#And I could hear bagpipes

[unashamedly-enthusiastic]

Thrilled and Delighted to hear (quite literally) that my 8yr old downstairs neighbour has kept up with his music lessons and has progressed from stage 1 to stage 2

Stage 1 Stage 2

[fruitsofbeingafraid]

hey anyone who knows how to edit audio

edit this onto the beginning of Ragnarok I?? pretty please??

[pepimeinrad]

had myself a feast of national anthems just now by watching parts of the matches in the UEFA women's EURO quali - got to hear Norway, Wales, Ireland, Finland, Scotland and Portugal (missed Czechia by a minute unfortunately)

[wizard-mp4]

Code Red there is a man with bagpipes. Red Alert he is not very good

[matt-manhattan]

I have the utmost respect for the person at the Glasgow live show that yelled from the back of the orchestra “LEAVE THEIR PIG ALONE” like a Scottish war cry at like 1:43:35.

I swear I could hear the bagpipes.

[luvzshy]

Harmonious Nights

Summary: In the comfort of your shared home, you balance your passion for music with a playful relationship with Billie Eilish. As you navigate life together, you find inspiration in your creative space, while Billie adds her unique flair and support.

Word Count: Approximately 2,500 words.

Warnings: Fluff, humor, light angst, sarcasm.

The soft glow of the string lights hung above your home studio, creating an inviting atmosphere. The walls were adorned with framed posters of classic bands, and your drum kit took center stage. With a set of sticks in hand, you sat at the kit, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement as you prepared to dive into another session.

Just as the first beat reverberated through the room, the door creaked open, and in walked Billie Eilish. Her deep brown hair reflected the warm light, and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, and tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

“What’s up, rockstar?” she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Gonna wake the neighbors again with your ‘drumming skills’?”

“Excuse me,” you shot back, rolling your eyes dramatically. “This is pure artistry you’re witnessing, Billie. Not everyone can appreciate the complexities of a paradiddle.”

Billie laughed, stepping further into the room. “Right, because the world is just dying to hear your ‘paradiddles’ at three in the morning.”

You chuckled, a grin spreading across your face. “Well, I’d argue it’s better than your midnight snack escapades, but we both know you wouldn’t survive without your stash of chips.”

“Oh, come on,” Billie retorted, mock offense in her tone. “I can’t help it if I have a refined palate. You know, potato chips are a culinary masterpiece.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you picked up the rhythm again, letting the beats flow. Billie watched for a moment, admiring the way you lost yourself in the music. It was one of the things she loved most about you—the passion, the way you poured everything into your art.

“Okay, but seriously,” Billie said, leaning against the wall, “do you think we could maybe jam together sometime? You know, I can actually sing.”

You paused, turning to her with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Sing? Billie, darling, you know you have to leave some talents for the rest of us mortals.”

Billie gasped, hand clutching her chest in mock horror. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’m an acclaimed artist.”

���An acclaimed artist who sings in the shower and has an entire album about being sad,” you quipped, laughter dancing in your eyes.

“Touché,” Billie replied, a chuckle escaping her lips. “But I can still hold my own against your drumming. Just wait till I unleash my hidden talent on you.”

“Hidden talent? What’s next, you’re going to tell me you can play the bagpipes too?”

She winked, pushing herself off the wall and stepping closer. “Only for very special occasions.”

“Great, now I’m worried about what ‘special occasion’ means,” you said, shaking your head.

You returned to the kit, letting the beat drive you, your heart swelling with inspiration. The comfortable banter between you and Billie was a rhythm of its own, a dance of love and playful irritation. As you played, you could feel her gaze on you, a warm presence that added a layer of support.

Suddenly, a beat dropped, and Billie couldn’t resist. She started to sway, a playful grin lighting up her face as she danced around the studio, teasingly mimicking exaggerated drum moves. “Look at me! I’m a drummer now!”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” you said, pausing to clap. “Truly, the world needed another self-proclaimed musician.”

“Careful,” she warned, stepping closer, “or I might just steal your thunder and become the next rock sensation.”

“Right. Billie Eilish: Drummer Extraordinaire. Just what the music industry needs.”

As the playful teasing continued, your focus shifted to the sounds of the outside world. You loved this quiet, suburban life—how it felt like a sanctuary, away from the chaos of fame and the relentless demands of the industry. Here, in your home, you could be yourself, sharing moments that felt genuine and unfiltered.

“Hey,” Billie said softly, breaking the playful tension, “what are you working on tonight? Any new beats?”

You sighed, pulling back slightly. “I’m trying to come up with something for my next project. I want it to feel… I don’t know, different. Like it’s something fresh.”

Billie stepped closer, resting her hands on the edge of the drum kit. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got? I could use a little inspiration myself.”

“Okay, but if you start judging my ‘paradiddles’ again, I’m kicking you out of the studio,” you replied, your tone light.

“Fair enough. Just don’t make me cry,” Billie shot back, a wink in her eyes.

With a mock salute, you returned to the drums, setting a new tempo. As you played, the rhythm enveloped you, and Billie’s presence transformed the atmosphere. You felt invigorated, the beats morphing into a flowing melody that echoed your shared life together.

Billie listened intently, her head nodding in time with the rhythm. “See? This is what I’m talking about,” she said, excitement bubbling in her voice. “You’ve got something special here!”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her encouragement wash over you. “Thanks, babe. It helps having you here. You always know how to inspire me.”

“I try,” she said, a playful lilt in her voice. “I mean, it’s not easy being this fabulous.”

“Fabulous? You’re practically dripping with sarcasm,” you retorted, laughter bubbling between you.

“Well, darling, if you can’t be fabulous, you might as well be funny.”

“Touché again,” you said, shaking your head with a grin. “You really have a knack for this.”

As the night wore on, you transitioned into a more relaxed vibe, exchanging playful banter and soft kisses in between beats. The drumsticks danced through the air, while Billie hummed melodies that floated through the room, blending with the sound of the drums.

Eventually, you found yourselves nestled on the couch, a comfortable pile of limbs and laughter. The warmth of your shared space wrapped around you like a blanket, and Billie rested her head on your shoulder, her fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“You know,” she murmured, “this is my favorite part of the day. Just being here with you, creating these moments.”

You glanced down, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I agree. There’s something magical about these nights.”

Billie lifted her head, her blue eyes shimmering with mischief. “But let’s be real, you just love that I’m here to keep you grounded, right?”

“Sure, that’s definitely the reason,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who wouldn’t want their rockstar girlfriend around to keep their ego in check?”

“Exactly! Just think of me as your personal assistant, but with pretty face.”

You both burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. In those moments, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you—lost in your cocoon of love and creativity.

[bejeweledblondie]

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish Headcannons

A/N: I’m very happy y’all are enjoying these!

Warnings NSFW

• Y’all met while you were on a study abroad program

• You had been returning from a night class & decided to go to the local pub for a pint & some food

• It was another soldier that pointed you out initially but he caught your eye

• “Oi, what’s a wee lass like yourself doin’ all alone in the corner?” (It definitely didn’t come out THAT clearly)

• it took you a minute to process what the hell he had said since his Scottish accent is so thick

• You spent hours chatting in that bar, about your home life, studies, etc. Johnny was limited in what he could tell you about his profession

• The two of you exchanged numbers & on your first date he took you to the Scottish countryside

• The view took your breath away, & he explained the history of his homeland to you (he’s very patriotic)

• You’d FaceTime, call, text etc. once you had to return to your home country

• He was so proud to see you graduate (he knew how hard you worked towards obtaining your college degree)

• He told you he couldn’t go to your graduation due to work (it was a lie)

• He planned out a whole secret proposal with your parents over FaceTime

• imagine your surprise when you saw him after the ceremony

• He proposed in private in your childhood house’s backyard

• You initially got married in the states to be able to live with him due to his military service & start receiving housing

• Y’all had a ceremony & reception at a castle in the Scottish countryside complete with a hand tying ceremony

• Yes, you had a bagpiper at the wedding

• He wore a kilt (are we even surprised?)

• Your garter had his last name on it & was in tartan plaid that matched his kilt (yes you had a garter toss & he was in shock when he saw the garter)

• Y’all got a gorgeous little cottage by the sea & ofc a sheep dog to go with it

• He 100% would be hosting for football matches

• And if you’re American y’all would definitely host a Super Bowl watch party

• I feel like he’d love reality tv (especially 90 Day Fiancé & the Kardashians)

• He has commentary too for every scene

• “what a fooking idiot.”

• His favorite Kardashian is Kris Jenner

• Since he can barley keep his hands off of you, he knocks you up only a month after your wedding

• Since he was deployed you mailed him ultrasound photos of the bean

• For a man who is incredibly intelligent it didn’t click that you send multiple photos of the same ultrasound

• He thought he was having quints at first & nearly had a stroke

• “You’re having five of ‘em?!” “No that’s the same fetus just different photos”

• He kept the ultra sound photos in his plate carrier

• Tactical baby gear is a must (also it’s a real company which is awesome)

• Hear me out little baby kilt, Simon gifted it to y’all

• You nearly cried when you opened the gift d

• Simon is 100% the godfather of your baby, if you trust him with Johnny’s life you can ensure if anything happened your baby would be taken care of

• Johnny was lucky that he was able to be there the entire time you were in labor

• He almost fainted when he saw the epidural (I don’t blame him)

• You guys had a little boy

• Unfortunately while you were in recovery he got called back into work for a mission

• Before he left he held your son just incase it was his last time holding him

• You sobbed when he left & one of the nurses had to console you

• Thankfully it was just a hostage rescue so he was back within a few days & ready to help out with the baby

• He carried your son around in one of those baby carriers that your strap to your chest

• Your baby boy is so giggly just like his daddy

• He will constantly be making his son laugh with silly faces, hand motions, anything

• Whenever the boys come over to watch a match your son will be passed around like a hot potato one moment he’ll be sitting with Price then next Simon has him

• As your son gets older he gets interested in what his daddy does, & he’s infatuated with being a soldier

• He’ll play pretend soldier with Soap all the time

• You’re constantly picking up Nerf darts

• When Soap is away on a mission, your son will crawl into bed with you because he misses his daddy

• He draws photos of him & the Task Force to send to overseas

• I also feel like y’all’s son would be incredibly helpful around the home especially when you’re expecting baby No. 2 & after baby No. 2 is born

• Baby No.2 is a little girl

• He’s definitely very protective over his little girl

• “She’s just as beautiful as you, Bonnie”

• Y’all’s son would also enlist or commission to the British Military but I think he’d actually be a King’s Guard for a bit

• And I feel like your daughter would be incredibly creative, she’d use those talents to be an artist

• I do believe Soap is a die hard family man & that’s one of the many reasons why you fell in love with him

✨NSFW✨

• He’s definitely a cheeky bastard & will not hesitate to smack, grab, or make comments in public about you

• He’s 100% dominant in the bedroom & loves to be called “daddy”, or even “Johnny”

• He fucked you right before y’all walked into your wedding reception, perks of wearing a kilt

• This man loves your legs & especially your thighs

• He loves to watch you squirm when his hand trails your legs all the way leading up to your pussy

• He’s not quite during sex whatsoever, he’ll full on groan, moan & tell you good you feel

• He’s a sucker for flexibility

• You take up yoga to improve your flexibility

• I definitely believe y’all wouldn’t even make it through the front door when he comes home

•He’d either fuck you on the hood of the car or the damn back seat in the parking lot

• He loves it when you wear his old PT shorts & no panties easy access

• He definitely loves you & your body & would know how to take care of you

[falderaletcetera]

I didn't pay much attention to the soundtrack the first time but my gosh. there's some witcher-esque goodness in here.

(incidentally, it has been [0] days since I last looked something up to check whether there's a hurdy-gurdy in it or not. turns out I was hearing medieval bagpipes <3)

what this film really appeals to, I'm realising, is people who saw elizabeth swann being a badass and wanted more of it.

[p-redux]

One of the Team sent me this in DM--Sarah Holden seems to be at Midhope Castle, where they film Outlander! 😊 Turn up the volume on her IG story, and you can hear the SAME bagpipes that were playing at Midhope Castle. Go to both accounts and compare the bagpipes.

You can hear the bagpipes in Sarah's IG story playing faintly in the background. 👇

And the bagpiper here, playing the same thing at Midhope Castle hahaha 👇 Gee, what a coinky dink. 🤗

Here's the video of it. 👇

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Midhope.Castle (@midhope.castle)

Now let's see if Mr. Sam Heughan posts something from there...

PS. I added this comment afterwards since I already got a comment asking how do we know it's the same bagpipes. There aren't just random bagpipers walking around Scotland playing for no reason. Bagpipes are for special occasions. It would be a HUGE coincidence that on the same day that bagpipes are played at Midhope Castle, which is associated with Sam Heughan due to Outlander, you can also hear bagpipes playing outside rumored girlfriend, Sarah Holden's car. What special event could be happening right outside Sarah's car that would warrant bagpipes playing on a Monday? C'mon now. JS

[akelafang]

I'm curious, what instruments do you think Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, and the knights can play (if any)

Here are some of my ideas (bear in mind I am not a musician or a musical expert in any way shape or form, and especially not in medieval instruments so if I say something that is wrong or list an instrument that has not been invented yet I'm sorry)

I reckon Arthur has some basic knowledge of a few instruments thanks to some tutors but he hated the lessons and dropped them the first chance he could so he could focus on his sword work

Morgana also got music lessons but unlike Arthur she loved them. She can play the harp, lyre, violin, flute, and any other instrument she could get her hands on long enough to practice with. I don't think pianos were invented yet but she'd be all over them if they were. She had less time to practice the older she got but as long as she had access to an instrument she tried to find time for it

I remember seeing a post that pointed out a lute style instrument in Merlin's room so I like to imagine he's pretty decent with one of those. I can see him playing a few songs from back home in Ealdor to unwind after a hard day of saving Arthur for the 100th time that month. He's a bit shy about it though and doesn't let anyone but Gaius listen to him

I don't think Gwen plays anything but she really enjoys singing. She hums to herself while she does chores and has sung Morgana to sleep many times after she has a nightmare

Gwaine plays the bagpipes and you can not change my mind on this. He's also pretty good with a lute and has used both to earn some extra money while traveling

Leon had music lessons like Arthur and Morgana and has tried out a few instruments. He took a liking to Violin and was pretty good at it too but had to stop playing when his training to be a knight took up all his time. He tries to play every now and then when he has free time but he's noticeably rusty which frustrates him

I'm undecided on whether Elyan, Percy, or Lancelot play anything but I can definitely see at least one of them surprising the rest of the group with an amazing singing voice.

Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear others takes on this.

[the-fiction-witch]

Favourite Nurse

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet AF

I stood in the surgical theatre sweeping, scrubbing and cleaning the place down in the early morning light, my cheap scratchy nurse dress around me as I tried to remove blood stains from the table. I heard the door creak open and a voice spoke up.

"Humm... There's my favourite nurse." He slyly smiled,

I looked up seeing Doctor Jack Dawkins leant on the wooden door frame that led into the prep room, in his usual brown trousers, white faded shirt with blood-stained sleeves, blue waistcoat and tattered green tie, his blonde hair dusty and dirty as usual. His arms crossed smugly over his chest and that stupid sly smile on his lips. 

I turned on my heels to face him moving a strand of hair out my eyes and setting both hands on my hips, "Ah Doctor Dawkins,"

"The Very same my darling," 

"Just the man I've been looking for, I have a bone to pick with you,"

"ohh really?" he smirked as he moved his hands behind him and swaggered over with an air of teasing playfulness, "Umm... Go on then my darling, But I think we both know what bone I want you to be picking at," 

"You left the surgical theatre in an utter abhorrence!" I complain, "Tools used and all over the place, floor blanketed in blood, if you are going to do surgery in the middle of the night you could at least tidy up after yourself!" 

His tone soured, "I don't have time my darling," He rolled his eyes, "If I hadn't acted quickly the man would be dead by now. So I had to perform an emergency operation late last night or early this morning... not confident which it was."

"That's not an excuse not to clean up after yourself."

"But I was tired," he pouted, 

"I am not your maid Jack, as much as you like to think I am," I told him as I took my bucket out with me to the courtyard, but he followed me. 

"I know you're not. I just needed your help. We are the only ones working round the clock here. It's not my fault my body won't let me stay up past 10 anymore."

"That doesn't mean I'm your maid," I told him as I tipped my bucket over the stairwell and set it down with the others, but before I could scamper back inside he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"But you're a brilliant cleaner you get all the spots I'm too blind for."

"Or too ignorant for." 

"Both," he chuckled, "I like you being my cute little maid girl,"

"I am not your maid." I told him poking his chest with my finger, "As much as you may like it."

"And how did you know I had a maid fetish?" he whispered,

"Because you have an everything fetish," I glared as I moved away and cleaned off my hands, "You're a very horny boy Jack."

"Well yeah? You spent ten years in the navy where you're lucky to see one woman per six months, You can't help getting excited for every girl you see." he smirked sitting himself on the edge of the stairs, "And how can I help it with you running around my darling? "

"Some days I really do wonder how you are such a smart doctor, your brain rarely gets any blood it's always down your trousers." I sighed as I began to hang the washed sheets on the lines in the courtyard, 

"I can't help it, you're too captivating," 

"Umm... You're lucky you don't get a damn slap. Escpaily after I caught you peeking down my dress the other day."

"And up your dress," he muttered,

"What was that?" I glared,

"Nothing my darling," He cooed, "You're such a little smart ass, aren't you? The girls at the cat and bagpipes don't give me such sassback."

"That's because you're paying them jack they have to pretend to like you,"

"They do like me."

"do they? do they ever actually want to talk or be near you before you hand them a pound?" 

"Sometimes," He lied, "They like my stethoscope, and hearing stories about work."

"AHH yes your stethoscope I'm sure all rottys girls at the cat and bagpipes just love your... Stethoscope"

"Well and because I'm so handsome,"

"You good looking I think you're very handsome just... Too confident for your own good sometimes" I rolled my eyes as I finished hanging the newly washed sheets and gathered in the dry ones from earlier, 

"Oh? you think I'm handsome My darling?" he teased, 

I finished gathering all the dry sheets and headed back towards the door, "You can be when you have a bath and some clean clothes Jack" I said tugging on his stained sleeves and giving his hair a tussle as I walked up the steps seeing visible dust fall out of it, 

"So you're saying I'm attractive? Like you are actually attracted to me and you think I'm handsome" he gave chase of course following behind me like an excited puppy, 

"If it makes you feel better. Yes," I rolled my eyes kissing his cheek before I headed into the storage cupboard to start folding the dry sheets and putting them away, 

"Wait. You're actually serious, no joke and you're not just saying that to make me stop bugging you?"

"I'm very serious you can be very handsome sometimes," 

"Ohh? Well, what makes me so handsome then my darling?" he cooed leaning his elbow on the shelf, 

"you're a very handsome man Jack. You have a toned slender body, you're tall, you have very handsome soft blonde hair, deep chocolate brown eyes, a striking jaw and a very cute smile and you're are adorable when you get mad or jealous and you frown all pouty, so yes I do find you attractive and the times when you clean up have a hot bath and some clean clothes I admit your very lovely" I explain as I fold sheets, 

He smiled and slightly blushed at my compliments "So... if I had a bath and some fresh clothes I wouldn't just be cute I'd be... sexy?"

"Perhaps,"

He smirked and grabbed my hand spinning me around before pulling me into his chest, "So? how would I rate all clean and lovely?"

"Out of ten?"

"Yep," he smirked not letting me move in any way,

I smiled and set my hands on his waistcoat moving on my tip toes to be inches from his lips as I spoke, At the moment eight. When you have a bath eleven."

"A-an 11? So you're saying once I've had a bath and worn nice clothes, I'll be stunningly handsome and an 11 out of 10?" he blushed, "You... really mean that Y/n?"

"I do, You're a slender little smart-ass jack. And I think you're the most attractive man in the hospital... I mean, that's kind of a hollow complaint though given my options for doctors are you, Dr sneed and Prof. And prof is in his 60s and Sneed looks like a snail" 

"Well, it's lucky for you that I'm so good-looking and have such a captivating personality," 

"It is," I giggled,

"I always knew I was your favourite nurse darling," He smiled stroking my cheek and pulling my lips to his own.  

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode six - Bully in the Alley

Masterlist

Jack Dawkins x fem reader

This is a long one

"Do you think he'll like it? I should have packed more macaroons. Rainsford loves macaroons." Fanny chatted away as the three of you walked towards the stairs. You stop when you see the head nurse.

" Nurse Baggett, is Dr. Dawkins here?" You ask.

" On a Friday night? He's paying a house call on the Cat and Bagpipes." She laughs. Disappointed you turn back to your sisters who were already making their way up the stairs.

"Should I give Sneed a peek? What would you say to that?" Fanny said.

"Nothing really. Sneed isn't suited for you. His interest in us is purely political. He just wants to marry a governor's daughter and secure Head Surgeon. And he's already proposed to me." Belle rambled.

"Oh." Fanny stops walking.

"Fanny, he would've married any member of the family, including Father or the dog." Belle says.

"Belle, there is no need to be turt. Fanny, Sneed is not for you. He would not be attentive enough for you." You try to comfort her.

" So, when is your happy day?" She spits her words at Belle.

"The happy day was when I declined him." She replied.

"I should just fill my pocket with stones and walk into the sea." Fanny said.

"Sea's that way." Belle pointed.

"Belle, will you both stop this, now." You demand.

"So, just to clarify. Sneed's still available, then?" Fanny asks finally.

"For now." Belle agrees. The three of you walk into his private room. Fanny quickly delves into unpacking her basket of goodies.

"We've also got coconut macaroons, fruitcake, jam drops. Ooh, and this is pepper jelly. I made it myself to help with your recovery."

"How lovely. Lady Belle, are you well?" Sneed asks her, attempting to ignore Fanny.

"But it's quite peppery." Fanny continues.

"Better than someone who fought a pointless duel." They continued the back and fourth between the three of them. Your attention was held by the window you could hardly see through.

"Quickly. This way. Come on, quickly." You hear Hetty shouting. A Bell rings below. Running out of the room you see people clamouring all around.

"Cold compress on her. Splint that. Some doctors would be nice!" You see Hetty shouting. Jack stumbles in with a man's arm around his shoulders.

" Dr. Dawkins." You rush up to him.

" Lady y/n. Can you take him to the ward?" He hands the man over to you draping his arm over your shoulder.

"Are you even sober?" You ask.

"Three sheets to the wind. One sheet better than Prof usually is." He waves his arms. "Get your sister. I need her in the ward. Aputi, bring him in here." Jack walks away from you.

In the swirl of the chaos you do your best to help the nurses with bandaging and comforting the wounded people of Port Victory. Morning rose up without anyone really noticing. Seeing Jack standing beside the bed of one man you walked up to him.

"There's nothing more we could have done. Not with bleeding like that." He lets out a shaky breath, "Hetty, have you eaten anything at all?" He asks the nurse that looks set to fall down.

" No time." She replies.

Heavy footsteps stomp through the halls and you see your sister rushing up to Gaines.

" Captain Gaines, I will be speaking to my father!" She growls.

" Have you come to finish them off? Blinded in one eye, a fractured skull, and a ruptured femoral artery!" Jack's grits his teeth.

"All the results of resisting lawful execution of a warrant. And that's young Alfie Wilderkins if I'm not mistaken. This is a very good day indeed." Gaines grins and it churns your stomach.

" I want the men responsible court-martialled." You say.

"Well, that would be me. You'll need to tell the Governor his right hand is a criminal."

"Yes. That is a very good idea." You narrow your eyes at him.

" Arrest them. They're accomplices. All right. You, come with me." Gaines shouts and grabs one of the patients.

"They need medical care. I can't let you take these patients." You say putting your hands up across the ward door.

" They were never patients, Lady y/n. They're my prisoners. Stand aside." He moves close enough to you that you can smell the stink of his aftershave, "Your father indulges you. If you were my daughter..."

"I'd run away. Like your wife." You sneer at him. Gaines steps forward raising his hand ready to slap you but Jack catches him, wrenching him backward.

" Oi! Doc, you're needed over here." Fagin calls from the other side of the room. He drops Gaines' hand.

" Pity you didn't strike me, Dawkins." He growls at Jack before marching away.

"father can stop this!" You call to Belle.

"Where do you think I'm going?" She shouts back almost running from the hospital. You turn back to Jack.

"Are you alright?" He asks, you nod your head allowing him to take your hand.

"What do we do?" You ask.

"you've been here all night, go home and get some rest. Hetty you too. Neither of you are any good if you get sick as well." Hetty tries to protest but he shakes his head to her, "Go on, we'll be okay, come back later."

*_*_*_*

"Hold fire!" The Governor shouts as Belle wakes him by dropping. Heavy book onto the desk.

"Gaines has gone mad. People have lost their lives." Your sister tells him.

" No, surely not. I counselled moderation." He rebutes.

"Have you seen what's going on out there?" She asks.

"No, but... Oh, my word, that's lovely." He says taking a sip of congac.

" The hospital is overrun. Beaten by Gaines' men." She interrupts him.

"And I'm sorry you had to see that. The hospital really is no place for a lady. But I bear good news, Excellency." Gaines brushes past Belle. "Your operation has flushed out the notorious Kit Wilderkins."

" Oh, Gaines, that is wonderful news."your father chuckles.

" You ordered this, Father?" You ask storming into the room"

"Gaines is firm, darling, but there's a reason he kept our men alive in Africa."

"No, but he's maiming people. He's killing them." You protest.

" All regrettable incidents. Some were resisting arrest and attacking your men, Governor. I shall pray for their souls. Tell me, does your friend, Dr. Dawkins, ever cause a patient pain?" Gaines turns to you.

" Of course, in trying to help to... " You reply.

"Cure. Yes. And does Dr. Dawkins ever accidentally kill any of these patients?"

" Rarely." Belle interjects.

"And I'm sure he mourns it, as I do. You see, a colony is very much like a body..."

" Yes, I've read Hobbes." You cut him off.

"Then you will know that sometimes we must hurt in order to heal."

"A young man bled to death in the hospital overnight. What of his family?" You say.

"Ah, yes. Very sad. Alfie Wilderkins, only eighteen. Kit Wilderkins was his father. Together they held up the Murchings Bank stage coach last month, and killed three people. Corporal Hartmouth was begging for mercy when they shot him. Hartmouth had two dear little children, Rosie and William." Gaines pretended to feel remorse as he sat in a chair.

"Yes. Look, it's one thing to lose a man in battle, but to crime? It's hard to explain to the widow." The governor says.

"You see, my ladies, sometimes we need to cut a rotten part of the body politic in order to cure the whole." He speaks to you both.

"I know what part of the body politic I'd be removing." Belle bites back.

" Okay, thank you, Captain Gaines." The Governor dismisses his Captain before taking your and Belle's hands in his.

"Darlings... Darlings, I know you disapprove of Gaines and his methods. But I've been asked to turn a penal colony into a society. And I need men like him to make a prison into something better. Now, I'm not asking you to accept everything I do, but I am asking you both to support me and this family." He says.

"we will go back to the hospital and help." Belle says.

"No, we need to rest. Father, you should, perhaps put down your congac and take a good she's look at the people you surround yourself with. Come sister." You take her hand and lead her to the stairs.

"You're giving up?" She asks.

"No, Belle, Jack said we needed to sleep to rest, he sent Hetty away as well. He wants us at our best to help." You explain.

"And what will you do? Hold a few hands and get in the way?" She spat out the words.

You hold onto the emotions that threaten to spill out of your eyes.

*_*_*_*

"Belle, I may not be as smart as you are when it comes to medicine, but I am doing my best."

"You could be doing so much more, instead of wasting all your energy on a boy."

You push past her and storm up to your bedroom.

Three hours later you found yourself unable to sleep so you redressed in a simple cotton outfit, forgoing the hooped crinoline and opting for a smaller petticoat. You sneak back down stairs to the carriage that waited for you at the back of the house. Belle was already sat inside.

"took your time." She smiled. You say nothing, knocking on the carriage to signal the driver. Much to Belle's dismay you give her the cold shoulder all the way to the hospital. Choosing to keep your eyes on the trees going past.

She chased after you into the building when you arrived at the hospital.

"y/n please, I'm sorry." She calls after you. You ignore her finding Jack.

"What'd your father say? When's he going to stop this?" He asks you.

" Yes, I have spoken to my father. There are two sides to this. It's not as clear as..." you say walking through the corridors.

"He's dead. How much clearer could it be?" He almost shouts at you.

You stop and look at him for a moment, "Right, if you're to be like that, Jack..."

"I cannot believe you would give that man's story credence." He said. You turned once more marching god knows where as you spoke.

"I don't give a fig about Gaines, but I do trust my father's word on this."

"You can't agree with their methods?" He asked.

"Obviously not." You answered

" That boy bled to death in front of us."

"I know but, he was a bushranger, who killed one of Father's men."

"So they say."

" He's my father. He's many things, but he's not a liar. He's trying to bring peace to a colony you have to admit is out of control." You stomped through a closed door.

"Did you mean to walk into a cupboard?" Jack almost laughs.

" Obviously not!" You bit your lower lip to keep your emotions from bubbling over. "Gosh. You are incredibly irritating."

"So are you."

"'Cause you won't listen to anyone else's point of view. All I'm saying is it is not clear-cut."

"Look, you either want to be a help here, someone who cares for everybody, no matter how spotty their soul may be, or you are "milady," who gives six of the best to the peasants when we get uppity." He jibs you.

" Uppity? I know you had your past indiscretions, but these were bushrangers who killed three men, one a father." You reply.

" Some people need to thieve in order to eat." Jack sighs.

"And that can lead to death, too." It was getting harder to hold back your tears.

"Have you ever seen anybody dead on the streets from hunger?"

"No!" You agree.

"Have you ever paid for anything you've eaten? Or worn, or lived in?"

"That's a false syllogism." You say turning back toward the cupboard door. Jack runs up behind you.

"Whatever that is, it is not. If you can't see what is happening here, y/n, then you and I have big problems. This puts a wall between us." His arm is across You holding the door shut.

" You climbed it fine when you kissed me in the surgery." You say, a tear escaping down your face. Jack sighs, he knows he has pushed you too far. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"let me go, I should, I wish to leave." You whisper.

"Y/n-"

"I wish to leave."

You do not let any tears fall from your eyes until you reached your bedroom. Where you fling yourself upon your bed and cry until exhausted you fall asleep

*_*_*_*

The sound of Fagin's voice wakes you some time later and you tiptoe along behind him. With your arms crossed you wait at the door as he comes shuffling out of your father's office with a large Hessian bag.

"Stealing like a common thief again?" You say when he spots you.

"Yes, well only what was stolen from us in the first place." He raises his hands towards you in submission.

"Fine, take the lot. I no longer care."

"actually we could do with your help you know. Doc is getting your sister for an operation but you, you might be exactly what we need." His smile unnerved and intrigued you.

"Okay, take me there." You agree.

Belle and Dawkins come down the stairs discussing the procedure they are about to do. You pay them no mind as you step into the carriage.

"you're coming?" Jack asks hopeful.

"To help the people, not you." You say turning yourself away from them.

"Sorry about the pissing, Fagin, I just couldn't... Whoa! Hello, Your Majesty." Flashbang spoke when he saw you and Belle.

"Hello." You reply.

"Is this a criminal conspiracy?" Belle asks

"In a manner of speakin', yes."

"If you're going to the hospital, Belle, I'm coming to see Sneedy." Fanny pushes past Flashbang to get in beside Belle, forcing Jack to sit beside you. Fagin plonks himself on the luggage tray at the back and Flashbang hangs onto the side.

Jack glances at you occasionally, you are sure he wants to talk to you but you keep your eyes turned away only replying to Fanny.

At the hospital you follow them all inside. It's agreed that you'll go to the prof and distract him whilst the others got Red's baby out safely. When you were satisfied that he was deep enough into the second bottle you went up to Red's room. Fagin taking your place. Jack stands at the door.

"How is it going?" You ask keeping a distance from the doctor.

"Well I think, I'm not allowed in." He replies.

"Belle is operating alone?"

"she is more than capable."

"Of course she is, Belle would run rings around any trained man." You sit down beside Tim. "Red is strong, she'll be alright." You comfort him.

Jack watches you talk with the man, how he seems instantly at ease with you. All the people in Port Victory did. You held an air of kindness that spread out to those you spoke to. He had to admit to himself that having you here, speaking with the patients and holding their hands eased them. It made the wards feel lighter, as if death was not hanging over their heads. Taking in a long breath Jack turned back to his work opening the door just enough to call in.

" Nearly... I have it now." Belle says from.inside.

"How is it in there? Do you have the head yet?" He called.

"Now, pull up and out." Jack guides her.

" Just one more cut.* Hetty says as they clamp the umbilical chord, " She's out. Come on, Belle."

" Please breathe." Belle encourages the baby with a rub to its chest. The new born cries and everyone sighs with relief.

" Now stitch her, fascia first." Jack reminds her. "Is Red all right?" Tim pushing his way into the room.

"She's breathing steady, Tim." Belle reassures him, handing the now swaddled infant. With them all in the room you chose to stay out, waiting for Gaines to appear.

They managed to sneak the woman and the baby out of the room and secret her away in Jack's room.

Belle is cleaning away her equipment when Jack walks back in.

"We did it. Hetty and I, we kept them both alive." She smiles.

" In time for your father to hang her." Jack snaps back. Belle is about to argue when the door opens and Aputi and Flash bring a large basket into the room. You follow them in as they place the covered body on the bed.

"Well done."

"No! You're body snatching!" Belle rrmarks.

"Pretty standard in our line of work." Jack comments.

" You can't be serious."

"Belle,This is the only way to save her." You say.

" Clearly pregnant. Very good." Jack says before pulling the sheet back, "Clearly not pregnant. This a man." He chastises them.

" Big Kit's all we had in the deadhouse, Dr. Jack." Aputi explained as they left the room.

"This is madness! It can't work! And it's a capital offence!" Belle snapped

" So is killing a mother before she's even put her own child to her breast." You snap back.

"So, what's more important, milady?"

You are the first to hear Gaines approaching and slip out of the room. Jack follows you closing the door behind him.

"Captain," you pretend to feel sadness. "I fear the mother and baby died on the table. How does one bear this sort of loss, Captain?" You put a hand on his chest, keeping him from moving further. "I have never seen it, but perhaps you were right, darkness cannot birth light I suppose." You say. He nods.

"Yes, lady y/n, it is awful when the innocent are tard by the guilty." He pushes your hand away and attempts to step past you.

"You can't go in. Her body's undressed. For shame. And you, a Godly man. Have you no decency?" You pour every bit of heartache you had into the words.

"I need to see the body." He tells you.

" What are you going to do, Captain? Hang her corpse?" You ask.

" Have the Professor bring me the death certificate." The Captain hisses.

"Dr. Dawkins can sign it."

"No! I would find it much more reliable if the Professor signs it." He walks away. Turning yourself round to Jack you look up at him.

"Thank you." He says.

"I didn't do it for you." You drop your eyes to the ground.

"y/n, I-" you shake your head, "I'll see to the patient." He lets you walk away from him, wishing he hadn't.

Knocking on the door you step into the room, Red sat on the small bed by the window.

"How are you?" You ask.

"Better now. You know you are nothing like the rest of your family. There's a little crime in you." Red said with a chuckle, "would you like to hold her?"

You nod and come forward, sitting on the end of the bed. You take the bundle into your arms and rock her.

"She's beautiful." You say a wide smile on your face.

"it's suits you." Tim states.

"What is it, why didn't you follow society? Why ain't you married?" Red asked.

"oh, I.... I'm not well. I wouldn't make a man a widower or a child and orphan." You reply, keeping your eyes on the sleeping baby.

"Sorry." Red whispered. Not long after Fagin arrived and then Jack. At first you wanted to leave but you stayed at Tim's request. Jack poured you all a small glass of Fagin's stolen liqueur.

When at last Belle was done with her cleaning she came up to find you. Not wanting to speak to her you simply walked alongside to the carriage.

At home again you sat in your bed the blankets over knees when Belle and Fanny came giggling into her room. Belle climbed into the bed beside you and Fanny dropped her head to your lap.

"I shared my first kiss." She said looking UK at you.

"With Sneed?" You asked.

" And did you enjoy it?" Belle cuddled closer. "Mixed. At first, it was lovely. But then I think I hurt him rather badly. He was quite angry, actually." She screwed up her face.

"Someone'll sweep you off your feet when you least expect it in the most inconvenient of moments." You say brushing back her hair and stroking her face with the back of your hand.

" I had a thought." She said, flipping herself onto her stomach, "Considering your health, perhaps you and Dr. Dawkins could have a long, happily unconsummated love affair until he walks off, desolate, into the windswept moors..." she all but sings her fantasy, you feel a pang of gult.

"We don't have moors here." Belle reminded her.

"But yes, that is a nice thought." You agree. Your sisters cuddle into you and you all giggle over the day until your mother commands you all to bed.

*_*_*_*_*

Fagin and Dawkins sat at a table in the tavern, Rotty poured them both a drink I to the metal tankards.

"So, our old Cheekybones did well." Fagin grins. "Yeah. She did, didn't she?"

"And her sister, the older one, she is a boone, still, it's not really their world, is it? And you've got to remember, Dodge, theirs isn't yours." He reminded the younger man. Jack played with his cup and turned to the window. His heart leaps in his chest when he sees the nicest sight he had seen in days. Without saying a word to his companion, Jack walked outside.

"Milady. I must warn you I am a little bit drunk. In fact, I am approaching strutting pigeon."

You smile from below your cape, dropping the hood down. Reaching out you take the cup from his hand and swallow down the liquid.

" So am I, now." You smile, "The crime, it's not just for survival. You actually love it." You say.

"The worst parts of me do." Jack admits.

"well, I cannot say I did not enjoy getting one over on Gaines." You admit. Jack laughs.

" It's hopeless, isn't it?" You take a step toward him.

"Oh, yes. We are completely unsuited." He agrees matching your movement.

"We should really never see each other socially." You offer up words you don't believe.

"No, that wouldn't be right." He said moving close enough to slide his hand around your waist. Crashing his lips to yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest. You spin him round so his back hits the wall.

" Holy hell, we're in trouble." You whisper.

"So much trouble." Jack he replies placing his lips to yours and you feel all your resolve disappearing.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." Jack speaks between kisses.

Everything had changed in that few seconds. Your life would never be the same.

Episode seven

@fandomfan-102

[bromcommie]

WIP word search 2: electric boogaloo

Many thanks to @painted-doe who posted an excellent part 2 to this tag game (go check it out wink wink) and left an open tag with the keywords guard, break, true and left. I have to admit I feel like a dog chasing its own tag tail lol but the first one was so fun I just couldn't resist. Anyway!

Guard:

Groundhog Day except it's not Groundhog Day but instead amnesiac psychological horror. (Imagine this is indented—I’m editing on mobile, and Tumblr is misbehaving.)

They take him out of the dark and into a blue room. Empty, square, clear sightlines. Single exit, no windows. He knows this story, just like he knows the story of his dream: six guards, armed. Table, gun, a man on his knees like a test he's taking for the first time but knows he'll fail. Knobby bones at the top of his spine.

So why are the shadows wrong?

Because the man is him. Because the gun is a red herring.

They beat him until he stops making noise and then some more for good measure. He doesn’t remember what he did to deserve it, and he doesn’t ask. Doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t do much of anything, really, except maybe wait.

Asking questions. That's what you forget after sitting in it for too long, he remembers now. You forget there's questions to be asked in the first place. You forget there's something outside of the hole you're sitting in.

Sometimes doing nothing is worse.

He waits for the bullet. He keeps waiting for the goddamn bullet. He doesn’t know what he is, but he thinks it might be a stupid motherfucker. The bullet’s not coming.

When he asks for it, it’s in English.

They put him back under.

Break:

Rogers is still staring at him like he’ll go up in a puff of smoke if he looks away. His hair’s grown out from the last time they’ve come face to face, falling floppy across his forehead and curling a little where he’s still damp and flushed from his shower. It suits him better, he thinks fuzzily; makes him look less sharp around the edges. Less like a stone carveout and more like a breathing thing. He doesn’t understand why that makes the loss surge even more.  Желание, his mind insists again unprompted, and it rings out through him like another shot fired. He needs to break the standstill they’ve arrived at but he feels terribly cold all of a sudden, skin gone clammy with it. The searing pain in his abdomen has been replaced by a dull tingling, spreading rapidly like wildfire to the rest of his body, the plates in his arm whirring and recalibrating wildly under his jacket trying to interpret the signal, keep up with the pounding of his heart. He’s bleeding out, he thinks distantly. Operational integrity compromised. Yeah, no fucking shit.

True:

From another unfinished episode from orpheus, in which Steve goes down memory lane and he and Bucky hit the beach. (Kind of.)

From a young age Bucky and he were both, predictably, enchanted with the damn thing. They’d put their ear to the shell's opening in turns and name all the things they could hear: Waves. Wind. Crab. Fish. Fisherman almost catching it and cursing when it got away. Bagpipes. Bagpipes? Yes, bagpipes. Drums, too. Whales. There’s no whales in Ireland, stupid. What do you know, you’ve never been. Neither have you. I guess. Maybe we can go together. People splashing. Ice cream seller. Someone kicking a ball down the boardwalk. A lot of the time, these near-mythical beaches of Ireland ended up sounding a lot like Coney Island. None of it was true, of course. The actual sounds were the product of the air’s vibration inside the curve of the shell having nowhere to escape. The stories they made up around them were a product of an unfettered imagination and an unshakeable generational nostalgia for a place they would never know. The conch itself was a product of a trinket shop in Brighton Beach, New York, which was over 3000 miles away from Kenmare, Ireland, and it was long collecting dust on a shelf before Steve’s mother bought it on a whim one day in early 1918. It had cost a whopping three dollars, which was more than she had to give for a cheap trinket as a 22-year-old with a baby on the way and fresh off the boat to boot, but it had reminded her, somehow, of home: of the flat pale serpentine of sand she would go to that never had such exotic gems to offer, of the people she’d gone with, of the sound and touch of the water. Sarah was a sensible woman, utilitarian in her logic and uncompromising in her decision-making. Between her and her husband, Joseph had gotten the majority share of designated emigree sentimentality. But the seashell reminded her of him, too, of the space that separated them and the indeterminable time that would pass before he and the many men like him could come home. So in the end sensible, pragmatic little Sarah Rogers parted with her hard-earned three dollars, and the Atlantic conch from the wrong side of the Atlantic returned home with her, meticulously packed in newspaper and stuffed to the bottom of her purse like a treasure much greater than it was. Joe Rogers, of course, never did return. He and the many men like him were buried on the wrong side of the Atlantic because of a war that, like most wars, had nothing to do with them in particular. For all of her outspoken opinions, his mother never talked about it. Like the real provenance of the conch, like the thing hiding in the folds of the silence that hangs between him and Bucky now, it was another truth easier left unsaid. He never thought her a coward for it. He’s not sure he can extend himself the same courtesy.

Left:

More from the epistolary chapter:

Look, I guess what I’m trying to say is this: I wouldn’t mind. Going back home or what used to be home means little to me now—it’s not even all the differences. Name’s the same, and some of the streets still smell like mold and piss and trash and it can get loud and alive and busy as all hell. There’s the brick and the trees and the water and that constant feeling of catching something in the corner of your eye when you walk down the street. But the buildings they’re building now are all big and shiny and new, and the people building them are all big and shiny and new. The folks we knew are all dead or forgotten or forgetting, just like Oisín’s Fianna. There’s no real home left to go back to. That’s probably why I stayed away as long as I did after that first time—it made me feel even more like a ghost. I think it makes you feel like that too except it hurts you worse, somehow. I see it every time you talk about it, don’t think I don’t. Something about the way you get all hazy around the eyes, and then go quiet on me if I can’t remember a goddamn thing about whatever it is you’re talking about. Well there’s not a lot I can fix up about the remembering part, that much I’ve figured out by now, but I’d do a hell of a lot more than retell old stories like these if it got that bone-tired look off your face. So there it is I guess. You asked what I want to do and the real, honest to God answer is: I have no idea. But if you asked, I would. If you said tomorrow Come back to Brooklyn with me I’d let myself do it and I wouldn’t mind. If you said Let’s go to Brazil or Bengal or Bulgaria, let’s see the world, I’d go. The way we’re both built now we might as well be cursed with immortality like those folks in Tir na nÓg—but I’d let myself grow old somewhere out there and live quietly and maybe help some people if I could before I kicked the bucket, and I don’t think I’d mind that at all if I got to do it with you by my side. I know. I know you won't ask. You never do, not for a single thing you could keep for yourself. But it's a nice thought, sweetheart. It really is. Maybe I can keep it for you.

I’m gonna go the same way as my predecessor and make this an open tag, so if you’re reading this—congrats! You’re tagged! Your words are gentle, burn, breath, control, or you can take the ones I did, or both. Either way, feel free to tag me!

[parakeet]

So very Scotland of us. I love hearing ppl play the bagpipe. I could not live in the city though it’s so busy

[loggiepj]

FORBIDDEN

Part 1

Part 2

It didn't fare well the following day.

Wanda treated the normies as if they weren't there. Y/n suffered far worse fate because she was the only one brave enough to approach the witch, delivering meals to which the woman rejected, offering a tour around the camp seeing the witch was bored, or taking care of the wounds around the witch's wrists she hadn't noticed before, which took almost hours before Wanda finally relented and let Y/n touch her, even when there were wincing and pulling away every time. Y/n guessed Wanda was mainly the reason why the former wasn't sent out to missions yet.

Y/n learned from Pietro that he and Wanda got separated when the Deviants attacked their small town. It was midday when it happened. Wanda was away on a trip to a neighboring place to replenish goods. When she arrived back, little did she know that hunters were already residing in their house.

Pietro was grateful to Y/n for not giving up on finding his sister once the former shared about his worries since he set foot on the camp. Y/n got lucky though, thanked the heavens for listening to her instinct. She was supposed to head back to camp that night she saved Wanda when she heard the commotion.

The new witch still ignored the entire camp and only talked to her brother, albeit short and wary, from time to time. Although, Y/n suspected it was primarily to convince Pietro to leave the camp with her.

While others could tell that Wanda exuded hatred towards Y/n and their lot, Y/n gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Y/n would have regarded her as an asshole for not even thanking her hosts, the ones who actually saved her and put a roof over her head, but Y/n understood what she had gone through. Pietro had told Y/n during his first night at the camp that he thought all normies were awful since he was a kid. Their parents were killed by Deviants. Slaughtered was the term Pietro used. And the normal citizens didn't even attempt to help them.

Pietro admitted he was wrong though. But Wanda hadn't realized that part yet.

Y/n tried to make the female witch feel welcomed, even inviting her to have her meals at the pavilion where every night, the normies would perform a serenade, and witches were welcomed to share their talents, which was surprisingly more, especially one male witch named Peter who knew how to play the bagpipes without sounding like a wildcat was being murdered.

Worried that the Deviants might hear the noise, Wanda gave a small comment about it, making Y/n smile because the witch appeared to be listening to her after all.

Y/n assured Wanda that the Avengers camp were now comprised of normal humans and witches, and they were all bound to protect the camp. That meant the entire camp was surrounded by protection charms enchanted by the witch members. The outside world wouldn't see the place nor hear any sound coming from inside the camp.

Y/n had managed to convince Wanda to come out of her tent on the third night she was there, but when the witch finally saw her other friends who didn't join the movement yet, she immediately left Y/n. At least, Y/n was comforted to know that she wasn't alone anymore. With her brother always away on missions, Wanda had no one else to talk to.

"Hi!"

Y/n jumped from her seat, her cheeks red from getting caught staring at Wanda. She didn't want anyone to find out about her silly crush on a witch who despised her entirely.

"Hey, Layla," Y/n replied with a forced smile, moving to the side so Layla could sit beside her. Layla was also a witch, and had been taking a liking on her since the time Y/n saved the former from the Deviants.

"What are you up to tonight? I think I'm going to sing a song," she said, sitting unreasonably close to the human. "It's dedicated to humans."

"Wow, that's cool," Y/n chimed in, hurriedly finishing her food. When the witch invited Y/n to sing with her, she immediately shook her head. "I... I don't sing."

"Rubbish... It can't be that bad, considering you have a pretty voice." Y/n almost choked on her food. She wasn't dumb. She knew Layla was definitely flirting with her.

In fact, Layla wasn't the only one. Ever since the newcomers found out that Y/n only preferred women, it seemed like some of the female witches were interested to try. And Y/n was too kind to just ignore them, but it didn't mean that she would give up to their advances. It wouldn't hurt to just talk.

Wanda didn't see it that way, of course. To her, Y/n was a womanizer. At first, she figured the normie was a mentor around the camp, always helpful and being looked up to by others.

Through time, the witch noticed that Y/n was only talking to females, ignoring the unexpected turmoil in her stomach. And when she found out from her friends she hadn't seen since the attack that Y/n was into girls, Wanda's distaste for the human only intensified.

Was Y/n trying to flirt with Wanda on their first meeting then? Does Y/n always say those sweet innocent compliments to every female witch she has saved?

Wanda knew Layla. She was their neighbor next town. And every party she had been to through her teenage years, Layla always got what she wanted, even her brother Pietro for a very short period of time. It would be a surprise if she hadn't had Y/n wrapped around her fingers yet.

That was why Wanda wondered when Y/n stood up and hurriedly left when Layla got distracted by her friend.

Where are you going? Wanda thought as her gaze followed Y/n sneakily heading into the woods after leaving the dishes by the kitchen.

The witch still didn't trust humans that much, even when all they ever did show to her was kindness. But she hadn't met any nice human before, making her wonder if the Avengers camp was all an act. Maybe her brother was bewitched. Is that possible? Can a witch be bewitched by humans?

So after bidding goodnight to her friends, excusing herself for still having a headache, she quickly went to follow Y/n.

Y/n hadn't gotten that far yet a million thoughts had crossed Wanda's mind, suspecting Y/n to betray and report to Deviants on the witches' whereabouts, expecting the campfire as their killing ground. Focused on being discreet, Wanda didn't even notice someone else was there when she bumped into her.

"Hello there," another human greeted her, a taller one with a bandana wrapped around her head. "What brings you to my garden?"

Wanda must had looked like a deer caught in a hunt.

"Oh, don't be scared, darling... My name's Pepper, I'm the nurse at Avengers camp... are you new here?" Pepper asked.

The witch immediately nodded and lied, her tongue slipping the words before she even realized it. "I got lost."

"It's okay, newcomers still get lost around here... Come with me, I'll accompany you back to your tent," she said. Wanda let herself be ushered, giving one last look to where Y/n went.

When Y/n had too much of the world, she'd go to her favorite hiding spot just beyond Pepper's botanical garden. At night, she'd lay on the ground and watch the beautiful painting in the sky, twinkling before her. She learned from her father at a young age that earth wasn't the motionless center of the universe, contrary to what her mentors told her at school. That the earth was a planet, one of the planets of the galaxy and they revolved around the sun, which was the nearest star to the earth.

It made Y/n wonder how many planets there were for each star she could see on the sky, thinking if there were also people living in it, and if they had no division between humans and witches like the earth did. If peace even existed somewhere else.

On that night though, Y/n just wanted to get away from Layla. The witch couldn't just take any hint that Y/n didn't want to sleep with her, knowing that last week, Y/n's bestfriend Yelena, told her that Layla slept with Yelena's ex-boyfriend on her first day at the camp. Apparently, it was Layla's objective to bed everyone in the place.

Y/n was her latest target.

What Y/n didn't expect was to be followed by someone as she hurriedly went to her hiding spot. Much less, someone like Wanda. She knew the witch still didn't trust her but she couldn't really blame the woman. Y/n had went through the same things she did.

So while she could still control it, Y/n buried the feelings she had for the witch before it became worse.

She tried though anyway.

The following morning when Y/n went into Wanda's tent to change the dressing of the latter's wounds, Y/n found the tent empty. Not putting much thought about it, she headed to the pavilion to see if the witch was having her breakfast early, but she wasn't also there.

Y/n knew she shouldn't worry, but if the possibility that Wanda had somehow ran away from the camp made her fear for the witch's safety for a second. So much that she didn't even notice the sound of waters splashing around as she walked by the nearby lake, heading to return the medical supplies to Pepper.

There the beautiful witch was, in broad daylight, swimming through the waters with wet skin and hair glistening against the sun. Y/n must had lost it for she didn't immediately realize the expanse of pale skin being shown that Wanda was fully naked until the latter faced the normie behind her, her perky supple breasts bouncing as she moved.

"Shit!" Y/n gasped, her eyes abruptly closing and the supplies falling out of her grasp.

"Are you following me?!" The witch exclaimed, her voice accusing.

"No! Of course not! My apologies! I d-didn't mean to see y-you like this...," Y/n nervously stuttered. "I didn't even know it was you."

She could hear Wanda scoff before her, the sound of the waters told the human that the witch had ascended herself from the surface. "So you spend your morning hours lurking behind bushes just to peep?"

"I wasn't peeping-"

"I know what you are," Wanda interjected, her voice seemed nearer. Y/n heard footsteps against the dirt, knowing the witch was walking towards her.

"Of course, I'm a human-"

"You're an insatiable seducer who have had countless women on their knees. I will not be part of such atrocity."

Is that what Wanda think of her?

Y/n laughed out loud after five seconds of utter silence. Without even opening her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, you're certainly wrong about that... I've never been with anyone since birth."

Y/n heard the witch scoff again. "I find that too hard to believe..."

"Okay, it was a lie, but I haven't been with anyone, serious or not, for years now," Y/n added. "But it's nice to know you thought otherwise."

Wanda glared at the human even when she knew Y/n couldn't see her. "What are you doing here anyway?"

The human suddenly lost her composure as she tried to explain. "I was going to return these to Pepper, seeming that I couldn't find you in your tent earlier."

"Fine," Wanda said. "Get on with it."

"Get on with it? You mean tend to your wounds?"

"Yes, what else?"

Y/n's heart thudded so loud, it was deafening. She could hear scrambling before her but she didn't dare open her eyes.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Wanda exasperatedly called her attention.

Thankfully, when Y/n opened her eyes, Wanda had worn herself an undertunic. But it didn't even make it better when Wanda was still dripping wet before her, and the cloth stuck to her skin, her nipples and other curves visible through the fabric as she sat on a nearby boulder.

Y/n focused on her task as she hurriedly tended to the witch's wound, which was almost healed. It was one of the things Y/n was good at, she could almost be mistaken as Pepper's young apprentice if she wasn't keen on archery. Y/n was careful, treating the wound with delicacy as if Wanda was fragile.

She licked her lips nervously as she dabbed the ointment made by the nurse from the herbs in her garden unto Wanda's reddened skin after cleaning it with myrhh. She could tell Wanda was still wincing from the antiseptic.

"Does it still hurt?" Y/n asked in a soft voice, now wrapping Wanda's wrist with fresh new bandage, her fingers adept as she arranged the cloth around her.

It took Wanda long before she answered. It wasn't because she couldn't hear the normie before her, but because she hadn't expected the close proximity between them.

The witch intended to fool the human, not believing a single thing she had said, even the confession of her not being promiscuous, so she could prove to herself and to every witch there was in the world that humans were deceptive and liars.

But Wanda didn't expect the goosebumps Y/n left on her skin as she tended to her, even the gentleness she portrayed made the witch melt, her breathing ragged but she could always reason out that she had been swimming for hours. She didn't even notice that Y/n's lips were moving, which seemed inviting at the moment as if urging Wanda to lean in.

"It... It doesn't hurt that much," Wanda finally answered.

When Y/n had finished, she smiled then chuckled softly, proud of her work. "Done... It will heal in no time... Hey, we have the same lines on our palms."

"What?" Wanda's eyebrows furrowed, as Y/n held their hands and aligned the palms close together.

"It's a silly belief, actually," Y/n went on. "If the long straight lines ending beneath the ring fingers on the palms of two persons  meet or connect with ease, it is said that they will have a long lasting and strong union..."

Wanda kept silent as she listened attentively, her mind focused on the beautiful sound of Y/n's voice and the touch of her skin against hers, her heart beating at a pace close to fear but also far from it. The witch couldn't decipher what she was feeling. She hadn't felt like this before.

"See?" Y/n's finger gently traced the skin of Wanda's palm heading to hers, like drawing an imaginary line. "A connection... We're basically soulmates..." She chuckled softly, not noticing the flustered state of the witch.

A witch and a human together. That would be quite a scandal. That would raise Wanda's parents from their graves.

Wanda immediately pulled her hand away from the human and stood up. Y/n could tell she had overstepped so she apologized and began arranging the supplies.

"Have you eaten your breakfast yet? Bruce made deer pottage this time." When Y/n looked up, Wanda was nowhere to be found. Her shoulders immediately deflated. At least, she tried.

Y/n's spirit heightened when Yelena came back from their mission later that day, entering the camp with Pietro and more witches they had managed to save from Deviants.

Much to Wanda's displeasure when she saw Y/n and another girl hugging in front of her, as if proving how much of a flirt Y/n was.

"So, who's the girl?" Yelena immediately chided, her face sporting a teasing feature.

"What do you mean?" Y/n remained to act dumb, pretending she was interested on the new weapons her bestfriend had concocted while away.

"You're my bestfriend, Y/n... I can tell when someone has your eyes or even has occupied your mind."

Y/n didn't mean it but when her eyes instinctively drifted to where Wanda was, sitting with her group of friends and Pietro, she was surprised to find the witch already staring at her, abruptly looking down to avoid the human's eyes.

"Ohhh, I can see she's definitely your type," Yelena added, following where Y/n's gaze was at.

"Shut up, she's not-"

"I never thought you're into witches."

Y/n attempted to playfully punch Yelena on her shoulder, to which the latter avoided, ending with her wrapping her arm over the former's shoulder instead. She pulled Y/n with her as they ventured further into the camp. "C'mon, I was only playing with you... Good thing, Layla still had not made you surrender to her reins yet."

Y/n laughed. And they talked more about the mission Yelena had been to, unaware of the daggers Wanda was throwing towards their way.

[asterdisaster06]

i love you ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

ghost x reader [exes], platonic 141 x reader

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

summary > Soap and Gaz shenanigans

word count > 1.9k

warnings > military inaccuracies

a/n > do you guys ever have so many fic ideas but have to limit yourself to two series only? yeah, that’s me and it’s breaking my heart that i can’t keep up with 10 separate ideas

ao3

The sun shining through the military issued curtains warms your sleeping figure as your eyes flutter open - your brain taking a moment to catch up with your eyes viewing your new room. Your new home. It offers you a sense of comfort alongside loneliness at the thought of the pure solitude you were encased in. At your old base, you shared a room with a fellow soldier and someone you were proud to call a friend, but that isn’t the case here. Here, you’ve yet to truly make any official friends, and you're doubtful that the unease you feel even being on base would let you open up enough to be able to. Trust and friendship is something that you would like to keep separate on the field - most soldiers would - but you suppose it also extends into domestic moments. You find it hard to trust someone after one little conversation ended a relationship just like that. 

You shake that thought off like a wet dog to water and push yourself to get up. From what little you remember from the chaos of last night, today was supposedly stealth and sniper training with Gaz. It didn’t trouble you too much considering the connection between Simon and Gaz was a deep trust but nothing beyond simply working together. You had to have that trust with those on your side in this line of work. The job would be ten times more dangerous if you didn’t. You suppose that this training was meant to build that trust between you and the team before an actual mission, but you weren’t entirely sure if you could achieve that with Simon himself.

Brushing your teeth, you stare at the tired figure in front of you. A bruised and battered soul that has never quite healed despite your best efforts, as evidenced by the distinct eye bags and litter of scars across both your skin and heart. Seen and unseen. To the trained eye, you suppose, there was no real difference however. You spit into the sink, letting it run down the drain alongside your emotions. The cabinet holds only the base essentials provided by the base and your medicine that you throw back with a grimace. There was nothing you could truly do to drastically improve your appearance, but you found yourself wishing somehow that you could. You resign yourself to how you look and shake your folded clothes out before throwing them on in preparation for the long day ahead. You mask slips on over your head with such ease that you would

As you lace up your boots with efficiency earned only by doing it repetitively every single day, you hear a knock sound on the door. A gentle thud that almost reminds you of the sound a body makes when it falls to the floor - keyword being almost. A second knock is made just as you reach the door and turn the knob to be greeted with the sight of both Soap and who you assume is Kyle “Gaz” Garrick by his side. 

“Rise and shine, Angel!” Soap yells out, and you can almost hear bagpipes accompanying his excitement if you listen carefully. Then again, you could be imagining it. 

“Training doesn’t start until eight. It’s six,” You point out, your morning voice still fully fledged. If that wasn’t enough to signify your recent throw into consciousness the yawn after your statement should’ve been.

“He wanted to invite you to breakfast at seven, but also insisted on getting here early enough so you couldn’t say no,” Gaz offers up before he’s jabbed in the side by Soap, much to your amusement. 

“I’ll join you guys for breakfast,” You begin, already seeing the start of a grin making its way across Soap’s face. “But, only if you guys join me for my morning run beforehand.”

“Oh, how hard could it be? I bet I could beat you around the compound, Gaz,” Soap teases. 

. . .

Soap would soon eat his words, and dirt, as he ended up tripping over air twice on the run. Although, he insists there was a rock that you didn’t see that was out for him. Unsurprisingly, despite the little mishaps at the beginning of the jog, your two future comrades kept up decently with your pace. You suppose they had to if they were able to make it all the way up the ladder into this team. 

“How is Soap more clumsy than you, Gaz, but somehow you’re the one that fell out of a helicopter?” You mutter under your breath, realizing your mistake as soon as the words escaped your mouth. 

“How did you know that story, love?” Gaz asks, wiping sweat off his face with the back of his hand. 

“Word gets around,” You reply quickly. Not a complete lie. It just so happens that word got around from Simon mentioning small, insignificant details about his teammates on missions. Ones that made you laugh way back when. 

“Imagine being known only for falling out of a chopper,” Soap teases, nudging Gaz. 

“Very funny. At least my hair is regulation standard,” Gaz says, tussling the mohawk of the Scot. Almost like brothers, you notice. 

“Oi, lay off you div,” Soap says, his scotticism slipping out. 

“I’ll meet you guys for breakfast after a shower,” You say, giving a stretch and a big yawn afterwards.

“Just don’t get lost,” Gaz offers as he waves farewell. It appears that Soap has been spreading stories about your unfortunate meeting circumstances. 

“Aye, we’ll save you a seat, LT,” Soap grins with an exaggerated salute. 

You roll your eyes with a soft smile painted across your face as you turn to head back towards your living quarters. The dimly lit room offered a muted sense of comfort; although, you were itching to get some pops of color into the bland room. You’d have to check with Price to see how much you could change - considering you were contracted for five years, it would be likely that there was more leeway than usual. Especially given your position, but that could just be the fact your old roommate and you constructed a colorful, sentimental place you were proud to call home. It elicited a faint pang of homesickness within you. You’d have to call sometime soon to update them. 

Making sure the door was definitely closed behind you first, you slip off the light mask. Its design reminded you of the weeks leading up to the completion of its construction. You had a few of your fellow teammates to thank for their arts and crafts help - although you suspect that they would rather thank you for the creative outlet. You just consider the fact that all the crayons were accounted for and un-eaten a success. It has become a part of you now, whether you wanted it or not. There was something symbolic about the bird-like nature of its design; perhaps you wished you had wings of your own to escape the hurt. However, that’s more of a therapist's take on what actually occurred. 

It was more of an inside joke whenever you were a recent hire to your previous base. There was a mission or two that required you to take a position as a lookout. A bird had started chirping and cawing in your ear, sending extreme confusion over the commsat your attempts to get it to shoo. It was something that your team laughed about after the fact, saying that the bird life chose you. Ergo, your mask reflected the appearance of your feathered friends. The idea of your callsign being reflected in the feathery appearance also made it feel fitting. 

You shed your comfortable yet cold clothes and step into the warmth of the shower water, letting it run down your frame into the drain. If you stared long and hard enough at the floor, you could’ve sworn that it held a pink tint. It was a simple hallucination, but it had been real at one point in your life. You choose to close your eyes, focusing on the feelings of your hands running across scars - old and new. Your past life never held these marks, evidence of your suffering. Simon was the only one decorated with the physical damage appearing on his skin a few years ago, but you’ve accumulated more than your fair share of healed wounds.

You wash away those thoughts alongside the sweat and suds down the drain, making way for the amour surrounding your heart. The roughness of the towel as you dry yourself grounds you to reality. You actively avoid looking at the mirror, refusing to look at your scarred appearance that Simon would lose his mind over, as you get dressed. Breakfast wasn’t something that you indulged in as much anymore, not when it was no longer shared with the hugs from behind as Simon stole a piece of bacon. The very thought pained you to your core. You covered it up, swept it under the rug, in a very similar fashion to you disguising your appearance by the mask. 

You exit your room, making sure to lock it behind yourself. The beasts cage. You wander the halls until you reach the canteen, quickly scanning the room until your eyes settle on Soap. Or rather, the man beside him. Ghost. There was something about him that had changed from the person you once knew, besides the obvious appearance and behavior due to the environment. Or maybe, just maybe, you never knew him after all. You refuse to believe that you knew the real him, and the real Simon had truly tossed you to the side that easily. It wasn’t something you were willing to accept. Not yet. Not ever.

“Oi, over here Lieutenant!” 

There goes your sense of peace and internal argument over whether you could slip out unnoticed and effectively ghost this entire interaction. Your inner turmoil is only heightened by the fact that the choice was made for you - that and the fact that you’re now being perceived by the entire room as you make the walk of shame over to the table. All the eyes on you make it difficult to feel at ease. Even with your mask disguising that particular emotion paired with a heavy wince, your body language undoubtedly exuded your nervous nature. 

You trudge over to the table as the group all gives you their own greetings. You have an inkling that Soap had dragged all of the members here for breakfast as a sort of meeting for you. It’s incredibly hard for you to believe that both Price and Ghost were here willingly. 

“Goodmorning, Bonnie!” Soap says, the chipper in his voice making you wince slightly.

“Morning, little birdie,” Gaz calls out, seemingly taking a shine to that new nickname.

“Lieutenant,” Is all Price offers up. 

Although, it’s more than the intense stare and grunt you got from Ghost. You’re not entirely sure if you’re more offended or relieved by that. You pull one of the chairs out and take a seat near Soap and Gaz. It appears that they weren’t lying about saving you a seat, much to your surprise. On top of that, someone here - you suspect Soap - grabbed you a tray so you could avoid the line. It warmed your heart, a smile sent towards Soap. It’s times like these that you thank past you for constructing the mask in a way that your mouth is exposed enough to speak and eat. 

“Hey, Ghost. Have you ever thought about having your mask like that?” Soap pipes up.

“No. I already have enough of my face exposed with the eyes,” He replies gruffly. 

“Ah, I suppose that’s true. Angel does have their eyes covered. It’s kinda like the opposite of your mask,” Soap mentions. 

A simple hum from the man across the table is all you received. It’s all you or anyone else at the table received the entire time you spent eating with the team. Despite the small talk and inside jokes being created right in front of your eyes. It was so odd, sitting there right in front of the man you used to wake up next to, and him not knowing a single thing. Never noticing. These thoughts plagued you into a simple quiet as you listened to Soap explaining what “mountain chickens” were to Gaz - much to his confusion. The absurdity of the completely domestic circle of fellow soldiers sharing breakfast made you smile, if only slightly. All of it came to an end eventually as each individual had something to busy themselves with throughout the day. 

“Well, better not waste any time,” Gaz exclaims, offering you a hand up that you graciously accept. 

“Up and at ‘em soldier,” Soap adds. 

You were looking forward to the hand to hand combat training against these two. It was a formality but nonetheless you stirred at the opportunity to exhibit your abilities against both men. Prove yourself in some way or another. Maybe even prove to yourself that you do in fact deserve to be here - despite the words ringing in your ears as an echo of Simon Riley claiming you didn’t. Never would. Well, you would prove him wrong. Starting today. Not five years ago - starting today - because now he could see you. You could show him beyond a doubt that you had improved enough to earn a spot on the renowned team. Alongside him - even if he wouldn’t know it. Not yet.

-

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