walking matchstick.

“No, worse.” He says sadly. You hustle into the laundry room, stopping in the doorway when you see the dejected look on his face.

“Oh no.” You try to look as sympathetic as possible, but it’s hard when Duncan’s sadly holding up a baby pink button down shirt.

“I could have sworn I separated all of the whites, but I guess this was stuck to something?”

“Dunc, what do you even own that’s red?”

“My red Gucci blazer that I got a month ago.” He groans.

“Baby, it’s okay.” You soothe, taking the shirt from him and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“This has happened to you before?” He asks brightly, pleased that you’ve also experienced the same thing.

“Well, no…but I have friends who have had this happen to them!” Duncan sighs, clenching his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “Hey, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I can’t even manage to do the laundry right.” Slipping past him, you glance inside the washer to look at the other clothes.

“Look, that shirt’s the only casualty! I’d say that you did pretty good.”

“Really?” He doesn’t believe you, but you’re determined to get rid of that heartbroken look on his face.

“Yes. Drying’s the easy part, we just hang up all your shirts and dress slacks to dry, and then we can use the dryer for everything else.”

You start sorting through the washed clothes, throwing the ones that need to be hung up on top of the dryer. Duncan goes to work at hanging those up on hangers, while you set the dryer to the needed settings. Looking at the man in front of you after you’ve finished, you’re struck by this moment of sudden domesticity. You’ve never really seen Duncan do chores before, and the quiet, comforting silence of working together to finish laundry is odd. Nice, but definitely odd.

“So? Ready to call it a day?” You ask once Duncan’s finished.

“No. I told you I was going to make it through a whole day, and I’m not backing out now.” It’s only noon, and at the rate things are going you’re a little worried that living life in the ‘middle class’ is going to absolutely wreck him by the end of the day.

“You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. What’s next in a normal day for you?”

“Hmm, what sounds scarier to you: going to the grocery store or washing a car?”

“Neither of those are scary, (Y/N).” You roll your eyes.

“Yes, I know that, but which one strikes the fear of God into your soul at the mere thought?” Duncan’s entirely unamused, but plays along anyways.

“I guess washing a car?”

“Alright then, we’ll wash the car before we go to get groceries.” Duncan just barely bites back a whine, resolving to stay strong like he’s intended.

“Why is washing the car a big deal? We’re just going through the automatic one, right?” Duncan asks once you’re both safely in your beloved car and driving towards your destination.

“We could go through the automatic one,” you chuckle, “but considering I don’t get paid until next week and we’re making this as realistic as possible, I’m going to pay the four dollars for the manual wash and we can wash it ourselves.”

“You’ve washed your own car before?” Duncan’s legitimately aghast at this admission, the mere idea of such an act of labor incomprehensible.

“Why is this more surprising to you than when you learned I could change my own oil?”

“Huh...I don’t know, actually. Maybe the knowledge that I have to help out with this particular task?”

You pull into the empty car wash stall, pulling four dollars from your center console and handing it to Duncan.

“Here, go put that in the machine for me, please?” You smile widely, pecking his lips when he takes the money from you and opens the door.

Hopping out of the car, you grab the rubber floor mats and prop them up against the wall before meandering over to Duncan, who’s carefully reading the instructions on the machine.

“Ready? Once you put the cash in, the timer starts.” You grab the spray wand from its docking station.

Duncan feeds the bills into the machine, which beeps at him to let him know that the time has started. He tentatively takes the spray wand from you, and you press the ‘wash’ button on the machine.

“Just make sure to not stand too close to the car, or else the water pressure could damage the paint.” You remind him. Experimentally pressing the trigger, Duncan jumps at the sudden spray of water that douses your car.

“Am I doing it wrong?” He looks to you to make sure he hasn’t screwed this up.

“No, you’re fine! Keep going.” You encourage him.

It takes him a little bit to get the hang of it, but soon he’s spraying the car like he’s done this a million times before.

“What next?” He asks, watching while you press the ‘soap’ button.

“Now it’s the soap. Just do the same thing that you just did.” Duncan’s face lights up at the stream of bubbles appearing on the end of the wand, quickly maneuvering it so that it gets on the car. “That’s good,” you call once the timer beeps for the final two minutes, “now grab the brush.”

“And scrub the car?”

“Exactly!” Duncan’s hesitant at first, and you can tell that he’s worried about scraping your car.

While Duncan works on scrubbing your car, you turn the wand back to the rinse setting and clean off your floor mats. Your quiet hums abruptly turn to a loud squeal when something cold and wet touches your hair, jumping as it drips down your back. Whipping around, you playfully gasp at the sight of Duncan with soapy hands.

“That wasn’t in your job description.”

“Neither is this.” Your grin morphs to a look of shock when Duncan swipes his hand across your nose, leaving a trail of bubbles on your face. Duncan laughs loudly when the foreign object makes you sneeze, wiping his hands on the rag he grabbed.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” You ask, lunging over to grab a handful of the bubbles.

Duncan grabs at your hand in an attempt to stop you, but you’re just quick enough to lightly slap his face and paint his cheek with the suds. He growls playfully, and you laugh while you try to pull away from his grip. He wraps his strong arms around your torso, easily lifting you up in the air while you shriek. The furious kicking of your legs does nothing to stop him, and he blows one last scoop of bubbles in your face.

The battle comes to an end when Duncan lowers you back to your feet, hands still resting on your ass. He smiles down at you, wiping the remaining bubbles off of your face with a gentle touch. Once he’s certain that your face is clean, he kisses you deeply. You have to stand on your tiptoes to even comfortably reach him, his firm grip on your ass helping slightly to keep you level with him. The shrill beeping of the timer sends you both jumping apart, glancing at the angry red LED screen as it reads 00:00.

“I think I have another dollar in my car.” You mumble, fingers intertwining with his.

“No need, I have one.” Sure enough, Duncan produces a dollar from his back pocket, feeding it to the machine without taking his eyes off of you.

The car is washed without any more incidents, and you and Duncan are on your way to the grocery store.

“Wait, why aren’t we stopping at Whole Foods?” Duncan’s euphoria at finally accomplishing a task today is quickly replaced with confusion as you pass by the chic building with its iconic green lettering.

“I already told you that I don’t get paid until next week, and even if I did get paid today, Whole Foods is the sort of place I only shop at when I get my tax refund.”

“So, where are we going?” You wish you had your phone camera out so that you could capture the look of absolute horror on Duncan’s face when you tell him.

“Walmart.”

There’s a reason you’ve been saving grocery shopping for the final activity of the day. Although these other tasks have been challenging for Duncan, you feel like this one will be the most eye opening. He’s never had to budget for food like you have to every week, deciding which staples are more important depending on what’s the lowest price. He doesn’t get the struggle of only having thirty bucks to buy enough groceries to last you two weeks, and he’s certainly never had to buy the generic brand of anything. This isn’t so that he can pity you; instead, it’s so that he can truly see what the people he treats like garbage have to go through. The baristas who depend on tips to buy their food, the homeless woman who can get fresh fruits for her kids with the money that you give her, even the canned goods that you buy from here so that you can donate to the food drive in his building.

Duncan holds onto you tightly as you enter the supermarket, eyes darting around as he takes in this uncharted territory. For you, this place is all-too-familiar, but Duncan’s experiencing a Walmart for the first time.

“Why are there so many screaming kids here?” He whispers in your ear.

“Just a hallmark of any Walmart, I guess.” You pull your grocery list up on your phone, mentally plotting out what aisles you’ll hit first. “Okay, I need eggs, juice, rice, pasta, breakfast foods, almond milk, bread, and peanut butter. Maybe some fruit and vegetables, too?”

“‘Maybe?’ Are the ones you like not in season?” You turn red, picking at your fingernail to avoid looking at him.

“No, sometimes they’re too expensive and I can’t afford to buy them.” You mutter quickly. For some reason, you didn’t think that the issue of money would be brought up while you were buying groceries; willful ignorance, on your part.

“Oh.” Duncan says, as though he hadn’t quite realized that sometimes people have to forego certain things in order to make ends meet. Maybe he didn’t realize that until now, you muse; it’s not as if his childhood nannies did the Shepherd family grocery shopping here.

“Let’s just go.” You try to change the subject, swinging the cart around to go down the aisles.

“Does that happen a lot?” Duncan asks as you begin to walk down the first aisle.

“Does what happen a lot?”

“You not being able to buy groceries?”

“Oh, it’s not that I can’t buy any groceries, but I like to have some leftover money in case of emergencies and so that I have some to give to Marta.”

“Marta?” Duncan asks.

“The ‘homeless’ woman that sits outside my building, the one you’re convinced is conning me? She sits there on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while she works odd jobs the other days of the week until she gets a call back for a job interview. Her kids are in school during the day, and they don’t know that they’re on the verge of homelessness. I try to give Marta at least ten bucks a week, that way she can make it to the Dollar Store and get some food for her and the kids.”

“Really?” His voice comes out quietly, and you have to lean closer to hear.

“Of course. There’s good, honest people like Marta who have just fallen on some hard times, and I want to be able to help those people in any way I can. Being charitable isn’t a negative trait.” Duncan’s silent, mulling over what you’ve just told him.

“But you still have to limit yourself to do that?” He finally questions.

“No, it’s just that I have to sometimes skip a couple of items so that I can buy the essentials.”

“What are the essentials?”

“Stuff that I can make multiple meals out of. Bread is a big one,” you grab a loaf of bread from the shelf and toss it into the cart, “I can make sandwiches, french toast, garlic bread, and I can make breadcrumbs to top almost anything.”

“And rice and pasta?”

“Again, I can make almost anything using that as a staple. Chicken fried rice, casseroles, any type of crockpot meal. With the variety of noodles that there are, I could make a different meal every day of the week using just one box. You start with your staple foods, the foods that you know are the most important, and then you go from there.”

Duncan listens intently as you explain the intricacies of grocery shopping on a budget, hand resting on top of yours as he pushes the cart along with you. He watches while you look at the shelves, barely checking to look at the prices before throwing the generic brand of pasta into your cart.

“Why’d you pick that one?”

“Because it’s cheaper.” You explain simply, as if this is the easiest thing in the world to understand.

“But why is it cheaper compared to the other ones?”

“The other ones have name brands on them. Stores will often increase their profits by producing their own generic lines of products that they sell cheaper than everything else.”

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” He says suddenly, turning on his heel and walking out of the aisle. You’re a little confused, but brush it off as a phone call from one of his employees that he has to take before continuing on your way.

Duncan doesn’t come back for another ten minutes, and by then you’re nearly done with your shopping. You shouldn’t be getting worried over him, considering he’s a grown man, but the sheer size and dizzying labyrinth of shelves that make up a Walmart would disorient even the most skilled store-prowler. Right when you’re starting to mentally debate about whether or not you need to call him, his deep voice gets your attention. You snap your eyes up to see him carrying a blue shopping basket, loaded to the brim with food items.

“Think this will be enough for Marta and her kids?” You stare at him, lips parted as you try to think of something, anything, to say.

“You--you got all this for them?” Duncan nods, his full bottom lip pulled between his teeth as his eyes seek yours.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be a nice thing to do.” You laugh in disbelief, nodding slightly.

“It’s definitely a nice thing to do. But...why?”

“If there’s one thing that today’s taught me, it’s that I really am an ‘entitled motherfucker.’” He references the words that you had thrown at him in anger yesterday. “I don’t want to be like that anymore, not when there’s people like you going without certain things just so that they can make someone else’s day a little better.”

You can’t think of any proper response to that, so you just lean up and kiss him.

“You, Duncan Shepherd, can be extremely sweet when you want to be.”

“You make me want to be ‘sweet.’” He mutters against your lips. “Oh! Look what I got for you!”

“Duncan!” Your face lights up when he pulls out a couple of cartons of fruit, making him grin widely. “You have most certainly redeemed yourself.”

“Enough for you to make some of that chicken fried rice you were talking about earlier?” He asks hopefully.

“I think that’s a fair trade.”

Tag List: @khaleesimel @sammythankyou @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26@langdonslove @heda-mikaelson @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sebastianshoe@let-me-try-mom @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @pastel-cloudz @nana15774@queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58@dolceandchalamet @dandycandy75 @alexcornerthethird @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @wroteclassicaly @langdonsdemon @trelaney @rocketgirl2410 @starwlkers @hexqueensupreme @divinelangdon

[mara-tevith-solo]

Real Funny - part 2

Something I’ve been slow cooking for a few years, a little all over the place. Some plot pieces aren’t mine, just something I played with.

Trigger Warning; Contains swearing, violence, mentions of nudity

I grinned cheekily before we all left. When we got back, the war was minutes from starting up again. When we finally got the Separatists off of the planet, we were allowed to rejoin the rest of the fleet and I was allowed to walk around in something other than armor. "Isn't that against regs?" That all too welcomed voice practically purred as they finally made their presence known. 

I sat up from the crate I was laying on, smiling broadly "General Kenobi allows me a few freedoms." I retorted, looking up at Wolffe. His expression was particularly warm that evening. 

Without any warning, the particularly sarcastic clone pounced, collecting me into his arms and capturing my lips with his as though they were prisoners of war "Do you have any idea how hard it is to be so close to you and act like you're just another soldier?" He growled against my lips in our secluded little spot.

"I have an idea." I purred in response, smiling coyly "So, your place or mine, Commander?" I asked with a low, seductive tone as I looked up at him through my lashes. We both already knew the answer; as a Commander, he had his own quarters. I still shared a bunk bed with Waxer in the main sleeping area for visiting legions. He left our little spot first, and I followed a few minutes after, taking a longer way around to get to his quarters. As soon as the door closed behind me, he lips were on mine again, his hands holding me against his body tightly. We helped each other out of our clothes and laid in his bed, more interested in each other's company, than sex.

As usual, I woke up before everyone else and was out of the room and hid in the mess, sipping caf until everyone else was moderately awake "Missed ya last night." Hardcase yawned, plonking his tray down before joining it.

"Couldn't sleep." I gave him a tight lipped smile before turning back to my caf. I hated lying to my friends and brothers. But if it leaked that Wolffe and I were... it would end very badly for everyone. He gave me an understanding pat on the shoulder, thinking that my nightmares were acting up again. I mentally beat the crap out of myself for keeping a most trusted vod in the dark.

"Anyone up for Nega-ball?" Cody asked, Wolffe and Rex on either side of him. Three quarters of those in the mess stood up and made to follow the three commanding officers, Hardcase included as he tried to pull me up. When that didn't work, he threw me over his shoulder and made his way after the group.

"Caught a live one, didn't ya?" Fives laughed, slapping my thigh as Hardcase fell into step beside him.

My squeak caught the attention of a certain, maybe slightly overprotective, Commander "What are you doing to Sergeant Val?" Wolffe scowled, coming up from behind the two. He was very much not pleased with how the two were conducting themselves with me.

Hardcase couldn't put me down fast enough as he whirled around, blushing and saluting hurriedly "S-sorry sir, we were only fooling around." His scowl deepened into a glare and he had to put his hands behind his back because, bet you ten credits, he was clenching them into fists.

"It's alright Commander, they're on my 'top three most trusted' list. They didn't mean anything besides camaraderie." I stepped up, approaching him to show that I really was alright while essentially telling him that they were my best friends, topped only by him. I felt the two staring at me, wide eyed, as the Commander deflated a fraction and his expression softened. 

"Get to the gym." Was his parting order before he moved around us and down the abandoned hallway. 

"Dude!" Hardcase exclaimed when the commander had turned the corner, the three of us following at a slower pace.

"How did you talk him out of handing us our asses?" Fives finished, staring at me as though I had grown a third head.

"The Commander and I are friends. He and Master Plo were the first ones to find me and bring me to the Temple. Why do you think I have a grey Loth-wolf on my shoulder?" I tapped my shoulder piece to reinforce my point as they started freaking out, having never made the connection.

"So you're an honorary Wolfpack member?" Fives gushed as Hardcase practically jumped on my back and made me give him a piggyback ride. Bastard. 

"I think the more appropriate answer is that I was adopted by Master Plo as one of his many children." I groaned, my knees shaking with every step. I dropped him unceremoniously with the other troopers as Cody and Wolffe were picking teams. 

"Val, get over here!" Cody called, waving me over as I tried to retreat to a safe spot to sit.

"Nah, I think I'll sit out. Both Kix and Wark look like they'll fill me full of needles if I joined in." I laughed, warily watching the two glaring medics who had had to patch me up last time we had all played Nega-ball. 

He glanced at them, equally as wary "Sounds like a good plan." He nodded, clearing his throat as they resumed picking. "So what's the wager?" Cody asked, hands on his hips as he faced Wolffe and his team.

"Winning Commander gets Val to tag along next mission." Alright, so I was a bit of a floater. Sue me.

"No can do sadly, Skywalker already reserved her for the 501st's next mission." Cody frowned. Wolffe scowled and couldn't resist looking at me from the corner of his eye. "How about this, next time we get leave, winning team gets a day with her." Oh if Cody only knew. They shook on it as all of them stripped off their torso armor and Wolffe's team took off their blacks shirts. I blushed at the sight of Wolffe's barrel chested glory, several small white scars dotting his waist and arms. He knew I blushed at the sight of him, he puffed up almost as soon as I did. The game was certainly as hairy and brutal as usual. Sometimes it was like the clones just kind of disregarded sport safety rules.

Of course, we never went back to Coruscant, instead, moving cruisers so that we could have a better spread in our attack of Umbara. Of course, the Umbarans changed over to the Seppies after their Senator had mysteriously been assassinated.... most likely by the Separatists... but that's just my opinion. The Republic was outmatched, out classed, and out teched, but by Odin, we were going to fight the good fight. It wasn't until the surface of the dark planet that I realized just how much my warnings had gone over the heads of the Council. Krell swooped in and took over command of the 501st, saying that the Chancellor needed Skywalker for some benign reason. 

First thing I did as soon as I saw Krell exit his gunship was hide behind Fives and have a panic attack, bucket removed as I pressed my forehead against his back, mumbling numbers in as many languages I knew, as high as I could go and back. He just stood there, one hand squeezing the one that he had pried from trying to scratch at the chinks in my armor. "Stand in attention, in my presence trooper!" Krell barked in my general direction. Fives stiffened as I quickly put my bucket back on and stepped out from behind him.

"S-sorry sir." I stuttered, still trying to regain total control over myself. I knew exactly what that motherfucker was going to do, and my attempt to stop it, had been brushed aside. 

"What's your number, Trooper." His eyes narrowed as his lower set of arms folded behind his back and his upper set crossed over his chest. He moved so that he was behind me, ignoring the others as they tried to close ranks around me as subtly as possible. 

"Sergeant Val, sir." I couldn't let him know that he bothered me, that he was getting so far under my skin that I was shaking. My head was full of nothing but white noise.

"Are you such a deformed clone, that not only your height and voice are wrong? I asked for your number, Clone." He snarled, stepping closer. I was filled with sudden, blinding rage as he went on a racist rant "You can't even put your armor on correctly!" He spat. 

My resolve rocketed out the window at that last comment as I whirled around, taking off my helmet and getting closer to the vulgar behemoth "I am a woman, General! Are you satisfied?" I snapped, feeling Fives frantically hook onto my belt and attempt to pull me back closer to himself and Rex. But I was planted, I would not back down, willingly or not. "My name is Sergeant Valeri MacCloud, I am from a planet called Earth and I am twenty six years old. I asked, are you satisfied, sir?" I barked, using my best drill sergeant voice as I glared up at the rogue Jedi, daring him to court marshal me, or worse, kill me.