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[bonebrokebuddy]

Danny is just regarded as the fuckin strange occult wizard man of chemistry. The best (and worst) part is that he’s so damn used to the way his parents taught him how to do chemistry that he doesn’t give instructions with proper measurements when demonstrating the lab in class. Like, what are the moles? What are the measurements that are needed for this? What materials will you need? Nah. 

Danny opens the demonstration with, “Just a warning, half of the steps I will be showing you in this demonstration will not actually be featured in the lab. I didn’t have [chemical], [chemical], or [chemical] but I did purchase some household cleaning and beauty products from dollar tree that I finished isolating them out of 30 minutes before class."

“And for [chemical], you can make it out of these two, so that’s taken care of.” 

“I made sure to order more but it won’t come in until next Wednesday. So don’t worry, when you do this lab yourself, you will not need to do these steps, but I figured it would be a good learning experience.”

“I only had the time to dilute the chemicals before this period, so I apologize.”

“Dr. Fenton? 

“You want me to buy water? No. I’ll dilute the chemicals myself. I don’t really have proper PPE besides gloves and safety goggles, so I’ll just have to make do.” 

But it’s just something he’s done so much before the verbal instructions are like, “Put enough in until it looks like there’s enough” 

For the lab instructions for the students, he has a worksheet with the the actual recipe in standard measurements but when he’s showing the class how it’s done? Rough measurements BABEY

The way he’s doing it, there should be a massive fucking margin of error and he should absolutely not be getting the product he wants because that’s not how chemistry should Work. The lab required a micropipette and he’s doing it by eye. 

Like, maybe people who have 30+ years working in their field with something they have done a bajillion times. But absolutely not a 25 year old who has a degree in Mechanical Engineering and got his PhD last year! And even then, doing it by eye is just asking for you to fuck up and waste your materials. 

Why does Danny work as a chemistry teacher when he has a degree in Mechanical Engineering? Well, Danny got an emergency teaching certificate because he took a lot of chem classes in college and Gotham Academy was desperate. The chem teachers in Gotham have had a trend of getting themselves in deep shit from criminal organizations threatening them to order chemicals needed to manufacture [x] toxin or drug. And they’d agree because it was for a ridiculous price, but if the chem teachers weren’t able to supply them enough or the criminals couldn’t get what they got the chemicals for to work, they’d blame it on the chem teacher and not their shitty chemistry practices or storing, and they’d get killed. So, Gotham is running short on demand for chemistry teachers. It’s also how Danny found out what was in the fear toxins. Small criminal organizations didn’t have big reach to other means to get chemicals in bulk so they’d go to where they know chemicals can be ordered: schools for chem. And the small criminal organizations try to replicate the toxins based off what they’ve heard is in them. Based off the previous Chemistry teacher’s ordering history, Danny was able to get a fairly good guess to what’s in it.  And if Danny was Really good at chem (like fictional mad scientist level good), then through tinkering around, he was able to find out what was missing. Tim is now baffled.  

How the fuck this guy who teaches the shop classes also know enough about chemistry that he can make a fear toxin antivenom without ridiculously high-tech equipment with stupid levels of precision measuring????

Danny just shrugs if he’s asked. He’s used to helping his parents in the lab. I mean, do you think the Drs Fenton actually praticed good sterile technique? Or proper lab safety? Or actually measured or recorded their experiments by moles or standard measurements or anything? Or isolated chemicals from anything but cheap household cleaners? Or ordered at anything less than the highest concentration they could and diluted it themselves because they weren’t going to pay for water.  Fuck no. They learned how to adapt based on what they had and learned how to do it based on sight, smell, heat, color, taste, etc. (​Yes, taste. There’s a reason ectoplasm is stored in the fridge and it’s because they think it’s safe for human consumption. It’s one of the reasons the Drs. Fenton were dismissed by the scientific community. Their experiments didn’t have precise measurements and had a very low chance of the results being replicated because of how they did it. The biggest challenge Danny had in chem classes in college was writing lab reports.

He almost always got his results right but couldn’t explain it, because it was just “I did it until it felt right” and the profs did Not accept that so he had to get used to actually using standard measurements. And now here we are in the aftermath of Danny’s lab for fear antitoxin in Gotham Academy. He was trying to be relatable with these Gotham kids and give them a lab that would be practical and something that they’d actually use to get on the kid’s good graces.

And now he’s being investigated by Batman. 

... Fuck.

Short DPXDC Prompts #468

Danny is a Chemistry teacher at Gotham Academy. His favorite student is Tim. He shocks the students by teaching and creating a Fear Antitoxin for the kids to learn as part of their curriculum.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Juno - JJ Maybank

(one-shot, boyfriend!jj x reader, 4.1k words)

summary: You've built a beautiful little life with JJ, but his wild past and your trust issues keep you guarded. When a storm hits the island, you gain the perspective you need to take the next step.

content: fluff/smut, mentions of drinking and smoking. 18+ minors do not interact

When you met JJ, he was wild. Smoking, drinking, surfing - it was all he knew. You were new to the island and attending your first party at the Boneyard when he saw you standing by the keg, laughing with some friends, and his world turned upside down.

From that day on, he asked you out every time he saw you, relentlessly flirting with you. But you had heard about his reputation before your boxes were even unpacked, and you were far too cautious of a person to jump into something with someone like him quickly.

“You don’t give up, do you, Maybank?” You asked him about a year in, after he begged you to leave a party with him for the hundredth time.

“Usually I do, actually,” he leaned in so you could feel his warm breath against your lips, your heart rate spiking. “Just never wanted anything this bad.”

After that night, he had you. When you were a little older and out of school, and after months of begging from JJ, you moved in with him. You rented a little house on The Cut together, it wasn’t anything impressive, falling apart inside and outside, but with you waitressing and him working hourly for a landscaping service, it was all you could afford.

You had never been so anxious about anything as you were to move in with JJ. Your own parents were a disaster, your dad leaving before you could walk, and you grew up watching your mother’s revolving door of deadbeat men disappoint her over and over. Even though you knew JJ was infinitely better than even the best of those men, you had trust issues you couldn’t shake. You didn’t tell JJ about your concerns, not wanting him to take them personally, but he noticed the way you’d toss and turn in your shared bed, twisting your hair in your fingers with worry. 

He swore to himself he’d never let you down the way those other men did. He worked his way up at the landscaping business until he was a manager. Eventually, after giving up partying so you could both pick up a few extra shifts, you had made enough combined to put a deposit down and buy the house you shared. You both picked up second jobs at the Island Club, you’d bartend while he parked cars. When you got home each night, you’d pool your tips, counting them before adding them to the glass jar labeled “Dream House.” On the rare occasion you both had a day off, you’d sit in a lawn chair and keep him company while he fixed the roof, or lay on the bathroom floor while he installed the big claw-foot tub you’d wanted since you were a little girl. Bit by bit, he turned what you loving called The Shitshack into your Dream House.

Even though you were both exhausted at the end of every day, you always made time for each other. You’d split a $5 bottle of wine while playing Uno on the living room floor. Or you’d cook his favorite meals for him while he sat at the counter, your dutiful taste tester. After particularly rough shifts, you’d take a bath, JJ leaning back into you as you rubbed his shoulders and he massaged your calves and feet. 

Those nights would always lead to the two of you tangled up in your bed, or the shower, or on the floor. The beauty of owning your own home was that there was not one place - or position - you hadn’t tried. When you were first together, you had to talk JJ through pleasuring you, no girl ever being as honest with him as you were. He made you promise you’d never fake it with him, and you didn’t, patiently telling and showing him exactly what you wanted. He studied dutifully, storing away every single word you said. Now, you didn’t have to tell him anything, he knew exactly what to do. Hell, he knew your body better than you did.

“Just sit back and relax, baby girl, I got you,” he’d say, smiling coyly as you inevitably came undone for him in minutes.

Every night, whether you’d had sex or just talked about your days, he’d hold you until you fell asleep. And every night, without fail, he’d ask you to marry him. You’d just kiss him and tell him you loved him, falling asleep a few moments later. He didn’t take it personally, he understood why you were hesitant, and he’d wait until you were old and gray if that’s what you needed.

.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ ..   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ .

This was the first night in a long time JJ held you in bed and didn’t propose. A tropical storm was raging outside your little house, winds making the walls sway and rain pounding against the windows so hard you think they might break. You’re shaking in JJ’s arms, you’ve always hated storms and this is the worst one that’s hit the island in a long time. He pulls the covers over your head and wraps his strong arms around you tightly, trying to drown out the noise of the storm with soothing words.

“It’s gonna be okay, love,” he promises. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen. ‘S just a little rain, it’ll pass.”

Even though you were terrified, his confident words were enough to lull you into sleep sometime in the early morning. When you wake up, JJ isn’t in bed next to you. Sun is peeking through the crack in the curtains and the sound of birds chirping has replaced the thunder. You pull on your robe and slippers and shuffle out of the bedroom. 

You brew yourself some coffee, thankful the power is still on, and walk around the house to check for leaks or damage. There isn’t a single problem. You sigh in relief, beyond grateful for all the hard work JJ had put in to make the house so safe. 

Suddenly, you hear voices coming from outside the screen door. You look out to see commotion up and down the street, you set your coffee down and step outside, eyes wide as you take in the storm’s aftermath. You realize with dismay that you and JJ were the only house on the block that seemed untouched. Every other yard was riddled with debris, roofs were damaged, windows broken.

You spotted JJ across the street, helping a neighbor lift heavy branches off of his car. Feeling helpless, you hurried back into the house and pulled out everything you had in the pantry and fridge, making sandwiches and cutting up veggies, loading up the back of JJ’s landscaping van with the food. You parked the van at the end of the street and handed out the food and drinks to everyone, creating a makeshift block party, while JJ made his way house to house to see how he could help with the damage. 

You try to listen as your neighbors discuss the volume of the thunder and share stories of past storms, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept drifting back to JJ. He looked so strong and capable, lifting heavy branches, boarding up broken windows, clearing debris. Every neighbor he helped was left laughing, their smiles wide as he eased their worry by just being him. 

Once it starts to get dark, you and JJ invite everyone over for a bonfire and cookout in your backyard. You’re sitting by the fire, watching with adoration as JJ plays tag football with all the kids. He purposely let them win, making them feel like they were ten feet tall. They all dogpile on him in excitement and you laugh along with all the other adults, shaking your head lovingly.

One of the young moms in the neighborhood you had come to know fairly well sits next to you, smiling knowingly as she watches you watch him.

“It’s really none of my business,” she says to you quietly, “but why aren’t you two married?”

You don’t look away from JJ as you respond, “y’know, I had a reason, but I can’t seem to remember what it was.”

After everyone has left, the yard is a mess of solo cups and the fire still burns. You look around and sigh, you’ve been cooking and helping people all day, and you didn’t realize how exhausted you were after getting so little sleep last night. You start to pick up, yawning as you bend down to pick up something off the ground. You feel JJ’s arms around your waist, hugging you tightly. You lean back into him and sway as he places a kiss on your cheek.

“Loved watching you today,” he says, his voice low. “Cooking for everyone, making sure everyone was okay. You’re such a good person, baby.”

You smile at his praise. “I learned it from you,” you say sweetly.

“Nah, babe, you got that the wrong way around,” he laughed. “You think the me you met five years ago would’ve been out here helping people clean up? I would’ve taken one look around and gotten the hell out of here.”

You smile at this, knowing he was right, picturing eighteen-year-old JJ grabbing his board and peeling out of the neighborhood at the first sight of trouble.

“You made me a better man,” he says, his tone serious now.

You lift one of his hands up to your lips, kissing his knuckles affectionately. He holds you for a long while as you look up at the stars, the night clear and calm after the storm.

“I drew you a bath,” he breaks the silence.

“Thank you, but I have to clean up,” you say, breaking from his hold and looking around the messy yard.

He just takes the trash from your hand and shakes his head, “I’ve got it, love. You don’t want your bath to get cold and waste the water.”

You smile at him, knowing his play. “You turned it on before telling me so I couldn’t say no.”

He doesn’t deny it, just kisses you on the cheek and starts picking up more empty paper plates and cups.

The bath water was perfect when you got in, your favorite candle already lit and some soft music playing. Your heart squeezed at JJ’s thoughtfulness as you relaxed into the warm water and let it wash away the day.

From your spot in the tub, you could see JJ in the yard, lit by the moon as he poured water over the fire to put it out. You felt suddenly emotional, overwhelmed by the deepest affection for him. You thought about his comment that you’d made him a better man. It was true that he’d grown so much in the last five years, but you couldn’t take all the credit. Maybe you were the reason he’d begun the journey, but he got to this destination all on his own. No one worked harder than him, or loved harder, or played harder. He provided for you, while still acknowledging how hard you worked, too. He encouraged all your dreams, listened to all of your anxious ramblings, laughed at all your stupid jokes. He never missed the chance to tell you how smart, beautiful, and special you were. He was selfless, always putting your needs before his. Even when you’d fight, he never walked away, never let the night end without trying to come to an understanding, only sleeping on the couch when he knew what you needed most was space. He’s proven to you over and over that he’s become the man you need.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear the bedroom door open and shut. You hear JJ shuffle around in the bedroom for a bit before settling, surely not wanting to interrupt your relaxation. It hits you all at once, finally finding the answer he’s been wanting from you for years.

You drain the tub and stand at the sink,running your hands through your hair and dabbing on a little lipgloss. You rub vanilla scented lotion into your skin, JJ’s favorite. You walk over to the walk-in closet he built for you, digging through the drawers until you find a new pair of pink lace panties and its matching bra and garter set that he hasn’t seen you in yet.

When you slowly open the bathroom door and step into the bedroom, JJ is sitting on the bed in only his boxers, leaning against the headboard as he scrolls on his phone.

“Babe, you need to see these videos of the swells this morning,” he tells you, eyes still fixed to his phone as you start to walk slowly toward the bed. “We gotta get out there tomorrow.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” you purr.

He looks up the sound of your sultry voice, eyes immediately widening at the sight of you in your lingerie. He sits up, moving to the side of the bed and throwing his phone behind him, not even caring when it bounces off the mattress and onto the floor with a crash.

“Damnnnn,” he whistles at you playfully, making your cheeks heat up as you giggle.

“You like it?” You do a little twirl for him.

He looks you up and down hungrily, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He hooks his finger and motions for you, “get over here.”

A rush of excitement flows through you, straight to your core, and you saunter over to him. He spreads his knees apart so you can stand in front of him, between his legs. He looks up at you, his eyes burying into yours as he slowly reaches his hand up to rest on your hip.

“I love it,” he places a soft kiss onto your stomach and you feel goosebumps shoot up all over your skin. He kisses you a few more times before pulling back slightly to mumble, “it’s too bad I’m gonna have to rip it off.”

You moan softly at the feeling of his soft lips grazing over the sensitive skin right above the waistband of your panties. Before he can go any further, you grab his face in both hands and lift his gaze back up to yours.

“You first,” you whisper. 

JJ’s lips spread in a wicked smile, and you instinctively press the pads of your thumbs into his dimples. You lean down to place a quick kiss to his lips before saying, “lay down.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says eagerly as he scrambles back to lean against the headboard.

You slowly climb over him, your knees on either side of his lap, and ever so slightly drop your hips, your core ghosting over his clothed cock. At the slightest contact, he groans, unable to help himself but attach his lips to your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin for a moment, before running his tongue over the same spot.

“Mmmm, you taste like vanilla,” you smile at the warmth in his words.

“Put on that lotion you like,” you explain as you grind down on him again, just a little harder this time.

“God,” he groans. “You’re so good to me.”

“Not as good as you are to me,” you smile down at him as you start rolling your hips in a steady rhythm. He throws his head back, reveling in the feeling of you, fingers digging into your hips to guide you to continue grinding. You place soft, wet kisses on his neck and chest, offering him a praise between each one. 

“You make me so happy…treat me so well…fuck me so good…make me come so hard…make me so fucking horny…”

His dick twitches in his boxers at the sound of your dirty talk. You continue moving your kisses down his abs, backing up your body to reach lower with each one. 

“Fuck, angel,” he chokes out, “you got me so hard.”

You look up at him with a smirk, you’re between his legs now, face inches from the waistband of his boxers, you arch your back so your ass sticks up behind you, giving him a perfect angle of your body. 

“Can I taste you, J?” You pout, as if he’d ever say no.

“Mhm, do whatever you want,” he pants, brushing your hair back from your face and tucking it behind your ear. Even when he has you in this position, he’s sweet, taking care of you.

“All I want is to make you happy,” you tell him, your intent was to sound sexy, but you can’t help the bit of emotion that creeps in, realizing how true your words are on so many levels.

He sits up when he notices the way your brow is drawn together in sincerity. He kisses your forehead and whispers, “all you gotta do to make me happy is exist.”

This man is perfect, you think, a huge grin on your face. You kiss him back once before laying your hand gently on his chest so he’ll lay back. You keep your hand over his heart as the other pulls down the waistband of his boxers. His dick springs free the second the fabric is out of the way. Even after all these years, your stomach still flips with excitement when you see his cock hard and needy for you. He places one hand over yours on his chest, while his other hand finds its way back into your hair.  

You wrap your fingers around his shaft gently and he sucks in a sharp breath, overly sensitive from how worked up you’ve got him. You drop a kiss to the tip, leaving a dab of lipgloss behind, quick to brush it off with your thumb, the motion making his hips buck up.

You know he’s trying to be patient, not to rush, afraid to pressure you. Your heart swells at his considerate restraint. You reward his patience by flattening your tongue and dragging it from his base to his tip, swirling it over the tip a few times before bringing his cockhead into your lips.

He looks down at you, eyes wide, watching the way your mouth accepts him. You moan softly at the taste of him and it reverberates through his body, making his head fall back against the headboard with a bang.

“Are you ok, love?” You ask nervously.

He laughs and shakes his head at his own clumsiness, “I’m fine baby, you just got me so damn worked up, your mouth feels so good.” 

You smile in satisfaction and return your mouth to his tip. You work him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, trying to relax your throat as best you can. Even though you’ve done this many times, you’ve never gotten used to the size of him. He knows it, too, looking at you with concern as you start to gag a bit, only two-thirds of the way down.

“Don’t hurt yourself, it’s okay if you stop there,” you pull off of him and he thinks you’re done, but you just shush him as you run your hand up and down his shaft a few times before diving back in. 

When he’s finally all the way in, his tip nudging the back of your throat, you moan to disguise your gag so he knows you’re okay. He seems to relent, tugging slightly at the roots of your hair and gripping your hand harder, you hollow your cheeks and start to bob up and down.

“Shhhit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That’s perfect, baby. You’re so fucking perfect.”

You keep up the pace for a couple minutes, JJ a whining mess beneath you. You adored the sound of him letting go and feeling good. He worked so hard, and always tried to prove how strong he was, nothing felt better than making him finally relax. 

When you moaned around him again, he bucked his hips up subconsciously.

“Wait,” he sat up, “wait wait wait.”

You pulled off of him, startled, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s so good, too good,” he rushed to assure you. “Not gonna last much longer.”

You smiled pridefully, “where do you want to finish, baby?”

“Inside, need to be inside you, please,” he used the hand he was holding to pull you up to him, making you laugh as you fall onto his chest.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you giggled, placing a swift kiss on his lips.

“Yeah?” He taunts as he flips you onto your back gently, slipping his finger under the strap of your bra. “You finally gonna let me rip these off of you?”

You pull your lip between your teeth and nod, watching JJ’s hands move swiftly to rid you of the lacy fabric. Once he had your bra and panties off, he kissed you again, and you let out a little sigh into his mouth. He studied your face as his hand dipped between your legs, two fingers gliding through your wetness. You whimpered and twitched beneath him as he grazed your clit.

“All this for me?” He asked, well aware of the answer.

“Yes,” you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself, the pressure of his fingers against you so good your legs were starting to shake. “I’m yours, J. Forever.”

His nostrils flared slightly at the sound of the words, never needing to be inside you quite as much as he did in that moment. He used your wetness on his hand to get his dick ready, sliding in slowly as your back arched while you gasped at the sensation.

“Forever, huh?” He asks as he sinks into you.

You nod desperately, pulling a wicked grin from him as he finally bottoms out. He starts to rock in and out of you, slowly at first, picking up the pace when you wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him.

“I love you so much,” he says so earnestly your heart aches, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, you have no idea,” you tell him.

When he shifts his hips slightly so his pelvis rubs over your clit, you clench around him, crying his name in pleasure.

“I think I have some idea,” he teases.

You squeeze him again, harder, making the smile fall from his lips as he groans, jaw clenched.

As JJ picks up his pace, brushing over your clit with each deep thrust, both of you moan, your breaths becoming frenzied and your sweat mixing together everywhere your skin touches.

His words are a tangled mess of I love yous and fucks, yours a chant of oh my gods and his name. You squeeze him again, your orgasm approaching. He watches your face, eyes shut tight and lips parted, your hair a halo around you as he presses you into the pillows with each stroke. It’s the most beautiful sight, he thinks, the most precious person in the world, completely lost in the joy he’s giving her.

He can’t help himself when he whispers, “marry me.”

Your eyes shoot open, meeting his with surprise, and he wishes he hadn’t said it, that he had waited until later like he did every other night, when you were falling asleep and too tired to scold him for his impulsiveness. 

But then, you reach your hand up to caress his face, running your thumb over his bottom lip, looking at him with so much love and affection.

“Yes,” you say.

He stops moving into you and leans away from your face a bit, positive that he misheard you. 

“Wh-what?” He sounds concerned, like maybe he was dreaming and none of this was really happening.

“I wanna marry you, JJ,” you repeat, your voice sure and unwavering. You caress his cheek with your thumb, waiting for his mind to catch up with his ears. 

When it finally does, he places a kiss on your palm and sinks into you again, moving slowly at first in his dazed state, before you lift your hips, reminding him how you like it. He pounds into you, the sounds of skin slapping and heavy breaths filling the room as you near your high.

“You gonna be my wife?” JJ asks, watching your face contort with pure bliss. 

“Yes!” You cry, the wave of your orgasm crashing into you hard, your clenching walls pulling JJ’s from him as he fills you. 

That night, while JJ held you like he always did, your back to his chest, he’s uncharacteristically quiet. You turn in his arms so you can look at him, trying to read his face.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I’m trying to figure out how long I have to wait before I can start asking if we can have a baby,” he admits, his tongue poking into his cheek.

You laugh loudly, swatting his shoulder.

“You really don’t give up, do you Maybank?” 

“On you? Never.”

a/n: in which nat takes a break from all the rafe angst to write some jj fluff. I saw some of the jj girlies say he needs more fics, so i'd thought I'd try writing for him and I had soooo much fun!! also I fear short 'n sweet has a death grip on my one-shots, oh well.

[alastor-simp]

Alastor with a female reader who is selectively mute Part 2

Here is part 2 of this story. Mimzy is gonna be in this story as well, since we havent heard her talk yet or what her personality is like, im just gonna write how I think she will talk and act. Enjoy everyone:)

***5 Months Later***

You had adapted to hell surprisingly well. Yes there was some bumps along the way, due to you being mute, but you adjusted as time went on. Your relationships with everyone in the hotel had grown significantly. Charlie adored you and loved you like a sister. She was this close to telling her dad if it was possible to adopt you into the family, but you frantically declined as you suspected it would complicate things, but it was sweet that she loved you so much to do that. Vaggie slowly adjusted to you, don't blame her, she was always untrustworthy of everyone in the hotel, but she came around sooner or later. She offered to teach you some self defense as you were still an easy target. It was a bit difficult, but you managed despite your clumsiness. Angel Dust was a bit annoying in the beginning as he really wanted to hear your voice, but the puppy dog eyes you gave him made him quit. Now he treats you like his bestie, taking you shopping and having you attend some of his shows, which flustered you, but you wanted to support him. Niffty found you adorable when you first met and she still does. She has tried not to speed run towards you, since it always shocked you, causing you to drop your notepad in the past. It took a while, but she was able to do it. Husk was literally your dad figure. He always came over when you appeared upset about something and offered to cheer you up with his card tricks or make you a virgin cocktail, especially since your alcohol tolerance was negative 1000. You loved that he became that caring towards you, especially how gruff he was with everyone else. Sir Pentious was a new addition to the hotel. He first appeared when he tried to blow up the hotel a second time, only for Al to defeat him easily. Later after that, he became a patron at the hotel. He wondered why you didn't speak, but after a talk with Charlie and Vaggie, he no longer questioned it. He did enjoy your company, whenever you came to his work space, as he was crafting his inventions. His Egg Bois adored you as well, which pleased him. Alastor had become almost your protector/best friend. Its crazy to think how in the beginning, he was a bit annoyed when you didn't respond to his question, to now where he was always there to help you whenever you were in a pickle. His radio tower was your sanctuary as you always headed up there during his broadcasts. Alastor would always anticipate you coming as well, as it made his day a whole lot better whenever you showed up and took a seat next to him, admiring him as he continued his broadcast.

Getting ready for the day, you stood in front of your mirror, making sure you look spiffy. Alastor had invited you to attend one of Mimzy's shows at her club. Excitement raced through your body, and you nodded quickly when he asked you. Alastor mentioned before that her shows were very entertaining, so it made you very happy when he invited you to come. After a few minutes of looking yourself over, you walked over to the bed and grabbed the cell phone that was there. Charlie had gotten you it a few weeks ago as a gift. She had installed a text to speech app on it, so whatever you typed on the phone, a voice would respond back. Tears filled your eyes when she gave it to you, almost apologizing for all the trouble she had to go through to get it for you, but she said it was fine and it hardly cost anything. You knew she was royalty, so one cell phone wouldn't be a big deal, but it was to you. After a bunch of persuasion from Charlie saying it was really alright, you accepted the cell phone, not before engulfing Charlie in a hug. It took a while to get use to it, but it got easier over time, and it was a whole lot better then the notepad.

Rushing out of the room, your feet carried you over to the lobby, where a certain deer demon was patiently waiting. Alastor's ear twitched when he heard the pitter patter of your feet, turning to face you with a smile. Stopping to catch your breath, you stood in front of Al and gave a small wave, causing him to chuckle. His eyes scanned your outfit and found it to be perfect for today's activities. "Excited are we, my dear?" Looking at Al, you nodded your head, smiling widely. How adorable he thought. Hooking his arm with yours, Alastor banged his microphone on the ground, causing a portal to open in front of you. "Transporting like this may be new to you, my dear! Hold on tight!" The both of you entered the portal. It felt extremely odd, but you powered through it. The portal had brought you in front of a large building, with a large neon sign reading "Mimzy's." There was a crowd of demons around the building, probably ready for the show, as Mimzy was very popular. Entering inside, your eyes were drawn to the decor. It was a lavish place, the walls were covered in burlesque posters, and string lights decorated the ceiling. It had a very spacious bar and in the center of the room was a large stage with a small band in the background. Heading over to a certain section, there was a table that read VIP. This must be for us, since Alastor was a frequent visitor at this place. Sitting down in the seat, Alastor called over a server, asking for their most popular giggle water, while turning to you and asking what you would like. Taking your phone out, you typed your answer and played it out:

"𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎."

The server was confused at that, but just shrugged and nodded while going over to complete the order. Alastor was not fond that you had to resort to that annoying technology to speak, but he did noticed how more calm you were using it then the notepad, so he kept his opinion to himself. After the server returned with the drinks, the lights began to dim, and the crowd began to let out cheers, as the main entertainer made her way to the stage. Mimzy was a very short demon, a little chubby, but very gorgeous. Her flapper dress suit her very well, as she made her way to the center of the stage. "Good evening, Ladies and Gents! Y'all ready for tonight's performance?" Cheers and whistles were the response to that. "That's what I like to hear! Hit it boys!" The stage lights flashed, as Mimzy walked closer to the front of the stage, standing in front of the microphone, ready to amaze everyone.

(LOVE THIS SINGER, Check her out)

The performance drew to a close, and you were blown away. Her voice was amazing. Loud cheers and applause radiated throughout the whole room, as Mimzy gave a bow. Both you and Alastor clapped with the crowd as Mimzy left the stage, leaving the band there, as they played some jazz to keep the entertainment alive. Alastor turned towards you, asking if you enjoyed the show, to which you responded with an enthusiastic nod. "Why Alastor! You made it" a familiar voice, called out from behind the both of you, as you saw Mimzy walking towards the both of you. "Of course, Mimzy my dear! You do know how much I adore your performances!" Alastor smiled as he greeted Mimzy, placing a kiss on her hand. Mimzy's eyes then locked on you. Oh boy, you hoped she was friendly. "Oh My Goodness! Who is this adorable little peach?!" Oh thank Lucifer, she was a nice demon. "Ah yes! This is another acquaintance of mine! Say hello my dear!" Mimzy glanced at Al when he spoke, then turned back to you with a kind smile. "How ya doin suga~? Did my voice blow you away?" Feeling uncertain, you wondered if she was going to treat you differently if she knew you were a mute. She seemed friendly enough, plus Al said she was a good friend. Slowly you grabbed your phone and typed out what you wanted to say to Mimzy.

𝚈𝚎𝚜! 𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚍𝚍.

After the voice played, you pointed your eyes to the ground, feeling very shy. Clenching your hands under the table, you worried Mimzy was going to mock you for not speaking. "Oh my satan! Alastor, where did you find this angel? She is simply precious!" Mimzy had grabbed your cheeks, and began to squish them, like what a mother would do to a baby. "She had arrived in Hell a few months ago! She is a shy little one!" Alastor chuckled as he watched Mimzy coo at you. "No apologies needed suga~! Just happy you enjoyed the show! Here, let me give you a VIP pass so you can visit with no problems. Okay, darling?" Mimzy let go of your cheeks, and handed you the card. She had a very motherly side to her, which you liked. Grabbing the card, you nodded your head and smiled. Mimzy smiled and hugged you again. She then departed both of you as she had to meet up with some gents on the other side of the room. Both you and Alastor stayed at the club for a little bit, chatting about certain topics until you realized it had gotten late. Exiting the building, both you and Alastor decided to walk back to the hotel. Could have teleported, but the breeze was nice plus you both needed to stretch your legs after sitting for a long time. Your arm was hooked with Al's as he walked with you. Always such a gentleman. After walking for a couple of minutes, Alastor had stopped in his tracks. "My dear, may I ask you a question?" Alastor turned towards you, as he let your arm go, as he left you to stand in front of him. Staring into his eyes, you looked to see if there was any evidence of anger in them, but you found none. There was a little hint of sadness though, yet Alastor was still smiling. "I noticed during conversations with others, you always apologize! Why is that, my dear?" Tilting his head at you, he waited for your response.

Painful memories from your past began to flash in your mind once Alastor asked that question. Tears started to form, but they were blinked away. Reaching for your phone with trembling hands, you slowly wrote your answer and played it for Al.

𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚢, 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚘. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝. 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, as you pointed your head to the ground. Everything you felt from back then began to pour out of you, and you couldn't stop. Alastor was silent in front of you, and you figured he was upset with you, but before you could type a response, you were caught off when you felt someone wrap their arms around you. You found your head being placed in the crook of his neck, as he held you tightly. HE WAS HUGGING YOU?!? The last months while staying at the hotel, you were able to find out that Alastor didn't liked being touch. Yes, he would touch you and the others, but it mostly involved an arm hook, slight shoulder hug or head pat. You never expected that Al would be hugging you like this. After a few seconds, he began to speak. "I am truly sorry you had to suffer through that, my dear! But let me tell you this, people who mock and taunt others for being odd or a little strange are the ẗ̸̝́r̴̦̒u̵̦̅ē̴̢ ̶̰̈́s̴̱̈c̷̪͒ù̶̧m̶͇͐ ̸͎̔ò̴̦f̸͔̈́ ̶̦̃t̶͈̽h̶̟͌ȩ̴̾ ̴̯̀è̴͍a̴̞͝r̸͙̊t̸̰̕h̸̤̉! They are the true monsters! Don't believe their heinous words! To me, you are the sweetest and most unique demon in all of the seven rings! Never apologize for being the way you are ever again!" His words made you cry even more. Moving your hands slowly, you placed them on his back, tightening the hug. You felt the slight flinch from his body when you did that, but he slowly relaxed and squeezed you tighter.

The hug lasted for a bit before Al slowly released you, snapping his fingers to have a handkerchief appear in his hands, as he wiped your tears away. Once he finished, he leaned down and placed his hands on the sides of your mouth, moving them up to make it appear you were smiling. "Come on, my dear! Smile!" The smile on his face was outstretched, revealing all of his sharp teeth. His antics never ceased to make you laugh. Looking at him, you gave him a great big smile. Chuckling, Al leaned back up and grabbed your arm again, continuing his walk back to the hotel. After about a few minutes of walking, you both stopped in your tracks as an unknown voice called out to the both of you. "Well well well, if it isn't the Radio Demon."

*(TO BE CONTINUED)*

Part 1 of the Story is Here

Part 3 of the story is Here

[yourmidnightlover]

the story

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

w/c: 3.5k+

summary: the weeks following bucky ordering that steve be your bodyguard, followed by an insightful night at a gala with your beloved husband.

warnings: mention of the incident with john (groping), slight threats of violence, mention of fear, lip on lip action (the upstairs ones), if i've missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: hiii! the third installment of my forever? series! i didn't even intend for this to be more than one part, but you guys have inspired me to write more for it! my writing schedule is a bit off since i recently started a new job, but i'll try to be a bit consistent with it. i hope you guys enjoy this next part, more to come!

part 2 -> control

the first few weeks with steve as a bodyguard wasn’t too bad. he was actually kinda funny in a grandpa kinda way, and he was an amazing listener. you had bounced a few ideas for your book off of him and he seemed to be very intrigued by some of the plot points you had planned. he even promised to be one of the first customers, right behind bucky (which you may have rolled your eyes at), of course, as long as he was promised a signed copy.

but, at the two month mark you began to miss your independence. of course, the chef bucky had hired was amazing and had years of experience in italian cuisine, but sometimes a girl just wanted some greasy smash burger to chow down on. most nights you ate alone with steve until bucky walked through the front door. 

he always seemed beaten down and tired, as though work was more straining than usual. he would shrug his jacket off, place it on the hook by the door, then his shoes on the rack, and walk upstairs to shower before coming downstairs to eat as you and steve were finishing your plates. you tried your best to start conversation, to be the best company you could but eventually the silence always grew awkward and steve would usher you to go upstairs to your room with a pressed smile. 

after two months of not really needing to show you off i any way, there was an important gala for him to attend. of course, that means that you were to be his beloved arm candy for the night. 

“buck sent me the address for a local boutique that he thinks would be right up your alley,” steve read from his phone as you took a stroll in the garden that was full of beautiful colors. “the appointment is at 3:45, so we have plenty of time to get ready and head there too. oh and he says you should get something in that one shade of green… i’m assuming you know what that is?” his brows raise in confusion, as your mirror his in a stunned expression. 

“surprisingly, i do know what he means for once.” about six weeks before the wedding, you had spent an all nighter with him amidst all of the chaotic planning. 

“accent colors are super important! right now, all we have is an off white color, and while it’s a good color, i don’t want my wedding to wash everyone out that much,” you shoved his side as you sprawled your binders out on the coffee table. 

“i say… green,” he says after pondering for a minute. 

“green… like tree green?” you chuckled at the notion. 

“i mean the green that’s light yet earthy, not too dark but not scream-in-your-face bright. it’s beautiful. plus, i think you’d look stunning in it,” he shrugs casually as if he hadn’t described a mundane color in such an alluring way.

“so a sage green?” 

“maybe more on the jade green side,” he tried to hide a smile as his thumb began to mindly trace nonsense on your thigh. 

there was such elegance in the way he described the simple color, as if saying light green wouldn’t have sufficed. clearly, there was a significance to the mundane shade that he felt the need to recommend it. 

but you knew not to ask anything further to pry, doubting his readiness to comply so easily so early in your relationship. while it was during the happiest days of your relationship, you still knew he held you at arms length. 

at the appointment, you had found several dresses in the perfect color, but only one stood out to you after trying them on. steve was also a good guide in ensuring you were choosing the right one, although you’re sure he would just say every dress looked good regardless. 

growing up, you’d read about a love that was so encapsulating that one would rather face death than be without their lover. you’d yearned for that kind of love. the kind of love that was consuming and irreversible. the kind of love where your partner wouldn’t love you in spite of your flaws, but because of them. 

and now you were married to a man who didn’t seem to feel an ounce of that towards you. sure, the months leading up to your wedding made it seem otherwise. it made you hopeful that he could maybe grow to love you, as you could grow to love him. 

because truthfully, it was hard to see many flaws in the man, other than those that were rumored in the tabloids. you’d read or heard of his anger issues and his lack of patience but abundance of irritability. yet all you’d observed is his laughter, his diligence and compassion. 

it was definitely confusing to want to believe these two contradicting tales of composure, but ultimately seeing is believing. you’d decided to believe whatever he showed you, what was right in front of his face rather than believe whatever was whispered in your ear. besides, if something was worth believing it should be said with their full chest rather than in such a low tone. 

-

“almost ready?” bucky’s low voice rang through the door as you were doing finishing touches on your hair, making sure you looked as presentable as possible. 

“i just have to put the dress on, and i’ll be ready to go!” you replied, unzipping the bag that the dress came in, even though you suggested that doing so was overkill.

“let me know if you need any help.” you heard a thud from the other side that suggested that he was leaning against the door, waiting to hear if you did happen to need any assistance. 

you replied in silence, just stepping into the dress and lifting the straps over your shoulders. it was such a beautifully made gown, truly. it hugged you in the most flattering places, accentuating just the right amount without flaunting too much. the material felt like a warm hug from a lifelong friend, you almost never wanted to take it off. 

the only downside was the damn zipper. it was a bit rough to pull over your hips alone, but once you reached your mid back it seemed to reach a snagging stop. you twisted your arms every way possible, trying to avoid the totally cliche scene of calling him in to zip you up. 

alas, the universe had other plans for you. although, how much could you complain when that would mean his rough, yet gentle hands would be against your skin…

“...bucky?” your voice meekly called out, trying to interrupt your own thoughts from spiralling down the path you wanted them to so bad. 

“yea?” his voice piped up, seeming to jump an octave or two in the process. maybe you jst startled him. 

“could you maybe help me zip this thing up?” you became quiet before the twisting of your doorknob broke the silence. “my arms can’t quite contort the way they need to in order to zip this all the way…” you refused to meet his eyes as he trailed inside the room. 

the first sign of his presence was his hands grasping your shoulders, lightly tracing down your arms. then he leaned down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, more affectionate than he’d been the entire duration of your marriage without it being prompted. 

“you look beautiful,” he pressed another kiss to your other shoulder before letting his hands fall to a respectable place on your waist, stepping back to seemingly find where the zipper got stuck. “but what’s new, right?”

you chuckled at the compliment. 

“what’ve you been doing recently?” you asked meekly. “i haven’t seen you much at all since steve started his new gig as my babysitter.”

he sighed, stopping his antics to clarify what he felt he needed to. “he’s not a babysitter. he’s my best friend, and the only person i trust to look after the woman that i-the woman that i married, okay?” you felt his deep breathing on your neck before he continued, “i don’t know where john is yet. john is notorious for taking whatever he thinks is his and that night he made it very clear what he believed.” he turned you around to face him, the dress’ zipper be damned. “if anything happens to you… just the thought keeps me up at night. i need you to understand,” his voice was desperate, pleading almost. 

you understood what he was saying. at least, you were pretty sure you did. men in positions of power like bucky typically saw the people around them as pawns. part of you thinks that he’s saying all of this as the controlling, possessive boss man bucky. and that’s the large part of you. but the small part of you, the part of you that still believes in that fairytale love you used to read about, believes that maybe he’s saying all of this because he does feel something for you… something real. 

but that part of you is like… 15 percent. maybe 20…

“i understand,” you nodded, meeting his eyes and seeing desperation, fear. seeing fear radiating from a man that projects a version of himself that’s fearless is a scary thing. 

“good,” he nodded, his eye contact faltering to the dress that clung to your body. “you look indescribable, i’m a lucky man to call you mine.” once again, he grasped your shoulders to turn you around.

this time, he promptly found the zipper, his metal hand tracing nonsensical patterns on your shoulder as he zipped the dress with his flesh one. 

“all done,” he pressed a lingering kiss to your right shoulder. “my beautiful bride.” you wanted to believe him. 

“thank you,” you took a deep breath as you turned to face him. “so, tonight… what should i be expecting?” “well, there are a few people i’ll introduce you to, and a few i have to talk to. but i’ll be with you the whole time,” he pressed his hands into his pockets. “i scheduled a car to take us, and we have about 10 minutes before it should get here.”

“so we’ll be playing the roles of loving wife and doting husband?” you nudged his shoulder before you went to grab your shoes. 

“playing? this is all real, sweetheart,” he took the shoes from your hands, promptly dropping to his knees. 

“what are you-”

“i’m putting your shoes on, my love.” you chuckled before he guided your hand to his shoulder. “gonna want to hold on.” he picked up one of your legs by your calf, grabbing the correct shoe before slowly placing your foot inside and doing the same for your other shoe.

meanwhile, you were stuck staring down at him like a lovesick idiot. this behemoth of a man was beneath you treating you like a princess by putting your heels on for you. what the hell kind of alternate universe have you entered and how can you never leave?

“well, aren’t you a romantic?” you cleared your throat as he remained on his knees, a sight you could get used to. 

“don’t let the news spread around town,” he chuckled as he let your remaining foot hit the ground but not without pressing a kiss to your ankle. “i can’t have others knowing how enamored i am by you, can we?” “enamored?” you chuckled out. “what a word,” you shook your head as you helped him to his feet. 

“the perfect word.” he trailed his hand to a loose strand of hair, twirling it around his flesh fingers before he sighed, “the car should be here soon. we should head downstairs for it.”

it was a 45 minute ride there. you sat in a respectable silence, this time it wasn’t as awkward as it has been in the past. upon arrival, the door was swiftly opened for you, bucky getting out first and then offering his hand to help you step out. the first thirty minutes of the gala went very similarly. he would introduce you to a new face or say ‘hello’ to a familiar one, wrap his arm snugly around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek and move on to the next person. 

for a bunch of folks in banking and finance, everything seemed very high stakes. there seemed to be walls up all around you, from each man and woman you said a brief hello to or were meeting for the first time. everyone had decided to adorn a mask for the night, or maybe the mask was a semi-permanent fixture. maybe they’d worn the mask for so long they forgot how to function without one. you hoped you wouldn’t face the same fate.

to be doomed to fake face for so long that you no longer remember what was once real. you wanted something real, even if what you and bucky had was technically fake when you were in public. something about what happened behind closed doors when nobody was around gave you the illusion that part of it was real. 

“have i told you how ravishing you look tonight?” bucky held you close as you swayed to the soft melody. his metal hand was clutching your waist, his flesh hand holding your own.

“i think in different words, yes,” you both began to laugh at his flattery. “you don’t have to keep doing that, y’know? the compliments and everything… i think people get the idea that this is real by now.”

“you don’t get it, do you?” he shook his head before he moved his vibranium hand to your chin, nudging it up for you to meet his eyes. 

“get what?”

“buck,” steve’s voice interrupted your dance, but that didn’t stop bucky from pulling you taut to his side.

steve leaned in to whisper in his ear, but you were able to tell by his stone cold expression that whatever message that was being relayed to him wasn’t as delightful as the desserts from tonight. 

“when?” you barely registered bucky’s low voice over the music. 

steve went back to whispering in his ear and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you wanted to speak up, “what’s going on?”

bucky looked down to you, and when you looked into his eyes, what you saw was very similar to your earlier conversation with him. this time, however, there seemed to be anger buried beneath the stoic traces of fear. that’s when it clicked.

“did they find him?” his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“you told her about-”

“i told her what she deserves to know,” bucky interrupted steve’s accusatory tone. “you don’t get to question me or the decisions i make, especially not when those decisions are in regards to my wife.”

you weren’t sure if bucky was defending you or himself with the way he jumped on steve’s gears. 

“okay, got it,” steve rse his hands in defense before he nodded. 

“what steve was telling me was in regards to him, yes,” bucky clarified. “but it’s nothing important for you to need to know. you don’t have to worry about it, my love,” he let his flesh hand play with that same strand of hair as earlier as he looked down at you like his prized possession. 

oh yea, you almost forgot. that’s what you are to him. his trophy wife, as much as you hate that phrase. 

“when can we go home?” a shiver ran down your spine. what would john even do if he did get his hands on you? was he actually as bad as bucky made him seem, or was he worse? you gripped bucky’s arm tighter as thoughts raced through your brain. 

“hey,” he turned to face you again, his eyes no longer reflecting anger or fear but tenderness. “if you want to leave, we’ll leave. steve can get the car,” he turned briefly to steve who nodded before walking off, “we can talk on the way home. i can tell how many questions are running through that pretty head of yours right now. but i can assure you,” he cupped your face in his hands, and the contrast between the cold metal and the warm flesh was oddly grounding, “as long as your with me, or steve for that matter, you won’t have anything to worry about. i would do anything it takes to keep you safe.”

you nodded, pressing your lips together in a fine line, maybe a bit of doubt running in your head at the lengths he would go to in order to protect you. would he really go to the lengths necessary? would his hand be forced to do that? 

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i was scared right now?” you couldn’t meet his eyes as you admitted it. 

“it’s not bad at all. in fact, i understand. i just hope that you know that this is why steve is watching out for you now,” he dropped his hands to your shoulders, down your arms to hold your hands. 

“will you-would you be up for staying with me tonight?” you popped the question, almost scared of his answer. “like… like you did that night? i don’t really want to be alone tonight.”

“you don’t have to explain,” he smiled. “of course i’ll stay with you.”

the ride home was similar to the ride there, but this time with your head rested on his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around you. you’re sure he thought you were asleep when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. it also wasn’t beneath you to say you liked when he did it…

so much so that you apparently did fall sleep. when you woke up, it was wrapped in strong arms. you strained your neck to look at the clock beside your bed, the one that read 2:35 am. turning in bed to look at bucky, you realized you’d never seen him so peaceful. his hair had grown out a bit long, evident by the way it laid across his forehead. 

when you moved the few locks of hair from his forehead, he began to stir awake. 

“shhh,” you hummed softly. “it’s just me. sorry i woke you.”

“don’t be sorry,” his raspy voice was alluring this early in the morning, or was it late? “i don’t think i’ve slept this good since… well, since that night.”

“are you a secret cuddler, mr. barnes?” you smiled as he pulled you in a smidge tighter as he replied. 

“and what if i am?” “there are no complaints coming from me,” he pressed yet another kiss to yourforehead, then your cheek, your other cheek, and then you pulled back to look in his eyes again. 

the only light that was peaking through was from the hallway underneath the door, but that didn’t stop you from being able to see the bright smile decorating his face, a rare sight to see. 

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i really wanted to kiss you right now?” his thumb trailed across your bottom lip, gently pulling it down and watching it bounce back into place.

“it’s not bad at all,” you let your eyes find his lips before looking into his eyes once more. 

he made the first move, taking his flesh hand and cupping your face before he softly met your lips with his. every other kiss you’d had with him had been for show, cameras or people around to witness and aww at the romantic antics of the newlyweds. this one wasn’t for show. this was purely authentic. gentle, soft, delicate. for a man like bucky, you figured he wasn’t like this very often. this was a side of him not many other people got the privilege of witnessing. 

he was precise in his movements, every swipe of his tongue and every placement his hand made was deliberate, yet he was so tender. the soft grasp of your hair, the easy glide of his hand that began to hold your waist. it was all so consuming, in the best way possible. in the way that you wanted to drown in his presence. 

when you sweeped one of your legs over his, now perched on his lap, you felt him smile against your lips. 

“you’re astounding,” he breathed into you. “breathtaking,” he rearranged his hips, accidentally brushing his hardon against your center. “shit.”

“sorry,” you smiled against him as you pulled back, resting your forehead against his. 

“nothin’ to apologize for,” he shook his head with a laugh. “i mean, you are my wife an’ all.”

“i know, but,” taking a deep breath, you tried to figure out how to word what you wanted to say to him. you came up with nothing. “i don’ know. it’s different. we haven’t necessarily been the most affectionate since our wedding.”

“i didn’t think you wanted anything more,” his face shone with disbelief. “i didn’t want you to think you were forced to be ‘affectionate’ with me. you didn’t really want to marry me in the first place. i realize that.”

were you not this puppet in his master show? some play thing for him to own and display whenever he pleased? had every story you’d heard about him been nothing but that… just stories? could this story of you and him have a happy ending?

tags:

@blackbirdwitch22

@onceithough

@learisa

@mrsnikstan

@cjand10

@mrs-bucky-barnes-73

@armystay89

@adesum

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@loki-laufeyson68

if you'd like to be added to the tag list, please just leave a comment or message me!

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #15

April 19-26 2024

President Biden appeared along side Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Senators Ed Markey and Bernie Sanders to announce major climate action. Biden announced a program, Solar For All, 7 billion dollars aimed at supporting low income house holds install solar power in their homes. The program will support 900,000 households across the country getting solar. Lower the average energy bill for a family by $400 a month and avoid more than 30 million metric tons of carbon pollution over the next 25 years. The boost in solar installation will help create 200,000 new jobs across the country. The President also announced the launch of the Climate Conservation Crops. modeled on FDR's Civilian Civilian Conservation Corps and JFK's Peace Corps, Biden's Climate Conservation Crops will be a program where young people can connect with climate projects across the country and be paid to help protect the planet. The Corps will be 20,000 strong, with 2,000 openings listed right now on their webpage across 36 states DC and Puerto Rico.

The Department of Labor finalized a new rule on overtime. Currently employers are only required to pay overtime to workers making under $35,568. Under the new ruling that will be raised to workers making $43,888, and in January 2025 raised again to workers making $58,656 and under. This will bring overtime pay to 4 million more workers and transfer $1.5 billion from the pockets of companies to workers. It also fixes to raise the level with inflation every 3 years starting in 2027.

The EPA announced a $1 billion dollar program to help replace heavily duty vehicles with clean energy versions. There are currently 3 million class 6 and 7 vehicles, school buses, box trucks dump trucks, street sweepers, delivery trucks, bucket trucks, and utility trucks, in use. 70% of the funds will go to replacing School Buses with Clean energy buses and the remaining 30% will go to replacing Vocational Vehicles like dump trucks and street sweepers. Heavy Duty vehicles on top of green house cases release harmful nitrogen oxide and fine particulate matter and replacing them will not only combat climate change but improve public health.

The Department of Interior took actions to protect 13 million acres of Alaska wild land is protected and to secure the livelihood of Alaska Native peoples who rely on this land. The Administration refused oil and mining rights on the vast areas of Alaska land as well as a 210 miles road through the northern wildernesses. This area represents valuable habitat for caribou and endangered polar bears, as well as millions of migrating birds.

The Department of Transportation announced finalized rules requiring airlines to give automatic cash refunds for canceled flights and other inconvenience. The refunds will be automatic meaning passengers will not have apply for them, prompt the airlines are required to refund a credit card purchase in 7 days, and require repayment in full and in kind, airlines can not substitute travel vouchers for cash. The DOT also announced new rules to protect airline travelers from junk fees, airlines and ticket agents must now clearly tell travelers upfront about all fees so no one is surprised by a hidden fee.

The EPA announced finalized rules on emissions standards for fuel burning power plants. The new rules include a tightening of Mercury and Air Toxics Standards, requiring a 70% reduction in mercury. It also had rules protecting ground water, new rules will require coal powered plants to remove 660 million pounds per year of pollutants discharged through wastewater, and for the first time federally regulates the dumping of coal ash, requiring safe dump sites that will not leak into ground water. Finalized rules require coal fired and new natural gas-fired power plants to capture up to 90% of their carbon pollution

Security of Transportation Pete Buttigieg attended the ground breaking of a new high speed rail project to connect Los Angeles and Las Vegas. The Biden Administration announced 3 billion to support the project 5 months ago. At 218 of all electric green rail the project promises to be the fastest way to get from LA to Las Vegas. Planned to open in 2028 just in time for the LA Olympics it is the first of many planned high speed rail projects. The Biden Administration has promised $66 billion for high speed rail and the largest single investment in Amtrak ever.

The FCC announced a new rule restoring Net Neutrality. Net Neutrality requires internet service pervaders to treat all websites equally and not slow certain ones now or speed others. In 2015 under Obama the FCC passed a rule requiring Net Neutrality. However in 2017, the FCC spread headed by Trump appointed Chair Ajit Pai repealed the rules. A patchwork of Democratic controlled states, lead by California passed state level laws requiring Net Neutrality forcing ISPs to de facto keep it in place. Late last year President Biden got the opportunity to replace Pai on the FCC, giving the FCC a 3 to 2 Democratic majority which voted this week to return to the Obama era rules and protect Net Neutrality nationwide.

The FTC passed finalized regulations to ban noncompete agreements in nearly all cases. These agreements, which cover 18% of American workers, about 30 million people, prohibit workers from joining or creating competing companies for a certain period of time. The FTC estimates that workers will earn an average of $524 dollars a year more and up to 8,500 new businesses will be created each year. The new rule will still allow noncompete for senior executives who make up less than 1% of the work force. Like with the FCC, two out of the 3 FTC commissioners who voted for the new rules are Biden appointees.

The Departments of Health and Human Services and Interior have announced a joint, $1 billion project to connect tribal communities to safe drinking water. Roughly half of Tribal households lack access to clean drinking water or adequate sanitation.

At the White House The Biden Administration announced plans to protect, restore and reconnect 8 million acres of wetlands and 100,000 miles of rivers and streams. This effort will include state, local and tribal government as well as private efforts along with the federal government to protect and restore the nations freshwater environments.

The Department of Health and Human Services announced a new rule boosting privacy protection for abortions. Republicans in states like Alabama, Texas, Oklahoma and Idaho have tried to make it a crime to leave the state to seek an abortion in a state where it is legal. The new federal rule would make it illegal for health information to be shared in these cases

Vice-President Harris announced a new rule requiring staffing standards at Nursing Homes across the country. The new rules will require registered nurses on duty 24 hours, seven days a week. This represents the first time the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services have required specific numbers of nurses and aides in Nursing Homes that get Medicare and Medicaid funding.

The Biden Administration Announced a $6 billion deal with tech giant Micron to bring high tech manufacturing to New York. The deal is expected to see Micron invest $100 billion in Syracuse New York area as well as build a factory in Boise, Idaho. The deal will create 70,000 new jobs. It is part of the Biden Administration's effort to bring high tech chip manufacturing to America.

The Department of Education finalized the most comprehensive federal protections for Trans and other Queer students in the nation's history. The rules also overturn Trump era rules on how colleges should handle sexual assault and harassment.

[thedensworld]

Location App | C.Hs

Pairing: Vernon x reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You finally found the right function of the share location apps

Vernon isn’t a man of many words—he’s a man of action. He doesn’t tell you to quit your job at the event organizing company or give up your dreams of becoming a writer. Instead, he quietly hands you an allowance and pays for a writing course, making it clear that he's got your back. He even takes it a step further by personally checking in on your progress almost every day, making sure you're staying on track.

When it comes to food, Vernon doesn’t bother asking about your favorite dishes. He just brings everything you could possibly want to the table. You might crave vanilla ice cream tonight, but he’s already stocked up on both vanilla and chocolate for tomorrow’s cravings, always anticipating your needs before you even voice them. And each time, your heart swells with gratitude for the way he cares for you.

Vernon isn’t one to hang out much, either. Even when he does go out twice a week to catch up with his friends, he never stays long—two hours at most before he's back home. Without missing a beat, he slips into your arms, eager to share everything about his day, all while showering you with the little tokens of affection he picked up for you along the way.

“What’s wrong?” Vernon’s voice breaks through your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blink at him, raising your eyebrows in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem restless. Are you in pain?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

Every time he instinctively picks up on how you’re feeling or goes out of his way to make your life easier, you find yourself wanting to kiss him right then and there, overwhelmed by how effortlessly amazing he is as a boyfriend.

“What’s this?” you asked Vernon as he showed you an app he had just installed on your phone.

“It’s a shared location app. I’ll always know where you are, and you’ll know my location anytime you open it,” he explained, his tone casual.

Ever since you joined a writing course last year, you’ve started attending small gatherings with fellow authors, usually at libraries or cozy cafes.

“Since you’ve been going out more without me, I just want to make sure I know where you are,” Vernon added, his eyes glancing at yours for a reaction.

“You could always just text me,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“I know,” he replied, “but sometimes it’s better if you can have your day off without feeling the need to update me constantly. You should have fun and not worry about checking in.”

In the beginning, you found yourself using the app frequently, but after a few months, it slipped your mind. You could barely remember where the app was on your phone. Vernon, on the other hand, kept checking it now and then, making sure you were safe when you weren’t together. He never intruded but would casually ask about your day, subtly referencing the places you’d visited.

“How do you know?!” you exclaimed one afternoon when Vernon asked what you were doing at the flower shop near his work. You hadn’t mentioned anything because you were preparing a surprise for him.

“I saw your location this afternoon. I was surprised to see you so close by,” he admitted with a soft chuckle.

You grinned and pulled out a bouquet of flowers you had arranged just for him. “My friends and I attended a flower arrangement event, and I got these for you!”

His face softened, and he leaned in to kiss you. “Thanks, babe. I was actually planning to drop by and see you, but things got crazy at work. These are beautiful—thank you.”

With a warm smile, he kissed you again, and the simple moment of shared affection made you realize how much thought he put into even the smallest aspects of your relationship.

*

"Hey babe, I see you’re at the convenience store. Can you grab me a tampon and some sweets?" you called him, feeling curious after checking his location and noticing he was near her apartment.

“Yeah, I’m actually about to head over to see you and pick up your monthly essentials,” he replied smoothly.

"Babe, are you near the snack aisle? Could you grab me some chips, too?"

"Alright, love. Anything else?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

"A milkshake, please? Hehe."

"Snacks and a milkshake coming right up," he said, humoring your request.

“Wait, you’re at Kimbap Heaven? Can you swing by the pet shop two doors down? Kiwi hasn’t been eating her regular dry food!” you called after you found out he was out around Hongdae.

"Send me a list of everything you want me to grab, and I’ll get it done," he said, always efficient and patient.

You smiled, feeling so lucky to have someone who knew how to make even the smallest errands feel like an act of love.

As the days went by, you found yourself checking Vernon's location more and more. It became almost a habit. Whenever you craved something or needed him to pick up something, you'd open the app, locate him, and call him with your requests.

One evening, you were lying on the couch when you checked the app and noticed Vernon was at the grocery store. Without hesitation, you grabbed your phone and dialed him.

“Babe, can you pick up some ice cream? And maybe a few packs of those cookies I love?” you asked casually.

“Already got the cookies in the cart, but I’ll grab the ice cream for you now,” he replied, used to your requests by this point.

A few days later, you noticed him at the mall. Your mind immediately went to that cute hoodie you’d been eyeing. You picked up the phone again.

“Hey, babe, I see you’re at the mall. Could you stop by that clothing store and see if they have the hoodie I wanted in stock?”

“Sure, love. I’m already near that area. I’ll check it out.”

It became a little routine—wherever Vernon went, you’d check his location and call him to ask for favors. He never complained, always happy to run the errands or pick up whatever you needed. You loved how he made you feel so taken care of, and he seemed to enjoy it too, never missing a beat.

"Where is he?" you muttered, surprised when you couldn’t find Vernon’s location on the app. His profile was completely offline, leaving only yours visible on the map. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be out with a friend, but that was over three hours ago, and he still hadn’t replied.

You didn’t want to call him. After all, you’d been asking for his help a lot through the location app lately. Maybe he had turned it off intentionally because he was busy, you thought, trying not to overthink it.

Just as you were about to distract yourself, the sound of your door unlocking caught your attention. Kiwi, your cat, sprinted toward the door, her sixth sense alerting her that only one person could be invading her territory—Vernon. Sure enough, he stepped in, holding Kiwi in one arm and a paper bag from your favorite bakery in the other.

You let out a squeal of excitement. "How did you know I wanted this?" you exclaimed, rushing over to grab the bag from his hands.

Vernon smiled warmly. "I saw your Instagram story where you said you missed the cake. I checked around and found a branch that still had some, so I picked one up for you."

Your heart melted on the spot. In a fit of affection, you scooped Kiwi from his arms and said, “Kiwi, listen carefully—Chwe Vernon is your only father. If anyone else claims they’re your dad, they’re lying!”

Vernon burst out laughing at your playful words, but then your mind drifted back to his location being turned off. Your smile faded into a pout as you looked at him.

“I couldn’t see your location today,” you told him, a little hint of disappointment in your voice.

“Ah, yeah, I turned it off,” he replied casually. “Why?”

“If I’d known you were on your way here, I would’ve asked you to grab some tissues,” you said, half-jokingly.

Vernon chuckled. "Tissues? I actually got you some in the car, i accidentally left them. I figured you were running low, so I picked some up yesterday."

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Thank you! You always think of everything.”

He smiled softly, stepping closer. “Honestly, I like surprising you like this, getting what you need or want before you ask. That’s why I turned off my location today. It feels more special.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling even more grateful for his thoughtful nature. He always managed to find ways to care for you in his own quiet, yet deeply meaningful, way.

"You want to get married, babe?" you asked playfully, your voice full of gratitude as you grinned up at Vernon. He let out a laugh, clearly amused by your sudden question.

“You want to marry me because of this?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Of course!” you exclaimed, holding up the bakery bag. “This is amazing! You shouldn’t underestimate your thoughtfulness and how considerate you are. It’s everything I could want.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Alright, then,” he said, leaning in closer with a mischievous smile. “Let’s get married.”

Your heart fluttered, and for a moment, you both stood there, the playful banter hanging in the air. But behind the jokes, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of what he’d just said linger, making the moment even sweeter.

[lotus-tower]

it is horrific what we’re allowing to happen to children right now. if covid causes cognitive dysfunction and decline in adult brains, what impact will it have on small brains that are still developing? many children who are too young to even be vaccinated are catching covid, as well as a whole host of other opportunistic infections. children can get, are getting, long covid. children aren’t sick often because it’s “normal” or “good” for them—they’re sick often because they’re more vulnerable than adults.

children have no choice but to be sent to schools where they get sick again and again. they don’t have the ability to distance themselves from their parents and establish boundaries, they’re entirely reliant on their carers. if their parents do not believe in covid prevention, they have no means to protect themselves. they don’t have the ability to consent to what is happening to their health.

schools are not just allowing children who are sick to attend class anyway, they’re borderline mandating it. schools as an institution care more about meaningless attendance records than about students’ wellbeing. the classroom is an environment where all factors incentivize students coming to school sick.

there are horrific accounts from parents about kids being sick 24/7, never having energy, struggling with schoolwork. there are horrific accounts from teachers about their young students being different these days, unable to handle the usual schoolwork, showing signs of that classic covid “brainfog.” i’ve seen evidence of schools making their tests and criteria much easier in order to maintain an acceptable pass rate instead of addressing the actual core problem in the slightest.

i often think about a comment i read once about how someone knew it was fucked when no change happened after sandy hook, when the US decided and enshrined the fact that children were acceptable sacrifices. this is how it feels. this isn’t just about the US though. children are getting reinfected with covid again and again worldwide. this is about the entire next generation.

they didn’t choose any of this. they have no power to stop this whatsoever. none of us consented to this, obviously, but children most of all. most of them don’t even have any idea what’s happening to them, and won’t for years.

there needs to be a push for schools to adopt better covid prevention measures, like better ventilation and air filtration. but even more crucial, and much more difficult, is to do away with the ideology at the core of how schools are designed. just like how workers deserve sick leave, children need to be able to stay home when sick. no jumping through hoops for a doctor’s note to be accepted, no strict time limit. schools obviously know that 1 student staying home sick is less disruptive than 20 students being sick and unable to do their schoolwork. they know the math, but they aren’t after efficiency. just like companies know that happier workers are more productive. that’s not the point. it’s more obvious than ever what is choking our societies to death on every level.

i’ve seen university unions who’ve won teachers the right to demand masking in their lessons, the right to have air filters installed in their classrooms. the same needs to happen for K12 schools, especially since young children can’t advocate for themselves. parents could theoretically wield a lot of influence as well—but let’s face it, most are uninterested in or actively hostile to the idea of better air for their children. efforts to combat this need to be organized, sustained, and coordinated.

imagine how current children will feel once they grow up and look back and realize that their health was compromised before they even learned to speak, that they were born into a sick world, that they were born to be sick, not inevitably but because people preferred things this way.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1973 Dodge Monaco

On this date, August 7th, in 1980, "The Blues Brothers" was released.

"It's got a cop motor, a 440-cubic-inch plant. It's got cop tires, cop suspension, cop shocks. It's a model made before catalytic converters so it'll run good on regular gas."

The film used 13 different cars bought at auction from the California Highway Patrol to depict the retired 1974 Mount Prospect, Illinois Dodge Monaco patrol car that would affectionately become known as The Bluesmobile. The vehicles were outfitted by the studio to do particular driving chores; some were customized for speed and others for jumps, depending on the scene. For the large car chases, filmmakers purchased 60 police cars at $400 each, and most were destroyed at the completion of the filming. More than 40 stunt drivers were hired, and the crew kept a 24-hour body shop to repair cars.

According to Dan Aykroyd, the horn-shaped loudspeaker atop the Bluesmobile was actually a duplicate of a massive Cold War-era air raid siren (CLM Model 92729DP) installed in the schoolyard at Our Lady of Annunciation where Aykroyd attended elementary school while growing up in Ottawa, Canada. The siren was manufactured by a Canadian company called CLM Industries, and Aykroyd specifically requested the same CLM model be used in the movie to portray the loudspeaker the characters affixed to the top of the Bluesmobile and used as a public address system.

Director John Landis has claimed that the portion of the final chase sequence beneath the elevated train tracks, which briefly showed a reading of 118 miles per hour on the car's speedometer, was actually filmed at that speed, a testament to the Monaco's police car heritage. He has also stated that he re-shot some of the scenes with pedestrians on the sidewalks, so viewers could see that the film had not been sped up to create the effect of speed.

For the scene when the Blues Brothers finally arrive at the Richard J. Daley Center, a mechanic took several months to rig the car to fall apart.

At the time of its release, "The Blues Brothers" held the world record for the most cars destroyed in one film until it was surpassed by a single car in its 1998 sequel. (Wikipedia)

[syoddeye]

the meeting

ceo!price x reader / ~3k words

Folks seemed to like the first installment of this maybe-series, so I cooked up a second part in between drafts of the next chapter of For the Record (shameless plug). Not sure if this will be a whole thing or a series of vignettes. Enjoy!

CW: red flags everywhere, power imbalance, alcohol (mentioned)

You lay low after the company Christmas party and losing the drama wager to Jordan. Heads down, nose to the grindstone, and so forth. You never found the courage to respond to Mr. Price's direct message over the holidays. The shock from receiving a response at all kept you up at night. The message was supposed to get lost in his notifications, buried beneath the hundreds of messages he supposedly got a day. And he had not only replied, he insinuated he wanted to grab drinks. You checked it a hundred times.

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas? > World peace. > I'd settle for a drink, though.

You could be reading into it. Flattering yourself. Profile photos were required on the chat app to help put faces to names, so he could have recognized you as the punch girl from the open bar. Most likely, he was making a joke and humoring an underling.

Whatever the reason, his simple reply plagues you well into the new year.

The first quarter is always hectic for The 141 Group. New regulations go into effect, and projects and initiatives kick off, setting the year's foundation. Since your boss Kyle is VP of Finance, it's even busier for him with budget meeting check-ins, payroll reports, and financial policy updates. And if his life is busy, your life is busy because his success is your success.

"Need you to bump everything I have today after three to tomorrow," He murmurs when you collect a stack of documents to copy.

"This is the second time you'll have pushed the meeting with technology directors," You remind him, but make a note anyway. "They'll complain to Mr. MacTavish."

Kyle glances up. "Let them. He's clearing his schedule this afternoon, too."

"Oh?"

"Big man's bringing the C-Suite and a few of us lucky VPs in for a meeting."

A practiced EA, you keep the instant surge of dread from reaching your face. It isn't strange for Kyle, though technically a subordinate to the CFO, to attend such meetings. Mr. Price frequently pulls him into special projects. You simply hoped to avoid the 'big man' for as long as possible. On the bright side, when Kyle never reprimanded you for flippantly messaging the CEO upon return from holiday, you assumed Mr. Price never said anything. Hopefully, he forgot about your message altogether. 

"Need me for notes?" You ask, hovering in the doorway to his office.

"Please. Something tells me it'll be tense." Interesting.

With a nod, you tuck the folder under an arm and pat the doorframe. "Got it. Lunch'll be here soon. I ordered Indian and Thai. Whatever you don't want, I'll eat."

"You're a lifesaver."

"I know."

~~

Conference Room Bravo isn't the biggest meeting space in the building, but everybody knows it's Mr. Price's preference. With an unobstructed view of the water and natural light, you like it, too. Especially since the small group of assistants who attend the more critical meetings sits on a long bench built into an alcove in the wall with a good view of the windows.

You and five other EAs ensure every seat at the main table is set with the appropriate accoutrements. Tea and coffee are on standby. With a three-hour window allocated, everyone will need a spot of caffeine at some point. Fifteen minutes before the scheduled start, you chat and make personal preparations.

"Did MacTavish seem stressed about this?" You ask Jordan as she takes the seat next to you.

She shakes her head. "No. You know him, though. It takes a bit to work him up."

"What about Laswell?" You lean forward and look down the bench at Oliver, the Chief Information Officer's right hand.

The younger man looks up from his laptop. "Same as Mr. MacTavish, kind of. Hard to tell, but she didn't take a smoke break, so…"

"Right."

The conversation drifts to weekend plans until Lucy, the newest EA to Mr. Shepherd, pipes up.

"Isn't it strange Mr. Price doesn't have a permanent assistant?"

It's a fair question for a new person. Since you started at The 141 Group, the desk outside Mr. Price's office has functioned as a revolving door. Guiltily, you stopped trying to learn their names about ten temps in, and since then, it's a coin flip if anyone's there at all. The general rule is if you have something to deliver to Mr. Price, you leave it on the empty desk. 

"Nah, nobody's good enough," Jordan answers. "MacTavish once told me Price is a workaholic with impossibly high standards. Not a good combination for an assistant."

Oliver agrees. "Laswell said as much, too. Apparently, at his place, he has a whole recreation of his office and gets right back to work when he gets home. And, his only staff are the bodyguards."

You would feel sad about that if Mr. Price wasn't a gazillionaire. An older man, hunching over a computer, completely alone in his home…when he could certainly afford staff and delegate.

Still, if he kept himself so busy, it made the fact he responded to your DM quite interesting.

The conversation dies when the attendees trickle in.

Kyle arrives with Mr. MacTavish, the latter of whom flashes a grin at Jordan and you. Close behind is the hulking mountain of a CSO, Mr. Riley, who, as usual, wears a black surgical mask. (The rumors around that accessory are practically 141 Group lore.) Other members of the C-Suite file in and Mr. Price arrives last, followed by his guards who post up at the door. He shuts the door behind him, the click silencing the room.

Your eyes glue themselves to the computer in your lap. Jordan elbows you a little, obviously enjoying the lingering effects of her wager.

As Mr. Price sits down, you finally steal a glance. He's wearing the hell out of a charcoal suit with a blue tie that makes his eyes pop, even across the room. His expression is stern, borderline grim, and thankfully, like everybody else at the main table, doesn't even glance in your direction. He's straight to the point. "Thank you all for making time in your schedules on short notice. Let's get started, shall we?"

~~

An hour and a half in, Price calls for a break. As the most senior EA on the bench, you lovingly pass on refreshment duty to Lucy and Desmond, the most junior. You follow Kyle to the hall.

"Need anything?" You ask when you're a reasonable distance down from the conference room.

"Do you think you can clean up the notes and send them to me by nine tonight?"

Your brows raise. Rarely does the man ask you to work late. He usually doesn't need to, as you pride yourself on efficiency. "Of course. I'll make a physical copy, too. What's your read on it, by the way?"

Kyle gives a tired smile. "You aren't paying attention, are you."

"I take down everything I hear to ensure you have impeccable notes. Listening gets in the way of that," You offer a grin, then glance down at his tie. Crooked. You fix it without thinking and chat more about his schedule tomorrow. A few people pass by in the hallway to use the restroom or stretch their legs, but you don't pay them mind.

"Mr. Garrick?" You both turn to see Jordan's head sticking out of the door. "They're resuming."

Kyle sighs quietly and starts back toward the conference room. You follow.

Settling back into your seat on the bench, you feel eyes on you, but when you look around, there's nothing. Weird.

~~

The meeting concludes on the dot at six. The attendees leave first, as do the rest of the assistants when you volunteer to clean up. Jordan waves goodbye when Mr. MacTavish departs alongside Mr. Riley. You sigh in relief when Price walks out with Shepherd and Laswell, leaving you and Kyle. Your boss swipes through his phone as you collect the trash and dishes, leaving everything for janitorial.

"Do you need a ride?" Kyle asks when you collect your laptop. "I'm heading your way."

"No, I think I'll finish the notes here, wait for rush hour to die down."

Kyle walks out with you and frowns. "If you stay past eight, please text. I'll have a car come back for you."

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Kyle is merely protective. "I'll take the train or call a rideshare myself."

He pushes the matter when you return to your corner of the executive floor, but you don't give in. You plan to stop for food on the way home and aren't keen to make his driver wait. When he finally leaves, you find yourself alone on the floor. Most folks leave at five, so everyone else cleared out when the meeting ended at six.

You clean, format, and summarize the meeting notes in an hour and a half. Due to Kyle's earlier comment, you make an effort to read into business. As far as you can tell, it's another big new project with lots of money on the table. The name of a new contractor company for extra hands mildly raises your interest. The usual choice, Chimera Company, must be busy. Other than that, everything's a slog to read. You trust that if something's important and need-to-know, Kyle will explain.

You email Kyle the notes a few minutes shy of eight and send them to the printer. Languidly stretching as you go, you walk to the copy room. At this hour, most overhead lights are on a timer and won't turn back on until morning to conserve energy. So, it's natural your eyes flick to Mr. Price's office at the end of the long hallway. There's a sliver of light beneath the door, beckoning like a golden gate. Turning into the darkened copy room, picturing Mr. Price at his desk distracts enough you don't realize you're not alone until a low, growling curse cuts through the silence.

Hunching over the copier is none other than Mr. Price himself. The low light glints off a silver watch band, encouraging the eye to a pair of thick forearms exposed by rolled shirt sleeves. You get a whole second of the uninterrupted sight before he notices.

A silent alarm goes off, and you're hopeful the lack of light saves you: Please don't recognize me. Please don't recognize me. Please–

Mr. Price does not move, and his focus returns to the copier. "Didn't realize anyone else worked this late."

You're unsure if you're supposed to respond, but you need those notes. "I usually don't. I was finishing up…Is there–Is there something I can help with?"

He answers when you tiptoe closer. "Everything's coming out with streaks," He grumbles, fiddling with random panel doors that open into the machine's guts.

This is not your first battle with the cursed thing. "I can fix that."

"Can you, now." Price mutters, barely audible.

You swallow. You might be several pay levels lower, but you aren't a pushover. "Mr. Price, please let me try." 

Again, he delays, but after an exasperated sigh, he concedes and slams a panel door shut.

After he steps back, you examine the failed jobs resting on the tray, then address the angry, blinking digital display. A few screens and taps later, you trigger the self-cleaning process and the machine whirs to life.

"All fixed?" Price asks, reminding you he's but a few steps behind you.

"We'll see," You move a short distance away, afraid if you stand any closer, it'll be enough for him to remember who you are and your dumb message. "It's self-cleaning. It will take two, three minutes, then produce a test print."

Price hums in acknowledgment, and then the glow of his phone screen illuminates his profile. You glance out of your periphery, almost relieved to see the steely expression on his face. Seems he really is a workaholic, taking advantage of any spare moment.

You lean against the supply cabinets and cross your feet at the ankles. You left your phone at your desk, so you settle for watching the copier hopefully fix itself.

Then, to your utter horror, Price says your name.

You look up without thinking.

"Thought I recognized you." He holds up his phone, and there you are, your profile picture in the workplace chat app.

You are going to murder Jordan. But first, you need to apologize.

"Mr. Price, I am so–"

Price cuts you off. "You're Kyle Garrick's assistant, yeah?"

Relief washes over you. Your message is forgotten. Definitely. All you are is an assistant. "Yes, sir."

With a hum, he pockets his phone, then steps forward to better see you. A hand plants itself on the counter, mere centimeters away. "You were at the meeting earlier." 

"Yes, sir."

"Would explain the swift fix," He muses, and his gaze drags down you in a more than perfunctory look before meeting yours once more. "Normally, I'd use the copier in my office, but it's due for maintenance. Seems this one is, too." 

He has his own copier? It would explain why I've never seen him in here, making his own copies since he apparently hates help.

"Guess so," You lick your lower lip, stomach flipping with nerves with how close Price stands. Between the proximity and the near darkness, it's all you can do to keep your imagination in check.

A cheerful beeping from the copier saves you. Price lingers a moment more, then returns to the printing tray as the machine spits out a test page. 

Price chuckles, which you take to mean the issue is fixed. He restarts the delayed jobs. "Well done, love."

"It's nothing," You say quietly, rooted to where you lean. 

A minute passes, and Price collects the first completed stack of papers. His brow furrows. "Think these are yours."

You finally push off the cabinets and venture closer, reaching for the notes. Only, he does not hand them over.

"Forgot Gaz prefers hard copies," Price murmurs. 

Gaz? 

"This is the kind of work I wish I had received from my past assistants."

If it was not the CEO speaking, you would be the defender of the voiceless, the fired employees of 141 past. If the man's gone through as many assistants as you think he has, he's the problem.

"You like working for Garrick?"

It feels like a trick question. From the outside, it appears he and Kyle like each other. For all of Price's talks on 'openness' and 'camaraderie,' he has his favorites, and your boss is one of them. Though that could be an act, and Price is actually looking for some kind of blemish on Kyle's record. Either way, you can be honest because you genuinely like Kyle.

"Mr. Garrick is a joy to work with." Anxiety flushes half of the English language and all creativity out of your brain.

Price huffs in amusement. "A joy to work with," He repeats. "That's all? You appeared quite friendly during the break."

The comment gives you pause, and you shove back through the day's events. The meeting, the break – was it because you simply straightened Kyle's tie? It's a harmless gesture, you think. No one's ever batted an eye before. You can't help but feel a little affronted. "That's because we are friends, sir. Kind of happens when you work for someone for nearly five years."

Price lifts the notes in a placating manner, then out to you. "No harm meant. It's nice to see, is all. I understand we struggle with retention."

An understatement for him. Your imaginary hackles lower. "We work well together."

Price smiles. "Clearly. And five years, eh? Should get something for that, I think."

Inwardly, you cringe. The last thing you need is another branded mug, t-shirt, or keychain. "That isn't necessary, sir."

"Nonsense. We've got to reward loyalty."

You stiffly nod, figuring it's worthless to protest. It makes sense why he's in charge. He's a steamroller when it comes to what he wants.

"Do you have somewhere to be? Someone waiting for you?"

In this context, a darkened office, alone with a man with the power to make or break your career, it's a borderline sinister question. At least, it should be, yet instead, all you feel is a brief thrill.

"No, sir."

"Then, how about that drink?"

Oh, god. "'That drink'?" You ask dumbly. You know exactly what he means.

He chuckles and sets his gaze on you again. It's heavy, somehow both a blanket around the shoulders and a cinder block to the chest.

"While you are a capable woman, I doubt achievin' world peace is within your power. But a drink? Think you can fit me into your schedule this evening?"

You will kill Jordan for the bet. Then Kyle will kill you for losing it. But do you really have a choice?

"Yes, sir."

"Please, after hours, call me John."

~~

Mr. Price's–John's bodyguards do not seem fazed when you meet them at the elevators. You watch John whisper something into the taller one's ear on the ride down, and the man hails a cab. Meanwhile, John ushers you out to a waiting town car, and the shorter guard takes the passenger seat. 

When he takes the seat beside you, shuts the door, and drapes a big arm over the back of the seats, you think to fake an illness. A forgotten appointment. Something. Then he gives you another grin, a note of triumph in it, and the thoughts of escape vanish.

~~

Your salary affords you nice things like hardcover books, daily coffees, and frequent takeaway. And until ten seconds ago, you could count stylish yet comfortable office attire among said things. Yet, walking through the awning-covered entrance to an unmarked bar, you lose that delusion quickly. The bar's host lights up at the sight of Mr. Price, then openly examines you and the pencil skirt you thought was expensive.

"Welcome back, Mr. Price. Your usual table, I presume? Is this lovely creature your date?" 

"Yes, and yes."

A firm, warm hand at the small of your back flexes. It's a silent suggestion: do not correct him. You don't.

A cocktail later, that same hand lands on your knee beneath the table. 

[designation-zi]

Murder Drones Timeline of Events

Disclaimer: Most of this is speculation based off of background details and conjecture. Subject to change. If you notice anything I missed feel free to comment and I’ll make adjustments :)

Proceeding Events:

Sometime in the Future, around the 31st Century

- Humanity becomes advanced enough to venture into space and establish colonies and civilizations on exoplanets in other solar systems. Some of these include the “Proxima System”, “Plat-Binary System”, and the “Copper System.”

- JCJenson, an interstellar megacorporation creates a brand of autonomous robots known as “Worker Drones” to serve humanity and mine resources on the exoplanets. One of these planets is Copper-9 from the Copper System.

- Worker Drones are heavily abused and mistreated by humans, often being improperly disposed of and thrown into landfills.

- JCJenson is aware of the fact their drones have a chance of self rebooting if disposed of incorrectly, dubbing these “Zombie Drones.” This can happen if the drone and their core wasn’t properly disconnected and destroyed, or the software cleanup program “wdOS_606” wasn’t installed or was interrupted or rejected (even up to five years later.) The company is also aware that among these instances, there’s also a chance of the drone developing “Hazardous Mutations.”

- Camp 98.7 is established in the year 3002 on Copper-9.

Humanity’s Downfall:

Year still unknown, but still in the 31st Century

-Underneath a landfill of discarded drones on Earth, presumably in Australia, a drone with a P/N starting with “CYN” self reboots. A so called program named the “Absolute Solver” seemingly contacts her through her broken visor and appears to make a deal with her, promising not to “discard her.” This is how the Solver gets its first host. It’s not known if the Solver took complete control there or if Cyn’s possession was a process.

- The landfill is close by to the mansion of a wealthy human family known as the Elliotts. Their daughter “Tessa James Elliott” enjoys retrieving discarded drones from the landfill so she can repair them. These drones become part of the manor’s wait staff, but Tessa treats them like people and as her friends, even giving them wigs so they can have identifying traits — much to the annoyance of her parents.

- Among the drones Tessa has brought home three are known as N, V, and J due to their serial designation numbers visible on their yellow armbands. It can be noted that it seems Tessa scratched out the “Marked For Disassembly” on the bands with sharpie after she repaired them.

- One day Tessa finds Cyn in the dump and brings her home. She introduces her to N, V, and J shortly after.

- N treats Cyn kindly, and she refers to him as her big brother.

- An unknown amount of time passes and eventually Tessa seems to become unnerved around Cyn due to the drone’s odd behaviour and mannerisms. J often locks Cyn in the library basement because of this.

- Many of Tessa’s drones seem to mysteriously contract some sort of error which leaves them in a catatonic state with their visors flashing a large yellow X alongside the words “error 606” (note that 606 matches the software cleanup program’s name of wdOS_606.) Because of this they are placed into the library. One of these drones is V, who N regularly visits so he can try and talk to her and read to her.

- The Elliotts’s decide to throw a gala at their manor alongside another family called the Frumptlebuckets (lol.) An interesting observation is that these wealthy humans (or at least those in the Elliott’s social circle) apparently like to dress up and act similar to those from around the Victorian era.

- Cyn escapes from the basement and convinces N to attend the gala, so they head to the ballroom to ask Tessa. This ends up leading to an altercation with Tessa’s mother Louisa where she orders Tessa to dump Cyn and all of her other “broken” drones in the library back into the landfill.

- Cyn talks back to Louisa, but N takes the fall for her and ends up being chained outside next to a dead drone that had been picked apart by a flock of crows. Meanwhile, Tessa has been chained up in her bedroom alongside J and Cyn as punishment. This, alongside an earlier scene where she seemingly rubs her wrist in pain implies this happens fairly often to her and highlights that her parents are abusive.

- Tessa berates Cyn for N taking the blame for her, angered that N may end up dead. However, Cyn seems indifferent and calmly claims she has “backups” of N.

- Cyn transforms into her horrific eldritch Solver form and claims Tessa won’t have to “discard her pets” and that she won’t discard her either. She leaves out the window after warning Tessa to stay away from the gala due to her seeming squeamish, revealing her intent to massacre the humans.

- Wanting to save everyone from being killed, Tessa gets J to break their chains and the two of them sneak out and arm themselves with a revolver and sword respectively. Despite this, after they arrive everyone is massacred anyways thanks to Cyn/the Solver corrupting the other Worker Drones, including J, who shuts the door so Tessa can’t escape.

- It’s assumed N escapes being killed by the crows and walks in on Cyn slaughtering the humans at the gala due to a brief flashback of him seeing Cyn eating a human hand (when he touches the Zombie Drones VHS tape.)

- Tessa is killed, and in a twisted way of sticking to her word of not discarding her, Cyn skins her corpse to graft it onto her drone body. (Due to an image of humans in hazmat suits finding Tessa surrounded by the remains of the people from the gala, it’s not fully known if Cyn also killed her at the gala and then posed as her, or if she was killed shortly afterwards.)

- Cyn converts the drones from the manor, including N, V, and J into deadly “Disassembly Drones.” They are given a “nerfed” version of the Solver that Cyn has admin access over to better remain control over them. Their memories are erased before setting them loose to slaughter the rest of the humans on Earth. Sometime after, the Solver causes the planet to implode into a black hole.

- The other colonies on the human exoplanets catch wind of what’s happened back on Earth, so JCJenson establishes “Cabin Fever Labs” to research the Solver and how to stop it.

- One of these labs is established on Copper-9 at Camp 98.7 and its surrounding mineshafts (and a cathedral that was there for some reason.) Multiple drones are purposely given the Solver, notably Nori (002) and Yeva (048.)

- The other exoplanets of the Proxima and Plat-Binary systems are corrupted and wiped out due to the Solver spreading and the Disassembly Drones presumably being sicced there.

- Nori ends up becoming possessed by the Solver. Eventually the JCJenson scientists on Copper-9 are able to create a Crucifix USB patch that can get rid of the Solver’s hold on its hosts. This patch is seemingly only successfully used on Yeva. Unfortunately, before it can be used on Nori, the Solver uses her to kill all the scientists except for an intern named Mitchell who had mistakenly put on the wrong uniform of a doctor and had been sent to fetch Yeva.

- Before the Solver can kill Mitchell after he returns, Yeva saves him and throws the USB into Nori’s face which frees her from its control, but also leaves her mind scrambled. However, the Solver is still able to create a small black hole with Nori’s hand that Yeva is forced to cut off. It’s sent falling into a pit to the planet’s core that the Solver had opened up prior.

- Copper-9’s planetary core partly implodes which wipes all organic life off the planet and turns it into a frozen wasteland. (Don’t worry. The dogs had been evacuated beforehand.) It seems a group of humans tried to survive by cryogenically freezing themselves in a bunker called “Outpost 3” in one of Copper-9’s cities. This didn’t work due to the computer having an error. This leaves the Worker Drones to inherit the planet and embrace their freedom.

Aftermath:

Year still unknown

- Nori and Yeva escape Cabin Fever Labs, while other test subjects such as Alice (017) are left behind to try and survive the lab’s Anti Drone sentinels. Nori meets a drone named Khan Doorman and ends up marrying him while Yeva also finds herself a husband.

- Uzi Doorman and Doll are created by their parents uploading parts of their code into Untrained Neural Networks and they both inherit their mothers’ connections to the Solver.

- The Doorman family experiences moments of happy family memories until Nori begins to have “kooky insane” ramblings and visions about the Solver and Disassembly Drones which she refers to as “Sky Demons” as a result of her brain being scrambled from the USB patch.

- Nori tries to warn the other drones and tells Khan to build doors to shelter themselves from the upcoming dangers.

Return of the Solver:

Sometime before the year 3071

- Cyn/The Solver sends squads of Disassembly Drones to Copper-9. Their memories are wiped and they are made to believe they were created and sent by the humans of JCJenson to eliminate the rogue Worker Drone population. Their directive also involves piling their kills into a “Corpse Spire” and locating Cabin Fever Labs. Cyn also wants to kill all other Solver hosts for an unknown reason.

- The squad consisting of N, V, and J lands close to the bunker of Outpost 3 and begin killing any Worker Drones they come across.

- V is seemingly the only Disassembly Drone that has retained some memory of Cyn and the Solver. She keeps this to herself and follows her directive so Cyn will leave her alone. Additionally, she also pretends to forget about N, believing this will protect him.

- A colony of Worker Drones takes shelter in Outpost 3 where Khan starts to build protective doors like his wife had requested. Around this time Nori is stung with a Disassembly Drone’s nanite acid. Khan uses a wrench to put her out of her misery. However, unbeknownst to anyone else, Nori manages to survive in her Solver core/heart form and goes back to Cabin Fever Labs so she can look for the Crucifix USB Patch.

- V kills Doll’s parents. Doll witnesses this while hiding and the trauma seemingly causes her Solver abilities to begin manifesting.

- The “Worker Drone Defence Force” is established in Outpost 3 with Khan as the leader. Unfortunately, they don’t really try to defend anything and just play cards behind the doors.

- The other Disassembly Drone squads that make it to Cabin Fever Labs are killed by either the Sentinels or Alice and (presumably) her son Beau. Alice scavenges parts from Disassembly Drones and Worker Drones to add to herself and Beau since he is stuck in an Untrained Neural Network body. She also learns to put the Solver cores in heat as it “makes them sluggish.”

Year 3071

- The events of episodes 1 - 7 occur

• Recent Revelation: At the end of episode 3 Cyn arrives on Copper-9 impersonating an older Tessa. She is accompanied by a backed up copy of J who was previously killed by Uzi in episode 1. It’s currently unknown if J is aware that Tessa is actually dead.

[timevisionsme]

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[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with Backstage (2024)

Jonathan Bailey is still marinating in his thoughts, andthey taste pretty sweet. Top notes of red wine, he says. 

These are busy times for the witty British heartthrob. He’s speaking over Zoom from Malta, where he’s filming the next “Jurassic World” installment. And two days prior, he received his first Emmy nomination for his supporting turn on Showtime’s “Fellow Travelers.” 

What’s lingering in Bailey’s mind after reaching such a huge milestone? “The nature of the story, and how that story’s come to be told,” he says of Ron Nyswaner’s limited series, a decades-spanning gay drama that’s chock-full of steamy sex scenes. For him, the Emmy nod is “an acknowledgment of [the show] meaning something much bigger.” 

The 36-year-old actor radiates humility and surges with pride for his collaborators; “Fellow Travelers” also picked up nominations for lead actor Matt Bomer and for Nyswaner’s writing. Bailey believes the fact that executive producer Robbie Rogers was able to get the project on television at all is a “brilliant signifier” of changing times. He feels lucky to have been the right person for the job. And after a couple of decades in the industry, the actor’s star is about to go supernova. 

Childhood stage work and gigs on 2000s teen TV shows led to roles on acclaimed series like ITV’s “Broadchurch” and Channel 4’s “Crashing.” He nabbed an Olivier in 2019 for his performance in Marianne Elliott’s West End revival of “Company.” Households on the other side of the Atlantic learned his name in 2020 when he courted lockdown audiences as Anthony, the strident head of the titular family on Netflix’s period-romance smash “Bridgerton.” 

Then came the game-changing “Fellow Travelers.” Bailey plays the idealistic Tim Laughlin, a closeted congressional staffer who pursues a clandestine relationship with another man amid the witch hunts of McCarthy-era Washington. The actor is keeping up that momentum in the coming months with part one of Jon M. Chu’s highly anticipated film adaptation of the Broadway musical “Wicked” (out Nov. 22), followed by the fourth “Jurassic World” in 2025. 

“Fellow Travelers” is a fitting inflection point for Bailey, considering it reflects aspects of his own gay identity. Tim’s story also illuminates a thread connecting the actor’s work, both in and out of character: always embracing the truth, shame be damned. 

Born in Wallingford, England, Bailey made a beeline for the arts as a kid when he began studying music and ballet. After getting a taste of performing at a young age, he secured an agent when he was a teenager. Even now, he feels the sense of joy and wonder he discovered in those early days. 

He chose not to attend drama school, instead throwing himself into professional theater, where he encountered the performance process in its most essential form. “You start with your own instincts, and then you share with others in the room in real time,” Bailey says. “You academically approach text, then you emotionally explore it. Then, you physically put it on its feet.”

Theater taught him to be observant. In rehearsals, he witnessed actors being brilliant and bold, but also making crucial mistakes. Weeks of rehearsing helped him learn how to spend time with a character as he watched his castmates play against type and expand themselves through performance. Those lessons both tested and encouraged him, and they’ve carried him throughout his career. 

Since then, Bailey has gotten the chance to see plenty of giants at work. He reverently discusses performing Stephen Sondheim’s music alongside Patti LuPone in “Company” and reciting Shakespeare opposite Ian McKellen in the Chichester Festival Theatre’s 2017 production of “King Lear.” 

His contemporaries also made for great teachers. He worked with Phoebe Waller-Bridge on “Crashing” and Michaela Coel on “Chewing Gum”—two certified television geniuses whose creative successes Bailey likens to the magnesium flame of a meteor. It’s an apt comparison—Waller-Bridge called him “a meteorite of fun” in a 2022 interview with GQ. (“I think I’ve always been quite naughty,” he says playfully.)

“There’s so much you take on via natural osmosis,” Bailey explains. “It’s what you watch and how you interpret things.”

For example, he thinks that every actor should see Sandy Dennis’ Oscar-winning turn as Honey in Mike Nichols’ 1966 film “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Her performance whet his curiosity about the craft: “She is so fluid. I mean, that might be the most exposing answer I’ve given about what my inner world is like.”

Bailey’s technique is rooted in music. He plays piano and clarinet, and he approaches acting like an instrument, too. When reading a script for the first time, he experiences his character’s arc as the phrases in a song. “The way my brain works is that I see the images of what they’re doing,” he says. “When I say ‘phrasing,’ it’s like, how you get from that image to this image.”

When he was playing the bottled-up Anthony on “Bridgerton,” Bailey found inspiration in songs by Echo and the Bunnymen and Nirvana. While filming “Fellow Travelers” in Toronto, he went on long walks while listening to expansive pop music to help him explore Tim, a character whose energy radiates outward.

Considering Bailey’s process plays like a song, connoisseurs of his work might notice a motif. Sam from “Crashing,” a party boy Bailey calls “a wild, untamed animal in a tiny little cage,” aggressively maintains a facade of heterosexuality while pining for his male housemate Fred (Amit Shah). On Season 2 of “Bridgerton,” Anthony locked himself into a prison of duty and a loveless engagement to avoid acknowledging his desire for the fiery Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley).

Tim of “Fellow Travelers” is the latest in a series of sharply drawn characters confronting the tension between their assigned roles and their personal truths. Viewers first meet a straitlaced rule-follower whose Catholic piety is only matched by his loyalty to the infamous Senator Joseph McCarthy. All that changes when he crosses paths with Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Bomer), a crystal-eyed, debonair State Department official. Their respective closets combust on contact, and they enter into a forbidden love affair just as McCarthy’s Lavender Scare has begun purging queer people from the halls of government.

Bailey’s interior work tends to be more emotional than cerebral, but he’s a generous conversation partner who’s always game to riff on the deep stuff. Whether it’s yearning, going against expectations, or facing high stakes, the phrasing is what draws him in. 

He finds a lot of gorgeous notes to play across the eight episodes of “Fellow Travelers” as the action moves from the 1950s to the ’80s, making pit stops along the way. While Hawk settles for a life of straight domesticity, Tim hurtles through a sexual and political awakening: The Beltway boy becomes an activist priest who refuses to diminish himself, especially when the AIDS crisis begins to rip his community apart.

Bailey loved being inside Tim’s head; in fact, the actor thinks of him as a hero. After experiencing the isolation of his secret relationship with Hawk, he opens himself up to the world: He comes out, moves to San Francisco, cobbles together a found family, and builds a life as his true self. 

“Ron Nyswaner has spoiled Matt and me for the operatic detail that existed between [our characters],” Bailey says, “and also with Tim’s political fervor: the truth and the honesty that he demands of himself and the world around him, and the grappling with anything that is an obstacle to his own and other’s happiness.”

You can’t talk about “Fellow Travelers” without discussing its rapturous sex scenes—and not only for titillation’s sake, though the kinky encounters between Tim and Hawk certainly call for smelling salts. These sequences gave Bailey the opportunity to commit authentic queer intimacy to the screen, which members of the LGBTQ+ community rarely come across as they search for ways to understand their identities. 

The trust between Bailey and Bomer informed everything they did onscreen. Before filming those scenes, the two actors talked through their approach at a café (Goldstruck Coffee on Cumberland Street in Toronto—a ribald little detail that still makes Bailey laugh). The filming itself was incredibly technical, and the actors worked with an intimacy coordinator on set. “We sort of hit the ground running, knowing exactly what was going to be required but also how to communicate throughout it,” Bailey says. “It felt immediately quite safe.”

He sensed an exciting opportunity to tell a story about transformative love amid the “wild, oppressive moment” of the Lavender Scare, dismissing any reservations about the explicit nature of the material. “Honestly, this is exactly why this show is going to be brilliant,” he remembers thinking.

The series’ milestone dramatic moments, with buttons still done up and no skin showing, carried that same sense of significance. No matter how much Tim grew over the course of his arc, Bailey says that his bond with Hawk remained an “extraordinary, material thing.”

This summer, the actor made a very Tim move when he founded the Shameless Fund, a charity that supports LGBTQ+ causes under the tagline: “Raising cash. Erasing shame.” The initiative grew directly out of his acting work—first inspired by the platform afforded to him by “Bridgerton” and further influenced by his experience on “Fellow Travelers.” 

Playing Tim—or, as Bailey puts it, spending “five months doing a dissertation on queer oppression and liberation”—catalyzed his thoughts about the people who created a world where such a show could even exist. “I think in ‘Fellow Travelers,’ it’s so clear what Tim wants,” he says. “But as the world around him develops, you realize there’s so much that he can’t have, but that he can help change.”

Bailey sees that progress playing out in the next generation. He has a small role on the upcoming third season of Netflix’s queer YA hit “Heartstopper” as a dreamy academic who’s the celebrity crush of the series’ protagonist, Charlie (Joe Locke). Based on creator Alice Oseman’s graphic novel series, the show has found a passionate following of young LGBTQ+ fans. 

When he watched “Heartstopper” for the first time, Bailey remembers wondering what it would have been like to see such representation on television when he was growing up. “I was so celebratory of it,” he says. “But it was obviously kind of a melancholic watch for people above a certain age, because it allowed them to grieve what they didn’t have.”

Having conquered the Regency and Cold War periods on the small screen, Bailey’s blockbuster era is imminent. He’s playing dashing love interest Fiyero in the “Wicked” films (based on Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel), singing and dancing alongside Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. It’s a perfect fit for the actor’s particular lens: “Musically and theatrically, I understand it massively.”

Since “Wicked” came with its own well-known songs to study, Bailey spent a lot of time with composer-lyricist Stephen Schwartz’s music in his ears rather than Kurt Cobain’s. He explored Fiyero’s interiority through the musical theater form itself: What does the act of singing express for him?

And for a character whose signature number is called “Dancing Through Life,” what metaphorical direction are his steps leading him in? 

Bailey sees Fiyero as part of the same club as Tim, Anthony, and Sam, as the heightened world of Oz sends him on a journey of radical transformation. “I think about where he starts and where he ends up; he’s literally a changed person,” the actor says. “I savored the arc over two films.” 

Next year, Bailey will become an action star in Gareth Edwards’ next installment of “Jurassic World” opposite Scarlett Johansson. Though details have yet to be announced, including the movie’s title, production is well underway; Bailey just finished filming in Thailand before shooting moved to Malta. A few days before we spoke, he was interacting with a fake blue-screen dinosaur (which is only a spoiler if you thought Hollywood has actually been cloning big reptiles this whole time).

But Bailey is still keeping his theater muscles toned. Next year, he’s starring as the titular monarch in Nicholas Hytner’s production of Shakespeare’s “Richard II” at London’s Bridge Theatre. “I have to go and sharpen up,” he says of returning to the stage. “You feel so sharp and dexterous at the end of a theater run—but also, you know, without a soul. Carcass levels of absolute exhaustion.”

Bailey lights up at the prospect of getting back onstage and experiencing the kinetic energy between the actors, crew, and director. He believes that the emotional and intellectual rigor of theater leads to a tight, specific piece of work. It’s an art form that requires continuous creation night after night.

This stamina comes in handy in front of a camera, too. “When you’re exhausted, you have to rely on technique,” he explains. “Technique does get you over the finish line, and you can deliver a performance that is honest and tell the story effectively and truthfully.” 

Until then—and until he’s back on set with those fake dinosaurs—he’s going to soak up that Emmy-nomination afterglow for a little while longer. 

“I’m actually going to go and have another glass of wine to celebrate,” he says.

Source

[atzjieun]

one last day

summary | jieun gets some helpful advice the day before she debuts 

circa | october 23, 2018

contains | 1.3k words, depictions of anxiety, self-doubt and general fears about the future, cute jihong interactions

note | the final installment in the origin arc is finally here !! and probably the last predebut scenario for a while :”) thank you for everyone who’s enjoyed jieun so far and shown her love <3

The cold breeze nipped at Jieun’s skin, the girl shivering as she rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms. She should’ve grabbed a jacket before she came out here, but in hindsight, there were a lot of things she should’ve done, things from the past that were now coming back to haunt her. 

Like all the missing schoolwork that had piled up in the weeks she’d been focused on their debut, or that time she’d missed practice because she had an exam that she couldn’t reschedule. There just wasn’t enough time to do anything, it seemed. She hadn’t even read the message her brother sent her a couple days ago. She knew he’d be at her debut showcase; she could apologize then. 

Maybe she should’ve tried to finish her homework on the bus instead of getting the extra 20 minutes of sleep, or maybe she should’ve just dealt with one failing grade so she could attend practice, because it wasn’t fair that she wasn’t putting in the same amount of effort and commitment that the other members were. 

Would people be able to notice that she didn’t practice as much as the others? What would they think when she lagged behind? What if she forgot the choreography while they were performing? 

A shaky breath left Jieun’s lips as she closed her eyes. She took in deep breaths as she started lightly pinching her arms, the slight pain distracting from the whirlwind of thoughts flying through her head. She continued like this for a few more seconds, until the sound of her heartbeat no longer pounded through her ears. 

“Jieun?” 

The girl opened her eyes, whipping her head around to see Hongjoong’s tired figure standing in the entryway to the balcony, dressed in a sweater and basketball shorts. She hadn’t even heard him open the sliding door. Jieun immediately dropped her arms, staring at him like a deer in headlights. 

“Hi,” she replied meekly. 

Hongjoong stepped onto the balcony, closing the sliding door behind him before he walked over to the girl. 

It was one of the rare times the leader didn’t stay late at the studio, the company wanting to give him a bit of rest before they officially debuted. Hongjoong was always working so hard, day and night, and he always seemed to have everything handled. So why couldn’t she do the same?

The two sat in silence for a couple minutes, Jieun staring down at her lap while Hongjoong looked off into the distance. The air grew uncomfortably awkward as they sat together, barely acknowledging the other’s presence.

“Aren’t you cold?” Hongjoong eventually asked, breaking the silence. Jieun shook her head, though a strong breeze suddenly whipped past that caused the girl to shiver. He didn’t hesitate to take off his sweater upon seeing this, reaching over to drape it over the girl’s shoulders. She leaned back, pushing his arm away. 

“It’s ok,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t have to.” 

The older boy let out a sigh. “Don’t be stubborn- I can see that you’re cold,” he scolded, holding it out to her. Jieun’s gaze flicked between him and the sweater, staring down at it for a moment before nodding sheepishly. She scooched closer, slipping her arms through the sleeves before pulling it tight to her body. 

“Thanks,” Jieun whispered. 

Hongjoong only gave a single nod as he turned to look at her, eyebrows raising. “So, what’s on your mind, Jieunie?”  

She responded with a quick shrug, staring forward to avoid his gaze. “I just wanted some fresh air.” 

He snorted. “We can’t be that bad.” Jieun giggled, though the lighthearted moment quickly faded away as her smile wavered. Hongjoong didn’t take his eyes off her, quietly observing as a small sigh escaped the girl’s lips. “But really, Jieun. What’s going on?” 

She remained quiet for an extended period of time, and he took note of her hands tightly gripping the cuffs of his sweater. It felt like years had passed before she uttered quietly,

“I’m scared.” Jieun’s expression was blank as she stared off into the distance. “This isn’t what I thought this would be like. My dream is finally coming true and I’m scared.” 

She looked over at him, letting out a bitter chuckle. “It’s sad. I want to be excited, but I can’t because I keep thinking about everything that could go wrong, or everything that I did wrong.” Jieun closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, holding it for a couple seconds before letting out a drawn-out exhale. She froze, her entire face devoid of emotion with the exception of her eyes, her pupils shaking as she let out a shaky breath. “What if they don’t like me?” 

Hongjoong’s gaze softened the more he stared at the girl, wishing he could just take all her worries and pain and transfer them to himself. But as much as he wanted to comfort her, tell her everything would be ok, the world could be a scary place. Still, Hongjoong ignored the own ache in his heart as he put a hand on her shoulder.  

“Jieunie, there are always going to be people who won’t like us,” he said with a gentle tone, choosing each word carefully. “As much as it sucks, that’s just how it is.” 

The girl nodded slowly, though he went on before she could say anything.  

“But for every person that doesn’t like you, there are fifty people that will love you,” Hongjoong looked down at the girl and gave a single nod, lightly squeezing her shoulder. “It’s normal to feel scared when something big is happening, Jieun, but you don’t have to be scared by yourself. I’ll always be here for you. The others too.”

Jieun nodded half-absentmindedly as she turned away, her blank stare showing that she was still there, but her mind was in a completely different place.

“Honestly, when we were first confirmed to debut, I was worried about you.” Jieun glanced over at the leader, her eyebrows raising slightly.

“You were…worried about me?” 

His eyes widened as he shook his head quickly, understanding her confusion. “Not because I doubted your abilities,” he said quickly. “I was worried because you’re so kind-hearted.” Jieun’s head tilted curiously as he went on. “You and Yeosang are the same. You’re kind, Jieun, and there are people who are going to take advantage of that. I’m worried that you’ll have a hard time and I won’t be able to protect you.” 

He took in a deep breath, exhaling in a long, drawn out sigh. “I promise I’ll try, though. So long as the stars are shining, I’ll always try to protect you kids.” 

She let out a small chuckle at his words, a small yawn slipping past her lips. Jieun leaned her head against his shoulder, scooting closer to him as though silently sending him a message, one that he immediately understood. 

Thank you. 

Hongjoong smiled fondly, wrapping an arm around the girl as he rested his head on hers. The moonlight shone down on them, illuminating the night sky and somehow making the stars shine even brighter. Jieun wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, but she was half-asleep when Hongjoong suddenly tapped her on the nose. 

“Let’s get inside before you catch a cold,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice as he sat up straight. Jieun nodded, straightening her own back and stretching a bit. “C’mon, Jieunie. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.” 

She glanced over at him curiously. “We have hot chocolate mix?” 

“Yeah, we do.” He put his finger to his lips, giving a quiet ‘shh’. “Just don’t tell Wooyoung.” 

The girl giggled, nodding as they both stood up and started making their way back into the apartment. Before she stepped inside, she glanced back at the night sky once more, seeing all the stars shining brightly as ever. A small smile made its way onto her face as she turned around, hugging his sweater tightly as ever to her body before going back inside, allowing herself to be consumed by the warmth of her home. 

taglist: @teezingsiyeon

[firstelevens]

sambucky + “stubborn” for your consideration!

this screenshot was the first thing I saw from the Thunderbolts trailer and unfortunately I was perfectly positioned to have a brainwave about it. now it's a fic. bon appetit.

( read it on AO3 )

As it so often has these days, one in the morning finds Sam crawling around on the kitchen floor, mapping out a pattern in subway tiles. Tonight, he’s gone for herringbone, a choice that he regretted as soon as he started. There’s a legal pad on the floor beside him, covered in notes about angled cuts and tile wastage, and he’s still not sure the pattern looks the way it should. There are probably YouTube videos about this exact thing, but this is the first night in weeks that Sam can’t just blast a home improvement video from his phone at any given hour.

He pushes off the floor and stands to get a look at the pattern he laid out—his knees protest, which he doesn’t have time to be concerned about—and huffs in disappointment. The tiles are far too chunky for the design, the angled set looking more like a mistake than an artistic choice. It might come through if Sam was willing to tile the whole kitchen that way, but it makes his head spin to consider how much tile would be wasted if he did.

He’s still frowning down at the pattern when the creak of the staircase landing lets him know that he’s about to have company. Apparently, not even Bucky’s stealth is a match for hardwood floors in a hundred year old house, and after a moment, he appears in the kitchen doorway.

“Sam,” he says, his voice still hoarse from sleep, “why the hell are you still up?”

His hair is a fluffy mess, caught in an awkward growing-out stage, and he’s wearing a sweatshirt from some charity event that Kamala had wheedled them into attending last month, and he’s just bleary enough that all Sam has to do is hold out a hand before Bucky is taking it and allowing himself to be reeled in. He lets out a quiet oof when he collides with Sam’s shoulder, but immediately readjusts, slipping his arms around Sam’s waist and resting his chin on Sam’s shoulder.

“How are you gonna shake off your jet lag if you don’t get some sleep?” asks Sam. “If you fall asleep mid-conversation at lunch with Joaquín tomorrow, I’m never letting you live it down.”

“I’m over a hundred years old, Sam; I can nap whenever I damn well please.”

“You could also sleep in our bedroom at night like a normal person.”

Bucky snorts. “Are we pretending to have normal sleep schedules now?”

“Shut up, it’s aspirational,” says Sam. “Just like all those kitchen Pinterest boards are about to be if I can’t figure out this stupid tile arrangement.”

“That’s because you’re basically sleepwalking.”

“If you’re just gonna be quippy about it, you can take your ass right back up to bed,” snaps Sam. “We’re already running behind schedule, and I need these tiles set before the guy comes to install the stove, and we bought all these decorative pieces and we had a plan for all of it, but I can’t for the life of me remember how the designer at the tile showroom made it work, and if I can’t, that’s another three weeks.”

He feels Bucky’s arms retreat from around his waist and immediately regrets it. It’s not Bucky’s fault that Sam’s brain isn’t working right now, just like it isn’t his fault that Team Cap got called in at the crack of dawn today to deal with a squadron of rogue androids wreaking havoc in Chicago. 

“Sorry, Buck,” he says, scrubbing a hand down his face and turning in the direction of Bucky’s footsteps. “This is the third catastrophe of the week, and I just– what are you doing?”

Bucky shrugs at Sam as he turns on the tap and fills the electric kettle with water. “What does it look like, birdie? I’m making tea.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’m not gonna sleep unless you come to bed, and you’re not gonna come to bed until you figure out how to make this tile pattern work. I don’t solve my problem until I solve yours.”

“There’s that romance I’ve been missing,” says Sam, his voice flat.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response. “Romance? Is that what you call staying downstairs to do math instead of coming up to bed when your partner just got back from a month-long mission?”

“It was barely three weeks,” scoffs Sam, like he hadn’t kept up a running tally of days until Bucky’s return. “And your so-called mission was to Wakanda, where you spent most of your time playing with baby goats and being nosy about Shuri’s experiments.”

“And that was very hard, very lonely work,” says Bucky, flicking the kettle on and turning to grab mugs out of the cabinet. He sets them on the counter, then drops in a tea bag each from the fancy wooden caddy that Joaquín got them as a housewarming present. “I pined for you, Samuel.”

“I’m sure you did,” says Sam. He decides to leave Bucky to it and turns back to the tiles, halfway to kneeling on the floor again before Bucky makes a disapproving noise from behind him. He huffs and looks over his shoulder, straightening up again. “What now, Barnes?”

“You keep at it like this and your knees and back are gonna give you trouble for the next month.”

Sam crosses his arms, more annoyed at Bucky being right than anything else. “How else do I make this puzzle work? It’s not going to make sense unless I can move the pieces myself.”

In retrospect, it’s gracious of Bucky to not point out that crawling on his hands and knees didn’t do much to make it make sense, either. In the moment, he just says, “Give me a second,” and disappears down the hallway again, turning into the family room. 

When he reappears a moment later, he has two couch cushions in his hand, dropping them both at Sam’s feet. “Knock yourself out,” he says, gesturing to the tiles on the floor.

“Oh,” says Sam, blinking down at the pillows. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of that earlier. “Thanks, baby.”

Bucky just hums in acknowledgment. “At least this way we don’t have to put out a press statement about you getting injured in a fight with kitchen decor.”

“Shut up,” says Sam, but it’s much softer now. He kneels on the cushion in front of him and sets to work again, referring to his legal pad and trying to make sense of the tile layout one more time. 

On the other side of the island, he can hear Bucky pouring the hot water into their mugs. A second later, he hears the click and swoosh of something gliding across a smooth surface, followed by the thwack of two coasters sliding over the edge of the counter and landing on the floor. One of them skids far enough on the landing to end up on Sam’s tiles, and though he flicks it out of the way, it makes a familiar fondness bloom in his chest.

“Why are you pelting me with coasters? I know your mother raised you better than that.”

“She did,” says Bucky, coming around the counter. “Which is why I would never put these mugs on these ‘original hardwoods’ that you love so much.”

Sam makes a face. Being excited about original hardwood floors in a house from 1910 is normal and he won’t be shamed for it. “And you couldn’t just, I don’t know, carry over the coasters like a normal person?”

“Then I’d have to make two trips,” Bucky says. “I’m being efficient, Sam.”

“You’re being lazy, is what that is,” says Sam. He reaches up to take one of the mugs as Bucky sits down beside him.

“I prefer to think of it as saving my energy for important things,” says Bucky, setting aside his tea. “Like saving the world. Or ravishing my partner after yearning for him for weeks on end.”

Sam tries to nudge Bucky, but three years of partnership and supersoldier reflexes mean that Bucky almost never catches a ‘stop being corny’ elbow—although when he does, he makes sure to whine about it for far too long. “All that yearning and you still couldn’t bring me my own Border Tribe blanket?”

“That thing is enormous, Sam; why would we need two?”

“What if I want to curl up in a chair on my own?”

Bucky snorts. “Then I assume you’ll just steal the blanket, the same way you always do at night.”

Unfortunately, it’s an accusation backed up by hard evidence, so Sam has no defense against it, except to say, “What do you even need the blankets for? You’re like a furnace; you’ve got the serum.”

“And what do you even need the blankets for when you’ve got me?”

Sam can see the corners of Bucky’s mouth turning up just slightly, and he opts not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. “You better be glad you didn’t say that back in Delacroix, because Sarah would never let you hear the end of it.”

“You say that like you’re not going to tell her about this on the phone tomorrow.”

He can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t, turning back to the tiles and the legal pad instead. Bucky watches him work in silence for a bit, drawn-out enough that Sam is itching to break it. It’s easy to forget that even before Bucky was the Winter Soldier, he spent his army career waiting out the enemy from a sniper’s nest, and he can play chicken with the best of them. Three years of partnership has built up Sam’s tolerance, too, though, and when he stays silent, it’s Bucky who finally cracks.

“So should we talk about why you’re this worried about a bunch of tiles? And don’t tell me that anything worth doing is worth doing well. Tile-arranging in the dead of night is not something worth doing.”

“Maybe I just take pride in the things I do,” says Sam, but it sounds surly even to him.

“Of course you do,” says Bucky. “That’s hardly news. But don’t pretend this is the same thing as you getting up at the crack of dawn to work on the boat. This is something else.”

Sam frowns, looking down at the tiles that he’s been staring at for hours. He’s quiet for a long moment, but Bucky doesn’t rush him. There’s no answer that Sam can come up with, really, not one that would be remotely satisfactory.

“I can’t just want this to be done? It can’t just be that I want to check it off the list now and not later?”

“Is that what’s going on, though?”

“Maybe,” says Sam, shrugging.

“So we’ll just tile the whole kitchen the same way,” says Bucky, his voice light. “No backsplash pattern at all. Then we’ll be done.”

“It’s not that easy,” he says.

“Why not?” asks Bucky. “It’s our house, and we have a timeline to stick to, right? If the design is slowing us down, we can skip it.”

“It won’t be the same, though,” says Sam. “It won’t be right.”

Anyone else would be polite enough to leave it at that, but Sam had to go and fall in love with the stubbornest asshole he knows. “What, we don’t get to pick what’s right?”

“We already picked this,” Sam says, his voice sharp. “We picked the design and all the details, and where it would sit, and how long it would take for us to be done. We decided that this is what home should look like. We should be able to have the thing we want.”

And it’s not like Sam can’t hear himself. It’s not like he doesn’t know that his late nights of tile arranging and testing wood finishes aren’t the healthiest choices he could make. He’s just been able to ignore that until now, because for all this time, he’s had something to do and a deadline to do it by, whether it was androids to punch or a sink to order.

He hasn’t let himself think of stopping and what that means, not until right now, with Bucky’s gaze heavy on him and the quiet of the kitchen broken by a murmured, “Oh, sweetheart.”

Sam still doesn’t let himself look up, skimming his fingers over the tiles in their pattern. “I just want it to look like we wanted,” he says softly. His thoughts drift to the office upstairs, the classified files in the secret compartment of Bucky’s desk, and the lump in his throat is immediate. “So anyone who sees it knows that it’s a home. So they know that it’s our home.”

Bucky sighs, and then there’s some shuffling before he’s pulling on the sleeve of Sam’s t-shirt. “Come here, baby.”

A quick peripheral glance reveals that Bucky’s back is resting against the island cabinets now, and his arms are open. In any other circumstance, Sam might be embarrassed by how fast he moves, but he can’t bring himself to care. He lets himself be hauled into Bucky’s arms and manhandled into a more comfortable sitting position, his back to Bucky’s chest and Bucky’s arms curled protectively around him.

“Sammy, sweetheart,” says Bucky, “I don’t know what world you’re living in where it’s not already obvious that this is our house. Our dining room has purple walls, Sam. Purple. The whole room. I’ll tell you right now, nobody’s walking into that room and imagining anything except the truth.”

“It’s maroon, you heathen, and it’s a nice color,” says Sam, his voice still a little watery.

“It is,” Bucky agrees. “It’s nice, and you chose it, and every time I look at it, I’m going to think of how you told the girl at the paint counter that your man had old fashioned taste but no budget constraints, and she thought you were someone’s sugar baby redecorating their love nest.”

“That wasn’t as funny as you thought it was,” Sam says. Then, because he’s sleep deprived and his brain to mouth filter is gone, he adds: “And for the record, I’d be a great sugar baby. My taste is expensive as hell.”

“Yeah, Sam, you’re a real material girl.”

Sam frowns. “I should never have let Sarah teach you about Madonna.”

“I’d like to see you try to stop Sarah from doing anything,” says Bucky, with a snort.

“I’m sure it’ll happen plenty when I’m back down in Delacroix,” says Sam, and he feels Bucky’s arms tense. “Maybe the boys can record it for you.”

“Maybe,” echoes Bucky. He’s quiet for a long moment before he says, “I haven’t talked to them yet. I don’t know how to explain myself. I thought it might get easier when I came back stateside, but it just feels more overwhelming now.”

Sam covers Bucky’s hands with his own, giving them a squeeze. “You just have to tell them it’s the same as any mission. We go out there, we do something scary but important, and then we come back home. It’s all fine as long as you come back home.”

“I know,” Bucky says. “Just this one thing, and then we’ll both be back home.”

“Uh-huh,” says Sam.

“Just one thing,” repeats Bucky, “and then we’ll both be here, and it’ll be home, and it won’t be because of the backsplash or the baseboards. It’ll be because it’s you and me. That’s home.”

Sam doesn’t bother to hide his sniffle this time. “Just that, huh?”

“You’ve got no idea, songbird,” says Bucky, tucking his face against Sam’s neck. “The two of us? You looking at me and actually seeing me? I think that was home even before I remembered what home was.”

He feels himself go very still as his brain makes sense of Bucky’s words, thinks of stilted conversation on a train platform and scowls exchanged in a rearview mirror. It’s not even worth trying to stop his eyes welling up.

“What the hell, Bucky?” Sam croaks, swiping at the tears. “Is this you making me feel better?”

“What?” asks Bucky, smiling against Sam’s neck. “No good?”

Sam shakes his head.

“Sorry, honey,” says Bucky, with a conciliatory kiss to Sam’s pulse point. “How ‘bout a distraction instead?”

With another sniffle: “What kind of distraction?”

The last thing that Sam is expecting is for Bucky to reach out and point at the tiles, now slightly askew with Sam and Bucky’s readjustments and their legs being sprawled out in front of them.

“What, you want to do math?”

“Not exactly.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “Then what?”

“First, I want you to remember we’re so in love that it made you tear up a second ago. Just keep that in your head for a second.”

“Bucky.”

“What, you don’t want to think about how far we’ve come?”

“Bucky.”

“Fine, but you’re going to hate it,” says Bucky. When Sam waves a hand for him to continue, he takes a deep breath and says, “I think I solved your tile thing.”

“No, you didn’t,” says Sam.

Behind him, Bucky shifts a little, then uses his foot to nudge one of the tiles out of its overlap with its neighbor, knocking it out of the herringbone shape. Then, he nudges it again so the short side of one tile sits flush against the long side of another. Straight on, it’s a right angle, but rotated forty-five degrees, it’s…

“Fuck off, I know that didn’t happen,” says Sam, pushing up onto his knees to get a better look. He leans over and replicates the pattern with four more tiles just below it: a perfect herringbone, and tight enough from the offset that the pattern is clear even with a handful of tiles. “What the hell? Was it that easy this whole time?”

“I mean…”

Sam covers his face with his hands. “Maybe you were right,” he says, but it’s garbled behind his hands.

“I don’t speak Dwarvish; can you repeat that?” asks Bucky, and Sam elbows him just because, but then he lets Bucky take his hand and lead him up to bed anyway.

[wondwaeland]

The Purge AU (official title TBD)

WARNING: due to the original Purge franchise being rated R (films) and TV-MA (tv), this AU will contain violence, mentions of t°rture, SA, murd°r, and gore. This AU is rated for MATURE AUDIENCES. Please continue at your own discretion.

Character Profiles under cut

The Circus - a Purge group that functions as more psychopathic vigilantes, targeting false companies, hate groups, and other NFFA groups

Aren't government officials off limits?

It's the purge where nothing is legally binding for a twelve hour period, that rule does not make sense. In my au, the government should be fair game.

Caine Eden

Age: 35; Son of a NFFA politician, participates to a send a message to the NFFA and other government officials that they aren't safe; leads a crew dubbed "The Circus" under the name "The Ringleader;" he targets corrupt power in the government and everyday corporations || "Bubble" - Caine's fly on the wall program installed in every NFFA software that makes him one step ahead.

Rebecca-Agatha "Ragatha" Hansen

Age: 30; Code Name: "The Ragdoll," Agatha started participating due to bottled up tension and anger, she joined the Circus after her old team "The Dollhouse" was disbanded two years into the Purge era; she mainly goes after convicted sex offenders; during the normal day, she's nurse in a senior living home

Jackson "Jax" O'Hara

Age: 22; Code Name: "The Rabbit," Jax was one of the first to join the Circus having worked for the NFFA alongside Caine; he joined in order to cause chaos and destruction with no ramifications, if people benefit from his kills...bonus; he currently works in IT for the NFFA

Gina "Gangle" Engleman

Age: 26; Code Name: "Ribbons," Gina was roped into The Circus by accident, Jax commandeered her backseat and told her to drive as his getaway car soon after the sirens rang, Caine provided her refuge for the night; she doesn't participate every year, but she when she does its towards a specific group of people, more often than not she drives the mobile base to pick up stragglers and bring them to a safe zone; she normally works as a kids' theater director and daycare attendant

Zayne "Zooble" Tetsuo

Age: 22; Code Name: "The Amalgamation," Zayne is The Circus' tech expert and makes all the fun weaponry for each person's task for the Purge, they joined The Circus after Gina enlisted them for their string of hits and stayed ever since; they rarely take to the field, but will hop on the mobile base to pick up stragglers and bring them to a safe zone with Gina; they normally work in IT at a hole-in-the-wall tech repair shop; no one truly knows how they got their Purge name

Reginald "Reggie" Henry

Age: 48; Code Name: "The King," he was once part of a duo with a close friend but after she was downed, he joined The Circus after Caine invited him, hearing that he Purged for charity - targeting false charities; he is a retired veteran and works part time at the youth center; he is currently retired from Purge activities but acts as an advisor to the rest of The Circus

"Pomni"

Age:25; known as "The Jester," she is feared in the streets due to her kill count and no clear loyalty to the NFFA's agenda or to the Circus, she currently works in tandem with the Circus after a run in with the Ragdoll the previous year; during normal hours, she works as a teller for one of the most targeted banks of the night