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chaoticgeminate · 1 year

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The Saltwater Room (ii)

Summary: You’ve been a drifter across the sea for as long as you can remember, unwilling to stop and unwilling to settle, nervous to put down roots and trust others like you’d been taught growing up. Marcus grew up settled and happy, heartbreak led him to the sea and fate put him in your path.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (Thar be smut ahead, it was supposed to just be a kiss 😅)

Notes and Warnings: AU based on the video game Raft, will feature some locations and themes of the game. This is NOT how you survive if you’re stranded at sea, please don’t use this as practical.

Series Masterlist | Year of Video Game AUs Masterlist

and you were looking so cold (4k)

Rain ripped you out of a pleasant sleep, the cool fresh water sorely needed, and you heard Marcus whoop happily as he hurried to get extra jugs to fill up. It had been nearly a month since he woke up and your first meeting and his bruises were finally gone, his eyes were bright and his smiles were so much wider, and with each day you found that he just oozed sincerity. He was more than capable at fishing and making ropes, at monitoring the water purifiers and the grills, and you were the one slowly transforming the little raft into something better.

Having someone around again felt good, even though you were torn between wanting him to stay and wanting to hide away.

With his help there were full half walls around the edges that would help prevent you both from going over in the event of a storm, the base foundation expanded significantly to give you both more room, and your palm frond tents and beds were upgraded to a hammock each and actual wooden walls. Finding the scrap to make the nails you’d needed had been a pain but the end result was worth it, you’d modeled it after a boat you’d seen in an old journal with a cabin area near the back center and the front angled in at a point. The sail now was at the center of the deck, for easy access, and it was a much better vessel as a whole.

But this rainfall tested, and proved, your ability to build because the indoor area wasn’t leaking one bit and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself in that moment. Marcus’ eyes danced as he watched the jugs of water slowly fill, extra plastic scraps turned into funnels and long flat trays were angled to get as much rain into them as possible as the two of you stood in the cool shade of the clouds and basked in mercy from the heat and burning sun. You couldn’t help but spin in an excited circle, throwing your head back and holding your mouth open without a care for what Marcus might have thought.

Both of you had plastic cups, which were sitting out gathering water too, and the rain kept falling and falling even as you both worked to use the waves to your advantage while the water was being stored. Your plastic hooks were thrown at wads of palm fronds and seaweed, at floating plants tangled in rope and fabric, at floating containers and even barrels or crates or excess supplies if you got lucky. Marcus had even fashioned a row of nets that were designed to catch anything you missed and went on the front of the raft. By twilight your water stores were filled, the two of you were far from dehydrated, and even your pineapple plants were doing so much better.

Marcus sat back against the door inside the cabin, the two of you significantly chilled with the rain and clouds lasting all afternoon, and when you shivered he opened his arms for you. While you were certainly still a little suspicious of him, since you’d only met him a month ago, you were willing to trust him and crawled over to cuddle into his side. His heart was beating fast against your ear as you leaned your head to rest slightly against his pectoral rather than his shoulder, his arm draped over you, and when you slid your leg to tangle with his you could hear the soft hitch of his breath.

But he didn’t make a move, his fingers tapped and traced random swirls against your chilled skin, he never once made you feel uncomfortable and when you tipped your head up to look at him Marcus was already looking at you. Your lips parted and you thought he was leaning in, you hoped he was, but instead he turned his face away even though you could see the hint of color on his cheeks in the dying light of the sunset and the torch he’d set up to bring some warmth to the small cabin.

Instead of pushing for it you pulled away, not wanting to overstep, and Marcus’ soft sound was almost disappointed. In you or himself you weren’t ever going to know, you had no intention to ask.

He stayed with you like that until the moon was out, it was still raining so neither of you were willing to leave the cabin and work through the night like usual, and finally you got up and meandered to your hammock. Marcus glanced at you and away when you grabbed the long scrap of fabric that served as your towel, deciding to dry off since you’d managed to very poorly tie together some fabric scraps into a passable night shirt, and while you wanted to be hurt that you weren’t his type -since he was making it obvious- you just couldn’t be given how much he was showing his respect for you by not being a creep.

Your wet clothes landed with a soft plop on the floor and you shivered as you wrapped your body in the large sheet-sized piece of fabric, letting the water on your skin transfer to the cloth, and Marcus had stripped down too while your back was turned. You watched him reach out from the folds of fabric to grab all of the wet clothes in a bundled grip, his eyes catching yours in the torchlight, and you flustered under the heat and want in those cocoa pools. But he looked away and you did the same, choosing to begin patting yourself down so that you could get dressed faster.

“Thanks for hanging those up.” The garments were draped over a wood support beam you had built into the cabin for cases just like this, after he’d rung them out into the plastic bucket meant for water that wasn’t drinkable. Marcus hummed softly and you couldn’t help but glance at him, the sheet was very heavily wrapped around his waist so his arms were free, and the muscles of his back flexed with each motion. You admired the softness in his physique, he wasn’t nearly as thin as he had been when you found him now that the two of you were able to catch plenty of fish and even had a planter box of potatoes, your combined diet was much more nutrient rich.

It was a good look for him, the softened edges and plush parts that only made him look sturdier, and you traced the broadness of his shoulders with your eyes before looking away when he went to turn around. This uneasy dance of not knowing what he wanted made you feel off balance, he pulled away but was showing signs that maybe he did want you?

“Marcus-“

His mouth silenced you, in the time you’d taken to finally just bring it up he’d crossed the cabin and pulled you into him, and even though most of you was very much enrobed in fabric you could feel the heat of him through the material as your hands pressed to his pectorals and your mouth parted for his. He breathed your name like a prayer against your open mouth, bare hands coming up to hold your cheeks like you were delicate, and you melted for him. The uncertainty didn’t matter as he kissed you, as his lips moved so gently against yours, as your tongues brushed and traced the shape of each other’s mouths; you didn’t care if you never breathed again now that you had him like this.

Marcus pulled away first and you chased his mouth, a soft whine escaping you, but he held you back with his hands to gently rub his nose against yours.

“I want you but I need you to know that I can’t just… be casual about this. You saved me life, you let me stay and… you’re incredible-“

“Stop talking.” Your voice soft but he reacted like you’d screamed, a silence lingering between you for only a split second, and you shrugged off the fabric covering you before grabbing the bundle of fabric at his waist and pulling him down to the floor with you. The last of the barriers between you was piled under his back as you straddled him, hands flat on the floor on either side of his head, his eyes blown wide as the torchlight and the sound of the rain created an intimate and cozy atmosphere.

“Don’t make me regret giving you my heart Marcus, or my trust.” You knew your tone was a bit on the sharp side but you’d been hurt before, you’d been betrayed before, and something about this man broke down your walls and made you want to trust him. You watched his eyes for any sign of doubt, any sign that you were wrong, but instead those dark pools softened and he reached up to hold your hips.

“Never, I’ll keep it safe.” He blinked slow, affection on his face as clear as the stars in the night sky, before he was rolling the pair of you and trapping you under him. With every kiss he pressed into your skin he made a promise; a promise to help you with anything you might need when he kissed each fingertip, a promise to be there when you needed him as he kissed the spot right behind your ear, a promise to help carry the weight of keeping both of you alive when he reached the curve of your breast, and a promise to be the one constant in your life as he kissed his way down your abdomen.

Each touch of his lips was torment, it was the kind of kiss that came with leaving a wet place or the imprint of his teeth, the kind that made your spine arch and sent chills through you. His thigh had wedged between yours, when he’d begun his delicious torment and one of his hands on your hip had encouraged you to grind against him, the friction and warmth of his skin started to feel cool as your body began to heat up, and your breathy call of his name brought his mouth to yours as he hiked your leg higher over his hip and rolled against you. The touch of his hard shaft against your folds made you keen, he swallowed the sound eagerly but didn’t angle himself to slide into you like you wanted, instead he teased you by just putting the right pressure against your clit and letting your wetness coat the underside of his cock.

“Please- Marcus stop teasing-“ You were cut off by the hand that was cupping the back of your head, since you were on the floor, angling you to tilt your jaw up so he could go after the spot on your neck that made your back arch higher. You tried to grab at his arms and waist, at his cute little butt, to get him where you wanted him but Marcus grunted and pulled back. You were about to protest, to apologize or beg, but he simply grabbed the back of your knees and lifted them onto his shoulders; reflexively you yelped but he groaned so loud over the sound at the sight of your pubic hair wet with slick.

“I’ll stop teasing, but we’re doing things my way.” He winked at you over your mound and the first touch of his tongue sent sharp pleasure down your spine, it had been so long that it felt like it was new all over again, and you fisted the fabric beneath you as he practically hugged your hips and thighs to keep you in place. The angle was a bit awkward, you were reclined slightly on the back of your shoulders, but none of that mattered as Marcus’ tongue slid through your silken folds eagerly.

“Fuck, Marcus higher-“ He hummed against you and his nose nudged gently where his tongue didn’t touch, it was enough to make your breathing erratic, because this wasn’t just getting you ready for him. He was tasting, feeling, and exploring you with his mouth.

“Gotta- need you to put a little more pressure-“ You were close already, eager for the sweet release he promised, and Marcus delivered without you needing to beg. He circled your clit with his tongue before carefully sucking the sensitive bundle, stars exploded behind your eyes, and you could hear him praising you just barely over the pounding of your heart. You reached for him and he lowered your legs gently, crawling up your body into your arms, and he put nearly all of his weight on you but you didn’t care. Hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him, and you didn’t care that the taste of you was on his tongue as he rocked his hips against yours.

“So good for me, so good to me, angel.” His praise against your lips made you loop your legs around him, eager and wanting and ready, and this time he didn’t make you wait. He was big, and it had been a while, so the stretch still burned but it was a damn good burn; the kind that made your moan throaty and deep and had you somewhere between pleasure and pain. He was panting against the side of your neck, hips rocking back slowly before pressing deeper, and you knew your grip was tight but the slow push of him had your body locked down.

“Oh-“ The inhale you attempted to take turned into a choked moan when Marcus bottomed out, bracing his knees on the pile of fabric even though his thighs were shaking, and you both just stayed there breathing for a moment as the heat between you spiked. Only when your grip on his hair loosened enough that he could pull his head away, only when you clenched around him trying to make him move, did Marcus surrender to it. The push and pull of his hips matched the ebb and flow of the tide, one of his hands moving from its place on the floor to grab your hip and angle you, and the other caught yours as you went to grab his bicep; fingers entwined as he held that hand onto the floor and pressed his forehead to yours.

The torch was burning out still, the light dim, and the rain was almost muted with the wet sounds of your bodies; in the low light you could still see the reverence, the affection, in his eyes. It would have scared you, it should have scared you, but that fragile little spark of hope in your chest burned bright. Hope that this time would be different, that this man would keep his word, and hope that he would stay. His eyes never left yours and you didn’t dare look away, lashes fluttering when he would roll his hips a certain way or if he would grind against you, but you never lost eye contact with him.

“Beautiful, perfect, incredible girl. Taking me so good, just like I knew you would.” His praise had you clenching around him, had you using your legs for leverage to press him as deep as you could and to roll your hips to meet his thrusts, and Marcus’ praise stuttered. He raised your hips and you keened when he hit somewhere in your body that sent the sharp pleasure from your core to your entire body, his name a sharp mewl, and your reaction spurred him on; hitting that place over and over until you were trembling and your walls clamped down on his cock as you came, four rapid thrusts had him pulling out of you and painting your abdomen and breasts with his spend.

You felt debauched in the best way, his nose brushing yours sweetly, and he used the fabric beneath you to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“That bad?” He was joking, you knew, but there was very real vulnerability behind it.

“No, that was incredible Marcus. I never knew it could be that good.” His lips lifted into a smile and he put most of his weight on you, uncaring about the mess now pressed between you, and his teeth nipped your ear gently as he nuzzled the side of your face. His beard was starting to grow out again but your razor was dulled, there was some spare scrap metal that you could probably sharpen into a new blade if you were patient enough though.

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice pitched low, deeper and bassier in a way that made your skin pebble with gooseflesh, and you let him roll you so that you were straddling him now. He was soft now but you didn’t mind learning what made him feel good, what would make him hard and wanting, what would make him leak precum and make a mess of himself. His sly look was so soft that you couldn’t the way you leaned down to kiss him and Marcus chuckled into it when your shaking thighs led to you losing your balance. But he didn’t tease you, not at all, he simply used those big hands of his to hold your hips and watch your hand drag a path through the cum now smeared across his own torso.

You licked your fingertips, just wanting a taste, and his soft groan caused you to bite your lower lip in a sly look knowing that you could have fun with this.

Waking up late afternoon was so normal that you could have mistaken it for any usual day, your thighs still burned a little and your body was pleasantly sore though and acted as a reminder and a pleasant one at that, but you and Marcus had wound up repositioning your hammocks so they were right beside each other and fell asleep holding hands. Even now he was still resting, the light of the sun shining through the minuscule gaps in the palm fronds that acted like blinds on the window frame of the cabin, and you slipped out of your resting place carefully to get started on the wash. Your clothes were still damp so you kept your night shirt on, you’d have to try and fashion some sort of sewing needle or maybe make something with more ties, but Marcus’ denim shorts were still very visibly wet. His cardigan wasn’t as bad though and you hummed before moving those outside into the sun, checking the horizon for signs of other sea drifters or even islands.

It was endless blue and debris, for as far as you could see, but that was perfectly fine. You began the chore of checking the collection nets, pulling whatever was in them up onto the deck to sort through, and when a pair of large hands cupped your bare ass under your shirt you couldn’t help but giggle. Turning to glance at Marcus, who was wearing one of the smaller sheets of spare fabric tied at his hip like a skirt, and you hummed before poking his nose as he leaned in to kiss you.

“We’re going to end up sun burnt, we need to find or make spare sets of clothes.” Your suggestion earned a quiet hum and you tapped your forehead to his, finally letting him have that kiss before you both set about getting things ready for night fall. You turned to look over the wall and froze, staring into the depths with awe, and you whispered your lover’s name; he walked over and looked down, his own body freezing as the massive whale drifted along with you. Whether it was coincidence or not you didn’t know, the large body emerging from the water just far enough away that it wouldn’t tip you over, and the tall stream of water shot out of its blow hole made you shriek in delight before it began to descend into the water again.

“That’s incredible, I’ve never seen one that close before.” Marcus’ voice was breathy with wonder and you nodded, that was a first for you too, and the pair of you couldn’t help but laugh knowing you’d definitely need another wash down after that. But you kind of felt like that was a good omen, a gentle giant just coasting along beside you for however long it had? That could only be a good sign, right? You weren’t superstitious, or at least you tried not to be, but sometimes you tried to give yourself something to believe in.

The afternoon bled into evening, the pair of you spent the day setting debris out to dry and asking things about one another.

Favorite color? Marcus’ was the blue of the clear sky.

Favorite fruit? Anything but bananas, you weren’t surprised to find out he had a bad experience with large tarantulas hiding in the bunches.

Hobbies? The fact that he painted was pretty clear, or at least could throw something together, but Marcus could also play spoons and for some reason that made you grin stupidly as he clacked the wooden utensils you’d carved in an upbeat melody.

All of your hobbies revolved around survival, whittling was used for making things like tools and utensils rather than little statues or figurines. Braiding fiber for rope instead of weaving cloth or making yarn of some kind, practical but not very fun. Marcus interrupted you telling him about managing to throw together a small radio receiver to cup your cheeks in his.

“Hey, you don’t have to sound ashamed of what you know, it’s incredible how skilled you are. I can help you find something fun if you promise to teach me some stuff too, okay? That way I can take some of the burden of handling things around here off your shoulders. We’re… we’re a team, right?” His eyes were soft and his expression was vulnerable, open, and you nodded as your lips pulled into a smile.

“Of course we’re a team, if you can put up with me being a bit of a stick in the mud-“

“I just want you to be you, okay? We’ll figure things out one day at a time.” He kissed you and promised that you were perfect the way you were, stick-in-the-mud and all, before helping you bend another piece of the scrap metal you’d collected to try and make a more permanent anchor than a rope and some rocks in a bucket.

“So why did you want to make a radio receiver? For music?” Marcus grunted as the thick metal piece barely moved, helping you hold it over the fire to try and soften the metal, and you used thick bundles of fabric to try and protect your skin from the potential heat distribution.

“To- to try and find other drifters. Big convoys are good trading partners, and there are trading posts on some of the island communities, wanted to see if I could get more refined materials other than just… scrap.” You were stuttering as the two of you managed to get a bit of a bend in the metal, barely but it was better than nothing, and his cheeks were flushed when you looked up at him. You tilted your head and glanced at the tent in his fabric wrap, brow lifting in mild amusement.

“Look, the fact that you pieced together a radio receiver with some half melted copper, scrap metal twisted into wires, and plastic is a huge turn on. You’re so damn capable, it drives me crazy.” You hadn’t ever met anyone who found it attractive that you could tinker and create and just manage your own out here, your eyes dropping to the project in your hands, and Marcus captured one of your hands to kiss your palm.

“I mean it, you’re incredible. How about we get the receiver working then, see about doing something with the excess material you’ve made and maybe replace some of our scrap?” You found yourself nodding and the two of you continued through the night working to make progress on a better anchor, with Marcus helping you heat and bend the metal scrap plates into hooks that were then bound together in your sturdiest knot work.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

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#year of video game aus #mentalist fanfic #raft fanfic #marcus pike x f!reader #cw smut #chaoticwrites #year of themed creation

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deerydear · 8 months

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The one thing I can give as advice:

If you're female, don't take steroids. Don't take testosterone. Just enjoy yourself, how you are.

If you think the grass is always greener, you're gonna wander into some nasty places. Follow your nose, not your eyes.

I like feeling like I'm on suicide watch. I don't like it. I don't like that I like it.

Addicted to "going to the hardware store to buy oranges", and they don't have oranges, but I don't even want oranges. Some guy was waving oranges in my face, earlier. I told him to fuck off and die in a ditch. What?

I want oranges, but then I literally start yelling at myself. "NO I DON'T WANT ORANGES. FUCK YOU YOU THINK THAT YOUR NEEDS MATTER?

YOU FUCKING COCKROACH. YES, YOU.

YOU ARE SATAN.

WHAT'S THE WORST THING YOU COULD NAME? YOU ARE THAT. I NAME YOU THAT. I HATE YOU.

I WANT TO TAKE YOU OFF, LIKE A SUIT. I WANT TO UNPLUG YOU."

I start to cry.

It literally is like having two people inside my head. Like, I cannot fully control it.

The angry one could control himself, but if he doesn't....

Well, we all have free will, but we only control ourselves.

It's like a play that keeps repeating.

youtube

What's the difference between two people?

I became like this. I wasn't always like this.

WHY DO YOU RUN? THERE IS NO SHAME

I JUST WANT TO SHED THE SKIN. I WANT TO CHASE THE SUN. I WANT TO BE FREE.

So do you cut through your own skin, like the big bad wolf? Would you kill yourself? Are you a monkey? Are you a puppet?

Are you anything but you?

Are you the mask?

Who is holding the mask?

Wasn't that you?

If you don't want to bear it anymore, then who will bear you? Whose face will you hide?

A long time ago, I had a dream. I was visited by an angel of light. He was light. He wore a skin. the top half of the head was left open, so that the light could shine out. The skin was empty, like a burlap bag filled with light.

He took me out to the park by my childhood home. There were willow trees all over. It had flooded, and it seemed as if we were out on a raft, in the mirror lake that covered the earth.

When I had woken up, I tried to spin this into a tall tale of grandiosity, or into something else... but he spoke to me, and then it seemed like he passed a small pebble into my mouth.

I went to a church service for the first time, yesterday. I went to two, actually. I was invited to one, and then God brought me to the second. It was a Catholic mass.

I really had a good time. I like singing. I like not having to live for vanity, but to show up and be one of many, equal.

They did communion. Remembering this dream reminds me of the communion. I didn't partake in Christ's communion, but in the Angel's communion.

The peace that surpasses all understanding.

I went to the woods, today. I felt 'gitchy' again, full of energy, angry. Then I got out there and I just felt overjoyed.

Try too hard to make sense, and it tears at the flesh of life. Don't try hard enough, and it breaks.

I just keep wanting to run away.

Run until your legs give out, then keep running, never come back here again. but you keep running and you find that you ran all around the globe to the same place you were before. It's a circle, man.

youtube

What is a word?

What is a color?

What is a concept?

Veins...

Where is the heart?

I'm addicted to looking for oranges in the aisles of a hardware store. I feel like a hungry, gitchy, wild coyote. Inhuman, without your etiquette. Prone to staring at people like they're food. Wanting something. I don't know what -- something.

There's a story of an evil spirit whose name I will not say, but the story reminds me of myself. It is a story of human greed. but is it comforting to see your own emaciated, angry, hungry reflection?

Wouldn't that scare the hell out of anyone?

I mean just the image itself -- the person you think is looking at you....... not that you realize it's a mirror, yet.

I see myself in the story of Gollum. I mean that literally. What I enjoy about reading books is whenever I can see myself in all the different people, in different ways.

but Gollum.... speaks of a strain of wild grapes growing in the vineyard of my mind.

There are no words to express, only violence.

I hate it.

Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transmuted... changed into something else.

A caged angel, a cloaked angel. He showed me inside of the skin. It was like a sun, glowing illuminating all the dark corners of fabric.

youtube

Now I've a dream of you with half a face, and you take me to a rooftop... and skin me, come on Abel...... Are you going to skin me?

and use it as a mask to keep you in the dark?

when the shadow of the moon won't do...

It would be funny, if since then I hadn't become a taxidermist who cuts open dead bodies and takes off their skin.

I don't even eat meat, anymore. Tonight, I was almost frantic, wanting to just eat a steak. It's my choice, either way...

In this book, I see myself as the narrator, and I see myself as the man she fell in love with. I see myself as the murderer. I see myself as everywhichway.

I feel like a serial killer hunting myself.

IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE THE WORLD FROM INSIDE AN ETCH-A-SKETCH!

why?

....but I just want to spin a yarn that says, "I am out of control", but I'm not out of control, I'm perfectly under my own control, and I like pretending to be mad. Infuriating.

Yes, there's more than one of us in here. How could I leave that out of my plans?

Be careful what you wish for.

If you wish to become a madman, you might truly become one... and then you won't have the controls in the same place they were, beforehand.

You have controls, but they seem to be different. Maybe this is another case of the color-changing dress. Disorienting.

I like playing the piano.

I like.... things.

People would impress this idea upon me that it's good to "make a list of the problems that need to be solved", but I'm not a problem to be solved. I can't solve myself. It just keeps going on and on, infinitely. There is no end, no moving onto "the next math problem". It's all right now.

Chase that monkey, if you want... but I FUCKING LOVE WASTING TIME.

youtube

The monster eats itself. Gorges itself upon its own flesh -- it says it likes it, with a gluttonous grin full of blood.

I slip out behind two hedges.

but the monkey wears the face of the maiden. Perversity.

OKAY, SO I'M THE DRAGON!

When I made this blog, I made it in the wordless sense of "peace beyond all understanding", just for beauty, alone. I like church.

Meditating in the shadow of the forest, before sunset... I wondered: What if no one knows 'more' or 'less' than anyone else? What if they just know different things which amount to the same mass? What if it isn't 'what' you're thinking of, but 'how' you're thinking of it...?

What if it's the organization of matter which matters? Hahahahaha. Yeah.

Just like the earth contains all the matter, but it can be organized differently. We each are our own 'earth' so to speak. What do you cultivate?

Remove the ego, just look at the land... look at the beauty and peace. Let the violence drain away into the ditch.

Better organization, where you can find what you're looking for.... neat and tidy, with great skill for putting everything in its place. No mess, no bullshit lying around, taking up space where it isn't needed.

It's literally like a physical place. The mind is.

But how do you think of things? What do you judge as 'mess'? That can mean different things coming from different people.

"How", not "what".

I tried to lose myself in the "whats" of the world, but the How was always hiding behind the mirror, like the black swan. Pursuing me, like my own shadow.

It's the mechanics behind every "what", is the "how".

#Youtube

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demonpoxballad · 2 years

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The Last Name - Chapter Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: There's one more name from the past bouncing around Bucky's head. One more scribble ripped from the pages of Steve's old book. Another person to make amends with. Except this one is different: he can't remember doing anything wrong. No murdering or enabling of evil plans. No threats or political conquests. In fact, Bucky can't remember much of her at all.

Warnings: heavy violence and injuries, HYDRA and The Winter Soldier (assassinations), swearing

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

<< Chapter One | Chapter Three >>

Hey! I'm not really sure what's going on with my engagement (maybe people just don't want to read this?) but I'm going to keep on anyway because I'm really proud of this series as a whole <3 enjoy!

New York, present-day:

There was one last name to cross off on Bucky’s list. The past few months had definitely been hellish, for sure, but after telling Yuri about his son, the momentum grew, and every other name was easier. Bucky felt lighter for it. There was a reason why he’d left this particular name until last, though. It was special. Different from the others. Not least because he had no idea why it was written there, scrawled on a different page from the others like an afterthought. He’d ripped it out of the red notebook before giving it back to his therapist, and now the piece of paper floated around in his pocket alone, heavy despite its negligible weight. Of course, it was him who put it there, him who remembered the name. But that was about all he could remember. That, and a face. Faded and ethereal like a ghost, or a dream.

Sometimes, when he was dreaming, he could see her more clearly. Could picture black leather, bulky and gleaming with blades at junctures in her body. One night, she was a vivid image, curled up by an open fire, a sweet smile on her face. He’d woken up sweating and hyperventilating, and then she had slipped from his memory once more, like dust suspended in water. The whole thing was hard to grasp, tumbling between his fingertips. It was fucking confusing. And irritating.

Why was she there? Was it a trap, a memory planted by HYDRA to lure him towards one of their new snakeheads? It was disconcerting a disconcerting idea to think about, but newly emerging branches was kind of their whole thing. Their whole motto, the big thing they boasted about. Bucky just couldn’t understand for the life of him why he would remember someone from his time as the Winter Soldier, but not killing them, or aiding them in some evil masterplan.

He needed to figure it out. The Doc had told him there was no point in half-assing his amends; it was all or nothing. He had a few ideas for places to start, none of them pleasant or easy. But this shit was pissing him off so much he was willing to feel try most things to work it out. Including a chat with Zemo.

There wasn’t any way Bucky could pull off the same performance as last time; the Raft was maximum security, strictly no visitors. And it wasn’t like the prisoners inside were regularly granted video calls with friends and family for their leisure. He’d have to convince staff that he needed to talk to Zemo for intel purposes only, strictly business. He just hoped that no whispering breeze of their conversation wandered over to the Wakandans. If they caught a whiff of what he was doing, he’d never hear the end of it.

After spinning some tale about needing to find out what Zemo knew about Zoloff, Bucky finally secured a phone call with the Baron. He sat on the sofa in his apartment, and answered his mobile after letting it vibrate for five rounds. It was unsettling, the thought of talking to him without seeing his face. It felt like being in the same room as him; Zemo free to roam circles around Bucky, sat with blackout material tight over his eyes. Zemo was the first to say something.

“Hello, James.”

Bucky sniffed and scrunched up his nose. “Hi, Zemo.”

“What can I do for you?”

He sighed, jigged his knee up and down, and immediately cut to the chase. “Do you know if there could have been a time when the Winter Soldier was out of HYDRA’s control?”

“What do you mean? No other organisation controlled you.”

“I mean an extended period where I avoided any handlers. Where the mind control could have worn off.”

“Why are you asking this? Do you have memories of such a time?”

“Not exactly. It’s all a bit… fuzzy. I remember a time where things were different. With someone who was different.”

There was a pause in which Bucky assumed Zemo was thinking. Then: “If it did happen then there would be no talk of it. HYDRA members would be sworn to secrecy, or their own memories deleted. It would be embarrassing to remember such a mistake, to say the least.”

“Right. So you don’t know anything about it?”

“I’m sorry, James. I don’t. And I can’t think of anyone who would.”

“Okay. Bye, Zemo.”

“But it’s definitely possible. You killed many people, remember. Many people will have wanted to de-commission you. Only those with the best intel would have been able to.”

“I remember. Thank you.” Bucky hung up. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, his knee still jumping.

Later that day he received another phone call, this time from Sam. He picked up after three rings.

“Hey, Sam.”

“What’s up, Dalek?”

“I know you thought I wouldn’t get that reference, but I did. And it really doesn’t work.”

“Oh, come on! Put a suction cup on the end of your arm and you look exactly the same!”

“Shut up.”

“Can you give me an : ‘EXTERMINATE!’?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Just one. You know you want to.”

“Why did you call me?”

“Just wanted to check up on my favourite cyborg mutant.”

“I’m good, thank you for asking. How’s Captain America?”

“Not too bad, not too bad. Kinda busy though, I’ll be honest. I got it though, it’s all good.”

“Yeah, Sam. You’ve got it.”

“Thanks, man.”

Bucky pressed his lips together and rubbed his forehead. “I’ve only got one more name left on the list.”

“Yeah? That’s amazing, I’m proud of you Buck. Seriously.”

“Thank you. Yeah. It’s looking like kind of a difficult one, though.”

“What do you mean? They’re all difficult, aren’t they? I thought that was part of the point.”

“Yeah, but this one’s different.”

“How?”

“I don’t remember what I did. I don’t remember doing anything bad, at all. I’m starting to think maybe this person wasn’t like the others.”

“How can you not remember? I thought you could remember everything now.”

“So did I. When I remembered Steve, I remembered everything else too, it all fell into place. Maybe because it was all linked. But this is separate, it feels disconnected. Maybe someone really doesn’t want me to remember.”

“HYDRA?”

“Or SHIELD.” Bucky heard Sam sigh deeply through the phone.

“I’m not supposed to help you with these things, Buck.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay, sure. But this is different, I promise. It’s not about actually making amends; it’s about finding this person.” There was a long pause then, where Bucky just listened to Sam’s breathing.

Eventually: “I’ll help you.”

Bucky smiled. “Thank you.”

Days passed and Bucky wondered endlessly about who she could be. It was unlikely that she worked for HYDRA, at least exclusively, otherwise they wouldn’t have scrubbed his memory of her. But he didn’t even know if that waswhat had happened. He didn’t know anything at all. Sam got back to Bucky after a week of him just standing at his apartment window, waiting for a memory to stroll past on the street below.

“So, I gave the name you sent me to a friend at SHIELD - ”

“Who?”

“Just Sharon, don’t worry, she won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, good. Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up though, Buck. SHIELD’s files have been pretty corroded ever since it dissolved years ago. Their intel is like Swiss cheese.”

“Yeah, I know. It could be a start, though. I don’t know what else to do. I tried Zemo but - ”

“What the hell, man?”

“It was just a phone call. He seemed as clueless as me, although he did say it was possible that HYDRA tampered with everyone’s memories, even its own members.”

“Maybe we should go and see the wizard guy.”

“No, that sounds like a very bad idea. We don’t even know him that well – I know the only time you talked to him was when we did the whole portal thing, because you kept on telling him you had to be over to Steve’s left.”

“Why are you always making fun of me for that? Everyone else thought it was cool.”

Bucky laughed. “I thought it was cool.”

“I’ll let you know when I hear anything, okay? I’ll come see you.”

“Okay, Sam. See you then.”

Just an hour later and Bucky was receiving another call. He’d never gotten so many in twenty-four hours. The number was withheld, and so Bucky didn’t answer it, letting it ring out and then blocking the caller. Thirty seconds later and his phone was ringing again, another ‘Unknown Caller ID’ flashing on his Nokia. This kept happening, and only on the fourth time did he answer the call, staying silent until the other person spoke. Bucky hated saying ‘Hello?’ into the void like a complete dumbass when he picked up the phone.

“What the fuck, Barnes?"

“Fury?”

<< Chapter One | Chapter Three >>

tags: @mayasreadingnook @writing-for-marvel @howlermonkey69

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier #angst #bucky barnes angst #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #the winter soldier angst

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tact-and-impulse · 3 years

Text

@shepherds-of-haven I saw you associated a mermaid AU with Ayla! Up on AO3 already.

tideline

The stories told of enchanting voices, sensuous limbs, and faces of angelic beauty. Well, whoever wrote those stories had never been to the Abyss. The drop into the depths was hidden beneath a windless area on the ocean, perfect for an ambush. By the time the ships had noticed, it was too late. His last memories before he plunged into the cold, unforgiving water were of the screams of the other mercenaries, blood in his mouth, and a powerful tail crushing his chest.

The anonymous wealthy noble who wanted a mermaid’s tear can definitely drown in their oversized bathtub, for all he cares.

Now, he’s not sure where he is. Some tropical island, probably uncharted if he could confirm his suspicion with a map. He hasn’t heard any sounds of life, other than the one he washed up with, though with the sun at its peak, he’ll wait to explore. The salt’s drying painfully on his skin, but he continues unpeeling the overripe fruit with his dagger. In the vicinity, it’s the only available nourishment, and the hard rind is a bitch in this climate. The humidity is oppressive, and it feels like he’s breathing water. His hand twitches with the familiar urge, but a splash from the nearby lagoon draws his guard again.

She’s back.

Her hair surfaces first, the same color as the silt gathering at the water’s edge. Her webbed brown hands seem smaller in the bright light, but he remembers them breaking through the ship’s wooden hull as if it was paper. Any mercenary in his old company would admire the golden hue of her eyes, if her glare wasn’t threatening to split open the closest person. He should be lucky that he woke up first when the currents carried them here.

She stops approaching, just as her shoulders are fully visible. It’s not out of modesty, he noticed her lack of clothes when she attacked with the rest of her folk. No, she’s still sizing him up. Her focus on him doesn’t waver, especially on his weapon.

He bites into the fruit, the red flesh too sweet and soft for his liking. “Want some?” He offers the other half, dripping juice onto the sand.

The response is a wordless lift of her chin.

He points to her left, before tossing the half over. It sinks into the lagoon, but it’s within her reach and she retrieves it without issue. She sniffs the fruit before her hunger gets the better of her and she devours it with a few bites. She doesn’t look particularly satisfied, judging by her expression at the flavor.

“It’s spent too long in the heat, but it’s edible.”

There’s a snort.

“Huh. Can you understand me?”

She gives a baleful look, before answering in a clipped voice. “Yeah.”

“Good, because I have questions. Where the hell are we?”

“Don’t know.” She shrugs. Her words are lilting, accented and structured in a way that shows his language doesn’t come naturally. “Never here before. Abyss current pulled us away. Unpredictable.”

“We’re stuck, aren’t we?”

“You are. I can swim.”

“Then, why haven’t you already?”

“My power is wind. Too tired now.”

“You’re a mermaid who can control the wind? Is that why there’s none around the Abyss?”

“Maybe.” She eyes him with suspicion. “Maybe not.”

“Fine, it doesn’t matter anyway. I just want to leave this island, I’m not even looking for revenge. If I don’t ask anything else, will you help me?”

“No.” Her reply is tight and forced. “You are human. Humans invade. They take. They kill us for scales and teeth and tears and blood. Why should I trust a human? You?”

To be fair, she shouldn’t. It was money that motivated his company to guard the ship hunting for the tears she mentioned, and he thought the job was a noble’s delusion to begin with. But he senses that she wants honesty, so he’ll provide. “What makes you think I’m totally human?” And with that, he reaches into the humid air and extracts ice crystals, spinning around his fingertip.

That induces a visceral reaction from her and she maneuvers backwards, the water rippling. Her golden eyes narrow. “Magic?”

“I’m a changeling.”

“Changelings are not real.”

“Funny, some people would say that about mermaids, yet here we are.” He lets the ice melt on his face, and he appreciates the temporary chill. He pushes his hair back out of his eyes, explaining. “Someone didn’t love their child enough and I was put in their place, to teach a lesson.”

“So you are a fairy.”

“That’s what humans say when they find out, but I’ve never met another of my kind before. Heard they’re shored up in the mountains now.”

“Smart.”

“Yeah. Anyway, so what now? Are you going to swim back to your folk?” As he speaks, she moves underneath the water, in an uneven motion, and he understands. “You’re hurt.”

“Not bad.” She folds her arms, glancing aside. “Queen’s medicine will help.”

“And let me guess, you need to return to them to get it.”

Grudgingly, she admits. “Only queen can make.”

“Truce, then. I’ve got my dagger and I can make a raft with the island’s materials to get us out of here. Can you call wind into the sails?”

“Easy.” She scoffs, but smiles. It’s not a bad look on her, especially since her teeth aren’t overly sharp.

“Driftwood in the lagoon would help too. I’m going to look for vines, I’ll be back. Want any ice?”

“For what?”

“For your tail.”

“Oh.” Her expression is perplexed. “It helps?”

He traces a circle above the water’s surface, creating a solid, bobbing sphere. “Use it if you want.”

She extends an uneasy hand, pushing it down over the injury. It seems to bring relief, her eyelids fluttering. “...Thank you.”

“No problem. Scream if you’re in danger, alright?”

“You scream too.” She responds in kind, before floating further into the lagoon.

He turns back to the jungle and just when he steps into the underbrush, a sudden breeze blows his salt-dried hair out of his face. He can’t suppress a grin.

#shepherds of haven #shepherds of summer 2021 #suddenly worldbuilding with this one #which i mostly wrote over the past couple hours #standard apologies apply

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Lifeboat

Summary: Bucky/Reader; Post CW you’re on the raft after having been captured with the rest of team Cap, you’re , avoiding using your power unless absolutely necessary

TW: Torture, discussion of miscarriage

You can hear Wanda humming under her breath again and you let your powers trickle out telling the guards to come to you. You can hear their boots, moving closer, away from Wanda. Clint sneers as they pass, you can hear the anger in his laugh. The guards stand awkwardly at your door unsure what led them to your cell. They shuffle back and forth peering in and find you sitting curled against your bed; head between your legs trying to stop the nausea rolling through you again. One laughs, harsh and grating and the other kicks the door startling you and causing you to shift and whimper as you make it to the steel bowl they call your toilet.

You can hear Clint and Sam’s doors unlock, their daily interrogation starting. They cast a look at you and you sigh, both are free of shock collars, and Clint’s black eye is almost healed. Sam looks thinner, sick and you can tell his lip is scabbed over, you wonder how many times he bit back screams and angry comments. The guards leave you alone for the next two hours, as they bring Clint and Sam back you can hear Scott shouting something and you feel your powers surge as one of the guards pulls a taser. The guard drops the taser and the rest of them grumble and one snatches it up handing it back to him.

“Come on, just zap him.” You can tell the guard that you’re manipulating is gaining his control back; he turns sneering at you and pulling his baton out, lighting it up.

You hiss as your head starts to pound; your powers are draining you faster these days. Being kept on a constantly fluctuating equilibrium has your head spinning; the lack of food is also a worry. You’re trying to ease off using them, you know the shock collar registers how intense your powers are, and you wonder why no one’s shocked you. Ross starts a walk through and you know why when he stops at your door and nods. You can feel the agents dragging you out and you’re fighting against your powers. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. The guards throw you against the ground and you stagger up as best you can. The scrubs you’re wearing still allow for you to move your arms but it doesn’t help much when you see the guard you controlled leering over you. The baton flickers as he turns the electricity off.

“Wouldn’t want to hurt you too badly, you still gotta tell us where the Captain took Barnes, Y/N.” You can hear Scott laughing, Clint joins him and you can vaguely see Wanda’s lip quirk up.

“Like hell she’d tell you where either of them are.” Ross stalks over to you, smirking darkly. You tense backing yourself up so you’re in the middle of the room. You can feel the cool air from the sea. The smell of it makes you feel sick and you wince as you vomit again. Ross’s eyebrows rise before his face darkens.

“Oh.” You panic, your powers forcing him backwards as he watches you in understanding. You feel a low jolt from the collar that stops your powers; too tired to fight back you curl around yourself and wait for more punishment.

“Solitary sir?” You can hear someone’s boots stomping next to you and you curl your hands around your stomach and whimper. Your hair is grasped forcing your face up so you’re staring at Ross again.

“I have a much better idea.” You can see he holds out his hand and he flicks the dial up on the remote but not pressing the alert to send the shock for you.

You can feel your hand breaking as his boot slams into your stomach as you try to keep your arms locked around it. The other guards stand awkwardly back as Ross gives you another kick before dropping you back to the ground. You whimper and try to twist away from him. But as he steps back the other guards take his place. You can feel the first three kicks in your hands but after that they drop, your body screaming at you to use your powers. You squeeze your eyes and let go, letting your powers force the guards back to where Ross stands. They make it halfway towards him before the shocks rocking through your body cut your powers off. The guards practically run back, returning to their assault sneering. They pause to catch their breath and Ross shocks you as they move away. He laughs as he steps forward and you groan in pain as two of the guards bring you back to your cell. They leave you on the floor and you lay there for a moment trying to figure out how injured you are. You can feel your hand healing, and you wince as you look at the bruising on your face in the mirror they’ve given you.

You grimace lifting your shirt and see dark bruises against your stomach. You touch it softly, fingers ghosting over a barely there bump before you stretch slowly and lay down on your bed as the lights flicker. You curl up wrapping your hands around your stomach as you drift off.

You dream of Bucky, you’re back in the house you shared for a moment before it morphs into something in between your house and the avengers compound. You’re warm and safe wrapped in his arms as he runs his fingers through your hair kissing you softly. You smile teary eyed when he pulls away and he swipes his fingers against the tears smiling back at you. He kisses you again wrapping his hand around you pulling you closer to him. You press your forehead to his and smile again.

“We’re going to be a family, I love you so much.” He nods smiling again and you pause expecting him to say it back. Instead you catch the shimmer of red around the room.

“Wanda?” Your breath hitches as the dream fades and you wake in the dark, cold and alone. You can hear footsteps, rapid and a group. You’re not sure if it’s a good idea to sit up, so you lie on your side hand drifting back to your bruised stomach. The door is silent when it opens and you’re grabbed and can see a needle plunger moving down as they inject something into the IV port on your hand. They let you go and you sway, confused. You take a few stumbling steps as the sedative takes effect rending your powers just beyond your reach. You can see Ross’s teeth gleam in the dark. You can hear muffled screams and shouts and your feet stumble over each other as the other guards drag you out.

Your head throbs and you try to lift it, unsuccessfully as it lawls against your shoulder. You can see Wanda screaming, the sound and her movement startles you but the fear that crawls up your spine is why no one’s punishing her.

“Sir, the med bay is prepped, are you sure this is safe, what if her powers effect- yes sir.” You’re dozing on and off as they place you in a chair. The straps around your arms make you jump but the panic kicks in when you see something in the sides of your vision circle around your head.

“Just enough so she passes out. Not enough to damage anything.” Your vision goes dark before the shocks finish making their way through your body.

You wake back in your cell groggy and can hear everyone stirring as you sit up and vomit on the floor.

“Fucking hell. You okay Y/N”

“What did they do?” Your voice is surprisingly steady after weeks of disuse.

“We don’t know they said they were taking you to an interrogation. We were hoping you could tell us what happened..”

“They brought me to the medical bay, there was a chair, they shocked me with it.” You sit back against your bed sighing trying to piece together what you remember through the pain. You had woken up suddenly, you remember your arm burning and your head spinning but other than that you draw up empty darkness.

“Sorry.” You press your palm into your eyes rubbing them as you sniffle.

“They didn’t ask me anything, just shocked me, and cut my arm I think?” you look at your arms no bandages or new cuts have appeared but your IV appears to be a fresh one.

“They replaced my IV, I think that’s all they did.” You cringe when a guard walks by and wrinkles his nose at the sick on the floor. He mumbles into the radio on his shoulder and you see two more guards appear and pull you out. One hands you a paper cup and nods encouragingly.

“Take it.” He shoves the cup closer to your face and you wince, shaking your head.

“It’s to stop the nausea. Take it. Or I’ll make you.” His smile darkens when you throw the cup to the floor. He knocks your feet from under you and you land on your knees as he grabs you by the collar tugging it up, cutting your airflow off. You can hear Scott and Clint yelling but almost as soon as it happens it stops. One of the doctors they have on staff appears, injecting something into the IV. You watch as he refuses to meet your eyes.

“That wasn’t so bad, they’ve even finished cleaning your room.” The guard turns back to the doctor as you’re led away. You see Ross walking up and catch only a few words of their conversation.

“It –take — will it?”

“Not long—few hours– mess though, safer — monitor her.”

“No. Mutant’s breed mutants, they shouldn’t get safety.” Ross stares at you as he says this. The smile he had has dropped off and he turns away leaving you to your cell and your fear.

Scott’s led away for interrogation again and the guards ignore you. You try to pull at them with your powers when they take him. The guards turn slightly but the shock that pierces your concentration has them no more than hesitating when they bring him back to the interrogation room. You rub your throat slightly and let out a slight scream of annoyance.

“ Y/N you okay?”

“They’re shocking me again.”

“So that’s not surprising, you’ve been given a lot of leeway, I’m sure they’re tired of waiting for you to give up answers, so they’re trying to hurt you to get them. They’ll probably bring you for another ‘chat’ in a few days.” Sam tries to reassure you, but you can’t help the twinge of fear that runs through you.

“I- I think they weren’t shocking me for a different reason.” Your breath hitches, and you try not to panic as heat licks against your skin and a vice strangles your stomach with pain.

“Care to enlighten us then?” You stare at your hands as they tremble; you watch the way the IV jerks up and down as your hand shivers. You can see the edge of the tape peeling upwards from the sweat now pooling on your skin.

“I should have said something before, I should have told him before we got separated..” You look up to see one of the guard’s smug smiles. He taps your remote and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t, doesn’t matter now. It’s too late anyways.” You let the words tumble from your mouth against Sam’s protests. The guard nods, laughing as he hits the button to shock you. You can feel a scream tearing out of your mouth and you thrash as the shocks pass through you. You end up falling from your bed onto the floor as the shocks cause you to convulse. As they ease away you tremble, blood dripping from your nose and now from in between your legs. You try to stagger up but a low level shock makes your arms give out. You try to still yourself but the tremors wracking your body leave you unable to control your own limbs.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N? You okay? Talk to us, please..”

“Fine.” You croak out turning your face so you stop tasting blood for a moment. You take a shaky breath in and sigh.

“I’m okay just surprised me.” You try not to laugh at your own lie. You let the pain swallow you up. As your vision spots and black splatters creep in you decide that it might be safer to sleep through it.

“Can you at least let me set up the IV; she’s massively dehydrated and that’s just to start, I don’t even want to think about anything else, let’s just finish this then?” The doctor’s face swims towards you before pulling back and showing Ross sneering.

“She’ll be fine, her powers will heal her.” You just stare as his face moves away and the black retakes your vision.

You don’t remember waking up. The dryness in your mouth is almost a welcome reprieve from the vomit you usually spew, but it sends a bolt of fear to your heart and you can hear your breath stutter. You try to brush your hands against your stomach but find your scrubs have been replaced by a jacket with lengthy sleeves securing your hands across your chest. You know you now mimic Wanda’s position; you can feel the jolt from the collar. You look out and see one of the guards smirking.

“Ross gave us the all clear. Try your powers and see what happens.” Your head’s swimming and you get shocked for remaining silent. You can tell he’s turning the dial up again and you can feel your powers surge as the drugs clear from your system finally. The remote drops, his boot crushing it as he unlocks Sam, Clint and Scott’s cells. He’s shot in the head halfway to Wanda’s. They fire at your door, the bullets cracking the glass and the sound and movement enough to startle you to lose your hold on everyone.

“Solitary. Now.” Ross’s voice crackles over the speaker as one of the guards shoves you farther back into your cell, turning you to face the wall. He presses you as close as he can to the concrete and laughs. Your cell goes black and you can’t tell if you’ve squeezed your eyes shut or not. The light on your collar vanishes as well but a light shock lets you know it’s still active. They soundproof your cell. They skip your meals and let nothing enter your cell. You’re not sure how much time passes but suddenly the light on your collar turns on.

You squeal which unfolds into a scream as you’re shocked into silence as one of the men turn you back around, the blackness leaves your cell and they leave as well. They do not return for the rest of the day. None of the guards make their morning rounds and this causes a glimmer of hope. The lights dim and flicker well past dinner time and when you see a figure walking up you finally allow yourself to relax. Steve gets Sam out first Wanda and Clint are next and Sam helps Scott as Steve gets you out.

“Y/N, you okay?” You stare at him as he snaps the collar off your neck.

“Fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay good, I’m bringing you all with me, to a friend, he’ll keep us safe while we try to find out where it’s best for each of you to go.” Steve nods to everyone and you follow him to the jet. You curl in on yourself the minute you see a seat keeping your eyes down and refusing to look at anyone. You feel someone sit next to you and you try not to jerk away as an arm wraps around you. Your peek from behind your hair at Wanda and she offers you a sad smile and a puff of air as both of you cling to each other. You can feel her warmth prodding at your mind and you shake your head, shielding the rest of your face behind your hair. One of your hands drifts down to your stomach and you choke slightly when you feel a scar running across it. Wanda grimaces and you can see Sam through your curtain of hair looking worriedly at you.

“Y/N, you excited to see Bucky, Steve said he’ll be at the place we’re going to.” You cringe curling further into yourself.

You failed. You only saved yourself. You failed. You only saved yourself. You suck in a breath trying not to panic as Steve suggests everyone get some sleep. You’re not sure when you fell asleep but you start awake and end up falling from the seat smacking your face against the floor of the jet.

“Nightmares?” You sit up and watch Steve move over to Wanda, he tucks a loose strand of hair away from her face, and pulls the blanket that’s slipped down back over her. He checks Scott, Clint and Sam as well. Giving Clint an extra blanket and sitting on the seat close to you.

“I’m right here if you want to talk. I know it’s going to take time to undo all of what happened, but I want to make it right.” You furrow your brow.

“Not your fault, we knew what we were getting into..”

“You didn’t.” You think back to when you first met Steve, after Bucky had returned to you and explained how he was a fugitive, how he was a murderer and assassin, in turn you explained about your powers, how you’d sneak into his head and cut the nightmares off before they got too bad, how you made his brain patch the good memories first. You talk about betrayal as you run with him. You both come to terms with the lies, content to push them to the back for the moment.

You don’t tell him of the night you spent together, or the mornings you’d spent heaving your breakfast into the toilet. You decide to wait till everything has calmed down. At the airport you know you’re not going to go with them. You try to tell him but all that slips out is an ‘I love you’ before he’s gone and rubble is blocking him from you. You’re brought to the raft within the hour. You shake the fear from your head and look at Steve putting a smile up.

“I’m alright for now. Will I be able to see Bucky when we land, I have a lot to tell him.” Steve nods but you know something’s wrong with how he refuses to look in your eyes.

“Is Buck okay?”

“He’s better than he’s been, there’s people there helping him get rid of the codes, and help him be safe-“ Steve swallows rubbing his face with his hand.

“In order to do that though, he went back under, until they fix it, until he doesn’t have to be afraid.” You don’t care that your screams and sobs wake the rest. They pile around you content to hold you and keep you sheltered as best they can.

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anotherkindofmindpod · 4 years

Note

this isn’t related to a specific episode but I’m confused about the beginning of John & Yoko’s relationship. I’ve heard so many different things about when/how it started- from she was stalking him to meeting at a gallery to Paul’s manuscripts (or pictures of Paul’s butt?!) to they were sleeping together two weeks after meeting- also varying dates on the 2 Virgins night (before or after NYC?) And was he really pining after her in India? Did he try to bring her? I trust you guys- what’s the deal?

Hello listener, thanks for the ask!

Regarding John & Yoko’s origins: some stories are inconsistent, and some things are unknowable (i.e. internal emotions), but we’ll do our best to lay out what we do know.

Yoko approached Paul first, through a contact (probably Dunbar) related to Indica Bookshop and Gallery. Since Paul was a patron, supporter and friend of Indica and was somewhat known within the art community as a rich celebrity with a growing interest in the avant-garde (music, films and art) he was an obvious choice for an artist seeking funding/exposure. Yoko was an avant-garde artist (performance, gallery and film) whose biggest claim to fame at that point was working with John Cage. This was the credential/name drop with which she approached Paul at his house in Cavendish sometime in late 1965. Paul (being Paul) invited her inside to make her pitch: she was collecting manuscripts from various composers as a birthday gift to Cage. Paul declined. (For the record, Paul has never suggested or intimated that Yoko came onto him at that first meeting, so let’s assume she didn’t and this was strictly business) The following year, in November of 1966, Indica hosted an exhibition of Yoko’s work. This is where John Lennon first met Yoko, when he was introduced to her by Indica co-owner John Dunbar.

This was Yoko’s initiation into the Beatles’ world and it should ALWAYS be told like this, FULL STOP, END OF STORY. Anyone in 2020 who tells the story any other way is a bald-faced liar and a coward.

Does this sound like an overreaction? Is Paul’s part in this story really SUCH a big deal? Let’s reverse things and imagine….

In 1965, John Lennon develops a keen interest in photography. He immerses himself in the photography world, creates a dark room in his house and brings his photo influences into the Beatles’ artwork. John also finances and helps launch a photography gallery in Weybridge.

One day, photographer Linda Eastman shows up at Kenwood to show John her portfolio and ask for one of John’s original photographs. John declines. Paul later meets Linda at her exhibition at Weybridge Gallery. 18 months later, Paul starts dating her, calls her his new partner, declares her the greatest influence in his life, and brings her to every Beatles session. Paul and Linda have a joint photography exhibit at the Weybridge Gallery in 1968, hosted by one of John’s closest friends and mentors.

Paul then loudly and repeatedly proclaims that he was the only Beatle ever interested in photography, he’s responsible for all the visual art in the Beatles oeuvre and implies that John couldn’t stimulate him anymore because he was too square and conservative to understand or appreciate photography.

Be honest and try to imagine that. No one would EVER let Paul and Linda get away with that level of bullshit, but for some reason, Jean Jackets are slavishly obedient to whatever John and Yoko say, regardless of facts.

So anyway, back to those facts...

After the meeting in November 1966, Yoko began to pursue John Lennon at his home, the studio and even Brian’s office. She constantly asked for funding and money, but was probably seeking publicity as well. There are rumors that she was also pursuing John sexually, but to our best knowledge they are unsubstantiated. In 1967, Yoko was REALLY trying hard to get her career off the ground and/or get famous; there are numerous accounts from multiple people in the Beatles circle (Hunter Davies, Michael Lindsay Hogg, Robert Fraser, Barry Miles) that Yoko was hustling nonstop at that time. So while Lennon was her main target, our impression is that she was probably just trying to make inroads with anyone who could help her become famous. Accounts consistently suggest that John intermittently found her intriguing (when he didn’t find her scary or annoying), so I imagine she kept soliciting him because that’s where she made the most progress. Anyway, her stalking is a matter of fact, corroborated by EVERYONE. Also corroborated by everyone is the fact that John began to sometimes talk to her and occasionally let her inside (the same way the Beatles treated other Apple Scruffs), starting in/around late 1967.

Tony Bramwell tells a very bizarre story about John being panicked one day in late ‘67, regretful and paranoid after giving Yoko a hand-written letter and a lock of his hair (?). A frightened John asked Tony to retrieve the items from Yoko. Considering the fact that John believed (until his death) that Yoko had magical powers, it sounds as if John asked her to make some sort of voodoo/love potion. Perhaps their early friendship began as sorceress/client (but who knows? That’s just a guess).

We know that John continued to receive tons of mail from Yoko while he was on retreat in India. According to John, he eventually began to really look forward to receiving these items. Yoko would send bizarre, artsy stuff like a maxipad with a drop of red paint in the middle. Who wouldn’t enjoy weird mail like that? :) According to John (in both 1970 AND 1980), he still only thought of Yoko as a weird artist by that point. He insists he was NOT interested in her sexually or romantically, only intellectually, and there is nothing to suggest that he was lying about that. More importantly, John was having some kind of emotional breakdown in India; he wrote and talked about feeling suicidal in Maharishi's camp. John never specified the exact cause of his breakdown, although he did later pinpoint ongoing feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness.

After returning from India, John was highly emotional, erratic, depressed, and abusing drugs and alcohol at an alarming rate. Derek Taylor recounts John taking some acid trips at his house over two weekends. During one of these weekends, John’s now-friend Yoko (who he still insists he wasn’t sexually interested in) showed up and helped “rebuild John’s ego.” In other words, Yoko threw John a life raft and helped pull him out of the darkest, bleakest depression of his life.

Then in May, after months of erratic behavior, John declared he was Jesus in an Apple board meeting (!). The following night, with Cynthia away for the weekend, John invited Yoko over (or had Mal invite her) and the two of them dropped acid, made some tapes and had sex for the first time. As far as we can tell, this information is accurate as it is corroborated by Pete Shotten (who was making the tapes with John before Yoko came over and replaced him!). Pete said in the morning John came downstairs and shocked Pete by saying Yoko was the answer to all his problems and he was so certain he’d go off and live in a tent with her. That sounds shocking until you realize John was on acid at the time (in that light, not quite as shocking). :) In any event, after that point John and Yoko became basically inseparable for the next 5 years.

There are rumors/theories that John and Yoko were already having sex for months, but so as far as we can tell these are based on nothing but speculation. We believe John’s initial interest in Yoko was intellectual and personal rather than sexual, as he contends. We think John slowly warmed to Yoko over that 18 month period; while initially he might’ve found her annoying, frightening and disturbing, eventually he began to find her quirky, intriguing and charming. We believe their relationship was founded in friendship and that Yoko’s emotional support (and her professed admiration for him as an artist) during that acid trip at Derek’s was vitally important to their bond.

Now, here’s where things get murky.

John was also later quoted as saying that in retrospect he realized he was unconsciously falling in love with her from afar whilst in India - which may or may not have been the case. It is certainly common to look back with fondness on one’s own courtship and also possible to fall in love before you realize you are in love (John described experiencing something similar in 1964) so debating this is kinda pointless and we choose not to nitpick this particular point. However, people have since used this to extrapolate that John was, as you put it, “pining for Yoko in India” which is simply not what John described. John described gradually looking forward to her wacky mail and developing a strictly platonic curiosity about her. If you are highly invested in the John & Yoko love story, it’s easy to spin this into secret “pining,” but when you consider that John was, as he put it, suicidal and going insane, it doesn’t quite make sense. What makes even less sense is why John wouldn’t immediately ask Yoko out upon returning to London in early April, especially since she was aggressively pursuing him at that point. Yoko was present for at least one of the Derek Taylor acid trips in May. Why did John wait an entire month to initiate a private moment with her?

John also said (in Lennon Remembers, I believe) that he privately considered “bringing” Yoko to India (though not as a love interest, but rather in her contemporaneous role as amusing curiosity, i.e. Magic Alex 2.0). Once again, this may or may not be true, but we have no reason to doubt him. Nevertheless, this has also been spun fannishly into “John was pining for Yoko as a girlfriend” which (again) isn’t what he said. :)

To be perfectly candid, John & Yoko’s public persona is almost entirely artificially crafted. THIS is corroborated (and detailed) by nearly everyone close to them- May Pang, Ray Connolly, the Dakota staff, etc. That doesn’t mean their love was fake, just that their relationship was much different from how they portrayed/sold it (or how fanboys like Lewisohn portray it). At the end of the day, they are just celebrities who we don’t actually know. We want things to make sense, which is why I think the “John was secretly pining for Yoko for years and his mind was obliterated by love” appeals to some people. It’s a cleaner, more familiar boy-meets-girl story.

Rumors and conspiracy theories are plentiful and can lead you down all kinds of rabbit holes (fun or infuriating, depending on your POV). The “John & Yoko were secret lovers” one makes things a bit sleazier and sexier (I believe Albert Goldman really leaned into this one!). But if you really want to consider everything, you should also consider this: Yoko’s Tarot card reader John Green insists that Yoko claims Paul was the one she wanted all along.

She told him: Paul was her first choice (as boyfriend), which is why she approached him first. She moved on to John only to make Paul jealous (!), which ultimately backfired when Paul then refused to make advances on John’s new girlfriend. According to Yoko, Paul’s sense of propriety (?!) ironically prevented him from being with Yoko (even though Yoko KNEW Paul was always in love with her)! So Yoko inadvertently got stuck with John, who she didn’t really want. Also she was convinced, in the late 70s that Paul was still in love with her and only married Linda because he was devastated he couldn’t have Yoko!

Green swears this is what Yoko told him (for the record, she also thought Mick Jagger was in love with her). Do we believe Yoko said it, that she believed it? Who knows, maybe?!? Green’s credibility is certainly questionable. But it’s no crazier than much of the nonsense in Goldman’s book (or Francie Schwartz’s), and Green is alleging to quote Yoko directly. Parts of this account do ring oddly true; Yoko does seems interested in Paul in the contemporaneous audio/footage from the late 60s. John did ask Paul not to sleep with Yoko (which Paul seemed a bit nonplussed by). John and Yoko are bizarrely convinced in the early 70s that Paul and Linda’s marriage is doomed (is it because Yoko convinced John that Paul is actually in love with her???). Many believe Yoko was jealous of John’s affection for Paul; could Yoko also be jealous of Paul’s affection and respect for John? Maybe. But this story blatantly contradicts the entire John & Yoko Myth and is so over the top weird... there’s just no room in our understanding for this alternate reality where Paul and Yoko are the true star-crossed lovers :)

The point is that you can’t believe ALL the theories and rumors because they often directly contradict each other. Sometimes you just have to use your own best judgment. We hope this was helpful and that we didn’t just confuse you further. Thanks again for writing in! -Phoebe and the crew

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

Text

the way it was - chapter 18

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 17 | read on ao3

1914

for i'm so scared of losing you

and i don't know what i can do about it, about it

“I’m so sorry, Roy.”

She felt him nod behind her back in their bed, his chin shifting the hair on the back of her head. Riza’s hands idly fiddled with the duvet covering them, too anxious about the upcoming conversation to do much else. After offering her condolences she lifted one hand to Roy’s that was by her head. He’d snaked his arm underneath her neck before they’d gotten comfortable, and it was Riza’s favourite thing to do. Gripping his hand so close to her face was an immense comfort that she always enjoyed.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “He was murdered because of what he knew, I think.”

“Knew about what?” Riza asked fearfully.

Roy was silent for a long moment. “I think he found out something big about the military. Something so big that he could tear them down with the news.” She heard him swallow and Riza gripped his hand tighter, squeezing it. Roy’s hand curled tightly over hers, gripping onto her like she was a life raft. “I don’t know what it was, but it must have been worth it for someone to kill him over it.”

Riza flinched at how blasé he was talking about all of this. However, she realised he was probably used to death after going off to war. The memory of his thousand-yard stare flashed in Riza’s mind and she remembered his nightmares, filled with death and destruction, and she shivered. It prompted her to hold onto him tighter.

“I’m going to find out what it was,” Roy stated, his tone determined.

White hot fear flashed through her body. If he got killed over this secret too…

“Please don’t,” she whispered before she could even think. Then, Riza panicked. This is what had prompted their last argument. “I mean, please, just…” Riza floundered, trying to think of the right words but she had nothing. She didn’t want him to die. He had a wife and child waiting for him at home. He couldn’t be reckless and go off, getting himself killed like that.

A horrible thought occurred to Riza. Maes had a wife and daughter too, but he still went ahead with it, and people always said Maes was the more level-headed one out of him and Roy. She almost panicked when she thought of Roy leaving for work one day then coming home in a body bag.

It had always been a reality for her, but now that she’d lost a friend in the same way she feared she would her husband, that reality came crashing down on her. It buried her under its weight, leaving her struggling to breathe.

Roy was silent and Riza loosened the grip on his hand as she curled into a tight ball. She didn’t think he’d even noticed she was no longer holding his hand.

She didn’t want an argument like last time.

“I don’t want you to die,” she stated quietly. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled shakily. “The only reason I asked you not to pursue it the other night was because I don’t want to lose you.” Her body curled inwards again, her voice dropping to a whisper as she finally admitted her reasonings to him. “It’s selfish of me to ask this of you because I know how much Maes meant to you.”

In her mind, it was more than she meant to him. Maes got Roy through Ishval. Maes helped him rise through the ranks quickly. All Riza had done was rouse him from his nightmares and comforted him. She’d sacrificed so many hours of sleep to try and soothe him, but it always felt like it took hours to calm him down. She’d seen Maes place a hand on Roy’s shoulder when he was about to lose it. All Roy needed to do was close his eyes, count to ten, then he was off again, moving forwards and away from the memory of his past. Riza never had that touch. It was never that easy at night. She never once resented Maes for that fact. She was just glad someone could help Roy, but she’d never felt more useless in that moment.

“It’s not selfish,” Roy murmured. His hand was shifted out from underneath her neck. Riza bit her lip, mourning the loss of it, even though she’d initiated the break in contact. A hand was placed on her shoulder. The way his thumb was making circles in place was so gentle. “Get some rest,” he stated, ending the conversation. “You’re still recovering.”

Go to sleep, Riza. This is nothing for you to worry about. You wouldn’t be able to help anyway.

Her mind was bitter tonight. It still felt like she burdened him every day, but in order to get her feelings sorted out, she knew she needed to work through it herself. They’d get through Maes’ funeral, hopefully without another argument, then she’d take it from there.

“Okay,” Riza swallowed. She didn’t turn to kiss him goodnight like she always did. She shifted so her face was half buried in her pillow, wanting to hide herself from the world for the night.

She felt ashamed.

First, she’d collapsed after hyperventilating at the thought of Roy leaving her. Pathetic. Secondly, she’d traumatised her daughter by making her find her unconscious body in their bathroom, out cold and unable to wake up. You’re a terrible mother to put your daughter through that. And lastly, Roy was filled with such a rage towards Maes’ killer. She was supposed to calm him down and keep him on track of his goals. This wasn’t it, because she knew he’d be so furious he’d use his alchemy to exact his revenge. He couldn’t get revenge on someone like that. That wasn’t the Roy Mustang she knew and loved. If she was unable to talk him out of this, then she really was useless.

He doesn’t need someone like you.

Expertly, she exited the bed without jostling it too much. Thankfully, Roy was asleep, something Riza hadn’t even noticed until she was out of bed. It normally took hours for Roy to fall asleep. Just how long had she been going over things inside of her own mind? She made her way to their bathroom, locking the door softly behind her.

Riza caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked awful. The bandage was off her head and there was an ugly purple bruise in its place, accompanied by a sizeable lump. Riza froze when her eyes settled on the floor through the mirror’s reflection. She’d been too ashamed to look at the image staring back at her which was a reminder of her failings, but glancing down… This is where she’d passed out. This is where Mia had found her… Unconscious.

Tears swelled in her eyes. They fell silently and her breathing made no more sound than a whisper. Gripping the porcelain tightly once again, Riza shut her eyes and squeezed them tightly shut. Her fingers were beginning to burn because of the pressure.

Useless.

How could she have put Mia through something like that? After getting home from the hospital, Mia hadn’t been up nor down with either of them. She appeared as if everything was perfectly normal and Riza was just waiting for her to crack. She watched her daughter carefully and closely before she went to bed but there was no change in behaviour. Not that they’d had much time, it was dark by the time they got home, and they were all exhausted. The room had been spinning slightly for Riza, so she’d retired to bed early, like Mia. It wasn’t a ploy to escape from Roy for a while… Not at all…

How bad had things gotten, that she was actively trying to avoid her husband?

They needed to be better for Mia’s sake.

They needed to.

Pulling herself up to her full height, Riza stared at herself in the mirror. A blank stare looked back at her, but slowly, resolve formed in her eyes. Determination made its way in there as well.

Riza needed to be better to herself.

She was not useless. She tried her best and always had. She wanted her family to be happy and healthy. She would do everything in her power to ensure that happened. Riza Mustang was more than capable.

Her shoulders rolled back as she looked at herself in her reflection once more.

It would be hard. She was used to avoiding fights with her father when he lashed out and she’d fallen into that trap once again. But Roy was not her father and she was no longer a child. She was an adult. She was Mia’s mother and Roy’s wife. He’d apologised for his actions and while it may take her a while to accept it, she had to get through this. She deserved to get through it for her. Plus, she had the little one to think of. Riza placed a hand over her tiny bump and let out a deep breath. There were people counting on her. She had to deal with this and move forward.

Keep moving forward.

She owed it to those who’d lost their lives thanks to flame alchemy – a power she let loose in the world.

Get through Maes’ funeral in one piece, then she’d deal with her family worries. The military was quick and efficient when it came to a funeral, so Maes would be buried within days. She’d be able to hold it together until then.

* * *

Maes’ funeral was a long and hard day. Roy was at the front with the rest of the soldiers alongside Gracia and Elicia. Riza was a few rows back with Mia in her arms. Her head was on Riza’s shoulder, her thumb in her mouth as Riza swayed her gently. Mia’s tears were a constant but silent stream down her cheeks, and Riza let her ride it out. Riza could say nothing, offer nothing, because there was nothing that would bring her Uncle Maes back.

“Mummy?” Riza heard Elicia ask from the front. She sounded so confused. “Why are they putting all that dirt on Daddy?”

Riza froze, her stomach twisting painfully.

“Elicia,” she heard Gracia whisper, then sob.

“No, stop it!” she cried out as Gracia lifted her daughter into her arms. “Stop putting dirt on Daddy! He has to go to work! Leave him alone!”

Riza took a deep breath as her tears began to fall silently too. She hated this for them. That little girl had lost her Daddy. That was so unfair. He was such a kind, good, and honest man. He hadn’t deserved this fate.

He’d died helping Roy towards this goal to take down the military. Riza had vomited twice at the thought of Roy suffering the same fate. Someone in a very high position of power was trying to stop Roy, and that petrified her. She couldn’t even eat. She had no appetite. When Roy prompted her about it, that morning, Riza reassured him she was fine and that she couldn’t eat in the mornings because of the pregnancy. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the whole truth either. Every time she brought it up, he faltered and was rendered mute, staring at her.

Like he’d completely forgotten about it.

Or, he no longer wanted it. That second voice in her head was vicious and had become more prominent in recent days.

Riza left the kitchen table without another word, heading off to get Mia ready for the funeral. She needed action and movement to silent that voice.

Roy had been so focussed on helping Gracia through the funeral arrangements, and rightly so, that they’d barely seen each other. But a small voice inside her head whispered as she left the room that she didn’t want to see the beginning of her end.

“Mummy?” Mia asked quietly.

Small hands were pressed against Riza’s cheeks and she turned, finding Mia staring at her. Her daughter smiled, a small but sad smile, and then bunched her black cardigan up in her fists. Riza was rendered mute as Mia wiped at the moisture on her cheeks, her brow furrowing in her concentration as she tried to wipe away her mother’s tears. Then, without another word, Mia wrapped her arms around Riza’s neck. Her mother was left there, mute with surprise, and too shocked at her actions to move. Then, the tears built once more.

“I love you Mummy,” Mia whispered. Riza gripped her body tighter. She wouldn’t break. Not now. Not in front of her daughter. “I always will, okay?”

“I know, Mia Bear,” she whispered. “I love you too. So does your Daddy.” Riza’s voice cracked.

The soldiers filed out in formation, Roy included, but Gracia stayed in place, holding Elicia tight as the little girl cried loudly.

“Do you want to go and see Daddy, Mia?” Riza asked her, shifting Mia in her aching arms. Gracia needed to be comforted and Riza wanted to offer that to her.

To Riza’s surprise, Mia latched onto her neck tightly. “No.” Riza blinked at her. “I want to stay with you.”

“I think Daddy needs a hug –”

“So do you,” Mia replied quietly. “You’re sad too.”

“I’ll be fine, Mia –”

Her five-year-old shook her head. “I need you Mummy,” she admitted very quietly. “I want a cuddle.”

She paused for a second, just watching her daughter. “All right then,” Riza agreed. “You can stay here for now. Do you mind if we go and see Aunt Gracia and Elicia?” Mia shook her head. “All right, let’s go.”

Riza approached and swallowed thickly, listening to little Elicia sobbing. She placed Mia on the ground, her arms too tired to hold her, but Mia latched onto her hand and refused to let go. Riza was grateful for it.

Placing a hand on her old friend’s shoulder, Riza said nothing as Gracia hugged her daughter tightly.

“Auntie Riza?” Elicia asked, momentarily distracted. Her eyes were red and blotchy as she stared at Riza, wondering why she was suddenly there.

“Hey, Sweetie,” Riza greeted, offering her a smile.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, confused.

Gracia removed her face from Elicia’s shoulder. She opened her mouth to scold her daughter but Riza squeezed Gracia’s shoulder and gave her a small smile.

“It’s okay,” she reassured her grieving friend. “I’m here to say goodbye to your Daddy.”

“I don’t want him to go,” she mumbled, gearing up to cry again.

“I know, Sweetie. I know you don’t. None of us do,” Riza reassured her. “Come on, why don’t we go and see if we can clean up that snotty nose of yours?” she asked, “booping” Elicia on the nose. The young girl paused for a second then giggled. Riza smiled at her when she nodded. “Let’s give Mummy some time to say goodbye to Daddy –”

“But… I want to as well!” Elicia cried, looking terrified that she might not be able to. Her grip became iron tight on the front of her mother’s cardigan.

“You will, don’t worry,” Riza explained. “I’ll bring you right back if you want. I promise. But let’s clean up that nose first, instead of wiping it on Mummy’s nice dress, shall we?”

Elicia looked at her mother, but Gracia wasn’t looking at her daughter. Her eyes were grateful towards Riza.

Opening up, Riza took the child into her already exhausted arms.

“Thank you,” Gracia sniffed, murmuring her thanks in Riza’s ear.

When Riza pulled away, Roy appeared as if from nowhere by Gracia’s side. Out of habit, as soon as she lay her eyes on him, she cast them away. It was something she’d done a hundred times before with her father, and Riza resented herself for it. She’d promised herself she’d be better. Roy is not your father. Stop avoiding him. It was a hard habit to break. She needed to sort her shit out. Glancing back at her husband she noted the pained look on his face…

Elicia first. She needed Riza right now, and so did Gracia. Removing her from her mother for the moment would give Gracia time to grieve properly and let everything out without the fear of upsetting Elicia further.

“But… If I go Mummy will be all alone.”

“Uncle Roy will look after her, don’t worry,” Riza smiled, “booping” her snotty nose again. “Ew,” Riza joked. “Bogeys!” she cried in horror, wiping her “dirty” hand on her dress, making Mia and Elicia laugh beside her. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

“But…” Elicia bit her lip. “What if I get bogeys on your dress?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Riza reassured her. “It’s already got Mia’s bogeys all over it.”

Elicia giggled and looked down at Mia. “You wiped bogeys on Auntie Riza’s dress?”

“I did,” Mia giggled at her admittance.

Riza sighed, playing along with the two girls. “See, now it doesn’t matter. I’ll be the Bogeyman before I know it, thanks to you two!”

With the two girls giggling, Riza left her husband and her old friend by Maes’ grave. Mia walked right by Riza’s side, trying to find new ways to make her upset friend laugh and cheer her up.

* * *

“You know,” Roy overheard Riza begin as she walked away with Elicia and Mia. “I grew up without a Daddy too.” Roy had opened his mouth to comfort his friend, but he paused after overhearing his wife.

“Really?” Elicia asked in wonder.

“Yep, really.”

“Granddad isn’t alive anymore,” Mia chipped in.

“Just like my Daddy?” Roy blanched and caught Gracia twitch out the corner of his eye.

“Yes, just like your Daddy,” Riza replied softly.

Roy watched her back, noticing how she didn’t even skip a beat with Elicia. He would have probably tripped with how casually she’d asked that question, but Riza breezed ahead, telling the child the truth, no matter how hard that might be.

“Riza does understand, so don’t think she doesn’t,” Chris’ words echoed inside his head. “She’s lost almost every family member she’s ever had, and it happened when she was only a child. Then, she lost you for a while after finding out she was pregnant. Don’t think for a minute she doesn’t understand loss or what you’re going through. She’s the most qualified out of all of us when dealing with loss.”

She was so much stronger than he was with this, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t hurting. And Roy had thrown that in her face.

“But,” Mia chimed in. “It doesn’t mean they’re gone forever.”

Roy paused again, his head turning to watch his wife and child walk down the hill towards the cemetery gates. His car was parked at the front, but… Come to think of it, he had no idea how Riza had even gotten here today. Roy had left early as he was part of the military procession. He’d been so focussed on Maes’ funeral he hadn’t even considered how his wife was going to get to the cemetery.

He felt awful. So awful. “We need to be better,” Riza had said. He needed to be. He was neglecting them both. He knew this already, but it suddenly hit him like a tonne of bricks.

“Mummy says that as long as I remember someone who’s gone, they’re never really gone from my life.”

“I like that,” Elicia whispered. “I like that a lot.”

It was the last part of the conversation that Roy heard because they were fading out, moving out of earshot.

When… When had Riza went through all of this with Mia? Come to think of it, he’d never told Mia. Never even thought about bringing it up. If he had remembered, he would have held back and not said anything before checking with Riza first. It was a dark time for her, so it wasn’t his story to tell. It hadn’t even occurred to Roy.

Shit.

Just get through today then make up for your mistakes.

“Hello, Roy,” Gracia greeted quietly. She attempted a smile, but it crumpled as his old friend pressed her hands against her face.

“Come here,” he urged, wrapping his arms around Gracia’s shoulders. The two held each other tightly, mourning the loss of the person they loved. He didn’t know how long it had been, but it was what he needed. Comforting Gracia brought him closer to the man he’d thought of as a brother, and of course, they’d both promised each other that if anything were to happen to them, they’d look after the other’s families without question. It was time for Roy to step up, but also not forget about his own family because he’d been doing that a lot recently in his grief. Riza was the one who’d been doing all the heavy lifting recently, and he was long overdue to carry his own weight in this family.

Laughter floated up to them both and at the same time they turned their heads towards it, seeing Elicia and Mia playing by a tree at the entrance to the cemetery. Riza was walking towards them up the hill, hands in her jacket pockets, and her eyes cast down. Roy’s chest tightened at the sight of her. He’d noticed she was avoiding his gaze whenever they spoke. She was putting those walls up again and he needed to fix it.

“She will blame herself for this – the way you acted and what happened as a result of it. I know Riza, and she will. Don’t let her. It will destroy her, and you both, in the long run. Make good on that promise and look out for her, instead of blaming her for not understanding what you’re going through.”

“I’m going to take the girl’s back to our house,” she stated, again, speaking directly to Gracia. “Mia has some new dolls that Elicia is very excited to see, if you wouldn’t mind? I think it might cheer her up a little.”

Gracia shook her head. “Not at all,” she whispered.

“Take all the time you need,” Riza offered with a kind smile.

“Riza –” Roy called to her as she turned away without another word.

“Mummy! Help!” Mia called from down the hill. Riza had stopped at his call, but continued hurriedly, as Mia ran up towards her. “Elicia is trying to catch me!” she added, a giggle leaving his daughter as Elicia’s little legs struggled to run up the hill.

Catching Mia in her arms, Riza hoisted her daughter into them, walking towards the cemetery gates with Elicia in tow. Once there, she put Mia down and walked with them both, arms swinging between them.

“What happened, Roy?” Gracia asked, looking up at him.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Between you and Riza?”

“Nothing, we –”

Gracia shook her head. “I noticed the cut on her forehead. You two are distant with each other and she looks upset. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he dismissed. “Anyway, this isn’t why we’re here –”

“No, but Maes wouldn’t want this for you.”

“Want what?” he asked, letting his irritation show in his voice.

“For you two to suffer because of his death.” Gracia looked away from him, turning her attention to the mound of freshly packed dirt. “I’ve seen how you’ve reacted to his death. Roy, you need to calm down. Don’t do anything drastic.”

“I’m not going to,” he replied with more force than he should have. Why did everyone think that?

Because they know you and have spoken to you in the last week. They’re not blind, and deep down, you know you will too, to get revenge.

Gracia looked up at him sadly. “Maes wouldn’t want the same fate for you,” she replied. Taking a deep breath, Gracia let it all out in one go. “Don’t go out and get revenge,” she added firmly. “Focus on your family.”

“Gracia… I can’t just let this go,” he whispered, finally letting his emotions loose.

“I’m not asking you to, and she won’t either,” Gracia replied, jerking her head towards the gates. “She would never, but this is affecting you both. You need to talk it through with Riza.”

He’d tried…

In a flash in his mind, he remembered their conversation the night they’d returned from the hospital. He remembered the panic in Riza’s voice when she asked him not to follow through with it. She’d struggled to find the words quickly, obviously worried he’d explode at her again like he’d done before. He’d been irritated again, but didn’t want to argue with her, so blocked it out for a moment, counting to ten before letting himself concentrate on the conversation once more. When he’d calmed himself down, he noticed she’d turned her back to him, curled in on herself.

He’d caused that. He’d done that to her.

“It’s selfish of me to ask this of you because I know how much Maes meant to you.” That didn’t sit well with him, but he’d been tired at the time and noticed how tired Riza was too. He’d dismissed their conversation, telling her to get some rest instead of pushing through with it further. He just didn’t want another argument.

But it hadn’t been selfish. It was a woman worrying about her husband, and rightly so. He’d been on the warpath and had set out in a fit of rage to find out more about what had happened to Maes. He could have ended up dead yesterday if he’d managed to progress in the case of his murder.

Riza was simply looking out for him, just like she’d promised she would. Her request was more than fair.

They were a mess. He was a mess.

“We’ve already buried someone, Roy,” she whispered, breaking into Roy’s thoughts. her voice cracking. “Don’t make us do it again.”

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

Text

Breaking the Time Loop chapter 8: The Church of Unity

It’s outlandish, but I really like what I did with Sammy.

---

Alice and Henry met back up with the others in the ink machine. Thomas and Boris had a bone in each hand, each marked with the first letter of the owner's name.

"Any sign of the lost ones?" Henry asked.

"We had to kill a few searchers," Bendy replied. "Did you kill Bertrum?"

"Yes, we did. So, I suppose our next move should be to investigate the lost ones. They're a pretty mysterious bunch. Even I don't have much information on them. Alice, can you help me out?"

"Well, I can see their souls," she admitted, almost as though she was ashamed.

"They all have souls?!" Henry exclaimed. That would mean that Joey had sacrificed dozens of people to the ink machine!

"Well, not really. Not the way you're thinking. Think of them like a giant conglomerate of souls. A single searcher might have a the equivalent of a third of a soul, or three souls."

"Okay. But how did that happen? Did Joey kill them all?"

"I don't know. I wasn't made yet. I don't know who made me, or why, but I'm newer than them. Bendy, do you know?"

"Well, I did see quite a bit through the cutouts. At a certain point, Joey Drew stopped coming here, and the others stopped leaving at night. I don't know why that is, but they were really scared, and they couldn't get out. And gradually, they just got inkier, and they started acting more alike. I don't hear most of them talk often, anymore."

"Those poor things..." Henry muttered. So, that's what had happened to everyone. They weren't sacrificed. They were trapped here until their bodies dissolved. All because of Joey's disgusting cowardice. "So, what do we do about this?"

Alice sighed. "I don't know. They hate angels with a burning passion. If only we had someone on our side that they trusted."

"Wait, I can do that. I know of a lost one named Sammy Lawrence. He leads a cult of them. Let's find him!"

The group set out for the second basement floor, calling Sammy's name out periodically along the way. Somehow, the studio seemed even quieter than usual. Sammy wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Wait," Henry said, "Alice, you said that the lost ones hate you. Does Sammy hate you, too?"

"Well, I've never met him, but it seems likely."

"Alright. Maybe we should leave you in Boris' safe house so that he won't avoid us. Bendy, do you think that Sammy would still... you know... be religiously attracted to you?"

"I don't know the first thing that goes on in that maniac's head. But we can hope. Plus," Bendy levitated a baseball-sized glob of ink from the ground. "I still have what he worshiped me for."

"Alright. We'll take Tom along for extra muscle, as well."

"Fair," Alice said, "See you once you've found Sammy."

With that, the group split up. Unsure of how to attract Sammy, the trio wandered around a while, ending up in the recording studio.

"Maybe he's in his sanctuary?" Henry wondered aloud.

"I wouldn't know. There's no cutouts in there," Bendy replied.

"Bendy, that's it!" Henry exclaimed, "You can see all over the studio. Just use your powers and we'll find him in seconds!"

Bendy looked delighted to be of use. "You got it!" He chirped before dashing into a poster. He was back out very quickly. "He's probably in his sanctuary. There's cutouts almost everywhere else, and I can't find him anywhere."

"Alright. Well, he worships you. Go knock on the door and tell him you're here."

"Okay," he said, and scampered over to the door. He gave it a few knocks, and called, "Oh, Sammy...! Your lord is here to release you from the inky abyss that is your body!" in a sing-song voice.

"Ugh...Jack! I told you, this is my alone place. We can goof off together later."

Henry stepped up to the door, giving it a firmer knock. "Sammy, he's telling the truth. Come out and see for yourself."

"Hmm... your voice... familiar..." Sammy responded. The trio waited nearly a full minute after that, but Sammy gave no further response. Henry could hear pencil scratches through the door.

"Well, we're just going to keep on making noise until you come out!" Bendy announced, picking up a violin. Tom looked incredulously at Henry, who smiled and shrugged in response. Bendy began playing the violin. In order to balance out the resulting dying cat noises, Tom howled. Henry took a quick look around the studio and made a beeline for the piano, but before he could even begin to play it, the door slammed open. For half a second, Sammy was hunched in anger. Then, he caught sight of Bendy.

"My lord! My lord, you've truly come!" he cheered, picking up Bendy and spinning in a circle. "Are you going to release me?"

Bendy looked awkward. "About that..."

Henry took over from there. "We want to release everyone we can. That includes you. Right now, we're searching for the souls of Lacie Benton and Grant Cohen. You're the most knowledgeable person here on the nature of the lost ones. I was hoping you could help us." The stab of guilt that came with knowing that they could not save Sammy was almost physical, but Henry could not let that keep him from his goal. He was too close to that optimal ending to stop now.

"My lord...wants to direct me himself?" Sammy asked.

"Sure, if that's how you want it. We wanna see all the lost ones we can, especially the ones that... how did you put it, Henry? Ones that are individuals?"

"It will be pleasure. Would my lord prefer to rest his feet?" Sammy got down on his knees and leaned forward.

Bendy climbed up onto Sammy's shoulder. "Thanks. And, um... Sammy? I'll heal you and all that, but truth be told I never liked the whole 'lord' thing."

"My lord is so humble!" was Sammy's only response. He got up and began leading the group down a stairwell. He came upon a locked room, dug some keys out of his pocket, and opened the door.

The room's floor was mostly broken, but the lost ones seemed to have made a makeshift elevator there. "Hop on," Sammy said, "It's totally safe. For one person at a time, anyhow."

Henry took one look at the rickety thing, little more than a raft held up with rope, which was in turn running through a few pulleys hanging from the ceiling. He was fairly sure it wasn't just his fear of elevators talking when he decided it did not look safe. Nonetheless, down Sammy went, Bendy riding on his shoulder. As Bendy descended, a look of awe spread across his face. "Henry, you need to see this!" he exclaimed.

The platform ascended back up. Henry took a deep breath and stepped onto it. He clung to the rope and squeezed his eyes shut until it hit the ground. When he opened his eyes, a large, imposing building stood before him. It wasn't very well made: none of the lost ones' buildings were. Nonetheless, Henry could tell that special effort had been put into this one. Not only was it the biggest building he'd seen the lost ones construct, it seemed to be made to imitate a church, complete with a wooden steeple with a belfry, a spire, and a candle glowing as the lantern.

"Church of Unity, huh?" Bendy said, reading the sign that had been carefully painted in black ink. "Is this one of those cults that try to make everyone give up their identity and be the same all the time?"

Sammy seemed taken aback. "Nothing could be farther from the truth! Simply the opposite!" he exclaimed. "Come. There is a reason I have led you here."

The three entered the church. Henry had been expecting a large area for giving sermons, complete with pews. Instead, only a thin hallway lined with doors lay ahead of them. Sammy opened one of them. Inside was a bed and a single lost one. "Hello, there," Sammy said in a gentle voice. "You don't mind if some guests watch us, do you? I want to show them what it is we do here."

The lost one shook its head. It reached out to pet Tom, but, Tom grabbed his hand before it could.

"Alright," Sammy continued, "Now, last time I met with you, you said that you have memories of Ireland. Well, I found an audiotape of someone with an Irish accent. Does the name, 'Shawn Flynn' raise any memories in you?"

The lost one thought on that, then nodded.

"Perfect. Now, I want you to think about the heavenly toy shop. Remember when it was in color? Remember giving free toys to the kids once or twice while Joey's back was turned?"

The lost one shook its head sadly.

"Well, perhaps this will jog your memory." Sammy dug into the pockets of his overalls and produced a tape recorder. He played it. The lost one held onto the tape recorder, his posture straightening as it filled him up with joy. Bendy tugged at Henry's pant leg. "Use your seeing tool," he whispered. Henry obeyed. Sparks of various colors were coming off of the lost one, making their way into various puddles of ink, and a few even making their way into Sammy. Meanwhile, orange sparks were entering him. "I..." the lost one began, sounding as though it had nearly forgotten how to speak. "My name... it's Shawn Flynn. I remember...so much. Oh, thank you, reverend!"

"Well, I'd say you're welcome, but you do have a habit of letting this happen. Same advice as usual, Shawn. Don't touch ink, ink creatures, or lost ones, take plenty of time to be by yourself, and find something you're passionate about. Since it's late, I'll let you stay here one more night. Sweet dreams, little sheep."

With that, Sammy led the group back out into the hall.

"Wow," Henry breathed. "I thought you were just, well..."

"A madman?

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Well, I did try to sacrifice you. But this is an equally important part of my work. Just think: How would our lord be able to make us ourselves again if "ourselves" didn't even exist? We're meant to be one soul in one body- unified. That's why it's called the Church of Unity."

"That's... incredible. Let me tell you, bud, if someone had told me that irritable ol' Sammy Lawrence had gone on to become a pastor and was helping people with their identities, well, I would have laughed. This place did some crazy things to you, but they weren't all bad things."

"We've both risen under the gun, it seems. I never thought that diffident little Henry Stein would be the one to earn our lord's respect."

"Try not calling me 'lord,'" Bendy protested, but it fell on deaf ears.

"And anyhow, I would be no better than them if I did not have my passion. I never stopped writing music. I remember one night, Jack and I performed my masterpiece- my most stunning composition of all. All of the lost ones just melted into each other at the sound. Weeks of work- lost. But, imagine giving it to the people out there- whose struggle isn't in keeping their soul unified, but in finding unity with others. I must make that a reality."

Henry wanted to cry. "That's a beautiful dream," he said simply.

"Yes. Now, let me show you to a room. It's late. We can begin a search tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you. You know, I kept this for so long, saved it when I was still mostly human. As a reminder." He dug an object out of his pocket. "But now that I know that salvation is coming, I won't need it anymore." He tossed it overhand into a puddle of ink.

As it flew, Bendy and realized what it was- a small bundle of hair, discolored by ink and held together with a rubber band. "No!" he yelled, and jumped to break its fall. He landed on his stomach, and the hair landed neatly in his gloves. "Whew. That was a close one."

"What...is going on?" Sammy asked, thoroughly confused.

Henry sighed. "Here's the thing, Sammy. We need physical remains to to bring back the dead. So that means... most of your cult isn't going to make it. I'm sorry."

Sammy turned away and balled his fists. "Deceived!" he yelled in a demonic voice, turning back to the trio and showcasing his contempt for personal space. "Betrayed! I ought to slaughter you for your insolence! But, you are in luck! You have underestimated my dedication to the Church of Unity. I will work even with liars to save even a single one of them. Go. Sleep, my little sheep. Tomorrow we will search for what you seek."

With that, Sammy turned away. Tom ran after him and began to silently communicate. "Yes, bring whoever you want. But keep the angel out of sight. She will not be well-liked here. And two beds is all we can spare."

With that, Sammy continued storming off, muttering under his breath and even punching a wall in frustration before turning back to his guests to say, "Actually, I forgive you," in an entirely calm voice. He then teleported out through a poster.

"Yeesh. Alice is gonna have her work cut out with that one," Bendy commented.

With that, Tom got Alice, and Henry and Bendy got Boris, who had emerged unharmed from the ink machine. Tom and Alice had brought back a deck of cards and plenty of bacon soup. It had been a very eventful day, and it was good to finally have some time to cool down, relax, and enjoy some food and each other's company. Tom and Alice shared a bed, and Henry let Bendy sleep with him. Boris went off to be some lucky lost one's new comfort animal.

In the early hours of the morning, the group woke up to a lost one's screaming over a speaker system. "EVACUATE THE SHORE. EVACUATE THE SHORE. THE HAND IS COMING."

The group immediately went to the window to make sure that they were sufficiently inland. Indeed, while they could see the shore, there was a row of small buildings between it and the church. The giant hand emerged and groped for victims, but thankfully everyone had heeded the intercom.

"Uh, Henry? I got some bad news," Bendy said.

"What is it?"

"That thing? It has a soul."

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #breaking the time loop #my fanfiction #Henry Stein #sammy lawrence #Toon bendy

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queenbirbs · 5 years

Text

waiting game | Ethan Ramsey x MC

AN - Literally couldn’t get this oneshot out of my head last night, so therefore I spent most of my last day off before Easter Hell Week writing it out. Because of course, why not? WC 3701 There’s a special place in hell for Harper Emery.

It’s the fourth time the phrase has entered his head, but it hasn’t lost the fire behind it. He’s the leader of one of the country’s best diagnostics teams, he’s done a few tours with Doctors Without Borders. Last year, he even went back home for Christmas dinner with a family who would honestly rather receive more postcards from Mozambique in lieu of seeing him in person.

And yet, this is possibly the most stressful thing Ethan’s ever dealt with. Wading through feces and garbage in a rural country would be more preferable at this point.

The event room around him is gilded to the tee. Every table is draped in the finest cloth, the silverware sparkling in the light of the chandeliers, the plates filled with the highest quality catering. Extravagant centerpieces explode from the center of the tables, white orchids and white hydrangeas and white lilies spilling out from crystal vases. Some type of curly branch winds up toward the ceiling, breaking up the overwhelming glare of white.

In the beginning, he tried to position himself just so, hoping the floral arrangement would hide him. Sitting down only served to make him an easy target, though, where any of the sharks could circle his table and feast upon him at will.

Glancing down at the scotch in his hand, he wonders how many more metaphors he can make before he has to cut himself off.

His current strategy is to keep moving, keeping himself between them with large, immovable objects. He learned his lesson with George Kadinskee, who shoved a table and chairs out of the way to get to him. It’s like being in a furniture store or a car dealership, watching the sales people discreetly chase after him.

It’s all rather pathetic (and childish) of him, but he didn’t become a doctor to get hounded by insurance reps. And yet, here he was at a Banner Health function on a Friday evening, dressed in one of his finest suits, waiting for the earth to swallow him up.

He really just wants to go home to his dog and a documentary.

“Doctor Ramsey!” a voice calls from behind him.

Allotting himself a wince and a sip of his drink in preparation, he sucks in a breath and straightens his spine. It’s a good thing, too, because when he turns around he needs to cling to all the composure he can.

“Rookie,” he greets, taking another sip to wet his dry mouth, “what are you doing here?”

Sloane raises an eyebrow at his tone, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Doctor Emery invited me. She said that the hospital could use some... younger representation.”

It’s his turn to shoot her a look.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I think the polite term is ‘experienced’ now,” she responds with that low, pretty laugh of hers.

He doesn’t choke on his drink, but it’s a damn near thing. “I’m sorry I’m late, though,” she continues, saving him from responding, “I had to get cleaned up and get all…” she trails off, waving a hand over her ensemble. “And my post-op was having some complications. I wanted to stick around until he got settled.”

Clinging to the life-raft of shop talk she’s handed him, he asks her about the patient, relieved when he catches the glint in her eyes, that bright flicker of discussing something she loves. Hospital talk saves him from making the inevitable ‘you look nice’ comment, which would be a paltry choice of words. She looks absolutely gorgeous, wearing a royal purple gown with a deep vee neckline. The material looks soft to the touch, the rich color complementing the russet shade of her hair. She normally wears it up, but it’s nice to see it down. His eyes follow the soft curls to the waist of her dress, where a section of thin lace does little to cover her pale skin, before the rest of the skirt continues down.

“You should go get us another round.” At her stilted tone, he glances at the half-finished glasses they both hold.

“Why?” he drags the word out, blaming the alcohol for how playful it sounds.

“Because there’s a middle-aged man that’s been eyeing you across the room for the past two minutes.”

He’s definitely blaming the next sentence out of his mouth on the alcohol.

“Are you sure he isn’t eyeing you?”

Something akin to delight crosses her face, before she breaks into a chuckle and shakes her head.

“Oh, no, trust me. He’s definitely been admiring your backside this entire time, not mine.”

Ethan pointedly keeps his eyes up, because he’s a grown adult, and shouldn’t be tempted with the idea of admiring hers. (He’s done so before, but only from the comfort of the nurses’ station, and only when she’s distracted enough not to catch him. He is a grown adult, after all.)

“Does he look like he plays golf instead of attending mandatory meetings?”

“Oh, yeah,” she nods, her gaze narrowing just beyond his left shoulder. “And his idea of a good time is yelling at wait staff.”

He chuckles at the matter-of-fact tone.

“You can tell that from across the room?”

“I waited tables in the Upper East Side in college. A sizable chunk of my debt is from buying new white button-downs when people like him threw food at me. I can read people like him a mile away.” Her eyes widen when she adds in a rush, “And he’s headed this way. Here!”

He takes the glass she all but shoves at him, steps around her, and tucks himself into the crowd hovering around the bar. Chancing a glance back, he sees her intercept George with an enthusiastic handshake. He watches as she lets herself be pulled out to sea into the awaiting sharks.

The bar takes longer than anticipated, but Ethan manages to secure two fresh drinks (and seven new business cards, which he will promptly throw in the recycling bin when he gets home). Fifteen minutes is a long time in the world of work functions, though, and he has lost sight of Sloane by the time he makes it back to the dining area. Across the ballroom, a live band has replaced the jazz playlist, and couples are moving across the dance floor.

Scanning the crowd, he finally spots a flash of purple, then a curtain of red flickering between bodies. She’s dancing with Anthony Fenton, Banner’s HR assistant and owner of three Teslas, which Ethan only knows because Anthony told him four times within their twenty-minute conversation earlier.

The song that’s playing crescendos, then eases down, the couples slowing as it peters out to a calmer song. Anthony’s hand moves from her waist to the small of her back, gathering her close to sway with her. Sloane settles a hand onto his chest, pushing back to make some space between their bodies.

It’s funny, because Ethan doesn’t see the venue change the lighting, but everything goes red for a moment.

He moves closer to the dance floor, trying not to feel like a chaperone at a school dance. Sloane is an adult, and a smart one at that, and is capable of making her own decisions. So, if she wants to dance with annoying assistants, or flirt with visiting paramedics or the other diagnostic interns, then she’s perfectly free to do so.

It doesn’t matter to him at all. (It does.)

He’s glad he’s watching them, though, because he gets to see the moment Sloane notices him. It’s been a few months since she started at Edenbrook, but it still gives him that same little thrill, that bite of pleasure, when she comes across him in the hallway, or in the cafeteria, or at Donahue’s, and he gets to watch her face light up.

“S.O.S.!” she mouths, begging for a save.

After she rescued him from George, he can’t just leave her to fend for herself, right?

Setting the drinks down on a nearby table, Ethan moves through the dancers with ease and sidles up to tap Sloane on the shoulder.

“May I have this dance, Doctor McTavish?”

She unwraps herself from Anthony and takes his offered hand within the span of one beat. Ethan thinks he mutters a dismissal to Anthony, but isn’t entirely sure about it.

Because he clearly didn’t think this part through. Enjoying Sloane from a permitted distance was one thing, but having her in his arms is a whole different ball game. He wonders if she can feel his heightened pulse where her hand grips his. (She can’t -- her fingers aren’t on his pulse point, but the curve of her lips says otherwise.)

They move in tandem with the crowd, more swaying than actual dancing. The music is just low enough for murmured conversation, which Sloane starts up with a suggestion of turning his people-watching skills on the dancers around them.

He points out the divorcees, the slackers, the ones that should be promoted and the ones that should be demoted. They bicker about an older couple near the very edge (she thinks they’re married, he thinks they’re just business partners). The current song slows and the two men in question share a gentle kiss, the shorter nuzzling the taller’s chest.

He runs out of observations soon after, too caught up in his private thoughts about the woman in his arms to spin any more yarn.

“Wouldn’t you normally bring a date to a function like this?” she asks, honest curiosity in her voice.

He deploys his best weapon: deflection.

“Couldn’t I ask the same of you?”

She hums, tipping her head to the side as if in agreement. The action sends a cascade of curls to lay against her neck, that floral perfume of hers hitting him again.

“To be fair, I did ask someone, but he works fourth shift tonight and couldn’t make it.”

His brain doesn’t know how to handle that information; he gets a wave of disappointment that she tried to bring a date, then gets another wave of admonishment at himself for wanting her all to himself.

“You wouldn’t want to put anyone through this schmooze-fest, anyway,” he reasons.

“You’re right,” she says. “In the twenty minutes you were hiding at the bar, I was offered to go on three company cruises and seven golf trips. And I’m pretty sure one of those was a combination of the two.”

Ethan makes a face at the idea of a golf-cruise combo.

“I was not hiding. They only have two bartenders working for a full venue.”

“Your mouth is moving, but all I’m hearing are excuses, Ramsey,” she chides with a grin.

The tempo of the song they’re dancing to swells. Neither say anything, but both seem to know exactly what to do. He drops his hand from her waist and twirls her out, her dress floating out into the open space with her, before she comes back into his arms, holding tight to his hand.

There’s a callous on her right ring finger, resting just below the nail, from the way she holds her pen at work. The perfume he detected before drifts up to him, stronger now that her body has heated up. He spots the flush that blooms across her chest and neck, a result of the swing music the band has started up.

He does not consider what it would be like to lay his lips there at the base of her throat and have a taste of her, to see if that pretty flush of hers would follow the trail of his lips.

“Let’s get some air,” he suggests, once the song is over and Sloane is panting from exertion and he is not thinking about other ways she could become breathless in his presence.

More dancers have joined the floor since they did, making their path out difficult. Ethan puts a hand on the small of her back, keeping her close to his side as they maneuver their way out of the crowd. Her skin is pleasantly warm under his fingers and covered in a light sheen of sweat from their activities and the close quarters of the dance floor.

She heads for the open balcony across the way and he follows, a moth drawn to her flame.

Outside, the city stretches out before them. To the south, Back Bay is a faint glow, leading the eye to continue left, where downtown shines bright. Cars are small dots of light underneath them, moving right and left, heading in and out of the city. Just on the edge of the balcony, Longfellow Bridge casts out into the darkness of the river. Despite the heat of the day, the cool night air rushes up to meet them.

Ethan catches Sloane rubbing her arms to keep herself warm and gives her his suit jacket to combat the cold. She tries to protest, but he silences her with another look, and helps her slip into it.

“My dad used to be the handyman for the local hospital where I grew up,” she tells him as she moves to stand at the edge. “During Christmas, they’d put these trees on top of the roofs, and he’d take me and my brother up there every year. It was only five stories high, but to us, it might as well have been the Empire State Building.”

“That sounds nice.”

She tears her gaze from the view over to him. He resists the urge to straighten his shoulders, suddenly feeling as if he’s been appraised.

“It was.” She seems to shift, as if deciding something unknown, and smirks up at him. “And then, you know, I was sixteen and wanted to impress a girl, so I stole my dad’s keys and took her up there with some hot cocoa and Bailey’s and one thing led to another…” she tips her head to the side again, laughing when he clears his throat.

“Well,” he starts, then realizes he has nothing to say to that (at least nothing that won’t seem like he’s offering to perform a reenactment out on this very public balcony with her), so he tries again. “Well.”

Nope, he’s got nothing.

Sloane takes pity on him and reaches out, patting him on his arm that rests next to hers on the railing.

“I’m glad I came,” she says, her face turned towards the open air. “I had a good time.”

“Despite Anthony and his two Teslas?” he can’t help but tease.

“Don’t forget his third one, though, back at his house in the Hampton’s.”

“Ah, of course. How could I have forgotten.” Finishing his scotch, he charges ahead: “I’m glad you came, too.”

He’s very glad he limited his alcohol intake, because when Sloane turns to smile at him, he can’t help but note that her eyes rival the sparkle of the city. And if he’d been drunk, he might’ve actually told her that.

Instead, he offers his arm. “I think we’ve made a sufficient appearance. We should be able to escape from captivity now.”

Sloane sets her empty glass on a nearby table and links her arm through hers.

“If I’d had another three of these, I’d make a tiger noise right now.”

“Well, thank god for that.”

They make it to the elevator and down to the front lobby of the hotel without any incident. They, of course, have an argument at the curb about her borrowing his jacket for her trip home, since she forgot to bring a coat in her rush to get to the function.

“Here, at least let me get you a Lyft,” he offers as he hands off his ticket to the valet.

“Oh, no, that’s too much. It’s a nice night, despite the wind.” She slips free of his jacket, handing it back to him. “It’s only a few minutes from here to the T.”

“How far do you live from here?”

She glances back to the street, as if checking for something, before she answers, “I’m all the way across town, over near Fan Pier Park.”

He goes over her route home, recalling that the closest station to her is back on this side of the channel. Which means she’ll have to walk at least ten minutes to get home after her stop, all alone on a Friday night. “Don’t worry,” she continues, as if that’ll stop him, “I do it every night. We’re not that far from the hospital right now, and I make that walk at all hours of the evening.”

You’re usually with your roommates, he wants to point out.

She’s already angling her body towards the street, readying to make her journey home. “I’ll be okay, Ethan.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“You live in the heart of downtown. You could throw a rock and hit City Hall.”

“It’s… on my way.”

He gets another eyebrow raise for that lie.

“It’s not even remotely on your way. You’d have to backtrack.”

“Barely over a mile. That’s not the end of the world.”

“Doctor Ramsey--” she tries, but the valet interrupts their argument, waving over to where another woman has brought his car around.

“Come on, McTavish.” He doesn’t glance back to see if she’s following -- he can see well enough in the lobby’s tall windows as she huffs out a sigh and trails after him.

“It’s nice here,” she comments as they wait at a stoplight somewhere along Congress Street.

He’d opted for the side streets, instead of taking a chance with the highway and its propensity for wrecks inside the tunnel. It certainly has nothing to do with the route taking longer the way he’s chosen, thus an increase in time of being in Sloane’s presence.

“In my heated seats? Of course it is. Beats the hard, plastic ones on the T any day.”

“I meant here as in the city, Boston. It’s a nice change of pace from the… constant-ness of New York City.”

“Constant-ness is not a word.”

“It is a word when I’ve gotten off a fifteen-hour shift, then had to walk around in these heels all night, and then was bullied into a car.”

“I did not bully you--”

“Okay, you didn’t bully me. How about: arrogantly demanded?”

He hums, as if in consideration.

“I’ll concede to arrogantly demanded.”

That sparks another chuckle from her, grinning over at him from his passenger seat.

“But yes, I lived in New York City. Therefore, I get to say what it was or was not.”

“It’s rather constant here, too,” he points out. A chorus of honks back up his statement as two cars blow through a red, blocking the intersection when the traffic ahead stops.

“New York was such a high turnover city to me. I had seventeen different roommates when I was living off-campus my third year of med school. People would come from all over the world to chase their dreams. By three weeks in, they came to the realization that it was going to be a lot harder than TV made it out to be. Why would they bother trying to live in one of the world’s most expensive cities being a temp or a waitress, when they could be back in Minneapolis or Nashville or Rochester doing the same thing.”

“That’s… rather depressing.”

She shrugs at his summation.

“It’s just how it was. And why I love living here in comparison. Here, everyone seems a lot more… rooted. I mean, barring unforeseen circumstances, I’ll be here for three years for residency. It’s nice to have that, to have friends who are in the same boat as me.”

His mind unwillingly travels three years ahead, when Sloane inevitably goes off to Johns Hopkins or Vanderbilt or Seattle Grace, and he never sees her again. “People come here to stay here,” she continues, unaware of his sobering thoughts. “I like it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, not trusting himself to ask if she can see herself staying here permanently. If she can see a place for herself on his team, because if she keeps at it like she has been, he can easily see her joining him.

He doesn’t want to hear her plans if her answer to that is no.

Instead, he flips on the radio. He taps along to the bass drums as she hums in time with the string instruments and he reminds himself that he cannot fall in love with her (not that it does any good).

“Nice place,” he says, and means it. The apartment building faces to the north, with a spectacular view of the harbor to the west. A doorman waves at Sloane as she starts to climb out.

“Thanks!”

“It might be rude of me to ask, but when I was in residency, I lived out of a shoebox. How did you all manage to secure a place like this?”

She glances over to the bay, biting at her lip, before meeting his curious gaze.

“We might have ganged up on the landlord and convinced him that our competition were communists.”

“Wow.”

“Well, ganged up is a strong term. But...yeah. First time I’ve ever been thankful I paid attention in that American History class in undergrad.”

“I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

“Oh, Doctor Ramsey,” she says with a shake of her head, that familiar smile making its appearance, “if you’re impressed by that, you should see what else I’m capable of.” With that, she grabs her purse from the floorboard, thanking him again for the ride, before rushing up to the double doors.

Ethan stays, wanting to make sure she gets inside safely, and watches her chat with the doorman for a moment. He can tell when she notices him still at the curb, and flicks a hand up at her when she waves to him. He waits a moment longer, watching her turn and head deeper into the lobby, until she disappears into a waiting elevator.

“I can’t wait to find out, Rookie.”

#ethan ramsey x mc #choices open heart #open heart #ethan ramsey x mc fanfiction #thought I was done with writing choices fic when most wanted 2 was declared DOA and I got bummed out #but here we are #Kaila writes things #metaphor series #f: the metaphor series

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justlostinautumn · 5 years

Text

Playing House 8

Clint Barton x OC (Alexandra Knight)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Fury calls in help on a long hall mission that requires Clint to play house with someone he doesn’t know and has never met. Alexandra likes to work alone and isn’t one to play well with others. Nick and Alex have a past together and now Nick is asking his old friend to help out with the monitoring and infiltration of some HYDRA agents. But, not everything is as simple as it seems. Nick isn’t the only old friend Alex has on the team.

I woke up to the feeling of Clint holding me close, even after everything he saw yesterday he still wanted me. I picked up my phone and saw that it was almost 3am, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep so I managed to disentangle myself from Clint and crept out the room. I notice I was back in one of his shirts and panties, I tiptoe back into the room and snatch my bra a slip it on under the shirt and I sneak down the hall.

“FRIDAY?” I look up.

“Yes, miss.” The AI responds.

“Is anyone up?” I sigh trying to figure out where everyone is.

“Mr Barnes is in the gym do you want me to tell him you are looking for someone?” The Ai asked.

“No!” I whisper shout. “Can I access the roof?”

“Yes, miss.” She confirms.

“Thank you.” I smile.

“You are very welcome.” I can hear the smile in the AI’s voice, I will have to congratulate Stark on his brilliant AI.

Once I got to the roof I sat there and looked out to the city watching it lighten as the sun began to rise. By 6am I realised yesterday could have been worse, they could have pinned me down and thrown me in a cell in the raft or worse. I decided I wanted food so I headed down to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets pulling out ingredients for pancakes, fruit salad and waffles. Making the batters for both the Waffles and Pancakes, I decide it’s been a while since I have baked and found the stuff for a chocolate cake, victoria sponge and coffee and walnut cake.

I loved baking because it kept my mind on track, kept my focus as I let the batter rise in the fridge and I put the last of the cake batter in the tin and into the oven I notice it is about 8am and I get to work quickly cutting up the fruit. All while doing this I was singing Dreams by The Cranberries, You Will Be Found from the play Dear Evan Hansen, Woke Up Late by Drax Project and many more, dancing around the kitchen.

“Do you think she knows we’ve been watching her for the last hour?” Sam asked.

“Yes.” Bucky and Nat said together.

“Pancakes or Waffles?” I ask looking over my shoulder and smirking at them.

“I thought Fury told you about being considerate of others?” Clint smirks at me.

“I put a bra on.” I smile at him batting my eyes and I can see him soften.

“I don’t think that’s what he meant Princess.” Nat cooed at me.

“Oh well! He’s not here.” I smile at Nat.

“Whos not here?” Nick asked as he walked in.

“Give me your shorts!” I point the spatula at Nat and she laughs.

“Kitten,” Clint calls and throws a pair of my gym shorts at me and I slip them on quickly.

“Nice to see you clothed,” Nick smirks at me.

“Are you doing unannounced drop-ins to make sure I am clothed at all times?” I turn around and put my focus on the pancakes and waffles which are stacking up.

“Maybe.” He laughs and I knew he was. He was worried I would distract them enough so I can slip out and disappear, yesterday must have thrown him. I put breakfast on the table with a pot of tea and coffee and I lean against the counter with an apple and coffee in each hand.

“I’m not going to disappear this time. Stop frowning you might actually start ageing.” I stare him down and he looks surprised.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave.” Nick looked at me like a wounded puppy.

“Are you giving me an out?” I tilt my head and frown. I notice that Nat and Bucky stiffen in their seats with looks of worry and sadness on their faces and Clint is now stood next to me with his arms wrapping around my waist.

“Yes.” Nick nodded and several hisses are heard in the room.

“I had time to think about it Nick, if I was going to disappear I would have left this morning at 3am when I was on your roof.” I pull out of Clint's arms and bent over to take out the cakes from the oven and let them cool on the rack, preparing the icing to go on each one.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know, I normally do it to the point that I can do it without thinking... it was apart of my training. If I couldn’t do it they punished me and then I kept doing it until I did it without error. I still work that way minus the punishments for mistakes.” I smile at Tony as he looked shocked I was so open.

“Why be open now?” Steve was curious.

“Because you’ve seen me at my worse and you sat and ate the breakfast I made you.” I raised an eyebrow at them.

“Poisoning doesn’t seem like a you kinda thing to do,” Sam spoke up and Nat and Bucky gulped.

“You clearly don’t know me, but I didn’t poison the food there would be no guarantee I could keep the ones I care about alive.” I shrug.

“Then why not eat the pancakes?” Peter was nervous.

“Because I wanted some cake.” I look at him like it is obvious.

“You know you can have both.” Clint brushes some of the hair from my face.

“Overindulgence makes you spoilt if you are left wanting something you’ll work harder for it.” I smile at him.

“You're not going to have a slice of cake?” Clint frowned.

“Delayed gratification, it can drive you to do your best. Think of something you really want and hold back until you achieve your goal. It’ll make it so much more rewarding, love!” I smile my lips brushing his as I talk and I pull back and walk out of the kitchen leaving perfectly iced and decorated cakes.

I changed into some gym clothes and I walked through the kitchen they noticed the bag and Nick knew what I was about to do.

“What you doing?” Steve asked as he watched me walk to the lift.

“Training.” I simply said stepping into the lift, the lift went down to one of the training rooms and I knew I had Marcus to thank when I walked into the room with all my beloved equipment. There were mats for sparring and tumbling, a range of gymnastic equipment, usual gym equipment, punching bags and my favourite things aerial silks. I drop her bag and walk over to the material to get a feel of it and it’s soft and water-like, it is purple in colour and I smirk.

I hear the ding of the lift indicating they have made it to the training floor and their heavy footfalls sound down the hall as they run in my direction. My lycra shorts and sports bra allowed me maximum movement. I walk to the mats and started to stretch ignoring the prying eyes, after loosening up my muscles I opt to work on my dancing form. Walking to my bag I pull out a pair of well-loved point shoes and strap them up my calfs flexing my foot once on I test out the feeling by going onto my toes and I sigh, it’s almost like relieving in a strange way. Going to my phone I put on Can You Hold Me and let the music take me away.

I forgot about the world and I just let my body move on its own, I didn’t have to think about where I needed to move next. I had done this so many times I didn’t have to do anything. I felt a hand grab me and I opened my eyes to see Bucky and he spun me continuously around him. I spun away and I nodded at him and ran at him and he grabbed my waist and lifted me above his head and spun us around bringing me back to the floor where I finished the dance opposite him slightly bent down in a bow. I looked up from my lashes as the song began again. He smirked at me and I shake my head walking over to the silks, I peel off my slippers and wrap my foot at the bottom and climb up and start my dance with the silks. Gasps are heard from below as I spin down and am left hanging upside down arching around the room in a slow circle. I pull myself up and unwrap myself from the rest of the silks and slid down until I land on the floor softly.

“That’s new,” Bucky smirks.

“Well, Barnes I didn’t have someone to jive with.” I laugh as I pull on my trainers.

“You can jive?” Tony looked shocked.

“Oh yeah he can, but maybe next time.” I laugh patting his chest and I look over to Clint.

“But, we wanna see Barnes dance.” Sam pouted and I laughed.

“I’d love to see if he can still move, but I need to see how Clint moves,” I smirk at him.

“He has two left feet.” Nat giggled and Clint gives her a dirty look and I laugh.

“We can work on that, but I’m thinking more combative.” I walk over to my bag and pull out two blades and unsheath them and spin them in my hands.

“Are those...” Bucky started.

“Had them since I was eighteen, parents gave them to me.” I inspect the blade, it was the first Vibranium weapon I was given. It was a gift from Wakanda to my parents a peace offering they were more than happy to take.

“How? They are Vibranium.” Tony looked at them in amazement.

“Wakanda wanted nothing to do with Project Zero and what it would bring so they made a deal with my parents. It’s how I know T’Challa and Shuri so well, I helped train them when they were younger and still to this day.” I smile at the fond memories I have with them.

Jailhouse rock starts to play and I laugh and look over to a smirking Natasha. I shake my head and continue playing with my swords.

“I may be passible with swords but I am not going up against you with those,” Clint spoke up I put them down and walked over to him patting him and then over to Nat taking my phone and put HandClap on.

“Don’t worry you have your own.” I pulled a bag out of a cabinet and threw it to him. He pulled out the swords and spun them in his hands.

“I could get used to this,” Clint smirks.

“Hang around with me more often you’ll get all the good toys.” I laugh as I bring my sword down quickly and he was just fast enough to block me.

“That was rude.” Clint pouted.

“Sorry, did you want me to announce I was going to attack you because I hope you know the enemy won’t” I smirk at him leaning in and putting more weight on the blade he brings the other one forward in a stabbing motion and I deflect it. I pull back as I feel him lean more weight on the blade and I sidestep pulling my blade away and allow him to stumble forward.

“Does anyone ever win against you?” Clint asked.

“I don’t remember the last time I lost a fight,” I smirk at him raising both eyebrows.

“I think you need to be knocked down a peg or two Kitty.” Bucky laughed from behind me.

“If you join Barnes, I will still whop both your asses. I may even let Tasha join in.” I laugh and I can sense Bucky’s hesitation.

“Two on two after you test Barton’s abilities with a blade,” Nick shouts and I can help but laugh.

“Bring it, Barton! I may even let you be on my team to beat both Barnes and Romanoff!” I smile at him and he laughs. He brings it that is for sure his movements more precise and fierce, he definitely knows his way around the swords. Against anyone else, I am sure he would win but I manage to disarm him and have in a hold that would ensure his guts would be on the floor and his throat would be slit.

“I’m impressed, Barton.” Marcus clapped.

“I don’t think she’s had a work out like that in a long time.” Nick laughed as I sheathed the two blades and gulped down some water. They were right this was the first time in a long time someone really pushed me to be better... well besides Barnes.

“So... I passed.” Clint looked at me hopefully.

“Yeah, you did amazingly. To be honest, better than I thought you would have Darling.” I smile at him as I walk over to him with some water and pass it to him.

“What else do you wanna see Kitten?” Clint smiled at me and I couldn’t help but smirk and bite my lip as I racked my eyes over him and hum.

“I’m warning you now.” Nick’s tone was serious and I looked over at him with Puppy dog eyes.

“I want to see everything you can give me.” I look up at Clint through my lashes and he grabs my hips dropping the bottle and pulling me close and growling in my ear.

“Behave Kitten.” He nipped at my earlobe.

“But this is more fun,” I whine as he pulls away.

“Nick and Marcus look ready to lock you in a room until the mission.” Clint laughs and I look at Nick and Marcus stern faces. I then look over to the Team who looked uncomfortable other than Bucky and Nat who was smirking and a plan formed in my head.

“Okay.” I shrug walking away from Clint and over to the team. I walk over to Nat and Bucky and take each of their hands.

“What are you doing?” Clint growled.

“Going to have some fun,” I smirked at him.

“You’re mine,” Clint states firmly and I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips.

“Nick said I couldn’t kiss, nothing about anything else.” I knew I was grinning, I heard the gasps of the other Avengers and felt the hands of Bucky and Nat on my body.

“Hands off,” Clint growled and pointed at the two with one of his blades and I couldn’t help but smirk. I felt the firm grip of Bucky’s metal arm shift me behind him and I knew what was happening and the smirk dropped.

“Stop!” I growled loudly, Bucky froze and everyone looked at him even Clint stopped.

“Threat,” Bucky growled.

“No. We are okay, I promise. Clint, is a friend remember, he’s Bird Brain or is that Sam?” I tilt my head looking at him and see him relax.

“That’s Sam.” Bucky grits out taking a deep breath.

“Soldat, you need to stand down... please.” I rest my head against his chest and feel him hug me.

“I don’t know what happened. It’s just the whole thing triggered something.” Bucky squeezed me and I let out a shaky laugh realising what he was talking about.

“A memory. It triggered a memory, I didn’t think that would happen. I am sorry.” I pulled back and looked at Buck and everyone else dropping my head and walking out the room and get into the lift.

“Where to?” FRIDAY asked.

“The roof, please don’t tell them where I am,” I speak softly feeling guilt wrap itself around me.

“Yes, Miss.” FRIDAY answers.

“FRIDAY please call me Alex.” I look at the ceiling.

“Okay, Alex.” I smile and nod.

Once we get to the roof I walk to the edge and sit down and look out to the busy city. The memory of Bucky protecting me flashes to my mind, I knew he would ask questions... questions like why did he protect me? Who was it from? When? I didn’t want to think about it let alone have an audience when telling him.

“I didn’t think that would happen.” I sigh as Clint comes and sits next to me, I knew they would figure it out where I ran to.

“We know.” He looks out on the New York skyline with me.

“I’m not going to talk about it, if that’s why you are here you may as well leave.” My voice is cold.

“Will you tell Bucky?” Clint looks at me I can feel his eyes on me, as well as the rest of the Team. I knew Nick, Marcus and Maria was here too.

“I don’t even think I could tell my own reflection.” I finally look at him and he sees the brokenness in me.

“It can’t be that bad.” Clint goes to touch me and I flinch back losing balance and fall backwards away from the ledge and I stand up quickly.

“I may have said my parents were worse than HYDRA, but I meant in what they made me do. What HYDRA did to me was worse than anything my parents would ever dream of doing to me.” I growl at him.

“What did they do?” Clint growled I could see his rage at the thought of them doing something to me.

“You can’t make me talk about it,” I shout at him and turn my back to him and I was faced with Bucky and I couldn’t stop the tears as the memories flash in my mind.

“Kitty...” He spoke softly.

“Please don’t make me.” I sniffed and shook my head. I turned when I heard Clint heading my way and he wrapped his arms around me and I let go and sobs wracked my body.

#playing house #the avengers #the avengers x reader #the avengers imagine #the avengers x oc #avengers imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #clint barton #clint barton imagine #clint barton x ofc #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye imagine #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye x oc #marvel imagine #marvel

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shnztnsdr · 4 years

Text

Feature Article

by Shien Zoe Tan Sudario

HongKong Disneyland

HongKong Disneyland Resort is known as the happiest place on Earth, this is the largest theme park in HongKong located on reclaimed land in Penny’s Bay, Lantau Island. It was officially opened to public last September 12,2005. HongKong Disneyland Resort is located on the beautiful Lantau Island that is easily accessible— by ferry: available daily between Disneyland Resort Pier and HongKong Downtown; by MTR: the most convenient way which you will ride a Tung Chung Line MTR, get down in Sunny Bay and experience the fun transportation riding the Disney themed MTR on your way to the resort; by cross border bus: point-to-point transportation between HK Disneyland and over 20 destinations in China; by bus: available daily between HK Disneyland and HK Downtown; by Taxi: there are three types of taxi—red for urban, green for New Territories and blue for Lantau. The best time to visit HK Disneyland is when the weather is dry and the temperatures are comfortable probably between April and November.

Lots of Attractions

There are seven themed lands in HK Disneyland Park, bringing over 100 immersive, culturally distinctive Disney attractions and entertainments for all guests of different ages and tastes. No matter what your favorite Disney stories are, you can always feel the magic.

The FantasyLand is one of the themed lands in the park, it features the most prominent disney trademarks, the Sleeping Beauty castle and many classic fairy tale characters can be found here. Cinderella Carousel, Dumbo the Flying Elephant, Fairytale Forest with Pixie Hollow, Fantasy Gardens, Fantasyland Train Station, It’s a Small World, Mad Hatter Tea Cups, The Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Mickey’s PhilHar Magic, Mickey and the Wondrous Books, Push the Talking Trash Can, Snow White Grotto and the Sleeping Beauty Castle are the attractions inside the FantasyLand.

The Main Street USA is also one of their themed lands and this served as the entrance of the park. The decorations is a 20th Century small town America from about the years 1890-1910. This is where the Flights of Fantasy Parade will be held.

The Mystic Point is set in a dense, uncharted rain forest surrounded by mysterious forest and supernatural events, they have the haunted mansion which they called the Mystic Manor, the Garden of Wonders and Mystic Point Freight Depot.

The Toy Story Land, also a themed land which they brought the movie Toy Story into life and it seems like you are also one of Andy’s toys. They feature the Barrel of Fun, Cubot, RC- Racer—(this ride is totally insane!), Slinky Dog Spin—(this is fun, it makes you dizzy), Toy Soldier Boot Camp and Toy Soldier Parachute Drop.

The Grizzly Gulch, the fifth themed land. This is much smaller than the other themed lands they have. Grizzly Gulch features only one ride, The Big Grizzly Mountain Runaway Mine Cars, a roller coaster ride.

The Adventure Land, the biggest themed land in the resort, featuring a huge treehouse of Tarzan which is circled by the Jungle Cruise wherein you will ride a bamboo platform raft to cross the river on the way to the treehouse. It is also the home of the “Festival of the Lion King” show. They also feature Jungle River Cruise, Jungle Drumming, Liki Tikis, Moana’s Homecoming Celebration and Karibuni Market Place.

The last themed land but definitely not the least is The Tomorrow Land, it is themed to the future and outer space. They feature Astro Blusters, Disneyland Monorails, Disneyland Railroad, Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage, Space Mountain—(this ride is totally insane and it’s really great, must try!), Star Tours: The Adventure Continues and the Star Wars Launch Bay.

A lot of fun attractions to visit and your ticket is surely worth it.

Good Foods

HongKong Disneyland is fun and very wide and strolling around is tiring and will surely starve you. So here are the list of a must visit dining options when visiting:

•Walts’s Café •Royal Banquet Hall. •Comet Café •River View Inn •Main Street Corner Cafe •Plaza Inn •Enchanted Garden Restaurant •Tahitian Terrace •Crystal Lotus •Explorer’s Club Restaurant •Market House Bakery •Starlight Diner •World of Color Restaurant •Chef Mickey •Dragon Wind

If you don’t like heavy meals then they have variety of treats to try:

•Breakfast with the Stars

•Mickey Mouse Meringues

•American Cheese Burger

•Coca Cola Slush

•Guang Dong’s BBQ

•Popcorn Carnival

•Dim Sum

•HK Egg Custard Tarts

•Potato and Green Pea Curry

Ticket Price

If you wish to visit HK Disneyland, here are the tickets’ estimated price are:

General Admission (12-64 years old) — HKD 619 or PHP 4,199

Children (3-11 years old) — HKD 458 or PHP 3,107

Senior Citizen (65+ years old) — HKD 100 or PHP 678

This ticket price is valid for one day and it is unlimited pass for all the rides and attractions inside the resort.

In addition to that, you can purchase the ticket online at www.hongkongdisneyland.com , it is also available at the Main Entrance Ticket Booths and at the outlet located at Hong Kong International Airport (Terminal 2) and at Hong Kong West Kowloon Station (Near Arrival Concourse, Exit A).

People

One of the things we want when traveling is a group photo with your travel buddies or an instagrammable photo of you if you are a solo traveler. There are lots of tourists in HongKong Disneyland from different countries and believe it or not, they are easy to approach with. You can ask them to take a photo of you and they gladly accept it and some people even offer to take a photo of you. How cool is that right?

Their staffs speak English, Mandarin and Cantonese and they are easy to be approached too.

Souvenirs

We all want something to buy from a certain place we visited, right? In HongKong Disneyland, there are lots of souvenir shops. Near the entrance of the park, there are stools there selling cute hairbands like Mickey Mouse’s ears and it costs HKD 158 each. That’s the main souvenir we can buy from Disneyland. On the other hand, you can buy a lot of souvenirs, depends on the type of character you like. They surely have affordable, durable and cute stuffs to bring back home as a remembrance.

So, what are you waiting for?

Come and visit Hong Kong Disneyland and experience the magical world of Disney.

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k-llama-llama · 6 years

Text

Underwater | Monsta X-Ray S2E8

Monsta X AU: 8th member

Zoey x Monsta X

Zoey has a phobia of water, which makes a particular episode of Monsta X-Ray a real challenge.

A/N:This went so much longer than I wanted it to, but I feel like it really helps lay out Zoey’s personality, as well as her relationships with the boys. I WANNA HEAR WHAT YOU THINK

Requests are OPEN : Submit them! I need them!

MASTERLIST

“How come we all have ridiculous outfits and Zoey looks cute?” Jooheon demanded, directing his question at the producers behind the cameras.

They’d come to a water park to film, and had just finished suiting up into their swimsuits. Zoey’s was essentially a pair of bikini bottoms and a blue, crop top rash guard. She’d neatly braided her hair back behind her ears, and looked ridiculously adorable.

“Because I’m cute, thats why.” Zoey answered, already envisioning the slow motion shots that would appear of this once it aired.

“Who’s ready to get in the water!”

The boys cheered, and Zoey clapped politely.

“Smile, Zoey.” Minhyuk elbowed her.

She did, though it was nervously. “I’m not very good with water.”

“You’ll be fine.” He reassured. “We have to wear life jackets.”

Zoey nodded as they headed off to get their life jackets and helmets. She fumbled with the straps on hers, and Shownu came over to help her tighten it at the waist.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He whispered.

She nodded. “I can swim. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, making sure her life jacket was on properly. “The other guys know that you’re nervous, but stay with Wonho or I if you’re nervous about falling off.”

She noticed the cameras spin their way and gave him a playful smack on the chest. “You got it, boss.”

He chuckled and ran after her as she hurried down the dock with the rest of the boys.

The second she was in the floating circle of death, she knew that she was going to regret this. She did as she was told, and sat herself between Shownu and Wonho, so she was sharing a handle with each of them. But still, nothing could’ve prepared her for the moment that the boat pulling them went to full speed.

It started to spin, and then she was somehow vertical and looking down at the others boys. The screams escaped her with no warning. There were no coherent words, just absolute terror as she stared down the water below.

After what felt like an age, they pulled back up to the dock. Zoey breathed a sigh of relief as Kihyun helped her onto the dock and then she was immediately ushered to another spinning death trap, except this one faced her outwards.

She winced the second she saw it, stopping suddenly and making Changkyun run into her back.

“You good?” He asked.

She nodded nervously. “Yeah. I’m good.”

X-Ray didn’t usually make her this uncomfortable. She wasn’t easily embarrassed, and the last time she’d been truly upset during an X-Ray was the one where they had to sit down with the psychologist. But she was really uncomfortable around water.

Zoey wasn’t sure why, exactly, she was so nervous when it came to water. She could swim fine, though she certainly wasn’t up to olympic standards. But every time she thought about getting in the water, especially a lake or ocean, she just felt really uneasy.

Unfortunately she didn’t really have a choice this time.

Which was stupid. She knew that the second she said anything to any of the boys they would get her out of it. Or even any of the staff. If they knew how nervous she really was they wouldn’t make her do it. But she felt so bad. Monbebe watching the X-Ray would be annoyed if she just sat at the table and ate ramyeon all day.

Shownu and I.M. helped her climb onto the floaty, and she took her spot and held on. There was no way for her to hold onto Shownu, and as soon as she gripped the handles she knew that she wasn’t strong enough to hold herself on if it started to go fast.

She took a deep breath. All she needed to do was get through today. There was nothing wrong with the water, and this would be fun.

Nevermind the fact that she was looking at the sky, trying to avoid seeing the water at all.

When they started whizzing through the water, she just held on as tightly as she could, trying to ignore the way her feet trailed through the water.

They went over a particularly aggressive wave, and something resembling a yelp escaped her.

She tried to brace herself for the next one, but the impact of the drop shocked her so much that she lost her grip on the handles and went flying.

Maybe it was her imagination, or her light weight, but she felt like she skimmed the surface of the water for too long before she was finally swept under. Zoey had forgotten to take a breath, and choked as water filled her lungs.

When she surfaced milliseconds later, she coughed and spat out water. She tried to wipe the water out of her face as the boat circled around, and managed to compose herself by the time the raft reached her.

“Do you want to get back on, Zo?” Jooheon asked. “Or do you want to be in the boat.”

Zoey shook her head, steeling her nerves and just anxious to be out of the water. “I’m fine to go again.”

Jooheon tilted his head as if he didn't believe her, but helped Shownu haul her out of the water and place her back on the raft.

“You having fun, Zo?” Changkyun asked teasingly.

The glare she sent him shut him up. She was not enjoying herself. This entire experience was like one giant panic attack, except she had to pretend to be having fun.

She managed to hold on for the rest of the ride, if only out of sheer determination not to have to swim again.

When they arrived back at the dock, she tried to confidently step off, but found her legs shaking. Quickly, to hide it from the cameras, she wrapped her arms around whoever happened to be the closest. In this case it was Jooheon, who laughed and rubbed her arm, pulling her along with him as they went under the roof for some food.

She tried not to seem to down while the boys joked about the experience. She just ate her ramyeon in silence, trying to ignore the glances sent her way.

“Sad that your hairs getting wet?” Jooheon teased her. One of her braids had indeed come loose.

She pouted, and then forced her face to warp into a small smile. “I just don’t really like water.”

Hyungwon patted her on the shoulder. “Eat your food. I’ll fix your hair for you.”

She thanked him and resumed her process of shoving her face full of noodles.

“Woah! They flew!” All of the boys turned back to the water, and Zoey watched as the raft carrying Wonho and Minhyuk flew into the air before crashing back down into the water.

She wiped her mouth. “I’ll be right back.”

She headed into the hallway, one of the few places that wasn’t outfitted with cameras. She leaned her forehead against the wall and tried to breath. There were more activities to do and she needed to push through this stupid fear of hers.

“What’s wrong?” A voice behind her asked.

She turned, trying to hide tears that she hadn’t known were there as she faced Wonho. His hair was wet from having just got out of the water, and he was still wearing his life jacket. He’d gone to find the washroom, only to find a very distressed looking Zoey instead.

She sniffled. “Nothing. I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “What are we doing next?”

He gave her a look that was so full of pity it actually hurt. “You’re that scared, aren’t you?”

At his words, she broke down in tears again, feeling herself be pulled against his chest. She ignored the fact that he was damp and wearing a life jacket, and focused on controlling her breathing.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” She hiccuped. “I know it’s stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.” He reassured her. “Remember how much I cried when they made me bungee jump? You’re allowed to be afraid.”

“I just really don’t like water.” She said, her voice muffled. “I’m trying to get over it but I can’t.”

“It’s okay.” He kissed her forehead to calm her. “You don’t have to do it anymore.”

She shook her head. “Yes, I do. It’ll look weird if I just stop participating.”

“No, it won’t. We’ll come up with an excuse.” He promised, rocking her back and forth.

Shownu came around the corner. “They want us back for - we good here?” He paused when he saw Wonho practically cradling Zoey.

Wonho turned to Shownu. “I think Zoey’s looking a little pale. She probably shouldn’t go back on the water.” He said with a wink.

Zoey peeked out to see what Shownu’s response would be, and he took one look at her tear-stained face and made his decision.

“You do look pale.” He said. “Leader’s call, you’re out for the rest of the day.”

She could have wept from relief, but managed to maintain some composure and nod thankfully.

Shownu said that he would tell the staff and disappeared back in the direction he’d come in.

Zoey wiped her nose. “Thank you, Hoseok-ah.”

He smiled down at her. “Anytime. You keep me away from high things, I’ll help you with your water thing.”

She nodded. “Sounds like a deal.”

They started walking back towards the area where everyone was gathered.

“What are you going to do if you’re not swimming?” He asked her.

She winked. “Working on getting my Hyolyn tan.”

The next time the boys came out of the water, they found Zoey reclining on a beach chair, having traded out her rash guard for a standard bikini top. A group of guys were standing on the other side of the porch, staring at her, and even the staff that worked for the water park cast their eyes her way.

“This is terrible.” Kihyun said. “Someone get her a towel.”

“She’s having fun, leave her be.” Shownu said.

Indeed, Zoey sat up and waved, giving her hair a flip and sending a suggestive wink their way that let them know that she knew exactly what she was doing to the visitors at this water park.

“We raised a monster.” Minhyuk announced. “Look at it, it’s smiling.”

“She’s not an it.” Changkyun said. “Just be glad she isn’t topless.”

Kihyun smacked him for the suggestion. “Don’t give her any ideas.”

“Go Zoey!” Jooheon cheered. “What?” He said when the other guys looked his way. “She’s our girl and she looks hot. Let her have fun.”

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

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TALES OF THE TEEN TITANS #42-44, ANNUAL #3 MAY - JULY 1984 BY MARV WOLFMAN, GEORGE PEREZ, DICK GIORDANO, MIKE DECARLO AND ADRIENNE ROY

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

Donna and Kory finish up a photo shoot at Donna's studio. Gar, naturally, is overwhelmed by the skimpiness of Kory's bathing suit. Tara is present, and asks how Donna could afford such an expansive studio apartment. Donna tells her that it was a gift from Queen Hippolyta. What none of the Titans present realize is that someone is surreptitiously taking surveillance photos of Donna's studio.

Gar and Tara walk Dick back to his midtown apartment. Again, someone continues to take photographs of the group, but none of them seem to be aware of it. After dropping Dick off, Gar and Tara walk over to a nearby frozen pond where Vic Stone and Sarah Simms are ice skating with a group of Sarah's disabled wards. Vic loses his balance and falls onto the ice, and Sarah and the children begin laughing at them. Vic is only slightly embarrassed, but his humiliation is compounded when Gar turns into a bunny and begins poking fun at him. Afterwards, Vic returns home where he finds a letter from his grandparents. The letter indicates that they will be visiting him some time soon. Vic is not overjoyed to receive such news. As before, someone takes a snapshot of him from outside his apartment.

Later, Gar walks Tara down to the East River. She finally relents to his persistent affections and the two share a kiss. Gar leaves, and Tara takes the raft to Titans Tower. She stops by Raven's room and finds the empath in the midst of meditation. Raven doesn't trust Tara, but as she has been dealing with so many emotional issues as of late, she cannot determine whether her apprehension is justified, or if it is just a by-product of her father Trigon's influence over her.

Some time later, the Titans regroup at the tower and Cyborg goes through a training exercise. He succeeds in overcoming a five-ton steel press. Donna and Kory spar with one another atop a floating raft in the Titans' swimming pool. Donna has never defeated Kory during these trials and is determined to win. Kory reminds her once again that she was trained by the Warlords of Okaara, and that fighting is second-nature to her. She proves her point by kicking Donna in the jaw, knocking her into the pool. Terra silently watches the various trials, taking note of her potential teammates strengths and weaknesses.

The next training exercise takes place outside. The Titans want to see what Tara is truly capable of and has her spar against Changeling. Changeling, with his usual aplomb, transforms into a variety of animals, and circle about Terra, disrupting her concentration. He keeps making jokes and poking playful fun at her, not realizing that she each barb is steadily bringing her temper to a boil. Finally, Terra can take no more of Gar's shenanigans and unleashes a volley of earth, rocks and debris at him. Volcanic mounds of dirt begin erupting across the island, and the other Titans quickly realize that Terra has lost control. They finally get Terra to calm down, and they make sure that Gar is okay. Cyborg chastises him for provoking her.

Later, Tara retires to the Terminator's secret lair. Slade criticizes her for losing control, and tells her that it is only through sheer naiveté that the Titans still trust her. Tara tells him not worry about anything.

Elsewhere, a middle-aged woman and her teenage son monitor Slade and Tara's actions. They take a surveillance photo of them boarding a helicopter. The woman is surprised that she was able to get close enough to Slade to photograph him. She whispers to herself, "Slade, it's been a long time. But not long enough for you".

Dick Grayson is at home typing a letter when suddenly the Terminator crashes through his apartment window and attacks him. It quickly becomes clear that the Terminator knows that Dick was once the retired super-hero Robin, though Grayson has no idea how he could have acquired such knowledge. Realizing that the Terminator has a physical advantage over him, Dick baits his foe into kicking him out the broken window. He uses his leather jacket to slow his fall as his body plummets into a pile of garbage. As the Terminator begins firing rounds out the window, Dick (injured) sprints into the crowd. The Terminator gives chase and follows him across a busy street. Two witnesses to this tableaux are the middle-aged woman who had been spying on the Terminator, and her silent teenage son. Terminator follows Dick into a nearby park, but Dick loses him in a crowd of marathon runners.

Fearing that his fellow Titans may be in danger, Dick tries to contact them on his communicator, but nobody responds. He races over to Donna and Kory's apartment, but as he feared, the penthouse is in shambles. He finds evidence of a letter bomb that could've been used to render Kory unconscious. Examining Donna's darkroom, he finds trace elements of poisonous chemicals that had been mixed with her photo solutions. He suspects that the odor from the chemicals would have been strong enough to incapacitate someone of even Donna's hearty constitution.

He next stops at Victor Stone's apartment. Breaking down the door, he finds an empty chair outfitted with clamps and wires designed to electrocute its intended target. He also finds a letter on the floor from Vic's grandparents and surmises that he was reading the letter when the Terminator sprung his trap. Like the others, Vic is nowhere to be found.

Dick then goes to Titans Tower. The tower is empty but for a massive spiraling column of earth. Clearly this is Terra's handiwork. The column leads into Raven's quarters, but neither Terra nor Raven are anywhere to be found. Dick hears a voice from behind him and spins around to see the middle-aged woman and her son standing before him. The woman introduces herself as Adeline and the boy next to her is her son Joey. Adeline tells him that the Terminator learned all of the Titans secrets from Terra. Dick doesn't trust this woman, and is unwilling to readily accept the fact that Terra was a traitor. Adeline tells him that she has unique knowledge of the Terminator and his schemes, due in no small part to one simple fact – he was once her husband.

Meanwhile, the Terminator abducts his final victim – Gar Logan. Playing on Garfield's vanity, he poisons the seal on a pile of envelopes that correspond to autographed photos of himself that he plans on mailing to his female fan base. After licking numerous envelopes, the poison finally takes affect and Gar passes out. Deathstroke collects his quarry and brings all of the Titans to the Rocky Mountain headquarters of his employers – the H.I.V.E.

At Titans Tower, Dick Grayson stands incredulous as Adeline Kane accuses Terra of collusion with their most hated foe Deathstroke the Terminator. As his former wife, Adeline has intimate knowledge of Slade Wilson's origins. She provides Robin with a complete history of Slade's life.

The Origin of the Terminator Having lied about his age, Slade Wilson was sixteen-years-old when he first enlisted in the United States Army. After serving a stint in Korea, he was later assigned to Camp Washington where he had been promoted to the rank of Major. In the early 1960s, he met Captain Adeline Kane who was tasked with training young soldiers in new fighting techniques in anticipation of brewing troubles taking place in Vietnam. Kane was amazed at how skilled Slade was and how quickly he adapted to modern conventions of warfare. She immediately fell in love with him, and realized that he was without a doubt the most able-bodied combatant she had ever encountered. She offered to privately train Slade in guerrilla warfare. In less than a year, Slade mastered every fighting form presented to him and was soon promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Six months later, Adeline and he were married and she became pregnant with their first child. It was at this time that the war in Vietnam began to escalate and Slade was shipped overseas. At home, Adeline gave birth to their son Grant. Some time later, Wilson volunteered for a medical experiment designed to stimulate his adrenal gland in the hopes of increasing a soldier's ability to resist truth serums. The experiment did not go as expected, and Slade fell into a coma. When he awakened however, he discovered that was now capable of using 90% of his brain capacity, and his strength, durability and agility were increased to near superhuman levels. He applied for re-assignment with the army, but they refused him. Although his condition was now stabilized, depression took hold of him and he was desperate to serve his country. At this time, Adeline became pregnant with their second child, Joseph. Unable to further his career in the military, Slade turned towards hunting. He became a world famous safari hunter and great wealth followed soon after. Adeline always suspected however that Slade felt unfulfilled.

A few years later, a group of hired mercenaries broke into the Wilsons' mansion and kidnapped young Joey. Adeline attempted to fight them off, but a gas grenade prevented her from saving her son. When Slade discovered what had happened, he knew he could not keep the truth from his wife any longer. Slade was not only a world famous safari hunter, he was also one of the world's deadliest and most highly sought after assassins - Deathstroke the Terminator. He promised Adeline that he would save their son. Together, they flew to Tangiers and squared off against a rival mercenary known as the Jackal. The Jackal wanted Slade to reveal important information relating to a client or else he would have his men kill Joey. Slade gambled on the idea that he could save his son before the Jackal could give the order. Though he succeeded in disarming the thugs and killing the Jackal, he was not fast enough to prevent one of them from slicing Joey's throat, permanently robbing him of his voice. Grief stricken beyond measure, Adeline attempted to shoot her husband in the back of the head. His lightning reflexes saved his life, but he could not avoid the bullet taking out his left eye. Slade and Adeline parted ways, but Addie always promised that she would finish the job she started.

After concluding her tale, Adeline convinces Dick to allow them to help rescue the Titans. Dick runs upstairs to don a brand new costume, and with it a new identity. When he returns to the meeting hall, he is no longer Robin the Boy Wonder. He is now Nightwing. Joey too has a costume and has taken to calling himself Jericho. Dick is still unsure about having Joey around, but Adeline reveals that the experiments which gave Slade his powers, had a mutagenic side-effect in his son. Joey has the ability to physically possess the bodies of other people. After a quick demonstration, he communicates (through sign language) his desire to bring his father to justice. Nightwing is still reluctant, but agrees to accept his aid. They fly off in the T-Jet on the trail of Deathstroke and Terra.

Nightwing and Jericho go to the H.I.V.E. base nestled in the Rocky Mountains. They sneak into the facility and discover that the Titans have been strapped to a giant machine which is slowly siphoning away their life energy. Nightwing and Jericho fight through a horde of H.I.V.E. shock troops but are eventually captured. The Terminator is surprised to see his son with the Titans and tries to bargain with the H.I.V.E. to let him go. The H.I.V.E. refuses however and Jericho takes this opportunity to possess his own father. Using the Terminator's body and weaponry, he frees the other Titans and begins fighting the H.I.V.E.

Terra is enraged at Terminator and feels that his affection for Joey makes him weak. She accuses him of betraying her, not altogether different from how she betrayed the Titans. She loses complete control of her sanity and years for nothing more than the death of everyone in the room. Changeling refuses to believe that Tara has gone bad, and is certain that the Terminator has brainwashed her. Terra calls him a moron and confesses that she has always been conspiring with Slade against the Titans. Terra's powers rage out of control and twisting columns of rock begin growing from out of the floor and walls. Wonder Girl ensnares Terra in her golden lasso, but Terra knocks her off her feet with a geyser. Changeling turns into a giant serpent and tries to coil himself around her, but she keeps him at bay by hurling a wave of debris at him. One of the discarded chunks of sediment strikes Raven in the face, knocking her unconscious. As Terra's emotions are whipped into a greater frenzy, her powers become even more uncontrollable. Finally she causes a mountain of earth and debris to collapse down from the ceiling, killing herself in the process.

The Titans bring Terra's body back to New York for burial. The funeral service is small and only the Titans and the Outsiders are in attendance. The Titans let Tara's surviving brother Geo-Force believe that she died heroically while fighting the H.I.V.E. From some distance away, Joey Wilson sheds a tear for Terra. His mother comforts him and speaks about the nobility of the Titans. She concludes with, "You'll do well with them".

INTERVIEW WITH WOLFMAN

Dan: Now, going back to The Judas Contract … that was a perfect example of melding character beats and a lot of action and the culmination of a story. So, give us a sense of how that particular story came together.

Marv: I had the original idea and George and I, at this point George lived about five blocks from me. We’d get together at a diner between us and…

Dan: Where was this? Was this in New York?

Marv: Yeah. And we would talk out… I’d come in with the idea and then we’d start talking it out and going back and forth and early on I’d go back and rewrite it as a full plot, broken down page-by-page, and George would take that and do what he wanted. The fact that I broke it down didn’t mean he had to follow it. It was my way of pacing the story and he’d use what he wanted or he’d come up certainly with the action stuff, a million great things.

George’s strength was he also understood the characters 100 percent as I did so there was never any question. He knew. We had talked enough about the characters to know we were exactly on the same page with them. So I said, “Everyone keeps complaining that we’re like the X-Men” and the X-Men had just gotten Kitty Pryde. I said, “Why don’t we really screw around with them completely?” — this is the fans — “…and make them think we’re stealing Kitty Pryde only she’s gonna be bad from Day One.”

You always had characters pop up, certainly at Marvel, who were bad that get redeemed. But this character would never get redeemed. She was insane. In fact, she was the catalyst for everything. She wasn’t working for Deathstroke. He was working for her in many ways and she was leading him because she’s crazy. She’s a total psychopath… and she’d be 15. And she’d be smoking and she’d be trying to seduce him.

The very first time we see her, she’s trying to blow up the Statue of Liberty. It’s just that all the fans assumed because we went out of our way to make her cute — but not too cute, with the buck teeth and everything — everyone would assume that she was gonna become good by the end and that was never the case.

First thing, we made a promise that day that we would never renege on our view that she’d never become good. It’s sometimes hard to do that with characters you like. You want them to become good or something like that. But we never liked the character enough—because we knew what we were doing with her—we never allowed ourselves to fall for the character. Because that’s bad. That’s bad storytelling. You’re doing what you want as a fan at that particular point, not as the creators. The fans had to accept what we were doing and not do the same stories that they had read 14,000 times before. You know, at Marvel, Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch were villains who became good guys and I could go through a whole list of ’em.

The funniest part — when we got to the end of the storyline and we’re at the diner and we’re plotting the death. At the end of it, four or five hours later, we walk out and I suddenly turn to George and I say, “Do you realize we’ve been plotting the death of a 15-year-old girl and not one single person there said boo. (Laughter) Can you just kill people in New York and no one even cares?” (Laughter)

REVIEW

This story is a milestone in comic-book history. The sidekick that never went back to being a sidekick. Then you have the actual betrayal of Terra, the introduction of Jericho, the origin of Deathstroke, the first “TITANS TOGETHER” (If I am not mistaken). The story has something for everyone.

Furthermore, we get to see Dick investigating the crime scenes and figuring out what happened to his team-mates.

I think the only thing missing from this saga is Romeo Tanghal. Giordano and Decarlo make the book look iconic, but it is still significantly different. I assume the reason for his absence can be explained by the fact that they were preparing for the other Titans title.

While Nightwing was never undone by DC, the actual origin has been fluctuating ever since. Most notoriously, making his origin more Batman-related than titans. Whatever the case, he became a fan favorite character, even more so than Robin (though future Robins probably benefited by their predecessor's success.

I give this story a score of 10

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jamesbvck · 6 years

Text

blood in the cut | two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Robbery!AU) Summary: One more, that’s what Bucky had promised you. One more job and you’d both be home free and start a life you always wanted. One more crime riddled night with potential life long consequences. Warnings: swearing, violence, guns, implied sex, illegal activities, angst, fluff A/N: welcome to part two. thank you so much for the feedback on part one. this is for @noshitstark writing challenge. thank you, nikki.

MASTERLIST | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

3.5 million dollars was pocket change to someone like Tony Stark. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even notice it had gone missing, that is if they were robbing from him personally, and not an entire bank. It was a risk but one that everyone agreed on taking. Natasha’s days had been filled with being a bank advisor for the past month and a half getting to know the bank and the people that worked there. She was essentially scoping out the place so the heist could go off without a hitch.

The main event was going to take place on December 14th during the yearly Christmas staff gala. That gave them just over two months to properly map out and gather all they needed for it. Natasha handed out file folders to each of the boys. Bucky thumbed through the papers.

“Mara Hill: Bank Manager. She’s been with Stark Financial Group for ten years. She keeps the bank in tip-top shape, making sure everything runs smoothly,” Natasha explained the first page. It had a picture of Maria with her brunette hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her birth date and basic information was also provided. “She’s taken a liking to me. I’m in her good graces which means I have the code to the vault.”

The pages that followed had some other important staff members and the final page was Tony Stark, though Natasha wasn’t going to bore everyone which facts they already knew. Bucky scanned through the others since it was key to know who they were going to come in contact with.

“I’m going to get the blueprints of the bank but I want you guys to see what this place looks like. Barnes and Barton was pose are repairmen coming to fix the heating, Steve and Sam will come in as customers. I’ve already fabricated accounts with faux names.” Natasha tossed her folder onto the large table in front of her. “In the meantime we can source cars and ammunition. Clint and Sam are on car duty, Steve and Bucky on ammunition and fake IDs. Any questions?”

Everything seemed straightforward for the time being. No one said much, closing the folders and leaving them on the table for now. Bucky pushed himself up from the couch and hovered nearby as he waited for Steve to finish talking with Natasha. He slipped out his phone from his pocket seeing a missed text from you. He read it over, nothing too important as you were just complaining about work. Apparently it had been a slow evening.

“Let’s go.” Steve palmed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He pocketed his phone and headed outside with Steve to the car.

“Where we headed?”

“Hunts Point.”

Bucky breathed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Shit.”

Hunts Point was not a particularly nice area of the Bronx. It was riddled with crime from theft, drug trades and even prostitution. It wasn’t a neighbourhood you wanted to linger in for too long, nor did you want to look anyone in the eye. But like anything else, there was business to be done. Thank God Steve had driven the shitty four door compact car.

They parked along a side street, exiting the car and starting down the road to a worn down red brick building. The building used to shelter the homeless and now it supplied liquor and any drug you could cook up and sell for street value. The key was to keep your head down and your lips zipped. Steve pulled open the door to the liquor store, a bell chiming. The man behind the counter was huge and had a few small face tattoos. He nodded in greeting to Steve and Bucky, them nodding in solidarity. They walked through a beaded veil into a back room and down a set of creaky wooden stairs. At the bottom was a metal door. Steve’s fist pounded the door three times and the small viewing window opened. The man on the other side examined Steve and Bucky for a moment before closing the window and unlocking what sounded like four different kinds of locks.

The large metal door opened revealing an underground bar. It wasn’t anything flashy but it was filled with people at the bar and standing around drinking and smoking, and doing whatever they fancied. Bucky trailed behind Steve as they crossed the room to the other side where there was another door and a burly man in front. There were no words said as he stepped to the side and opened the door. Inside the room was smokey and boozy, much like the bar but far more intense. There were three half naked girls with dollar bills stuffed into their bras sitting on fella’s laps drinking what looked to be dirty Sprite.

“Look who strolled out of Brooklyn: Rogers and Barnes!”

Bucky stood tall beside Steve, arms folded firmly over his chest. “Yeah, we rolled out just to see you, Brockie. Life happens when you don’t listen to your team and get thrown in prison for… what four years?”

“Sounds about right.” Steve confirmed.

“Huh. Damn isn’t that a shame, isn’t it?”

Brock Rumlow was a old partner, per sae, though he never listened to the plan and ended up fucking things up mainly for himself. That’s what happened when you got too cocky, you ended up in RAFT Prison. Bucky had a sly smirk while Rumlow’s eyes bore into Bucky like sharp daggers. He made an advance from the arm of the chair he was sitting on, only to be pushed back down.

“Save your testosterone contest for another time. They’re here for business.” The man with the eyepatch had Rumlow back down from throwing a punch at Bucky. Not that Bucky would have cared, he had flattened Brock before and sure as hell he’d do it again.

“Fury.” Steve greeted.

Nick Fury ruled the underground black market for fake identification and was a regal arms dealer. He had access to military grade weapons. Fury opened a slick wooden cigar box, taking out one and clipping off the end. He struck a match and lit the cigar, inhaling and puffing out a round circle.

“Remove the girls.” He instructed Rumlow. Brock yanked the girls by the arm, escorting them out of the room.

Fury wandered to the back of the room sitting himself at a large desk and putting his feet up. Steve and Bucky sat in the two chairs in front of the desk.

“Seems like you folks caused quite a commotion with the NYPD a few weeks ago with that jewellery store. Did you get them sold?” Nick questioned.

“Buyer in France. We got our money and some more.” Steve told him.

Nick nodded a few times. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

Bucky looked over as Steve reached into his back pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Nick who took it and rested his cigar in an ashtray.

“Romanoff and her damn lists.” He muttered, unfolding the paper. The list must’ve been long as there was silence for multiple moments. “It’s doable, going to need a month to source some specifics.”

“That should be fine.” Steve nodded, looking to Bucky who agreed.

Nick swung his feet off the desk and sat properly in the chair. “I’ll set up a drop off location. You’ll get an address when it’s ready to be picked up. This is a hefty manifest.”

It wasn’t some small level security store they were breaking into. It was the biggest bank on the eastern seaboard. It was quite a few steps up from taking candy from a baby. They needed to go in secure, armed, and ready.

Nick folded back up the paper, “Tell Romanoff she’ll hear from me about compensation.”

Steve and Bucky rose and shook Nick’s hand. That was business: cut and dry, no questions.

“Hey Barnes, saw your girl the other night,” Rumlow caught Bucky’s attention before they could leave. He turned back, arching a brow. “Yeah, she’s still hot. Told her if she gets bored of you I wouldn’t mind taking her for a spin.”

Bucky laughed out of spite. He knew Rumlow was trying to get under his skin for the hell of it. Four years ago Bucky would have pummeled him into the floor. Now? Wasn’t worth the trouble.

“Keep talkin’, Brock. No one listens to a goddamn word you say anyway.” Bucky waved him off. “Let’s go, Stevie.”

“All I’m saying is you should watch your back,” Rumlow was smirking. “Can’t keep crawling back to her after leaving her hanging for so long. Makes chicks question what the hell kind of man are ya.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s sleeve but he was already tearing out of his grasp and marching his way over to Rumlow. “You really questioning what kind of man I am? You had your chance, two of them, and fucked it up because you’re a dog,” Bucky tapped Brock’s chest with the back on his hand. “You might’ve been someone’s bitch in prison but around here you’re still a nobody.”

Before Bucky could blink, the muzzle of a handgun was pressed against his forehead with Brock giving a death glare. Bucky didn’t flinch, his eyes on the other man with his finger hovering over the trigger. They had never truly gotten along ever and Rumlow had always threatened to put a bullet through Bucky’s skull one day. This was the closest they had gotten.

“Time’s ticking. Pull the trigger.” Bucky taunted with a cool exterior. Brock pressed the end of the gun harder against the skin, wavering Bucky backwards.

Another moment passed with the room pindrop silent. Brock dropped handgun from Bucky’s face, shaking his head. A slow smile lined Bucky’s lips as he took the win, shrugging his shoulders. “Nice seeing ya again, Brockie.”

“Jesus Christ, Buck.” Steve muttered as they exited the underground. They came up streetside from the back door and retreated to the car. “He would have pulled it had you said another damn word.”

“He doesn’t have the balls,” Bucky opened the passenger door. “Never have, never will.”

The TV volume was on low, a hum coming from the flatscreen across the living room. Bucky laid on his back on the couch with one arm dangling off the edge and his other hand rested on his chest. He had been fighting the urge to sleep for the past hour to wait for you to come home but he must have dozed off. He didn’t hear the door unlock and you kick off your shoes. He didn’t hear you call out to him twice and toss your keys onto the kitchen table. He did, however, feel your weight against his body as you climbed on top of him to snuggle. Bucky shifted his body to give you more room, his hand slipping under your shirt to rest on your back.

“What are you buying this late on QVC?”

Bucky hummed, opening one eye. “Saved by the Bell was on. Must’ve ended.” The tips of his fingers caressed your cool skin, slowing then picking up over and over as he tried not to fall asleep again. He blinked his eyes open to squint at the clock across the way. You were home later than usual. “Somethin’ happen at work?”

He felt you shake your head, your eyes were closed too. “Stayed for a drink, I texted you but I guess you had already fallen asleep,” Your fingers drummed against his chest before you pulled yourself up to sit. “Let’s go to bed, Buck.”

“I’m pretty comfortable here.” Bucky lazily smiled up at you.

You laughed softly. “This couch has never been big enough for the both of us. Should get a new one.”

“We’ve made it work before,” he countered. “On more than one occasion.”

You patted his stomach, crawling off him to stand. “Suit yourself.”

Bucky watched you saunter away, purposely swinging your hips from side to side. It didn’t take him too long to decide that the couch was not the ideal place to sleep especially if you weren’t there with him. He was up on his feet in seconds, shutting off the TV and turning out the lights. The bottom hemline of his shirt tugged over his head, discarding it to the laundry basket then unbuttoned his black jeans.

“Rumlow’s out of prison.” Bucky spoke. Your back was to him as you were picking through one of the drawers to find pajama shorts. “Said he saw you a few weeks ago. Did he?”

You found what you were looking for and plucked out the teal shorts, stripping out of your jeans and shirt. “He came by the bar maybe three weeks ago. I served him a drink, said he looked better than he used to.”

Bucky noticed your avoidance of eye contact, picking up the scattered clothes on the ground and dumped them into the basket. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” you replied. “He doesn’t matter and you know that.”

Bucky wasn’t going to jump to conclusions, it wasn’t worth it. He still held onto some bitterness of you and Brock hooking up once when Bucky had to figure his shit out and let you go for a while. Your story is that you were drunk and things just happened, that it was a mistake. Nonetheless, it still cut Bucky like a deep knife when he found out about it. Then there was also the fact that Brock always had some lingering gross crush on you.

“Did you go to Nick’s?” You turned to look at him.

“Yeah--”

“Bucky!”

He put his hands up in defense. “Nat sent us there for some shit. I didn’t want to go but Steve and I had too,” Bucky took three long strides to reach you, cupping your shaking head. “I told you one more, and this is one more. It’s more than I bargained for but I promise you, it’s going to be worth it.”

Gently, you pushed Bucky’s hands away from your face. He hadn’t given you too much detail about the job but the both of you knew going to see Nick Fury meant it was dangerous, more dangerous than robbing a damn jewelry store. He knew you worried and you had reason to worry. He could tell when you did by the small creases in between your eyebrows pulling together and how you picked at the corner of your lip just like you were doing right this second.

He sighed. “We’re breaking into the vault at SFG.”

You were thrown for a loop, almost keeling over. “Are you guys fucking insane?” Your voice bounced off the walls of the bedroom. “Stark Financial Group. That’s… that’s impossible.”

“Nat’s been working there for almost two months now. She’s knows the place inside out and thinks we’ve got a good chance.”

You rubbed your forehead, moving around Bucky to grab an old shirt to wear. You sunk into bed, leaning up against the headboard. Bucky let you sit with your thoughts, removing his jeans and closing the bedroom door. He crawled in beside you and adjusted the blanket over his and your legs.

“How much?” You asked. “How much money?”

“Just over three million, if we’re lucky.”

Your hands covered your face, mumbling a soft fuck under your breath. Bucky reached out and tucked you into his side, kissing the top of your head. He murmured promises that this was going to get them onto a road far off from Brooklyn and they could live a life they had talked about when the sun would rise in the early morning.

A dream could be more than just a dream.

Clint was munching on an apple too loud the morning of the first briefing. His bites were too big, and his mouth was like a horse unable to eat with manners. Sam was sending him death stares across the table, arms folded stiffly. Steve was biting back a laugh as Bucky balled up three old pieces of paper and threw at fastball square in Clint’s face. He yelled.

“Coulda fuckin’ taken my eye out!” He grumbled.

Natasha slammed blueprints down on the table garnering the boys attention. Bucky sniggered as Clint rubbed his left eye. Steve assisted with unrolling the prints and smoothing out the large paper.

“Are you two done?” Natasha looked from Clint to Bucky. They both shrugged. “First things first,” a duffle bag was tossed to Bucky who eyed it suspiciously, unzipping the bag to reveal repair men uniforms. “It just so happens that our heating system is on the fritz. Looks like we’re going to need it repaired. The utility room is located across from the vault in the basement.”

Natasha started indicating on the map where everything was. The bank had two levels: main floor and basement. The basement consisted the vault along with a few offices, storage, washrooms and the util room. There was also an emergency exit to a loading dock.

“How many official exits?” Sam asked, examining the plans.

“Including the front doors, four. However,” Natasha pulled back the large paper and revealed another set of prints. “Underneath the bank are abandoned tunnels that were once going to be part of the subway line but didn’t get funded back in the 80s. They go for about four miles and surface near Kips Bay.”

Steve had his analyzing face on, eyes narrowed and thinking cap on. “We’ll come up by the East River. Have the cars hidden ready to go.”

Natasha nodded. “Take the FDR over to the bridge to get back to Brooklyn.” Bucky said.

“What about the 278?” Clint piped up, sans apple.

“Nah, it’ll be slower.” Bucky replied. “What cars did you get?”

“2002 Corolla and a ‘06 Camry. Both ugly ass beige.” Sam absentmindedly rubbed his previously shot shoulder, leaning back in his seat. “Perfect for fitting in though.”

Natasha was still waiting on official numbers of how many people would be in attendance of the party. They weren’t killers, that wasn’t their motive. As long as everyone cooperated then there would be zero problems. Everything was to be finalized within the next few weeks with the planning committee that Natasha nauseatingly volunteered to be part of.

For the time being it was straight forward. Natasha would be a pawn in the room making sure everything was going to plan without interference. Two of the boys would take her and Maria Hill down to the vault so there wasn’t any ounce of suspicion. The other two would stay and monitor the party goers.

“We’ll have to collect cell phones, wallets, and keys.” Steve thought aloud. “Make sure we’re not instantly tipped off.”

“Already taken care of,” Nat replied, taking a glance at the time on her wrist watch. “We’ll have someone else on the inside.”

There was a wave of confusion, puzzled glances and caution being raised. “Don’t say it’s Rumlow.” Sam groaned.

Natasha gave a look. “Please, Sam. Don’t insult me like that.” The back door squeaked opened drawing in the sound of traffic and a brisk autumn breeze. “Right on time.”

Thick heeled boots stamped along the concrete flooring. Heads swiveled with the footsteps becoming louder. “Hope I’m not late. Traffic’s a bitch.”

“Your timing couldn’t be any more perfect.” Natasha settled her hands on her hips, eyes resting on Bucky’s stone cold face.

He watched as you approached the group, sleeves of your leather jacket bunched up around your elbow and a scarf loosely hanging around your neck. You and Bucky held eye contact for a few seconds before sliding your vision over to the three other males, smiling and waving. Under Clint’s breath was a significant oh shit that seemed to semble the shift in mood.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Bucky shot at Nat.

Natasha shrugged a shoulder. “Going to have to take it up with her. She called me.”

You settled in a standing position across the table in between Sam’s chair and Steve. Bucky’s blue eyes were alarmed while you had a cool and unmoving stance. You discarded your scarf and set your eyes back on Natasha to continue her briefing.

“Tony Stark likes to throw over the top parties which also means top of the line vendors and service. Maria had asked if I knew anyone who could bartend without a hassle.” Nat explained.

The night of the party you’d be one of the designated bartenders. Depending on the pairings, one of the boys would grab you as a staged hostage and collect the personal belongings of the attendees. It wasn’t anything too significant but it would help smooth out the heist. Still, Bucky did not like the thought of you being in an activate scene of a crime especially when things could go south at any second. It was too dangerous.

The meeting broke with Natasha saying once she got more information that everyone would gather again especially as the date got closer. Bucky was around the table and tugging you away to the back room. He closed the door, turning to you as you had your arms crossed.

“I’m not letting you be part of this.” Bucky decided.

“Funny. I’m already part of it. My decision, my actions and I’m not going to back down.” You told him. “I’m making sure this is it.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you, but I don’t trust what could happen to you, Bucky.” You told him. He sighed, rubbing the side of his cheek where scruff growing in. His weight shifted from boot to boot. You closed the gap between him and you, resting your hand on his arm. “You said it’s worthwhile so let me do this with you, with them, so we can get out.”

Bucky ran his tongue along his bottom lip pondering on it for a moment. “We’re going to need our own escape plan. You and me.”

You nodded in agreement with a small smile forming on your lips. “Hit the road and not turn back.”

He hummed, and a throaty laugh escaped as he parted his lips. His arm snaked around your hips pressing your body against his. You arms went around his middle section, resting your head on his chest. Along as you got out before the commotion and were safe was all he cared about. He couldn’t bare the thought of something happening to you especially on his watch.

The door opened. Clint appeared with a hand covering his eyes cautiously entering the room. “You guys ain’t having sex right? Fight sex? I just want my smokes.”

You laughed, parting from Bucky and going over to Clint, uncovering his eyes. “No free show today, Clint.” You said, hugging him.

“Damn.” Clint chuckled, embracing you. His hands lowering on your back purposefully to spite Bucky.

“Keep going Barton and I’ll drop your ass like third period Spanish.” Bucky warned, throwing a pack of cigarettes at his feet. Clint lifted his hands in innocence, bending over and scooping up the little box. You slipped back to the other room, leaving the door swinging.

Clint looked behind them then back to Bucky. “You good?” Bucky shrugged. “She must love you if she wants in. Been a few years.”

“She’s only in temporarily. I’m getting out after this.”

“Yeah I heard we’re disbanding,” Clint nodded along, lazily taking out a cigarette and clamping it between his lips. “Like Nirvana.”

Bucky breathed a swallow laugh. “Sure, like Nirvana.” He replied, pondering on Clint’s logic since that was more of a tragedy. He moved from his spot, going towards the door.

“Hey, uh, Buck,” Clint halted the other man in his tracks. “Where you gonna go after this once we get the money?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Somewhere far.”

Clint nodded a few times, removing the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “Right, yeah. Yeah. Farther the better. Start a new life. Hell, maybe I’ll meet a girl.”

Bucky snickered. “With a mug like yours? That’d be a miracle.” Clint offered a half hearted chuckle, head dipping downward. “Keep your eyes up, Barton.” Bucky clapped his hand to Clint’s shoulder, squeezing before going back out into the main area.

The pants for the repair uniform were slightly too tight for Bucky’s liking. They clung to his thighs more than he approved of, swearing that it was cutting off blood circulation. How was he supposed to walk without the seams ripping apart? He grumbled to himself, tucking in the hideous matching powder blue collar shirt and buttoned it up. You, on the other hand, had been giggling for the last ten minutes Bucky was getting dressed.

“Is this what you’d look like if you had a real job?” You asked.

Bucky’s face scrunched. “What do you mean if I had a real job?”

“Stealing other people's things isn’t a job, Bucky.”

He finished with the buttons, leaving the top one undone because he didn’t want to suffocate and be choked to death all the in the same day. “Just because the government recognizes it as an illegal action doesn’t mean it isn’t a job.”

He got his boots from the front door and returned, sitting on the edge of the bed to lace them up. You rested your head on his shoulder, humming to yourself. “You know, you look really good in this.” Your hands glided up his back to his arms and smoothed over his chest.

Bucky chuckled. “Barton’s going to be here with the van in five minutes.”

“When has Clint ever been on time for anything?”

You had a valid point. It was shocking whenever Clint would turn up to anything within a decent time. He called it being fashionably late but was it considered that when he had been over an hour late to Sam’s birthday? Not likely.

You crawled around and sat yourself in Bucky’s lap, straddling him with arms going around his neck. Yours and his lips crashed together in a heated kiss. “I just put on my boots.” Bucky mumbled against your mouth.

“Gotta do laundry anyway.”

It really didn’t take much persuasion with Bucky. His back was pressed against the bundle of blankets, your fingers easily undoing his buckle and unzipping the tacky pants. Swiftly Bucky rolled your bodies so he was hovering over you and settled in between your legs. His kisses trailed down from your lips, to your neck, chest and down to your belly button. Bucky’s fingertips ghosted over your inner thighs causing your back to arch but he pushed you back down.

Clothes were scattered over the bed and on the floor. Sweat glistened on Bucky’s skin, sticking to yours with your bodies tangled in the bedsheet. He held you close feeling your heart pump against his chest. Of course the day he wanted to spend in bed with you he couldn’t. Your smooth legs stretched under the sheet, rubbing against Bucky’s.

Three loud bangs against the door startled you both. “Barnes! I’ve been calling you for ten minutes!” Clint pounded against the door again. Reluctantly Bucky dragged himself out of bed, collecting his clothes and quickly changing back into them.

“Bucky!” Clint exclaimed, another fist knocking against the door.

Bucky took the few seconds he had to peck your lips. “I love you.” He whispered, parting ways. He scraped his hair up into a bun, swinging open the front door. “Relax, Barton. You’re late anyway.”

Clint took in Bucky’s wrinkled uniform, eying him carefully. They jogged down the stairs to the front lobby, Bucky retucking in his shirt. The repair van looked new, too new but he didn’t question how the hell Clint got it. He got into the passenger’s side, looking around. There were granola bar wrappers and coffee cups scattered on the floor of the van. Clint yanked open the door and climbed inside.

“Nat’s already busting my balls this morning so let’s get this shit over with.” Clint was grumpy and swearing under his breath.

“Someone’s a sour puss today.” Bucky teased, clinking his seatbelt. Clint flipped him off, putting the van into gear and started the trek to Manhattan.

Stark Financial Group was a large building based in Lower Manhattan. The autumn sun glimmered against the windows reflecting so sharply that Bucky had to squint his eyes. He slung a tool bag over his shoulder, adjusting a clipboard in his hand. Clint secured a hat on top of his head, collecting his own tool bag as well. They walked up the deep steps to the glass front doors.

The bank was grand with marble flooring and brass interior with wooden accents. It definitely had a vintage vibe to it resembling the early sixties. Bucky and Clint walked up the small staircase to the open area that had the teller counters and some financial advisor desks. There were two security guards hovering around. Down at the far end of the teller counter was Sam in a dapper get up, sweet talking to the woman helping him. She was blushing hard. Steve was dressed down, Yankees ballcap on shooting the shit with an obvious fellow baseball fan. The advisor was animated with grand hand gestures and Steve seemed genuinely interested in the conversation.

Bucky and Clint approached the receptionist behind a tall desk. She was beaming, friendly eyes and a tight body-hugging pale pink dress. “Hello gentlemen. How can I help you today?”

“Got a call the heater’s acting up.” Clint flipped through some papers, tapping the end of a pen against the clipboard.

“Oh yes!” She nodded. “Thank you for coming in. Follow me this way.”

The boys followed the receptionist through the bank. Bucky nonchalantly counted the cameras he could see and took mental notes of their positions. Steve glanced at them as they strolled on by. There were a set of stairs down to the lower level. Down the hallway and to the right were a row of offices for business advisors and the bank manager, Maria Hill. Then to the left was the grand ol’ vault. Natasha was spot on when she said the utility room was across from it. The receptionist let them in. Clint turned back and grinned at her, reading her name tag. “Ellie. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Bucky wanted to snatch Clint by the collar and lug him away. Ellie laughed softly and said thank you leaving the men to go to task. Bucky set his tools down and thumbed through to the back paper, writing down his observations. Clint left the door ajar and moved into the room.

“Can’t say I’m surprised Stark has ample security. We’re going to have to take out those cameras and the guards upstairs. Did you see if they were carrying guns?” Bucky looked to Clint.

“Yeah, can’t imagine they’re fully loaded, though.” He replied, knocking his knuckles against the furnace. “We actually fixin’ this hunk of metal?”

Bucky disregarded his question, moving to peak out the door. “Two cameras facing the vault. And another two in the hallway. And we’re gonna--” Clint was rummaging through the tool bag, pulling out screw drivers until he found a Phillips head. The door to the furnace was open. “Clint!”

“Yeah, yeah Barnes. I’m still listening. You know I just go with the flow anyway. I’mma fix this.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding his phone out of pocket to send a text to Steve. They made a rendevouz spot at the washrooms down the hall. He slipped out of the room, keeping his head down as he pushed opened the swinging down. His scoped out the small bathroom, checking to see if anyone was under the single stall but it was empty. Within a few minutes the door swung open again with Steve appearing.

“Where’s Clint?” He asked. Bucky waved it off. “You see the cameras?”

“Yeah couldn’t miss them. They seem like a bigger problem then the damn vault,” he sighed. “Four down here, maybe ten up there? Guess we’ll see if Nat knows the exact number. Plus the guards.”

Steve started to chuckle. “Wouldn’t worry about them. The one guy’s had three Krispy Kremes since I’ve been here.”

There were footsteps on the other side of the door. Bucky went to the sink as Steve hid himself in the only stall. A man in a flashy suit entered, not even looking twice at Bucky. He grabbed some paper towels and dried his hands, tossing it into the garage can before exiting. He returned back to the utility closet and Clint.

“So, uh, this thing is actually broken. Gonna need new parts and shit.”

“Clint. We’re not fucking here to fix the furnace. Come on, let’s go.” Bucky took the tool bag and back handed Clint’s arms.

Clint shuffled along, closing the metal door and collecting his bag. He followed Bucky back up to the main area of the bank. The receptionist was occupied helping a customer. Sam wandered on by giving Bucky and Clint a head nod just as Steve was coming up from the washroom.

“Bad news, we’re going to have to order some parts and come back in.” Clint informed Ellie. She frowned but understood, nodding along with him. “We’ll give you a call once we receive the part.

“Thank you for coming in!” She chimed, batting her lashes at Clint.

He was smug. “Oh, it was our pleasure, sweetheart.”

Bucky turned and rolled his eyes, deciding on abandoning Clint and go to the van. He could hear Clint’s loud footsteps stomping the ground in a half run to catch up. They got into the van, doors slamming shut.

“What?” Clint looked at Bucky.

“Nothin’.” Bucky shook his head, brushing away loose strands of hair.

Clint muttered something under his breathe, driving around the counter and up a block. He stopped on a slow corner and the side door of the van opened with Steve and Sam climbing inside. There was a mandatory food break before going back to the warehouse. Hoagies were on the menu with Clint not allowed anywhere near the blueprints to get them messy.

Bucky had a blue marker in his hand creating X’s where he had seen cameras. Sam took it over marking two more behind the tellers station. “One of us has to make sure those ones are out.” Sam indicated. “The one on the left definitely can see some of the stairs to the vault.”

“Buck has the sharpest shot,” Steve wiped his hands with a thin paper napkin, leaning over to look at the markings. “So why don’t we do Bucky and Clint upstairs, and Sam and I will go down and take out the four by the vault. We’ll take Natasha downstairs and you guys can handle the people upstairs.”

Bucky knew part of Steve’s suggestion was that so he was by you and could get you out of there as soon as possible. Steve was good like that, he’d never admit that was the reason but it was known. Not to mention Steve’s quick glance over gave it away too.

“I didn’t see the way to the tunnels.” Bucky added.

“Nat said that’s it’s behind a wall, just plaster and some framing. We’ll have to tear it down.” Sam folded his arms. “So we’ll need to bring in some tools to break it down.” Steve sighed, “Hate to admit it, but some things were easier when there were six of us.”

“We’re not bringing in Rumlow.” Bucky quickly snapped. Sam agreed with a grumbled.

“No, we’re not. I was making an observation.” Steve picked up a red marker and circled the vault. “We’re going to score and we’re going to score big. Then we can get out and do what we want. Sam can help his mom with medical bills, Natasha can go explore aboard like she’s always wanted to, Buck you can go start your life with a girl you’ve been in love with since we were nine. And Clint… Well, you can just fuck off with whatever you do.”

That brought some mild laughter from the group, an old joke that never seemed to get old. No one really knew what Clint did when he wasn’t around besides Natasha. Clint was shaking his head but there was a smile on his lips. Heads were lowered, a brief moment of silence.

“What are you gonna do, Steve?” Sam asked.

Steve slid his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “As long as you guys are happy, I’ll be happy, too.”

Bucky raised his head, looking to his childhood best friend. There was something admirable in this moment, how Steve was fine with others happiness and it wasn’t that he was settle either. He thrived through people's enjoyment, he put other people first. This was it; the last heist. Bucky’s eyes glanced to Sam then to Clint and back to Steve.

Old friends with grand infractions and some blood in the cut.

bucky list: @buckychrist @bvcks @lila-bard @stanclub @stardustparker @buckybarnesppreciationsociety @sweetwaterprincess @demongirl0913 @queenlydias @dontpanc @kingsebstan @cauraphernelia @yourwonderbelle @beauty-who-doesnt-need-a-beast @bleedlikerubies @fallenaristocat @bubblybuckybarnes @asht0ns-world @mystic-scripture @ragnarokbarnes @kali-rambles @pao-prazz @thorins-queen-of-erebor @eventyyr @abbadontherisingqueen @lovinglokiforever @justasimpleassbitch @red-wallflowers@brooklynightsky @hellaqueerangelofthelord @yknott81 @rvmanova @blame-the-russo-bros @buckybarneshairpullingkink @laurfangirl424 @buckyparkerish @sarcasticallysarah @stanning-seb @crypticavengers

BITC: @buckystolemyheart @glitteringhippie @bunsterjonez-blog @jhangelface0523 @fandom-addict-aesthetics @momma-loves-her-some-capnbucky @bucky-plums-barnes @moonbeambucky @bvckbarns @captainsstevenrogers @moonstruckhargrove @thefalconsam @captinsmarvels @coffee-with-bucky @whitewolfbumble @radiantbeams @wi-atch-recs @foenixphire @the-canary @thatnikkixx @jewelswrites-ish **IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED OR REMOVED PLEASE INBOX ME!**

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #nikkiswritingchallenge #marvel fanfic #robbery fic #fic: blood in the cut

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brownstonearmy · 4 years

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2020-11-06: Cleansed In The Water (Pt 2)

August 14 (Friday Morning)

It's Friday, and that means our band of adventurers is checking out the weekly auction in the town square! Well, except for Lucky, who is indisposed for reasons arcane and unknowable to those without sorcerous lineage. Anyway, here's what's on the auction block this morning:

Boots of Satyrday Nightfevre - 75GP

Necklace of the Smoky Mistress - 1000GP

Shield of the Yawning Maw - 800GP

Mr. Poppables Box of the Arcane - 2800GP

Spleenifer buys the Boots of Satyrday Nightfevre because she loves fauns and wordplay, while Norm brings out the big gold and snags Mr. Poppable's Box of the Arcane. Q opts for the Necklace of the Smoky Mistress; it comes with free eye shadow, which is a must-have for any competent performer. As the bidding winds down, something erupts like a geyser from between two peaks on the mountain range east of town.

The ground shakes and a thunderous roar fills the air. Norbert Haversham leans out from his window and yells for everyone to seek shelter and higher ground because a flood's coming. A low wall of filthy, frothy water is rushing toward the town of Brownstone with only a scant eight minutes before it breaches the town and washes everything away. There's enough time to save some things, but they can't save everything.

For Q, the silver lining of this situation is that their apartment is on the second floor, so at least flooding won't be as big of an issue. But the animals at Stormblossom Ranch are the more pressing concern for Q, so they dash off to help Robin. They take up a defensive position on the easternmost wall of the biggest barn and cast Leomund's Tiny Hut to keep Robin and 8 smaller animals safe from the deluge. Water crashes through the ranch's fencing and sweeps away the horses and larger dogs. Q hopes they made the right choice in thinking the larger animals can swim! The water slams against the Q's Tiny Hut and the wall of the barn where Porkchop the dinosware is being kept, but the wall manages to hold fast.

Back at the auction block, Spleenifer sprints off toward the stables where she sleeps. Norm's still hanging around the town square and helping people make it to safety, but will get back to him in a moment. Spleenifer, having put on the boots of Satyrday Nightfevre just before the wall of water began its dangerous descent toward the town, leaves fish prints in the mud instead of the soles of her usual intimidating boots. Like Q, Spleenifer's goal is to save the animals, but the animals she's after are her numerous pets. She makes it to the barn with her goats and innumerable ducks, but her goats aren't very good swimmers. Time to improvise a raft!

She grabs some rope and yanks planks out of the walls. There's only about 3 minutes left before the water reaches the stables, and time is of the essence. She stuffs her collection of tithes into Heward's Handy Haversack and sets to work on the raft. But Spleenifer's faith in Lathander as well as her surprisingly capable skills in animal husbandry allow her to (literally) put her ducks in a row and complete the task. The ducks are yoked to the planks like a team of amphibious oxen to become the flotation bladders, while Spleenifer and the goats stand at the ready to mount the raft as soon at the water breaches the building. And in case you're wondering, the ducks are fine; the will of Lathander is expressed in mysterious ways.

And now it's time to circle back to Norm! Those he could help have already found shelter, and now our assassin is left to brave the deluge alone. You may be surprised to learn that Norm intends to solve the problem of his immediate safety by unleashing his folding boat and using it as... a boat. The small form of the boat appears in front of him and he climbs inside just as the wave hits. The lumbering form of the lizardfolk's house appears in the distance, trudging against the current as Norm tries to keep the boat stable.

The boat slams into the side of a building as more chaos unfolds on the scene. Everyone's favorite celebrity adventurer, Anaxilas, plummets out of the sky and into the raging waters. He screams an apology about not being able to use the stopper to halt the deluge. Norm tries to pursue Anaxilas, but the waters are too turbulent and Norm nearly tumbles out of the boat. A shivering band of wererats clutching a turtle drifts past, and Norm helps them into his boat once he gets himself situated.

Back at Stormblossom Ranch, the waves have blown the door open to Porkchop the Dinosware's barn. Q can't leave the protection of the Tiny Hut without endangering the other creatures it's protecting, so they persuade Robin to wade into the flood and shut the door before Porkchop can escape. Robin agrees and fashions a makeshift harness out of some rope, leaving Q to hold fast the other end.

Just as Robin manages to shut the door, a giant bottle spewing a torrent of water slams into the roof of the barn and leaves behind a huge hole. The bottle ricochets off the roof and skips like a stone over the floodwaters toward the quarry. With a final heave, Q hauls Robin back into the safety of the Tiny Hut.

At the western edge of town, Spleenifer and Norm are still fighting against the currents. The swift waters send Norm hurtling toward Spleenifer's location, but there's yet another complication: random buildings are suddenly tripling in size and making the path through the cramped streets even more treacherous. When Spleenifer appears on the horizon, clutching her goats atop a duck-powered raft, Norm steers his boat toward the rescue of his companion.

Spleenifer extends her staff toward Norm once they get close, using it to keep the two watercraft stable as they consolidate everyone into one boat. Opportunistic gulls swoop down into the water to snag morsels unearthed by the raging waters. Norm notices a thick green liquid that seems to be floating in the water near the houses that have gotten bigger, and one of the birds dives into the green stuff while chasing a piece of food.

The bird sinks below the surface and emerges as a much bigger and deadlier bird of prey. Yeah, when seagulls get to be the size of a house, they're considered to be birds of prey. And Spleenifer's tiny city of ducks looks like a pretty good snack. The big bird swoops down again and tries to grab the duck-powered raft.

Norm activates Mr. Poppable's Box of the Arcane, and a wall of force surrounds the boat that prevents living creatures from passing through it. But Spleenifer's righteous staff isn't living, and thus it cuts through the barrier and smites the bird's mighty talons something fierce. The bird screeches and bolts skyward to plot its next action.

It doesn't take long for the bird to reach a decision. Big birds have big appetites, and the recently-embiggened bird needs snacks more than anything. So it swoops down one last time and grabs the raft of ducks.

But there's a complication to this plan: Norm and Spleenifer tied the raft to the boat when they were consolidating passengers. So now a force-field shielded boat is hanging by a rope attached to a hastily-constructed raft in the talons of a big ol' bird soaring above the town. No pressure, right?

From this vantage point, Norm and Spleenifer can see a giant bottle spewing water and spinning around within the flooded quarry. They can also see Q, which seems like a fine time to check in with our favorite bard!

The lizardfolk's house has nearly reached Stormblossom Ranch, but the house has a very pronounced limp. All the debris from the flooding appears to have bent one of the house's legs into an unstable position. This is something Q may be able to help with, if only the lizardfolk can get close enough. From the safety of the Tiny Hut, they produce the Didgeriboop and play a song to beckon the lizardfolk closer.

Q's plan works and the house limps toward the source of the rhythmic drone. Once the house is just outside the Tiny Hut, Q extends their hand through the barrier and casts mending on the broken leg. The structural damage to the leg is repaired and the house is as limber as ever, but the patches of green floating in the water give Q another idea.

That green stuff is something Q has seen before, albeit not is such large quantities. Without a doubt, that stuff is Kingmaker Size Enhancement Serum, normally used in very small quantities by people to augment the size of... certain things, and Q knows of several potential suitors who have used it in the past in an attempt to make a good first impression, if you know what I mean.

Q asks the lizardfolk to try to wade into a patch of the green stuff in order for the house to get bigger and sturdier. Then the house could hold the animals the Tiny Hut was protecting and Q could leave the safety of the hut to stop the source of the flooding. The lizardfolk are amenable to holding all the animals, but less amenable to the idea that the animals are not supposed to be eaten. Q promises to surprise the lizardfolk with a new ingredient if they agree to help without eating the rescued animals.

After spending most of the session apart, our group of adventurers converge on the quarry. Spleenifer attacks the talons of her captor to release the boats from its grip, while Norm gathers everyone inside and prepares to flip the effect of the force field on the box of the arcane. Once Q gets sufficiently close to the quarry, they slather some on of the Kingmaker Serum to GET ULTRA LARGE and then cast Dimension Door to teleport on top of a giant lily pad next to the furiously spewing bottle.

When the bird finally lets go, the boats and their occupants tumble toward a boat-sized belly flop. Just before everyone hits water, Norm deactivates the cube's force so everyone doesn't slam into an unyielding force wall upon impact with the water. The boat slams into the gargantuan body of a lazy goldfish, cushioning everyone's fall.

The bottle is still spewing a raging river's worth of water, and the party must dodge the violent surges of water to get close enough to stop it. Q is hulked out right now and leaps onto the side of the bottle where the 4-foot diameter stopper is tethered. They try to stopper the water, but it's too powerful to stop alone. Spleenifer takes a blast of water trying to help Q, and Norm deftly clambers onto the bottle with a plan of his own. He activates the cube once more, this time making it so that living matter can pass through, but nonliving matter can't.

An invisible wall of force traps the water and the bottle's stopper, allowing Q and Spleenifer a few precious seconds to heft the stopper into position. The second attempt succeeds, and Norm deactivates the cube. Ever so slowly, the flood waters begin to recede; though it will be several more hours before all the stuff touched by the Kingmaker Serum returns to normal size. As the adventure session draws to a close, Norm pledges to train his wererat and turtle buddies in the Arts of the Assassin, since they were all calm under the pressure of today's unusual situations.

Spleenifer declares this new group to be henceforth known as the Needle Tootles, but whether Norm lets that name stick remains to be seen. Norm does assign codenames to each member of his new group, though: Master Sliver is the turtle; while the names of Manet, Monet, Degas, and Renoir go to the four wererats.

Stay tuned next time for more!

#adventure log #shits and giggles #Dungeons and Dragons #fishdavidson #flood #bottle #kingmaker #wererat

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