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icewazowski · 2 years

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REQUIEM [Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley]

01| Bolivia

18+ MDNI!!!!!

cw: canon typical violence, smut, no protection used, semi-public sex, dominant simon riley, degrading, power play, size kink.

an: tall man in a skull mask goes crazy after he sees you for the first time in two years

Crowds gathered in the streets of La Paz for the annual Día de los Muertos parades. They wore skull masks, some were caricatures of what a skull was supposed to anatomically appear to be, whereas others adorned sugar skull murals painted across their faces as they paid respects. It was, definitely, one of the most beautiful celebrations I had ever witnessed internationally. I admired how they took the time to remember and respect their dead in a manner that wasn't depressing and as solemn as other countries did.

A float with a giant skeleton sat atop it appeared on the brow of the hill, and I noticed the little shack at the back of it. That's where I needed to be. I observed the crowds for a few more minutes, and then looked down at my outfit.

While it wasn't wholly practical, it helped me fit in. The plum dress reached just above my knees as I walked down the steps, the material was cinched at my waist by a black, leather corset, and the dress exposed my shoulders as the neckline was straight across my shoulders. My hair was half-up and half down as it flowed across my back, hiding the tattoo which traipsed down my spine, and I wore a half skull mask over my eyes. The sugar skull design was one I'd bought from a stall I'd passed a few hours ago, the enchanting woman had offered it across to me, referring to me as Gringa, the last thing Alejandro had once called me two years prior.

Since then, I had been working for the Americans, specifically, the Marines on a top-secret reconnaissance mission, one which only people with the highest level of clearance were privy to. I, along with two other Marines, had been tasked with intelligence gathering regarding a female SAS operator who was rumoured to be in the country. Her name was Sarah Smith, a boring name if you ask me, and she looked as boring as her name. Nothing about her profile screamed killer, and part of me wondered as I read over the file, if she was my fucking replacement. But, as I checked her skills, it just confirmed it. They wasted no time whatsoever in replacing me, and I hoped that I'd be able to return back. Though, as the months turned into years, I didn't really want to go back.

I'd settled into the 'States nicely, made some good friends, made some even better friends with benefits, and my previous life did not exist, as far as I was concerned. No one asked me about it, because none of them cared. Don't dwell on the past, sort of thing. I also had a dog now, one that I'd named Simpson, after Alex, and I wondered how his dog was doing, if he'd renamed it after finding out about what happened. Or what Ghost thought had happened.

Speaking of Ghost, he didn't exist, either. Our intelligence on him was non-existent, and we had intelligence on everyone and everything that breathed. But Ghost's file was blank, as though it never existed. I wondered if my SAS file was empty now, or if I was on some briefing item to gain intel on so that they could organise a plan to have me executed. Either way, I didn't care. Working alone was great, I liked the freedom it gave me. The only real downside was not being able to have someone watch your back, but that was something that I remedied by being on alert at all times, sure it was fucking exhausting, but I made it work.

The crowd of people walked towards me, as I trudged through them. My hand clasped my purse tight to my side, the firearm and mobile inside were heavy, but they were my only insurance here. I didn't know where the other two Marines were, and I only had a photo of either of them. If it went tits up, badly, then I had a mobile number I could text, and they'd descend on my position as though I'd just offered them oil or something.

I wrapped my hands around the railing at the rear of the float, and clambered onto the slowly moving vehicle. Día de los Muertos was the perfect place for a ghost to hide, and I fit right in. My body moved to the shack, where I was supposed to be meeting the contact at... well, right now. I shoved the door open, and was met with a man in a suit, his back was to me as he looked out the window to the people who followed the float.

"Scarecrow?" I asked him the code-word, for some reason, someone decided to make it Batman villain themed, and so the answer I was expecting was another character.

He turned to face me, "Bane." he responded, and gestured across to one of the two chairs in the room. I took the one closest to the door, and slumped down into it. When he sat in the chair I took in his appearance. A burnt orange dress shirt, one that had been rolled up at the arms to reveal two heavily tattooed arms, sat across his broad chest, and I tried not to stare at the scar on the left-hand side of his jaw which peeped from beneath the skull mask he wore. It was one of those masks you'd see airsoft players wearing, a tactical, angry looking skull mask. He wore jeans, the well fitting pair of denim clung to his muscular thighs, and he looked like the sort of person you wouldn't want to mess with, not in a million years.

He pulled his chair before me, and his hazel eyes looked oddly familiar. Or maybe he just had those sorts of eyes people recognised. "Do you have what I want?" he asked me, and the moment he spoke more than one word, was the moment my eyes subtly widened and my heart-rate sped up. He didn't realise it was me, as far as he knew, I was dead, and I'd died with him hating me.

I rifled through my bag until I found the thumb-drive, and I placed it in my open palm across for him, my bag returned to my lap, and hitched my skirt up. "Here it is, now, you hold up your end of the bargain." I responded, and disbelief crossed his face. One that said, it can't be her, she's deadbut didn't quite believe it. He pulled the side of his blazer open, and his hand dipped into the silk material. He pulled free another thumb-drive and handed it across to me. "I best get going,"

The necklace around my neck burned as I stood up, and I couldn't believe that I was stood in front of Ghost, and that I still had my necklace on, the one thing most people could identify me by. As I moved to the door, his hand encased my wrist, "What, and I don't get to see your face first?" he asked threateningly. He knew, he definitely knew. I felt the bruise appear in my wrist, and I managed to yank it free before I set off in a sprint out of the shack.

My feet hit unsteady ground when I launched myself into the crowd, and I set off into a side-street with him following me further into the alleyway. I couldn't let him know it was me, I just couldn't let him confirm it, because God knows what sort of target I'd be putting on myself if he relayed the message to other soldiers, to Laswell, I'd be done for. The bounty on my head would be exponential as I knew the ins and outs of how the SAS worked. I knew more than what they wanted me to know, and if the information got into the wrong hands, there'd be a war.

I vaulted through an open window, and trod on floral displays from within the interior of the family home, luckily no one was in, and I ran through the front door into the street filled with people. The growing crowd was good, it would provide me camouflage to escape from the man who'd want me dead or arrested. My pace slowed to a brisk walk, and my collar bones heaved with every shallow, exerted breath I took. I noticed a lone child, and held her hand as I walked alongside her in the street parade.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw him burst through the door, the mask scanned everywhere, and I knew he'd seen me. He set off into a sprint, his legs moved quicker than I think I'd ever seen the gangly fucker move, and he shoved people to the side to get to me. Sweat coated his neck and prickled at his armpits as he forced his way through the crowd, and I wasted no time in shoving the small child out of the way of the bulldozer that was Simon Riley.

No one seemed to care that he was chasing me, and I knew better than anyone how to cause a panic. My hand wrapped around my pistol in my purse, and I aimed it upwards to the sky before I pulled the trigger three times. And, it fucking worked. The crowd dispersed in a flurry of fear as they star busted in different directions into the night, their eyes were cast to the sky as fireworks exploded, and I pushed my way through to a nearby back alley.

This mission, was supposed to be simple. A matter of getting in, trade the device, and then fucking leave. It was not supposed to end up with me being chased through a Capital City during one of the busiest and most populated days of the year. But, like always, things never went to plan for me, and I had to think of an exit strategy. The roofs.

My legs pushed onwards, now completely healed from the trauma I had endured, and I approached the darkened alley. No light shone from inside it, and it got me wondering if it was a dead end, yet another place for me to be trapped as Simon Riley got what he wanted once a-fucking-gain. I couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't take my pride, not this time.

As I sprinted through the alley, my fears were confirmed, it was a dead end. Shit. I looked around so quick I nearly broke my neck, and his footsteps were fast approaching and I was running out of time. I need more time.

There was a fire escape above me, one that I could reach if I used the nearby windowsill to propel myself from, and I made the attempt. My body swung free, and my hands gripped the bottom of the fire escape, but I was too late. Simon's tattooed arms wrapped around my waist as he tackled me to the ground. Landing hard on the cobbles, I laid on my back as I watched the fireworks explode in the sky, which was quickly replaced by the mask he wore, until he pulled it from his face.

His knees were planted either side of my hips as he straddled my smaller frame with his excruciatingly large one, his entire weight was on my middle as I was left with no idea of how to get out from under him. Sure, I'd been trained in it, but the minute my eyes met his through my mask, I couldn't find it in myself to get free. Where would I even go? It's not like I could run around all night with a titan chasing me, I'd tire out before he did, and we both knew that. And, if I hid anywhere, he'd fucking find me. He's got a taste of me, and now he's practically a blood hound.

His hands were either side of my head, and he leant down to get a better look at me whilst my chest burned for air in the dress I wore. I hadn't even realised it had been dragged down to just above my bra until his eyes flitted to my cleavage, the sheen of sweat making them look more desirable than without the added moisture. "Take it off." he said, his voice commanding as he puffed for air.

My eyes stared back at him blankly. I slowly blinked, "The dress?" I replied cockily.

"The mask. Take it off, Spencer." He spat my name out like it had caused a bad taste to bloom across his tastebuds. He didn't wait for a reply, because he just removed it himself and threw it down onto the cobbled behind me. "You're supposed to be dead,"

I averted my eyes from his, "Don't call me that," I brushed off the use of my name, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. As much as he hated me, I grew to dislike him. I thought I meant more to him than when he'd just left my body there as he perceived me to be dead. I thought he cared for me, and you don't walk away from people you care for unless they are literally six feet under the earth.

"You're supposed to be dead," he repeated.

Without thinking, I brought my legs up so they were bent at the knee and thrusted his weight upwards, which caused him to brace himself against me using his arms. My fist came down hard on the interior angle of his elbow, and folded his balance to one side before I rolled the other way and onto all fours. I started to run again, but he pounced on me, his arms wrapped around my ankles, and I landed hard on the ground. "Well," I started, out of breath as I was winded, "It is Día de los Muertos," I told him.

He tugged my body so that I was laid nearly completely under his, "Everyone thinks you died." Ghost said. His breath was hot on my ear, and I found that familiar feeling burrow into my abdomen as I wanted to give myself to him on a platter. But I still strongly disliked him. He must be at least 34 by now, depending on when his birthday was. I'd lost four months in that coma, and yet Ghost didn't give a shit to even bother make it up. And then we lost two years when he decided to leave me to die alone. "Kyle was inconsolable," he added, and I knew what he was trying to do.

The words pierced through the feeling of lust, and the blade of his words twisted in my stomach. I brought my elbow backwards into his ribs, "Don't you dare bring Kyle into this." I growled. His body shifted to the side as he now laid on his back, and I wasted no time in mounting him. He was built like a tree trunk, to the point where I couldn't properly straddle him because my knees wouldn't reach the ground on both sides. I felt something hard rub against my inner thigh, and I bit back the airy gasp that threatened to escape my lips, "You left me to die!" I accused.

"Because you fucking betrayed me." his brows were furrowed, and I could map out his entire face by memory at this point, not that I would though, because I didn't want to remember the moment when we'd been close enough to do this. "You don't get to twist this around and make me the bad guy,"

His arms were either side of him, and I grappled with him until they were above his head in my grip, "I did what I had to do so that you could all survive!" my voice was raised as my body was nearly flush with his. My breasts brushed against his tight chest, and I guarantee he could probably see them in full if he looked hard enough, "You don't understand what I did that day."

"Other than kill your fiancé in cold blood?" he asked, and bucked his hips beneath me.

I sighed at the feeling of his body on mine, his hard length pressed into the place I wanted him most, "Ex-Fiancé." I corrected him, and tried to readjust my position so as to not work myself up and fall into the clutches of fucking him. "Speaking of exes, I guess since you want to fuck Sarah, we're officially over."

His eyes hardened, and he moved his body so that his erection was pressed against my clothed cunt once again, "We're not over." he stated coldly. I let go of his wrists for a second, but a second was longer than what he needed, because he managed to roll over until his legs were between mine and I was pressed to the floor under him. His eyes were dark now, and he looked as though he was about to stab me right here and now, "You're mine." he growled.

I expected a knife to plunge into my ribs, but instead, Ghost rolled his hips into mine, the friction caused my eyes to roll backwards slightly at the thought of how turned on we both were from this whole arguing and mutual-hatred thing we had ongoing, "Sir," I whined, completely out of habit. My eyes checked the alley for any lingering people, but found the streets to be empty as the night crawled in and the midnight hour dawned on us.

"Louder," he commanded, and rolled his hips into mine again, "I want the locals to hear you,"

His hand wrapped gently around my throat as his other held his bodyweight from crushing me completely, his hips rolled into mine again, and the seam of his jeans hit the nervous bud of pleasure at the apex of my cunt in a way that made me feral, "Ghost!" I gasped loudly. Wetness pooled from between my legs and soaked my underwear at the friction he was causing the pair of us to endure. I just wanted him, and then I wanted him gone.

Ghost hitched my dress up until the hem of it sat across my stomach and my lower half was completely visible. I couldn't believe we were doing this in the middle of an alleyway, where anyone could walk up and see this explicit display of dominance from the man I once loved and now despised. He withdrew himself from me, his eyes trailed down my body until he stared right at the slick which coated my underwear, "You're so fucking wet, baby." the words he spoke ingrained on my brain, and only added to the wetness between my legs, "You have no idea how much I need you," he mumbled loud enough for me to hear, and I could see him as he ran his hand along the tent in his jeans.

I pulled my dress back down and pulled my legs up in front of my chest, "You infuriate me." I said, exasperated. "You fucking left me to die alone, you abandoned me!" I yelled. Luckily, there was no one nearby, otherwise he'd end up spending a night in a cell whilst I answered questions from the Bolivian Police. "You let me bleed out, without giving a shit." I confronted, and went to slap him.

Instead, he caught my wrist with ease, "Only because you sided with Graves!" he argued back, "I sat there doused in petrol whilst you fucked him in front of me," he accused, and I had to laugh at the audacity of what he'd just said.

"Oh yeah? Did it get you all worked up watching someone else touch me?" I played along with the idea in his head, and I knew he would want to tear my throat out by the time this whole thing was over, there was no way he wouldn't, "Knowing you were all tied up whilst my ex-fiancé claimed what was his?

He shoved me backwards, and I landed on my back again. The cobbles were uncomfortable underneath my spine, and I noticed how many stars there were tonight in the sky. There must have been tonnes more that what I saw in Virginia. Ghost crawled atop of me, his body encased mine as he towered over me with his large stature. I couldn't decide if I wanted to let in to my deepest desires and fuck him right here, in the middle of an alleyway, or if I wanted to push him off me and carry on arguing.

His thumb pressed against my eyebrow, which had collided into the floor as I fell, and he brought it away, slick with crimson blood. He didn't bother to look at it as he brought it to his lips and sucked on the digit, tasting the liquid which flowed throughout me. I couldn't believe this, it felt so... bizarre. And, when he pulled his thumb away, he lowered his lips to the cut, the soft pillowy surface wrapped around the wound, and he sucked gently.

Whilst uncertain about what the fuck this was that was happening, and whether or not this was some weird hallucination, I moaned. Ghost's knee was pressed against my cunt, and I didn't even realise what I was doing until he pointed it out, "Such a pretty whore, look at you getting off on my thigh," he practically purred, and it was a sound I hadn't heard Ghost make, like ever. But I couldn't complain, because the way he did it made me rut my cunt into his jeans even more.

I whimpered as the friction built up, the wetness had saturated the material between my cunt and his thighs, which made the rubbing against him a whole lot easier, "Touch me, please," I whined at him.

A wicked smirk crossed his lips as he heard the start of my begs, oh how I'd played into his hand. In fact, I was practically eating whatever he fed me, I was blindly succumbing to his advances despite promising myself I would no longer approach him, no longer think of him, and move the fuck on. But I couldn't, and I hated myself for even wanting to fuck him, and to beg him to touch me? Jesus Christ, I wasn't fooling anyone. "Beg for me, baby," he groaned at the friction I caused between us.

Rather than give in so easily, I pulled my breasts free of the dress I wore, and pinched my already hardened nipples, the pink buds of nerves twinged something deep inside me, and ignited a dangerously hot lust inside my body, one that only Simon 'Ghost' Riley could put out. "Please, touch me sir, I need you so bad," I whined, my brain cringed in its lust-hazed state that I'd even dare to say something like that to a man who'd left me bleeding out.

"Good girl," he said, and I felt him remove himself from where I wanted to grind against. Instead, he pulled my underwear down, and pulled his own jeans down so that his hairy thigh was exposed into the night sky. He wore black boxers, as always, and they strained against his erection which looked painfully hard right now. He discarded my underwear to the side and looked at my glistening cunt, the glaze on it reflected in the light of the fireworks which still burst into the night, "I only want you, Fury," he said, and I thought back to this boring Sarah chick. The thought of someone else claiming him as theirs sickened me.

His thumb pressed into my clit, the feeling of added pressure made sounds of pleasure escape my lips, "You can only have me," I warned him. He drew sloppy, lazy circles into the bundle of nerves, and brought his meaty thigh back into contact with my cunt, "I'm the only one you need." I told him through half lidded eyes as I tried to maintain a rhythm against his

"When I'm fucking her, all I can think about is you," he grunted as I clenched my dripping hole on nothing. He sped up the movements of his thumb, the angles it cast across the bundle of nerves was more precise, more deadly as he worked in tight circles. If I wasn't so painfully enjoying this, I would be pissed off. Sure, I'd had my fair share of one night stands, but that's all they were. They didn't mean anything to me, they just satisfied a need, and after they'd given me that, they were gone. It never extended past one night.

I thought about my contact in the Metropolitan Police, if she knew about her. I wanted to ruin Sarah smith until she was dishonestly discharged for whatever the fuck I could find on her. Hell, if she had a parking offence she hadn't declared on her history checks, I would run her into the ground with it until she cried her eyes out and begged for a bullet.

My breath hitched in my throat as my orgasm built, "You are the bane of my existence," I told him.

Our bodies were dangerously close now. He towered over me, his face looked down at me whilst I laid looking up, his hands had encased my hips, and I could see the way his pupils dilated when he looked at me. My core begged for him in a way I hadn't desired someone in years. I wanted him inside me, I wanted to fuck him until my mind went blank, but at the same time he was so infuriating. And to think, after all this he'd return to Sarah as though nothing had happened.

He didn't say a word, instead his lips met mine in an angry, passionate kiss as he sought to reinstate the dominance he once felt. His hand was on the back of my neck and pulled me into his face, and I couldn't just stay on my back, so, instead, I sat up on my elbows, and allowed him to close the distance between us. Now, his length was pushed directly against my clothed entrance, and he ground down into me to work both of us up.

I moaned against him, my mind cast backwards to the last time we'd been intimate, how it was the same night I'd been awarded my Victoria Cross and my promotion, and now I was legally dead. "Sir," I moaned into his lips, the sound muted as he forced his tongue into my mouth. The muscle invaded my privacy, it forced its way into my mouth and fought my own tongue for dominance whilst he continued to roll his hips into mine.

A blinding daze crashed into my body as my orgasm hit, and my eyes rolled back into my head whilst he continued his circles. I couldn't think straight, and I didn't even attempt to silence my cries of pleasure, not even when Ghost said, "Such a pathetic whore," to me.

I whimpered into him, my arms held me up as I allowed him to touch me in ways I hadn't been touched in so long. He dipped his middle finger into my entrance, and plunged it deep inside of me. The lewd sounds of my juices coating his fingers was enough to cause a blush to creep up on my face as I breathlessly moaned.

He rocked his fingers into me, and it felt painfully claustrophobic, "You're so tight," he observed and continued to pump the digits in and out of my heat. I felt the muscles contract around him, clenching against his fingers as they built up to my premature second orgasm. And to think, I hadn't even seen his cock yet.

When I was close to my second orgasm, Ghost withdrew his fingers and watched as my hole clenched down around nothing, "So needy," he patronised, "You're clenching around nothing,"his voice was deviously low as he mocked me. I tilted my chin down, embarrassed that he'd even point that out, "Look at me when I talk to you," he said, his hands slicked with my pleasure tilted my chin upwards, and he popped his saturated thumb into my mouth, "Taste yourself," he instructed. And I did exactly that, my eyes constantly on him as I lapped every last bit of my taste from his digit.

He used his other hand to free his swelling cock from his boxers, the length sprung free and stood extended from him. I'd forgotten how big it actually was, how the girth had made my holes feel the morning after he'd fucked me for the first time, how I'd walked with a limp for a good day and a half.

My mouth watered, and he removed his thumb from my mouth, "Can I ride you?" I asked him as innocently as I possibly could. The moment I said it, he just pulled me onto him. He lowered himself to the ground so that his back was on the cobbles whilst he couldn't decide what the prettier sight of the night was, the fireworks, or me using him for my own pleasure.

His hands moved towards the base of his cock, the light springs of pubic hair tickled my legs as I tried to get comfortable under him, but I couldn't properly straddle him without losing my balance, we both knew that. He moved the tip of his cock to my entrance, the tip was already leaking that sweet sappy liquid I wanted to taste, and he held it in place whilst I lowered myself onto it.

My hand splayed across his abdomen, the muscles beneath the shirt rippled as he tensed them responding to my touch. I wanted nothing more than to be completely naked with him, for that skin-on-skin contact I'd never felt from him. One of us had always been in clothes, and when we were both fully naked, he never touched me.

Groans and gasps tumbled from my lips as I allowed his length to stretch my holes fully, the pain sprung tears into my eyes as I reacquainted myself with his cock, allowing it to fill me up as he once had years ago. "You're so, fucking, tight, Fury," he groaned, his head rolled backwards at the warmth which encased his pulsating cock.

"You're the biggest I've," I gasped as I prematurely slammed my hips into his, "had," I finished my sentence as I tried to recover from the feeling of pain which bled across me.

He brought his right hand so that it was beneath his skull, protecting him from the floor as his muscles rippled and constrained against the shirt they were prisoner to. I noticed the new sleeve in more detail now, the art was something he must have gotten when I'd been declared dead, and on it was a knife. My old Zombie Knife, my eyes were inside the blade, not my entire face, just my eyes and my eyebrows. The rest of the scene, I didn't care for. Because the thought he'd gotten that in tribute of me was enough to cause a primal, nurturing feeling to bleed through me.

He groaned in pleasure as I attempted to bounce on his cock. With every bounce, I felt our skin slap together, and the slickness to expand across his hips. My breasts heaved in the cool night air, and the scent of pyrotechnic smoke invaded my nostrils as I fucked myself using Ghost's thick cock. The sound of my pleasure crudely sloshing against his white-hot body was a sound I wanted to play over and over again.

My actions became sloppy as I struggled to maintain a pace he was satisfied with, and I got caught up with trying to satisfy myself at having something to clench down on, that Ghost propped himself up on his hands, his face reached mine from the angle he sat at, and he rolled his hips into me, his shoes slipped on the wet cobbles so that he could grind into me easier as he ravaged me. He carried on rolling his hips for what felt like a fucking eternity, "Touch yourself, show me how much you need me," he husked, his breaths plumed into speech bubbles in the frigid night air, and if his eyes were focused on my bouncing tits, I'd have pulled the dress up to preserve my body heat.

I wasted no time in bringing my middle finger to the sweet bud at the top of my dripping cunt, where I lazily traced circles on the swollen appendage. My head rolled backwards from the pleasure I gave myself as Ghost maintained his pace, his muscular arms controlled the rhythm as he bucked his hips into mine as he slid across the floor back and forth over and over until I felt my dripping hole momentarily clench around his pulsating cock. I was so close, and he knew it from the amount of appraisal which fumbled from his parted lips as he recklessly ploughed into me.

"Such a good girl," he cooed, his pace quickened as I rutted into him, my cunt had completely clenched around his mouth-watering length, and I couldn't hold back the sounds of pleasure which fell from my mouth, the crude sounds of approval as I allowed him to fuck into me, to use me until he hit his own peak. And, when he did, I felt his warm pleasure fill me up, the hot, ropes of cum dripped from my cunt onto his crotch whilst I remained on top of him, "I'm all yours," he promised.

I'm all yours I repeated the phrase in my mind. It was something primal, possessive, something that Ghost would abide blindly by, "You're mine," I replied, my voice airy as I gasped through my comedown from the waves of pleasure which had just wreaked havoc on me. The way I felt towards him now, was something dangerous, something that caused me have every waking thought filled with him, but we were on opposing sides, our causes worked against each-other. We were naturally sworn enemies.

I pulled myself off him, his cock lolloped onto his stomach as the cum smeared across the orange fabric of the shirt he wore, and I readjusted my dress. There was no point putting my underwear back on, he'd thrown it somewhere in the dark alley, and I wasn't exactly in the best of circumstances to be crawling around on my hands and knees whilst I looked for them, "If I see you again, Ghost," I said, and flattened the plum fabric down around my body in an attempt to hide the creases of where it had been hitched up, "I won't be so kind as to not kill you." I warned.

"Ditto," he replied instantly, and a cool rush of blood swarmed from my heart to my brain at the weight that word held. "I won't be too kind on you next time." he promised, and I couldn't tell whether me meant in regards to fucking me, or in regards to sparing my life.

A wicked grin split across my face, "I look forward to it," my voice was a bit too husky for my liking, but I couldn't complain. I had just fucked him, and it felt good.

But for now, Sarah Smith, wherever you are in Bolivia, I will find you, and I will fucking ruin you.

#simon riley x oc #simon riley #cod mw22 #cod mwii #smut #simon riley smut

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mlwritersguild · 2 years

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The Spirit of Competition, by @2manyfandoms2count

AO3 link; Childhood Friends, Halloween Costumes, Fluff, Pre-Canon, Rivalry, Identity Reveal, Multichapter

Summary:

Marinette Dupain-Cheng isn't one to take a competition idly, especially not when it comes to costume design. When she meets a worthy competitor, she decides she can let one defeat slide... But she'll be damned if she lets him win the whole war.

Three years, three Halloween costume contests: who of Adrien and Marinette will come out victorious?

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"Come on, Maman, quickly!" The little girl pulled on her mother's hand, drawn to the exhibition hall's entrance like a moth to a flame. Her mother chuckled as she tried to keep up, graciously side-stepping a puddle her daughter jovially jumped into. In her excitement, she hit the front of her red and black polka-dotted boots on a crack in the pavement, and would have sprawled onto the ground had her mother not scooped her in her arms at the last minute.

“Whoopsy daisy! Be careful where you put your feet, Marinette, you don’t want to dirty your pretty costume now!” she said, gently placing her daughter on the ground.

Marinette pouted as she readjusted her antennae headband, which had fallen out of place in the process, before checking to see if her wings had been damaged. Satisfied that they hadn’t, she insistently held out her hand again for her mother, fighting the urge to run off towards the crowd. On the one hand, she was confident that she could weave her way through the dense queue of people that stood before them, on the other hand, she was slightly afraid of being alone on the other side of the doors.

She huffed as they joined the admissions queue, which seemed a thousand miles long to her little four-year-old self.

“We’re going to miss it,” she grumbled, tugging at her polka-dotted dress.

“I promise that we won’t.” Her mother squeezed her hand, amused by Marinette’s annoyance.

The only thing on Marinette’s mind for the last two weeks had been the Halloween costume contest. She’d come home from school one day with stars in her eyes and a brochure in her hand, babbling about the event organised by the Mairie de Paris. She’d changed costume ideas about once a day, before finally settling for a Ladybug, a winner’s outfit if there ever was one; with her head to toe polka-dotted outfit, complete with antennae and wings, she didn’t feel like she needed any luck, but she still hadn’t chosen to be a Ladybug for nothing.

Her eyes scanned the crowd of competitors, landing on a blond boy who looked like he could have been in her class. He was wearing a black cat costume, which she instantly knew was good . She wasn’t sure what exactly it was about it, but something told her that it hadn’t been found in a costume shop, like most of the other kids around them.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she sized him up, not registering her mother’s reassuring words as she noticed her daughter’s worry.

There was something about him that drew her to him, although she couldn’t quite pinpoint what exactly; was it his excitement, which seemed to match her own? Or maybe his smile, that made him look like he’d be a great friend?...

She wished her friend Nino were there; he was always good at telling if people were nice or not. Maybe she could find out for herself, though…

“Look, the line’s moving!” her mother pointed out, snapping her back to attention. Skipping in anticipation, the cat boy was soon a million miles away from her thoughts as they crossed the threshold of the building. She marvelled at the size of the room, and all the stalls promising toys and candy galore. The exploration would have to wait until after the contest, though.

The line progressed again, and soon enough, they were in front of a registration booth.

“Hi there, I’m Sabine Cheng, and this is my daughter, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette’s mother said to the employee, who nodded, before sliding them a contestant number and allowing them inside.

Sabine pinned it to the front of her daughter’s costume (Marinette refused to have it on her back, so as not to conceal her wings), then took her hand to go and stand in another line leading to the costume contest stage. The wait was a lot shorter than to get in the building, and just like that, Marinette found herself standing on stage in front of the judges, feeling suddenly very shy as the lights shined on her.

“A Ladybug? Very original costume choice!” complimented one of the judges, a kind-looking lady sporting a giant witch hat with a twinkle in her eye.

Marinette smiled brightly, her confidence back, and twirled.

“Lovely!” A vampire judge applauded.

“Thank you very much, young lady,” said the third judge, a mummy. “You can go and sit down, the results will be in soon.”

Marinette skipped down the stairs and into her mother’s arms, babbling excitedly.

“You were amazing, my love,” Sabine said, kissing her forehead. “Now, let’s go and sit down.”

Marinette fidgeted nervously on her folding chair as the rest of the line paraded in front of the jury, biting her tiny nails even though Sabine tried to prevent her from doing it.

Finally, the last contestant stepped on stage, and Marinette gasped; it was the boy she’d seen earlier in the line. His costume somehow looked even better in the bright light than it had in the queue. She couldn’t hear the judges’ comments, but she could tell they were impressed from their big smiles. She knew instantly that the first prize wouldn’t be hers, but even through her pang of disappointment, she couldn’t help but feel like it was well deserved.

The jury gathered their notes as the boy climbed down the stairs, joining his mother. Marinette followed his every move, mesmerised by his radiance. He just seemed so friend-shaped. And if she was going to lose against someone, well…

“Ladies and gentlemen, the results are in!” the witch announced, bringing Marinette’s attention back on the stage. “In third place, we have Mademoiselle Alice Derieux!”

The crowd applauded as a little girl got up, followed by her parents.

“...In second place, Mademoiselle Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

Next to Marinette, Sabine gasped and hugged her daughter, who chuckled delightedly. She was on the podium!

She jumped off of her chair and made her way towards the stage, Sabine hot on her heels.

The boy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs; she’d missed his name in her celebration, but it had to be him who’d won. He bowed gently, gesturing for her to go first.

“Thanks!” She smiled and started to make her way up, before abruptly stopping in the middle of the staircase to turn towards him. He almost ran into her in the process. “By the way, your costume is very cool.”

“Oh, thank you. You know, I think you should have won, you look very pretty,” he answered shyly.

He really is nice , Marinette thought, feeling satisfied.

“You look prettier, though!” she announced, moving upwards again.

The boy’s jaw hung slightly at the compliment, but Marinette didn’t notice as the judges greeted them, helping them up on a little podium that had been wheeled out on stage. Pictures were taken after the children had been handed their prizes, a pumpkin-shaped bucket filled to the brim with treats. Marinette couldn’t contain her wide smile.

It got even wider when Sabine invited the boy and his mother to join them in the exploration of the exhibit stalls. He was a great teammate, the both of them gathering incredible loot as they won game after game.

When the time to go home arrived, she learned that her new friend’s name was Adrien. His mother told Sabine they travelled a lot, but that maybe they’d make it back to the exhibition sometime.

Tiredly resting her head on her mother’s side during the bus ride home, Marinette thought that it had been a pretty good day. And that even though she hadn’t won the costume contest today, she’d make sure to come back the next year to win. Hopefully against Adrien.

It meant she’d see her friend again.

#miraculous writers guild #october event 2022 #2manyfandoms2count #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fic #mlb #adrienette #adrinette #adrien agreste x marinette dupain-cheng #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #lovesquare #love square #sabine cheng #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir

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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] S2 Gavin - The Stories Project

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for content not yet released in EN!🍒

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide

Features S2 Gavin but contains no spoilers regarding the S2 storyline

This is a continuation of The Broadcast Countdown Project. Do read that first!

[ This was released on 25 August 2021 ]

[ Chapter One ]

Gavin and I are standing outside Door 501 of the 7th block in Pavilion Village.

This is also the home of Zhang Nian, the kidnapper who handed me an anonymous letter in the TV station before eventually committing suicide.

A thorough investigation of the case involving the anonymous kidnapper and his suicide has ended. The STF has also removed the cordoning around the scene.

I liaised with the TV station, planning to showcase the incident from start to end in a special episode of the show which will be aired in the last episode of “Inquiries”.

Gavin: This used to be a crime scene. If you’re afraid, wait for me here. If you need any materials, I can head inside and find them for you.

MC: It’s okay, I don’t avoid such things... Also, I have a feeling that there’s definitely something behind this case worth seeing in person.

The husband and wife who were kidnapped had related the details to me, and mentioned that even though Zhang Nian had kidnapped them, they weren’t treated harshly at all.

It’s just that Zhang Nian was deaf and couldn't speak. He could only communicate with them with hems and haws, which ended up frightening them.

In hindsight, they realised that Zhang Nian never harboured malicious intentions towards them.

MC: What was Zhang Nian’s goal and what did he want to tell us? The answers to these riddles... they might be hidden here.

Gavin pushes the door open, and we step into Zhang Nian’s house.

Gavin: This place was sealed off since the incident, which is why the arrangement of furniture we’re looking at is the same as when he was still alive.

In contrast to the dim and cold space I had imagined, the living room is well lit.

The cream coloured wood flooring, a white cloth sofa, a simple wall painting of the ocean... all of these elements set off one another in the indolent afternoon sunlight, displaying a warm atmosphere.

MC: This place gives me such a strange feeling... the person who lived here must have really loved life...

Gavin: His fiancée decorated this place.

Gavin taps on a magnet on the refrigerator. Tiny colourful slips of paper are stuck underneath zebra, bunny, and elephant magnets.

“Special discount for wax gourds on Tuesday, special discount for pork ribs on Thursday.” - It’s as though the weekly booklet of discounts from the supermarket had been copied down.

“Invitation cards, wedding dress, decide on the hotel.” - The ring which had rolled onto the zebra crossing in the news immediately flashes across my mind.

Aside from that, they have simple recipes on them.

MC: What a pity. If that incident didn’t happen, they would have had a perfect life here.

Gavin: All the furnishings and decor came to a halt when the incident happened to Xu Wen. He did everything he could to retain traces of her existence. As for his own life...

Gavin opens the refrigerator, showing me that it’s more or less empty aside from condiments which had been used a few times.

White cold mist hover in the empty space, out of sync with the warm tones in the living room.

Gavin: This too.

He opens a wall cabinet to reveal a few boxes of ordinary flavoured cup noodles. The incandescent light in the cabinet is chilly, shining on plastic film surrounding the cup noodles.

Imagining the taste of cup noodles submerged in MSG, I once again turn towards the recipes stuck on the refrigerator.

Gavin shuts the cabinet, then points at the bedroom.

Gavin: MC, I want to show you something.

[ Chapter Two ]

Gavin: During the investigation, we found these.

Gavin guides me to the bookcase, then pulls open a drawer at the bottom.

MC: A disability ID, marriage certificate, graduation certificate, guarantee card for a hearing aid and a bank book...

Gavin: We checked his background. He grew up in an orphanage.

Gavin: Back then, the orphanage didn’t have adequate facilities, and didn’t have teachers or special medical setups for guiding people with hearing issues. He was always reclusive in the orphanage, and didn't have friends.

Gavin: When he was ten years old, people from the orphanage and community sent him to school.

While saying this, Gavin retrieves a pile of books from the drawer and shows them to me - they are all sketchbooks, and the pages have long since turned yellow. It’s evident that they were here for a very long time.

MC: He can draw?

Gavin: In these books, there are some sketches of streets and still life. Some are comics modelled after existing works. Although I don’t know much about art, I think he could draw pretty well.

While flipping through the pages, I find myself affected by the exquisite details conveyed in these drawings.

Perhaps because he didn’t go through systematic training, he wasn’t limited to one style in the way he expressed his art.

A distinct and unique style leaving a deep impression seems to break through the sheets of paper, revealing the emotions the artist had hidden in his heart.

MC: ...he must have been a really talented artist.

Gavin points at the wall - there’s a sketch hanging on it. It takes up almost half of the wall, and it’s mounted in a white frame.

MC: The person in the drawing is Xu Wen.

MC: ...it’s drawn really well.

Gavin releases a “mm”, and is unable to hold back a sigh.

Gavin: Extraordinarily well.

It doesn’t matter if it resembles the actual person. It doesn’t matter if it was meticulous or not.

The person in the drawing has her eyes curved upwards with a smile on her face, and she looks like any other young girl you can find in a crowd.

But the limitless gentleness and happiness contained in her eyes - that’s a unique feature belonging only to one person.

Gavin: They seemed to be schoolmates. I read through Xu Wen’s background - she graduated from the same school for deaf students. But there weren't any questionable points in this case, which is why we didn’t probe further. If you want to know the specifics, we'd have to investigate again.

My heart hovers in the air, wanting to figure out everything about this matter.

But from the STF’s perspective, this case is already closed...

Gavin gives me an affirmative gaze.

Gavin: I know what you're going to say. I want to continue listening to this story too. He wasn’t able to speak, but he left behind a voice that he hoped for others to hear.

After a pause, he turns his head, once again glancing at the drawing hanging on the wall.

Gavin: I can feel such emotions.

Gavin says this softly, and the light in his eyes grow deeper.

Floating dust in the surroundings gather on Xu Wen's portrait. We stand in this warm and tranquil space, as though we can sense their story surging forth without a sound.

[ Chapter Three ]

After this, Gavin and I gather information about Zhang Nian and Xu Wen from various sources.

A few days alter, we arrange to meet at a cafe to exchange materials collected from our individual investigations.

MC: I found the teacher from the school for deaf students. He said that when Zhang Nian first arrived at the school, he didn’t even know how to use sign language. He was gloomy and blue.

MC: Only Xu Wen knew how to converse with him, and would teach him sign language after school.

MC: After learning of his interest in drawing, she used her pocket money to buy him colouring pencils and drawing paper in secret without her parents’ knowledge.

MC: They had a pretty happy time in school. Zhang Nian even organised a small exhibition in school, and many teachers and students supported it.

MC: But after graduation, his days became a little more difficult.

He didn’t have a place to stay, and he couldn’t find work. While Xu Wen could rely on her parents for financial assistance, he could only rely on himself.

MC: During this time, Xu Wen seemed to have been using her parents’ money to buy him stationery for drawing, and even accompanied him to set up a stall for his paintings...

MC: But they couldn’t earn money at all.

Gavin opens a few files in front of me.

Gavin: Afterwards, he found a job in a finance company. He went around conducting financial transactions for people, and earned commissions based on the number of successful transactions.

Gavin: Not long after, this company was reported for illegal fund-raising. Both he and his boss were jailed for three years.

I recall seeing his ID from before - a crew cut and a white shirt along with a black suit which looked tidy and fitting.

Turns out he wasn’t working at a bank...

Gavin: Even during his time in jail, Xu Wen never gave up on him. She’d visit him every weekend and converse with him via sign language from across the glass.

Gavin: Of course, Zhang Nian behaved very well in jail, and gave his own drawings to many prison guards. After he was out of jail, he found a stable job.

Separated by the scorching 3pm afternoon sunlight, the gaze Gavin gives me is deep with a tranquil light.

Gavin: Do you know why he planned this kidnapping and handed you the video clip anonymously?

I shake my head. This has been my biggest question.

Gavin takes out a few photographs from the file.

Gavin: Before the case was closed, these documents couldn’t be disclosed to the public, which is why I didn’t tell you at the time.

I scrutinise one of the photographs - an A3-sized sheet of paper is stuck on a door, with a few lines written on it.

From the format of the digits, they appear to be bank account numbers.

Gavin: He was behind this door.

MC: Then these bank account numbers...

Gavin: We checked them.

He points at the first line of digits, then speaks calmly.

Gavin: The first account is for an animal treatment centre. It treats stray cats and dogs which meet with accidents.

Gavin: This one is for a 10 year old girl with hearing issues. She lives with a granny who sells fruits, and is currently saving money for surgery.

Gavin: The both of them had a habit of sending money to these accounts.

Gavin: Even though Zhang Nian continued sending money to them after Xu Wen passed away, he could only maintain his own livelihood with his income.

MC: What you’re saying is, if the video camera could capture this... and document them properly so that more people would know about them...

Perhaps he could help these people. Even if it was for the last time.

MC: ...but that was such a complex method. There was no need to do a good deed in such a roundabout manner, and even kidnap people to reach that goal.

Gavin silently picks up one of the photos from the table - it’s a note that Zhang Nian wrote before he committed suicide. A short message is written on it - It’s Wen Wen’s birthday today.

Gavin: Aside from that, he more or less did think of seeking revenge.

Gavin’s finger remains on the photograph.

Gavin: In Zhang Nian’s life, Xu Wen was the only one who gave him warmth. She was his lover.

Gavin: After losing such a person, it isn’t difficult to guess what kind of an attitude he had when facing this world, and facing the people who caused such an ending.

Gavin: When people are in pain, their hatred will involuntarily become amplified.

Gavin: From this perspective, at least he didn't take things even further.

Gavin’s voice is dull, as though he’s mulling over something, or affected by their misfortune.

I can’t help but reach across the table, gently bumping the tip of his finger with mine.

Silence permeates the air. He curls his finger slightly, hooking it around mine.

[ Chapter Four ]

The files, photographs, and a few scattered pages of a notebook are spread on the table randomly, as though illustrating their entire story in front of me.

The car accident was a tragedy, but it wasn’t the only tragedy. I find myself hesitating to speak. When I open my mouth, I sigh.

MC: Xu Wen was such a good person. She tugged onto him from beginning to end, and never gave up on him for a single moment. She actually managed to pull him out of the abyss.

Even though she couldn’t hear nor speak, she used her gentle gaze to heal the person she loved.

Gavin tidies the items on the table one by one, storing them properly.

His composed voice is mixed with ruefulness. He seems to be slightly moved, but has more or less come to terms with his emotions.

Gavin: From the perspective of an observer, there were many dismal and extreme traits in Zhang Nian’s personality. This is a point that can’t be denied.

Gavin: However, he was abandoned from the moment he was born. The path he walked on all these years, and the world that he saw - those are things we’d find difficult to relate with.

Gavin: Perhaps from the time he knew about the world, he realised that living was already something requiring courage.

Probably seeing such stories again and again when handling various cases, Gavin’s attitude is objective and calm.

Gavin: No matter what attitude he had when he made this decision, he shouldn’t have done so.

In contrast to the practised manner in which Gavin handles his emotions, I remain immersed in the regretful ending experienced by the two.

MC: Aside from her, he had nothing else.

The furniture, the recipes underneath the magnets, and the drawing hung on the wall... these images flash past me one by one.

MC: If I were the one who experienced this, and the only important person in my life was gone, I’d lose my connection with this world. Perhaps death would be a form of liberation.

Before I can finish speaking, Gavin raises his voice, cutting off my impending sigh.

Gavin: It wouldn’t.

He looks at me resolutely and decisively.

Gavin: No matter when, death will never be a form of liberation. Pain can always be treated.

Gavin: Whether it’s because someone important is no longer around, or if you were to lose contact with someone, it’s inevitable to carry some pain.

Gavin: Perhaps time is needed, and perhaps meeting a certain someone is needed, to gradually put an end to such pain, and to use various methods to put an end to such pain.

Gavin: But things will always get better.

Gavin seals the brown paper bag which is filled with materials related to Zhang Nian and Xu Wen, then places it at the corner of the table which has been warmed by the sun.

I watch as his palm presses against the paper bag, a moment of hesitation surging past his slightly lowered gaze. Almost at the same time, he looks up at me -

There’s only certainty in his eyes.

Gavin: No matter when, never give up on yourself. Xu Wen was constantly pulling him out of the abyss. He shouldn’t have given up like that.

[ Chapter Five ]

By the time Gavin and I walk out of the cafe, much of the sun’s heat has dispersed. Wind blows over from the river, and it’s refreshing and soothing.

Countless little flowers with names I’m unaware of bloom among the grass along the street, swaying in the evening breeze of midsummer.

MC: The weather is really nice today.

After sitting down for an entire afternoon, I can’t help but stretch, relaxing my shoulders and back.

Before I can take a few steps, I suddenly remember the moment I met Zhang Nian face-to-face, causing me to halt in my footsteps. He had walked towards me in a timid manner, a sincere and apologetic expression on his face.

He had handed me a letter, its edges creased from being pinched. Then, he turned away hurriedly before running away.

Too much time has passed. Even his Evol has lost its effectiveness.

Gavin senses that something is off about me, and draws a few steps closer. I wave my hand at him, signalling that I’m fine.

Having second thoughts, I can’t help but sigh with emotion.

MC: If only Zhang Nian was willing to contact me earlier and tell me about what exactly happened...

MC: If only I could tell him how nice today’s weather is. I wonder if he’d have made such a decision.

Gavin responds decisively from beside me.

Gavin: He wouldn’t.

Gavin: If someone told him that the weather would be nice today, he’d have definitely held on for a while longer.

Gavin: But he couldn’t always wait for someone to pull him along and bring him out of the abyss. He had to muster his courage and walk out by himself.

I nod quietly, gripping the notebook in my hand.

MC: Gavin, aside from the original plan for this episode, I think I’d need to add some new content...

Gavin halts in his footsteps, immediately reading the thoughts in my heart.

Gavin: Are you thinking about how there are many people in the world like Zhang Nian?

MC: Mm.

There are definitely some people who are shouldering pain alone, and are hesitating at the crossroads of life and death.

MC: Although this tragedy can no longer be salvaged, we could prevent even more tragedies from occurring.

I turn towards the direction of the river, looking afar at the boundless sky.

MC: I want to tell them about the beautiful scenery all around the world, and the beauty of the four seasons.

MC: Tell them about the colours of sunset, the sounds of the ocean...

MC: And tell them that as long as they’re willing to wait for a while longer, there are still people on earth who will love them.

MC: I want their eyes to be able to see the world that I see. I want them to believe that this world is always worth it.

Realising how overly idealistic and visionary my words are, I give Gavin a smile.

MC: ...I might have sounded too exaggerated.

Gavin: Nope. It will be a very meaningful show.

He suddenly reaches out, combing my hair which has been blown messy by the wind. His fingers linger on the ends of my hair for a long time.

The corners of his lips curl upwards slightly, and he brings me into his arms.

Gavin: Thank you.

Gavin: This world is always worth it.

His voice is far too soft. For a moment, I wonder if I misheard.

MC: What did you say? I couldn’t hear you clearly.

Gavin chuckles, then raises his volume.

Gavin: Since the weather’s pretty good, want to go for a drive?

MC: Did you drive here today?

Gavin: Mm. It’s rare to have such nice weather, so I took the car out for a drive.

MC: Wow~ That is rare. It’s been such a long time since I sat in Captain Gavin’s car.

Gavin takes my hand, striding with large steps as he leads me forward.

Gavin: Let’s go. The car’s in front.

- End -

Filming for the special episode of “Inquries” came to an end. When the final episode aired, the show became a trending topic. After watching it, many members of the audience provided assistance and support for organisations targeted at disabled individuals. Although Zhang Nian and Xu Wen have already left this world, they’ve enabled people who experience difficulties in life to obtain warmth. Such warmth continues to last. I guess being able to allow more people to believe that the world is worth loving, and to do what little they can to help those in need is what it means to be a person in the media industry.

More S2 content: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

53 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years

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Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 1: Flowers In The Window

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers, the dumb kid who was always too stubborn to run away from a fight, was never gonna allow a bunch of no-good low-lives to hassle a dame in the street, even if it was going to lead to him getting his ass kicked. For once, however, the ass kicking has an upside as the dame in question seemed particularly grateful, a fact she displays a few days later at the Stark Expo.

But it wasn’t the only encounter that fateful night that seemed set to change his life when Dr Erskine throws him a bone, meaning Steve can finally do the one thing he’s been desperate to do for years.

Join the army.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Nothing much… Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So here it is…my take on what would have gone down so to speak should Katie have been part of the CA: TFA timeline and my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge. I’ll be trying to keep this fic as accurate to the time period and the movie as possible, just like with the other SS fics. I really hope you enjoy this, there will be some creative license because, let’s face it, what is Fan Fic other than self-indulgence?

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

SSR Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 1943

It started just the same as any normal Friday morning for Steven Grant Rogers. He unlocked the back of the Grocery Store on the corner of Berry Street in Brooklyn, using the entrance down the alley way reserved for staff. Once inside, he grabbed his beige coloured linen apron off the hook and smiled at the items he had to work with today. Fridays were always a treat as they took the rare delivery of freshly cut flowers ready to be sold for the weekend. This week there were boxes of bright white gardenias with their waxy petals and shiny, leathery dark green leaves, bunches of bright purple heliotrope which always reminded him of one of his mother’s scarves, and plenty of white, blue and purple asters. Steve bent down to take in the strong, vibrant fragrance of the gardenias, closing his eyes. It was easy to imagine he was in some garden somewhere, or even the middle of central park…not some little shop in Williamsberg.

“Don’t be inhaling enough of that to set your asthma off!” Mr Tromley, a kindly faced, portly man in his fifties greeted, and Steve turned to look at him, smiling a little shyly.

“I won’t Mr T,” he assured him, “they’re just so darn pretty…”

“Well set yourself a few aside.” Mr Tromley smiled, “you can take them home and sketch them.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Steve protested, the way he always did when Mr Tromley tried to slip him something for free be it scraps of meat he couldn’t sell from the counter that would be given to dogs, bread that wasn’t as soft as it had been in the morning and would be fed to the birds, milk that was going to turn, cheese that was slightly past its best. Mr Tromley ignored all his protests though, usually threatening to sack Steve if he didn’t take it. The man knew what it was like to come from a hard background, which was part of the reason he’d taken a shine to that sickly, twenty-two year old orphan with a degree in fine arts that had come begging for a job some three years ago. He couldn’t pay him much but he could do other things to make sure he got by.

“Well if you don’t take ‘em Steve they’ll just end up withering and a-dyin’, so reckon you’d be doin’ em a kindness.” Mr Tromley shrugged “Now, my Ada has some coffee going, you want a cup before we open the doors?”

Steve glanced at the clock above the counter, more out of habit than anything as he knew full well that he arrived with an hour to go.

“Mr T that’d be swell.” He smiled.

“Okay, you get started and I’ll fetch it down.”

Steve began in the usual way, pulling some simple bouquets together, varying in size and price, ready for the busy men to pick up on their way home from work, a nice present for their dame’s for the weekend. Once the stalks and lower foliage were trimmed and stripped, he fastened and tied them in simple brown waxy paper using plain brown string. Steve always insisted on using plain wrapping as anything else would detract from the beauty of the flowers. He placed the finished bouquets into one of the green buckets of water Mr Tromley fetched from the back, before he then carefully and delicately trimmed down the remaining flowers before placing them loose in their own buckets according to type, ready for the ladies, and occasional gentleman, who had the time and desire to create their own bunches.

Impeccably organised, as ever, Steve finished his work fifteen minutes before the store was due to open. He then set about helping Mr Tromley as they arranged the buckets outside the shop window on the sidewalk, before they set up the other stalls of seasonal vegetables. There wasn’t much fruit to go by at the moment, but that was a sign of the times really. But what they did have, namely a selection of apples and oranges, they set those out ready too. Once that was done, Mr Tromley handed Steve a thick wedge of fresh bread which had been delivered that morning from the local bakery, along with some of his wife’s home-made jam which was sold from their shop. Steve took his breakfast with a mumbled thanks, averse to taking the daily handouts as ever, and Mr Tromley sighed.

“Steve, when are you going to realise that a piece of bread and jam for breakfast ain’t gonna bankrupt me?”

“I just don’t want to appear to take advantage, that’s all.” “Ah quit it.” Tromley waved his hand, shaking his head “If I didn’t want you to take advantage of it, I wouldn’t offer it would I? Now, eat that and get behind the counter.”

The morning passed much the same as they always did. A flurry of activity at opening, a steady stream of locals and regulars through to the usual peak of activity just before lunch. Like clockwork, Mr Tromley closed the doors bang on midday for an hour and Steve gathered his sketchbook along with the brown paper bag which contained his cheese and bread, and headed outside into the sun. At Mr Tromley’s instruction he selected an apple from the display and crossed the road avoiding the yellow cabs and cyclists and trams, taking up seat on the bench which sat directly opposite the shop front. He chewed his lunch, washed it down with the tin bottle of lemonade that Mrs Tromley had filled for him earlier, and then once he had finished his apple he tossed the core over to a pigeon who instantly began pecking at it. He then untucked the pencil that was behind his ear, opened his sketchbook and resumed the detailed landscapes he was doing of the buildings surrounding the shop front. Drawing was his escape, something he did any chance he got. He dreamed one day of travelling the world, drawing all the different sights he could, but that was out of the question. Well, until he finally got into the army. With four failed attempts under his belt already, most men would have given up but not Steven Rogers. Stubborn, tenacious and plucky to a fault, he was already planning his next attempt at enlisting, this time he was going to hail from New Jersey. Well, as good a place as any.

Steve glanced up, checking the detail of the window to the cobblers next door, and that was when he saw her, just walking down the sidewalk. She wore a red high-collared, cap sleeved tea-dress which flared out slightly from her hips and finished just below her knee. It was cinched in at the waist with a black belt, and was detailed round the hem and sleeve edges with pretty white lace. On her feet she wore a pair of simple, elegant black block heel courts with a T-bar buckle. Her hair was a silky, shiny chestnut which hung around her face in bouncy waves and she had a soft, gentle profile with high cheekbones, slightly flushed cheeks and ruby lips. She stopped outside the shop, examining the flowers with a smile, and then she looked up at the shop door and saw the CLOSED sign in the window. She can’t be from around here, Steve thought to himself, everyone in the neighbourhood knew when Tromley closed his doors and opened them, you could set your watch by it. Still, she hung around, softly picking up a gardenia and holding it to her nose, smiling to herself as she inhaled.

Steve found the innocent act breath-taking. He felt a little, well, shameful in a way, to be watching her so, intruding on what was clearly a private moment but he couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, grace personified, and he felt a little sad as she replaced the flower, gave the buckets one last look, before she continued on her way. Steve sighed, wishing to God that the shop had been open, it would have given him an excuse to maybe see her a little more closely. Perhaps talk to her. Or not as the case maybe, Bucky was always telling him how useless he was when it came to striking up conversations with ladies. But, for now, he had to settle for watching her walk away. Only he wasn’t the only one.

“Hey pretty thing…” Steve heard a voice and turned to his left where a group of men, most likely in their late teens or early twenties, had spotted her. As Steve watched he saw one of them push himself off the lamppost he’d been leaning on and cross the street towards her. The lady stopped, looking at him with her eyebrow raised. He spoke to her again, Steve couldn’t hear the conversation but a smile tugged at his lips as the lady looked the boy up and down, disdain etched all over her pretty face before she shook her head and laughed. She made to move past the kid but he reached out and grabbed her arm.

And Steve just couldn’t help himself.

“Hey!” He called, jumping up and hurrying across the street. “Let the lady go.”

“Back off, this has nothing to do with you.” The man rounded on him, looking at him before he snorted at Steve’s stature. “Besides, what you gonna do about it anyway? Runt.”

Steve took a deep breath, he was used to people looking down their noses at him, both figuratively and literally. That was part and parcel of being only five foot four inches tall. He also knew that at hundred pound give or take, he didn’t cut a formidable figure either, but he was damned if he was going to let this bully manhandle a dame in the middle of the street.

The woman wrenched her arm away from the man’s grip and glared at him, furious green eyes bored into his as she snorted and looked the guy up and down. “He’s clearly twice the gentleman you’ll ever be. Didn’t your mother ever teach you basic, good manners jack ass?”

“What did you just say?” a sudden darkness crossed the man’s face as he looked down at the woman who stood, un-yielding, clutching her purse as it hung around her shoulder.

“You heard me, well unless you’re deaf as well as ugly.” She shrugged slightly. At that Steve really couldn’t hold his face straight anymore and he felt the side of his lips curl up into a smirk. He was sure the pretty dame’s eyes flickered to his but he must have imagined it as when he stole a glance back at her she was staring straight back at the man who’d been giving her the trouble.

“Mouthy little broad you ain’t ya?” He snarled.

“Show some damned respect.” Steve shot out, and this time the man rounded on him. Steve stood stock still, his mother’s words echoing clearly in his head- you start running, they’ll never let you stop and he was aware in his peripheral that the other 2 men who’d been observing until now were starting to circle like sharks who had just had their first taste of blood.

He braced himself, ready for the inevitable fight, legs slightly apart, hands balling into fists by his side. But it was no use. He was never going to be fast enough or strong enough for one of these guys, let alone three, and as the fist connected with his face he heard a scream and a yell as he fell backwards into the display of oranges and apples which he had lovingly helped Mr T prepare before.

Steve staggered to his feet, readying himself for another hit but it didn’t come. Instead one of the guys was sent sprawling to the ground besides him, shortly followed by the other. He wheeled round to see Bucky had the one that was left standing pinned up by the collar against the brick wall to the side of the shop and Mrs T was on the door step brandishing a broom handle, a string of Italian expletives leaving her mouth.

“Get outta here!” Bucky shoved the one that he was holding harshly into the road where he narrowly avoided colliding with the side of a yellow cab. Then turns to Steve and pulls him up.

“Seriously?” Bucky groaned and Steve shook his head, dusting himself down “You pick a fight with three at once?”

“He didn’t pick a fight with any of them.” A soft voice spoke and both Steve and Bucky turned to look at the dame in the red dress who was dusting herself down as her eyes flitted from Bucky, to Steve, then back again. “He came to help me when one of those bozos was getting a little too familiar.”

“That’s Stevie, a regular Knight in shining armour.” Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair as he gave an exasperated sigh, pushing himself away from his best friend. “Especially when there’s a beautiful dame involved.”

The lady looked at Bucky, arching an eyebrow before she looked back at Steve and he gulped slightly as for the first time he took her in properly. There was nothing else to say other than she was drop dead gorgeous. Deep green eyes that sparkled like emeralds looked back at him from a heart shaped face, nose speckled with freckles which twitched a little as she smiled revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth

"I guess I should thank you Stevie." She spoke, and Steve felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

"It was nothing...I just.." he stopped dead as she reached out and straightened his tie, long eyelashes blinking against his cheeks as she smoothed over his shoulders and dropped a kiss to his cheek.

"My hero"

Steve swallowed and looked at the woman as she stepped back, smiling at him.

“I err, it was…my pleasure.” Steve stuttered and the lady arched an eyebrow, a grin on her face.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“I mean, not pleasure, obviously. No one likes seeing a beautiful dame getting hassled, I mean woman, not that…” he shook his head, as Bucky nudged him. He was rambling, as per usual. “I err, I should…”he gestured to the shop as Mr and Mrs Tromley were now looking at the mess of fruit all over the floor.

“I’m sorry about that.” She turned to the shopkeepers who looked at her, Mrs Tromley waving her away.

“Not your fault, dear.”

“Can I at least buy some of the flowers?” She asked, a little shyly. “That is what I actually wanted to do after all.”

“Of course, Steven, can you…” Mr T nodded to Steve and then his eyes fell on Bucky “James Buchanan Barnes, what are you doing here?”

“Got a week or so’s furlough, Mr T and Ma sent me for some stuff, I gotta list.” he nodded, fishing it out of his pocket.

Tromley took it from him, scanned it and then turned to walk into the shop, beckoning for Bucky to follow him. Steve’s eyes followed his friend’s broad back as Bucky paused in the doorway and stopped, turning back to the woman. Steve groaned inwardly, he knew that face, Bucky was about to turn on the charm and she was no doubt going to fall in a pool at his feet, just like most of the other girls in the neighbourhood.

“You’re not from round here, right?” Bucky asked.

“What makes you say that?” She countered with a question of her own, looking Bucky up and down as she spoke.

“Never seen you before.”

“Know all the girls in Brooklyn, do you James Buchanan Barnes?” She asked, and Bucky gave a chuckle as she repeated his name to him and winked.

“Only the pretty ones.” “Well I suppose with most men joining the army the moment, even the pretty ones can’t be choosers.”

At that Steve let out a snort of laughter as Bucky blinked in surprise. “Ouch.” He gave a little scoff and shake of his head before he turned to walk into the shop.

“He always like that?” The lady looked at Steve who took a deep breath and smiled a little.

“Yes Ma’am. And to be honest it normally works.” Steve glanced at Bucky before he looked back at the woman who was looking at him, her eyes twinkling. “Most girls just can’t seem’ta say no!”

“Well, I’ll let you into a secret.” She grinned and leaned closer to Steve. “I’m not like most girls.”

Steve swallowed again, nervously brushing a hand through his hair as she straightened up and smiled at him. “I’m Katie by the way, seems only fair you know my name seeing as I know yours.”

“I err, that’s a pretty name.” Steve smiled and then inwardly cursed himself again.

Pretty name? Really? That’s the best you can do?

“Thank you.” She giggled, and then she turned to the buckets “So errr, do you wanna make me a bouquet Steve? Something pretty for my room.”

Glad of the distraction, Steve nodded and turned to the various bunches of flowers. “I err, I noticed you were admiring the gardenias, so…” “You were watching me?” she spoke and Steve looked at her, ready to start protesting that wasn’t what he’d been doing when he spotted the glint in her eyes and he shook his head giving a sigh. She grinned “I love gardenias, lilies are my favourite but gardenias are pretty too.”

“Yeah we don’t have any lilies, unfortunately.” Steve shrugged “They were my Ma’s favourite too.”

Steve set about gathering a generous bunch of flowers as she instructed him to make it a large bouquet and then she followed him into the shop where he wrapped them in brown paper and string as Bucky was leaning against the counter, chatting to the Tromleys, Mrs Tromley laughing loudly at something he’d said.

“You are a cad, Bucky Barnes!” She looked at him, shaking her head “Isn’t it bad enough you joined the army? You’ll give your ma a heart attack one of these days.”

Bucky shrugged “It wasn’t so bad, he never caught me. Even on a bum ankle I was faster.”

“You been caught in places you shouldn’t be again Buck?” Steve looked at him and he shrugged, grinning.

“You know me, Stevie!”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Steve rolled his eyes before he tied off the bouquet with the string and then handed it to Katie. She smiled.

“You have talented hands.” She spoke gently and Steve flushed once more, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, he’s good with them.” Bucky spoke and Steve glared at him. Katie turned to look at Bucky again, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Makes a change, in my experience most men don’t know the first thing about how to use them.”

Mrs Tromley choked a little on her coffee as she looked at the younger woman, flashing her a wink. Katie bit her lip, her mouth curling up into a small smile as she rummaged in her purse, pulling out a small leather wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge.” Mr Tromley spoke suddenly but Katie shook her head.

“I insist, I was responsible for your display getting trashed, least I can do is pay for these.”

“Oh trust me,” Mr Tromley smiled, “seeing you put that toe-rag into them was worth it.”

“Yeah, you had some pretty vicious moves for a dame.” Bucky looked at her and she shrugged as Steve frowned.

“Wait, you…” “Don’t look so surprised.” Katie smiled “A girl should always know how to defend herself. But if I’m honest, it’s always nice to have a man do it for you.”

At that she smiled and slapped some money down on the counter, stepping back. “Keep the change in insist.”

Mr Tromley looked at her, then at the note, his mouth falling open a little.

“Thank you again Steve.” She picked up the bouquet. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so, I mean…yeah…come back soon.”

She smiled and with a final look in his direction she left, the bell ringing as the door opened and shut behind her. There was a pause until Bucky turned to Steve.

“Come back soon?” he looked at him “Really? That’s the best you could do?”

Steve groaned. “Piss off Bucky.” He shot, giving a yelp as Mrs T swatted at his head.

“Language, Steven!” She scalded, as Mr T chuckled and slid the money she’d left to Steve across the counter. Steve blinked and looked at it, before he shook his head. Mr Tromley glared at him.

“You don’t take that you’re fired.”

With a groan Steve folded the $5 note up and slid it into the pocket of his slacks. Mrs Tromley muttered something about going to check on her scones which were in the oven upstairs and Mr Tromley headed into the back, leaving Steve and Bucky alone.

“You know, that dame was practically begging for you to ask her out on a date.” Bucky picked up the paper bag containing the groceries he had come for and Steve looked at him, snorting.

“You’re joking right?” the smaller man shook his head “Dame’s like that don’t want a guy like me.” “Clueless.” Bucky shook his head “Absolutely fucking clueless.” Steve watched him head to the door, before he stopped and turned back. “Oh that reminds me. Ma’s expecting you about 6 for dinner. She’s making meatloaf and told me that if you refuse she’s gonna, and I quote.” Bucky cleared his throat and spoke in a light, airey impression of his Ma, “march round to his house and drag him outta that apartment by his ear.”

Steve rolled his eyes well naturedly. He hadn’t been to the Barnes’ for dinner for a week so he wasn’t surprised Winnie had sent Bucky with an invitation that was more of an instruction than anything. “Okay, thanks Buck.”

Bucky gave him a salute before he headed out of the store, whistling to himself. Steve took a deep breath, shook his head and turned back to his work, pushing all thoughts of the stunning young woman in the red dress out of his mind.

*****

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” She taunting voice of his opponent rang in Steve’s ears as he staggered to his feet. This wasn’t how he’d planned his trip to the movie theatre going, not one iota. But when the loudmouthed asshole had done nothing but show total disrespect to those fighting overseas as the infomercial was showing, his temper had gotten the better of him and once more had led to him getting into a fight. As far as Monday’s went, this one was pretty crappy.

Which of course he could never walk away from.

“I can do this all day.” Steve huffed, swinging his fist at the guy again. The jerk easily blocked Steve’s feeble punch with his arm, delivering a huge jab with his left which sent Steve sprawling straight into the side of the trashcan from which he’d picked up the lid before. As Steve lay dazed, he heard a familiar voice breaking through the fog.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” Bucky yanked the guy backwards by his jacket, shoving him a little down the alleyway. The guy swung at Bucky who dodged it almost lazily, before delivering a punch of his own, placing a firm boot up the guys ass as he retreated hurriedly. Watching as he scooted away, Bucky turned to Steve who was stood with his hands on his knees, steadying himself.

“Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve replied, pressing the heel of his palm to the cut above his eyebrow, wincing a little from the various blows he’d taken.

Bucky said nothing, instead he bent down to pick up the enlistment form that had fallen from Steve’s pocket and with a sigh he glanced at it.

“How many times is this?” His eyes scanned the information and he arched an eyebrow “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

Steve ignored him, and then for the first time looked up at his friend to see him stood tall in his full army uniform. Which could only mean one thing. “You get your orders?” he frowned a little.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

Steve sighed, great. Just what he needed to hear. “I should be going.” He shook his head dejectedly.

Bucky looked at him sympathetically before he smiled, and looked an arm round his shoulder, pulling him closer in a friendly gesture as they both began to head back down the alley towards the main road.

“Come on, man, it’s my last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“The future.” Bucky handed Steve the newspaper he was holding. Steve opened it to see the ad for the World Exposition Of Tomorrow.

“Buck…” he began to protest but Bucky stopped him.

“Seriously? My last night before I ship off to bust Nazi’s and you’re already tryin’a bail?”

“No, I just…” “Stevie!” Bucky whined. “Since I got my draft last September, I’ve hardly seen you other than when I’ve been home…”

“I know, but…” “No buts, man! I mean who knows when I’m gonna see you again now I’m actually being sent into combat and not just back to Camp McCoy. You know, London is a little further afield than Wisconsin “

“I’m well aware of that.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“So come on! Let’s go, have some fun. Cut loose a little. It’ll do you good.”

Steve looked up to see Bucky’s eyes shining with mischief, his handsome face grinning at him and he rolled his eyes “Fine, but you’re buying the hotdogs.”

“What else is new?” Bucky grinned, grabbing Steve in a headlock and ruffling his hair a little.

“Jerk.” Steve said furiously, pushing him away.

*****

A couple of hours later the two of them entered the Expo, Steve taking in the sights around him. It was crazy busy, a buzz of excitement around the air and it was hardly surprising. Howard Stark, the guy at the centre of it all was somewhat of a celebrity. He’d founded his company some four years ago at the age of twenty-two, and it had grown from strength to strength, with numerous pioneering technological advances to his name. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited to see the latest and no doubt flamboyant invention the guy had come up with, but his mind was still on his failed Army application, the feeling of inadequacy exacerbated even more by the fact Bucky was going to be leaving him behind to serve his country, something that Steve felt he should be doing right along with his best pal.

Sensing his brooding nature, Bucky nudged him and opened his mouth no doubt to make some wise crack, but Steve shook his head.

“Buck, just don’t”

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Bucky shook his head as they wandered down the steps towards the main pavilion area “You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.” Bucky grinned, and Steve sighed heavily. Yup, there it was. “You know, there’s three and a half million women here.”

“Well, I’d settle for just one.” Steve muttered and Bucky grinned, Steve allowing a little smile to spread across his face at his own joke.

“Good thing I took care of that.” Bucky grinned and waved to two girls, a blonde and a brunette, who stood a few feet away and Steve stopped dead as one of the girls waved back, calling out to Bucky.

Great, here we go again.

“What did you tell her about me?” Steve groaned. “Only the good stuff.” Bucky smirked as they walked towards the girls, Steve brushing his hand through his hair, making sure it was as tidy as he could.

Bucky introduced the girls as Connie and Bonnie. It was obvious from the start that Connie was the one Bucky was trying his luck with, although to be fair Bonnie might as well have been with Bucky too for all the attention she paid to Steve. As they wandered into the Pavilion, Steve stopped to purchase a bag of sweets before he followed on behind the other 3, glancing around at the various exhibits.

“Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow.” The expo announcer spoke “A greater world. A better world.”

There was a little bit of murmuring from people in front of them as they stopped, glancing at the large stage in front of them which was currently dark, but then there was movement, music struck up and Connie grabbed Bucky’s arm in excitement.

“Oh, my God! It’s starting!” She squealed and yanked on Bucky’s hand, pulling him closer. As Steve stood behind them he saw the stage light up to reveal a row of women all dressed in black and white striped waistcoats, short jackets and top hats. One of them walked across the front of the stage, smiling as she spoke into a microphone

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

Smooth and cool as a cucumber, Howard Stark strode onto the stage, taking off his top hat, whilst he smiled, handing it to the announcer before kissing her as the crowd cheered. Howard smirked a little, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket which he used to dab at his mouth before he addressed his audience.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” at that point Steve held the small paper bag over towards Bonnie who looked at it, then him, almost scathingly as Howard continued his speech. “What if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?”

“You know…” A vaguely familiar voice spoke and Steve looked up from where he had been examining his bag of bonbons, wondering what was wrong with them, to see the woman from the shop a few days ago, Katie stood to the side of Bonnie. She was dressed in a simple grey dress which sported a pencil style skirt, with a light blue cardigan covering her shoulders. “When a gentleman offers you a sweet and you don’t want one, there’s really no need to be such a rude bitch about it.”

Her eyes were narrowed as she gave Bonnie a scathing look. Bonnie floundered a little as Katie reached out, dipping her red nailed, manicured hand into the paper bag and taking a bonbon. In doing so, she jostled Bonnie forward a little with her elbow, and turned to the stage, popping the bonbon in her mouth, giving Steve a little wink. Steve felt his cheeks flush as Bucky turned, his attention drawn to the slight scuffle behind him. He saw Katie stood next to Steve and he grinned.

“Hey Dollface!” Katie turned her head and looked at Bucky as Steve rolled his eyes. However, just like at the shop, she payed Bucky no attention other than a flick of her eyebrow, before her eyes moved back to the stage, Steve doing the same to see that Stark was now stood by some sort of podium.

“With Stark robotic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” Howard spoke, and with that he turned to fiddle with a few switches on the podium and the car started to hover ever so slightly off the ground. Steve felt his mouth drop open in awe as in front of him Bucky let out an astonished mumble.

“Holy cow!”

But he spoke too soon, as the jets making the car hover suddenly malfunctioned and the car fell back onto the stage with a loud crash, sparks flying out round it.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, smiling as Steve’s eyebrows raised, and besides him, Katie gave a snort.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard laughed, leaning on the bonnet of the car.

“Few years my ass.” Katie mumbled and Steve looked at her.

“What?”

“Nothing, doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Listen, I gotta go-”

“Oh, ok.” Steve tried not to sound disappointed but Katie smiled at him softly, cutting him off.

“Meet me at the Cider cart in an hour.”

“I err…” Steve stuttered, before he frowned. “You sure, you wanna meet me?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have said so.” Katie grinned. “One hour, don’t you dare be late.”

“Yeah, an hour, got it.”

Not quite able to believe his luck, Steve watched her go, smiling to himself before he glanced around and his eyes stopped on the familiar Uncle Sam poster pointing at him, with an arrow directing him to a recruitment centre. What the hell, he had nothing to lose…and an hour was plenty of time. Decision made, he followed the signs and jogged up the steps into the building, pausing to take a look around as people were milling in the carpeted hallway.

“Come on soldier!” a woman giggled at her male company, pulling him away from a mirror making him look like a soldier. Once he was gone Steve stepped in front of the mirror but he was too short to fill out the face. His shoulders slumped and then suddenly, a strong hand gripped his right and Bucky chuckled.

“You’re kind of missing the point of a double date.” He said, shaking his head as Steve stepped away, turning to face him “We’re taking the girls dancing.”

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” Steve replied, hands dropping into his pockets.

“What, you had a better offer? From Dollface?”

“Her name is Katie.”

“Oh my God I’m right!” Bucky laughed. “Good for you, Punk!”

Steve rolled his eyes and then watched as a man strode past him in an Army Uniform and when Steve looked back at Bucky, his friend’s face now sported an exasperated expression as he’d clearly realised what Steve was planning. “You’re really gonna do this again?”

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” Steve answered with a little shrug.

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” Bucky’s voice was frustrated and Steve gave a little smile.

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this, but I’m more-“

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war!” Bucky cut him off.

“I know it’s a war. You don’t have to tell me that-“ “Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.” “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal-“

“Yes!”

“-in my little red wagon?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Steve argued, shaking his head.

“I don’t…” Bucky protested once more and Steve cut him off.

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.” Bucky said gently and Steve took a deep breath. But before Bucky could say anything else Connie called out to him.

“Hey, Sarge! Are we going dancing?”

Bucky turned back to the girls, his arms held out to the side. “Yes, we are.” With that he turned back to Steve, shaking his head a little, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” He instructed as he started to walk away.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve shot back and Bucky shook his head, giving a snort.

“You’re a punk.” He walked back towards Steve and hugged him goodbye.

“Jerk” Steve said gently slapping Bucky’s back. “Be careful.”

With a pang of sadness, Steve watched his best friend walking away, not quite sure when they’d see each other again, if indeed ever. He licked his lips and then called out to Bucky once more. “Don’t win the war till I get there!”

Bucky stopped and saluted him before he strode down the steps, “Come on girls. They’re playing our song.”

With a deep breath, Steve headed into the recruitment centre, past an older gentlemen in a brown suit. He was given the usual forms to fill out, this time going with Ohio as his place of birth-thanks for that one, Buck- and he was shown to the medical examination room. After the short physical was over, he was just fastening the sleeves of his long shirt up again when a nurse walked into the room and whispered something inaudible to the doctor.

“Wait here.” The Doctor turned to him, moving to the curtain.

“Is there a problem?” Steve asked, frowning a little.

“Just wait here.” The doctor repeated his instruction before he walked out.

Steve paused for a second, glancing over his right shoulder at a sign warning against lying on enlistment forms before he glanced at the curtain, cold dread filling him. Shit, Bucky was right, they’d caught up with him. Jumping down off the bed he sat heavily in a chair and began to pull on his shoes when someone entered the cubicle. He glanced up and saw a Military Police officer looking at him and he swallowed a little nervously. But before he could say anything another man entered, the man Steve had walked past about forty minutes or so previously in the foyer, and he was clutching a file in his hands.

“Thank you.” The man spoke to the Police Officer who left, pulling the curtains closed behind him. Steve watched as the man turned to face him, his hands behind his back. “So, you want to go overseas.” The man pulled the file from behind him, opening it “Kill some Nazis.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dr. Abraham Erskine.” The man closed the folder and walked over as Steve stood up, shaking his hand “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“Steve Rogers” Steve nodded, noting the man’s accent as he placed the file on the medical bed and started to look through it. “Where are you from?”

“Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” He adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Steve “This troubles you?”

“No.” Steve replied honestly, shaking his head.

“Where are you from, Mr. Rogers?” Erskine asked, resting both his hands on the bench “Mmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities.”

“That might not be the right file.” Steve began to try and get out of whatever trouble he was in but Erskine was quick to cut him off.

“No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in. It’s the five tries.” Erskine closed the file, picking it up “But you didn’t answer my question.” He strode over and stopped in front of Steve “Do you want to kill Nazis?”

Steve glanced to the side before he looked at Erskine “Is this a test?”

“Yes.” The man replied bluntly and Steve took a deep breath, before he answered as honestly as he could.

“I don’t wanna kill anyone.” He shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Erskine’s “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”

“Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is the little guy, huh?” Erskine smiled before he turned to leave “I can offer you a chance” he said, whipping the curtains open “Only a chance.”

Steve couldn’t believe his ears. Was this Doctor guy actually telling him he’d done it, that he’d finally made it into the army? He had no idea what the Strategic Science Reserve was, or why Erskine had questioned him so, but right now he didn’t care.

“I’ll take it.” He said, hastily grabbing his belongings and following Erskine out.

“Good.” Erskine placed the file down on the desk and picked up a stamp, before replacing it and reaching for another “So where is the little guy from, actually?”

Steve smiled “Brooklyn.”

Erskine smiled back, stamped the form before closing the file and handing it to Steve. “Congratulations, soldier.”

Steve hastily opened it up and did a double take as he saw the stamp was a 1A this time, not 4f. He let out a deep breath and glanced up to thank the man, but he’d already left.

“You’ll be sent your papers and instructions shortly” Another man spoke to him, taking the file off him and handing him back the recruitment slip. Steve nodded. “Be ready, the SSR are on a schedule.”

Steve nodded, before he was shown out of the room. Still in a daze he clutched the piece of paper in his hand and wandered back to the area where he’d left Bucky before. And then he remembered Katie.

Shit.

He hastily made his way outside the building and headed back to the pavilion, weaving his way through the crowds. He found the cider cart and saw her waiting, chatting to the man behind the counter, her brown hair hanging round her shoulders, rouged lips which curled up into a smile as she spotted him approaching.

“You’re late.” Katie looked at him and Steve flushed. “I was beginning to thing you’d stood me up.”

“I wouldn’t do that, my ma taught me better.” He gave her a small smile “I was just...” he waved his enlistment paper at her and she frowned a little

“You enlisted?”

He nodded “Yup.” “Wow.” Katie blinked, “Erm, congratulations, I guess. Is that the right word?”

“It is when you’ve tried and been rejected several times already.” Steve shrugged before he snorted “Story of my life.”

“That girl before was fuckin’ rude.” Katie’s eyes narrowed and Steve blinked at the profanity coming from her mouth before she rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact I swore means I’m gonna go to hell.” She snorted “If it does, then I got that particular ticket a long time ago.”

“Sorry, I was…” he took a deep breath. “For such a pretty woman you certainly…er…”

“Have a filthy mouth?” She asked and Steve snorted, shrugging as he looked away, his lips curling up into a crooked smile as he raised his eyebrows. She leaned closer to him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered “You have no idea.”

Steve swallowed at the blatant innuendo causing her to laugh at him even more before she nudged him with her elbow “Come on soldier, what do you want to drink?”

Soldier…that was the second time in ten minutes he’d been called that, and Steve liked it much more coming from her. He watched her for a second before he realised he was staring and she jerked her head towards the stall.

“Cat got your tongue, Stevie?” She grinned and he took a deep breath. “What do you want?”

“Erm, an ale…please…hang on.” He began fishing in his pocket but Katie gently wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“No need.” She smiled, as the man behind the counter held out the ale for Steve along with a cup of cider for her. She took it with a thanks and smiled, taking a sip. “Put it on the tab, will you?”

The stall attendant snorted and nodded “Whatever you say, Katie.”

She turned away and started walking slowly over to an exhibit, Steve falling into step besides her.

“How does he know ya?” Steve asked. Katie looked at him as she swallowed a sip of her cider

“Because I work here,well, I do at the moment.” She smiled as Steve looked at her blankly “I helped organise this.” She waved her hand around.

“You work for Howard Stark?”

“In a fashion.” Katie shrugged. “Now come on, I’m not working now and I wanna see how everything looks.”

They walked around the expo grounds, taking in the sights and various attractions. Steve was surprised to find his awkwardness ebbing away with each minute he spent in Katie’s company. She was down to Earth, easy to talk to and made him feel comfortable about himself…although his good spirits might have also been due to the fact he’d finally made it into the army. His meeting with Dr Erskine had baffled him a little, all truth be told, but he’d liked the man. There was something about him that told Steve he could trust him, and Steve was normally a pretty good judge of character.

By the time they’d done pretty much a lap of the main area of the Pavillion, stopping to examine The Synthetic Man in great detail, Steve was surprised to find that he’d spent over an hour with a woman who hadn’t been seeking to lose him at the first opportunity, quite the opposite in fact. On more than one occasion he noticed men looking in her direction, then to his with puzzled expressions on their face, and he had to admit was it the other way round he’d also probably be slightly surprised to see them together. She was a good two inches taller than him, but he was used to that, she was pretty, vivacious…well out of his league all things considered. But she was good company, and he was thoroughly disappointed when they seemed to be heading back towards the place they’d started, signalling their time together was likely coming to an end.

“So, do you need to find Barnes or…” she looked at him and Steve chuckled.

“Er no, no. He’ll be busy.” Steve shrugged

“What, he just ditched you for those girls?” Katie frowned.

“No, not entirely. I ditched him, well, I went to join the army. He doesn’t approve.” Steve finished, explaining slightly.

“Approve of what?”

“Me signin’ up.

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t think I can cope.” Steve shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly a healthy kid so…”

“Well they let you in so you can’t be that bad.”

Steve wrinkled his nose and shook his head slightly. “Some doctor in there offered me a chance, what can I say? Said that there were so many big guys fighting, maybe they needed a little one.”

At that Katie stopped walking and looked at him. “Wait, it was a doctor that accepted you?”

“Yeah,” Steve frowned

“You mean one of the Medical Recruitment Officers?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve’s frown deepened “He was with some Scientific Division.” He looked at Katie, who was looking right back at him, her eyes wide “Wait, is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing, just surprised me a little, that’s all.” She looked around, as if she was searching for someone and Steve watched her, a little confused as she chewed her lip with an air of contemplation before she looked back at him, her green eyes locking onto his with a softness in them that made him go weak at the knees, well, weaker than normal. “Thank you for keeping me company tonight Steve, I had fun.”

“Me too.” He said earnestly. “Hey, if you want, I mean only if you want, we could maybe meet up again, you know, before I get my posting?” At that Katie’s face fell and Steve sighed, he’d blown it. She’d only asked him to accompany her round he expo out of politeness, duty even as a thank you for his intervention on the street a few weeks back, and now he’d put her on the spot. “It’s okay.” He started to back track. “I get that you’re probably busy and get asked that all the time…”

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head “I’d love to go out with you Steve, but I leave town tomorrow. I’m needed back at, well, my other job.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve popped a shoulder up, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, I err…good luck. With whatever that job is.”

Katie laughed. “It’s me who should be wishing you good luck, trust me.” She cocked her head before she took a deep breath. “Just remember Steve, the world needs men like you, be a shame if we lost you all in the war.”

At her compliment he felt himself once more flush, and the heat in his neck rose even more as she leaned down and pressed her lips softly to his cheek. She pulled back a little, locking her eyes onto his and he swallowed, the lump in his throat now only rivalled by the one he was starting to feel in his slacks. And then, he had no idea how it happened but her lips were suddenly pressed to his. He froze momentarily, but then he went with his instinct and mirrored her movements, his eyes fluttering closed. Her hands gently curled over his shoulder, his automatically falling to her hips, shaking a little against the fabric of her dress as the kiss deepened slightly, the warm edge of her tongue flicking at his lips. He parted his mouth a little, allowing her to curl her tongue against his, a movement that made him shudder and he was beyond disappointed when she pulled away. She smiled against his mouth, her nose bumping his slightly as his cheeks felt hotter than the sun. He knew he was blushing, furiously, having just had his first proper kiss in the middle of a huge exhibition, but Katie seemed completely nonplussed as she smiled at him.

“For luck.” She whispered, stepping back slightly, before she turned and headed away, casting a glance back over her shoulder at him, flashing him another cheeky little wink. “See you around.”

Steve floundered a little, mouth gaping as he watched her disappear into the crowd, and with a final shake of his head and a deep, steadying breath he headed for the exit.

*****

As it turned out Steve didn’t have long to wait for his posting at all. The following day he received his papers assigning him to Camp Lehigh in New Jersey as part of his recruitment to the SSR’s “Operation Rebirth” programme, whatever that was. He assumed he’d receive more details upon arrival. It wasn’t that which surprised him the most however, it was the date upon which he was ordered to report. Wednesday. As in, tomorrow. Whilst it didn’t give him much time to prepare, it didn’t bother him too much. He had meagre belongings anyways and anything he didn’t want to take with him he packed up into smaller boxes with the help of Bucky’s teenage sister Rebecca, Buck’s dad promising to keep it safe for him until he got back.

Winnie was beside herself when Steve broke the news that he too was enlisting, but she wished him well and made him promise to write. As did the Tromleys, who both took the news even worse than Bucky’s family had. Ada having first burst into tears then hugged him so hard he thought she was going to crush him half to death, whilst Mr Tromley had shook his hand and warned him that if he didn’t come back alive, with all 4 limbs, he’d kill Steve himself.

The morning rolled round ridiculously fast and both the Tromleys and Mr and Mrs Barnes insisted on seeing him off. Once more Ada and Winnie hugged him tightly before Mr Tromley and Mr Barnes shook his hand, the latter promising Steve he would sort out everything with his landlord, taking the key to his small apartment in the tenement building where Steve had lived in all his life. Steve felt a little pang of emotion at that point, this was the last physical tie he really had to his mother but he took a deep breath letting it go slowly. She’d been dead now for seven years and anything that remained of hers in the building was all safely stored.

No, Steve had absolutely no doubts about what he was doing. This was all he had ever wanted, to follow in his father’s footsteps and so, at six am on the 16th June 1943 Steve Rogers boarded the Army bus that arrived at the bus station to take him and a number of other recruits to New Jersey, leaving the place he’d called home for his entire life behind.

**** Chapter 2

#Stark spangled rebirth #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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spellcasterlight · 3 years

Photo

@flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt: #FFF122 Not Alone

Warnings: Mentions of Kidnapping. Mentions of Sex Slavery. Major Character Injury. Minor Character Death.

Everything about this place Shino hated, made his skin crawl, his hive buzzing lowly under his skin, only fuelling his want to clench his fists and release his insects to destroy everything in their way to rid himself of this hole in the ground that the world most certainly did not need.

But his mission was to find out the structure of how this whole charade was carried, out from the client-side for future organisations to be aware of before the team on the outside brought the entire thing down.

He took a cleansing breath through his nose discreetly, forcing himself to pay attention to the man across from him in the booth speaking loudly and proudly about his business.

"We have whatever you could want tall small long hair, short hair, whatever you could imagine we have it, I assure you."

When the man leaned in looking smug, Shino leaned in, pretending to be interested, interlinking his fingers to stop him simply placing them on the man's neck and letting his hive eat him from the inside out.

"All our merchandise is brand new condition, hasn't been used," the man raised his right hand, never looking away from Shino's face to wag his first two fingers before looking pleased. "We've checked."

Shino was especially sickened about how he could talk about women as things, objects, means to an end.

"And once you have them, you can either keep them, or we'll get rid of them for you, no extra charge."

The man made a tossing over his shoulder motion like someone would throw away the trash, and Shino had to grip his hands tighter.

"How; thoughtful."

The man didn't pick up on Shino's sarcasm by the proud grin he had. Another hand motion brought a giant folder to him which he handed the Aburame immediately.

They had a folder of their merchandise separated by hair colour. They were organised in their depravity. It somehow made it more immoral. Shino quickly flicked to the second section.

"Brunette's, great taste."

His sales pitch needed work.

They put a lot of fake information into each page. Ages, birth locations, blood types were all fabricated. Shino was sure, and when he found the page he was looking for, he no doubt would confirm it. But, unfortunately, the profile he was looking for would most likely be at the back of the section, so he forced himself to flick through the pages slowly, his stomach turning at face after face of women he didn't know were still alive or not, not with the no extra charge service that was offered.

His hand deliberately stalled on her page. So Shino was right; this said she was seventeen when he knew she had just turned twenty. They were going out of their way to make the women younger. It sickened him further.

"Sorry about her photo," the man indicated, the blood trickling down her lip in the image. "That one caused us a bit of hassle shall we say? She's new right on the market only just got her in a few days ago."

Shino knew he was there.

"Her; I will have; her."

The man clapped his hands once in success, and with one more arm wave, several men went off to make the preparations.

*****************************

A beautiful prison they had created for these women but a prison all the same.

The room Shino was quickly led to was lavish in every way, high ceilings, lush furniture, king-size bed...with Tenten, forced into a see-through knee-length dress chained to the bedposts with the most significant bruise on her face Shino had ever seen.

He was over to her the next second but, still in character, Tenten flinched away from his presence, hiccupping through her open sobs; it hurt more than he could explain.

"Don't worry. You won't be disturbed in your purchase. We have a strict policy on that," the criminal told Shino casually. His hive burst to life at the fury he felt. "You'll be completely alone."

The image of if an actual client was there in his place, the visuals of Tenten crying in her ripped dress skin littered in bruises as she was violated, the sounds of her weeping telling whoever it was to stop were unwelcome images his mind conjured at that moment.

"No, stop! Please," she would plead as her dress was pushed up without care, struggling against the chains, tears leaking out of her beautiful chocolate eyes. "Please don't-!"

"I would not expect someone like; you; to understand," hooking a single finger in his glasses frames, he pulled them down to look at Tenten's temporary captor with unguarded vision. "But I am; never; alone."

"What-?"

The Aburame let his hive pour out of his skin, to crawl over his flesh in unhurried motions, almost taking joy in the shocked and terrified screams the criminals let out before Shino silenced him with his insects forever.

****************************

The local authorities were working alongside the multiple teams of medical ninjas it took to get the correct details of the captured women and look over the injuries they had.

Shino stood off to the side with Tenten, her bundled up in his suit jacket when he had forced her to wear it even after she insisted she was okay.

"A medical ninja; should see you."

She scoffed with a wrist flick.

"No way. These," the kunoichi gestured to the fully formed bruise on her face and the ones around her wrists from the chains making his insides curl. "Are nothing."

Her expression turned to one of sympathy. "Are you okay?"

"I am; disgusted; by what I saw," Shino told her honestly. "It angers me that there are people like that; we should have never left you alone in this place."

That made her look like she didn't know if he was joking or not. "It was to save lives."

"Even so."

"It needed to be done," Tenten was right. But, of course, she was so much stronger than him. "But besides, I wasn't alone."

Flowing like water and as natural feeling as breathing, she took the two steps needed to slot her arms around his waist and to lay her head on his shoulder, the lightest touch, but it still felt like it crushed him entirely.

"I wasn't worried, Shino," she shuffled her head to be even closer to him. "I knew you would come to get me."

The fact that she would touch him, hug him, be so lovingly pressed against him after the mission she had been on for the last three days told him of her unshakeable trust in him.

She sighed when his arms came up to wrap her up protectively.

#flashfictionfridayofficial #shinoten #shino aburame #fanfic #❤️❤️❤️

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 1: Flowers In The Window

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers, the dumb kid, too stubborn to run away from a fight, was never gonna allow a bunch of no-good low-lives to hassle a dame in the street, even if it was going to lead to him getting his ass kicked. For once, however, the ass kicking has an upside as the dame in question seemed particularly grateful, a fact she displays a few days later at the Stark Expo.

But it wasn’t the only encounter that night that seemed set to change his life when Dr Erskine throws him a bone, meaning Steve can finally do the one thing he’s been desperate to do for years.

Join the army.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Nothing much… Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: As part of SSB’s 1st Birthday, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork sent me and ask asking what would have gone down so to speak should Katie have been part of the CA: TFA timeline. So here it is, my take! I’ll be trying to keep this fic as accurate to the time period and the movie as possible, just like with the other SS fics. I’ve gleamed the dates and timeline from good old google and a wonderful post that flipped up on my timeline which can be found here.

I really hope you enjoy this, there will be some creative license because, let’s face it, what is Fan Fic other than self-indulgence? I’ve been dying to write something like this for ages. All of it will be written from Steve’s point of view because…well, just because. Huge thanks to my beta readers @southerngracela and @icanfeelastormbrewing who both found time in their hugely hectic schedules to check this over. That said, any mistakes are my own. I’ll probably spot them once posted but, whatever!

HAPPY 1 YEAR BIRTHDAY to STARK SPANGLED BANNER!!!!

SSR Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

June 1943

It started just the same as any normal Friday morning for Steven Grant Rogers. He unlocked the back of the Grocery Store on the corner of Berry Street in Brooklyn, using the entrance down the alley way reserved for staff. Once inside he grabbed his beige coloured linen apron off the hook and smiled at the items he had to work with today. Fridays, were always a treat as they took the rare delivery of freshly cut flowers ready to be sold for the weekend. This week there were boxes of bright white gardenias with their waxy petals and shiny, leathery dark green leaves, bunches of bright purple heliotrope which always reminded him of one of his mother’s scarves, and plenty of white, blue and purple asters. Steve bent down to take in the strong, vibrant fragrance of the gardenias, closing his eyes. It was easy to imagine he was in some garden somewhere, or even the middle of central park…not some little shop in Williamsberg.

“Don’t be inhaling enough of that to set your asthma off!” Mr Tromley, a kindly faced, portly man in his 50s greeted, and Steve turned to look at him, smiling a little shyly.

“I won’t Mr T.” he assured him. “They’re just so darn pretty…”

“Well set yourself a few aside.” Mr Tromley smiled “You can take them home and sketch them.”

“Oh, I couldn’t” Steve protested, the way he always did when Mr Tromley tried to slip him something for free be it scraps of meat he couldn’t sell from the counter that would be given to dogs, bread that wasn’t as soft as it had been in the morning and would be fed to the birds, milk that was going to turn, cheese that was slightly past its best. Mr Tromley ignored all his protests though, usually threatening to sack Steve if he didn’t take it. The man knew what it was like to come from a hard background, which was part of the reason he’d taken a shine to that sickly, 22 year old orphan with a degree in fine arts that had come begging for a job some 3 years ago. He couldn’t pay him much but he could do other things to make sure he got by.

Steve glanced at the clock above the counter, more out of habit than anything as he knew full well that he arrived with an hour to go.

“Mr T that’d be swell.” He smiled.

“Okay, you get started and I’ll fetch it down.”

Impeccably organised, as ever, Steve finished his work 15 minutes before the store was due to open. He then set about helping Mr Tromley as they arranged the buckets outside the shop window on the sidewalk, before they set up the other stalls of seasonal vegetables. There wasn’t much fruit to go by at the moment, but that was a sign of the times really. But what they did have, namely a selection of apples and oranges, they set those out ready too. Once that was done, Mr Tromley handed Steve a thick wedge of fresh bread which had been delivered that morning from the local bakery, along with some of his wife’s home-made jam which was sold from their shop. Steve took his breakfast with a mumbled thanks, averse to taking the daily handouts as ever, and Mr Tromley sighed.

“Steve, when are you going to realise that a piece of bread and jam for breakfast ain’t gonna bankrupt me?”

The morning passed much the same as they always did. A flurry of activity at opening, a steady stream of locals and regulars through to the usual peak of activity just before lunch. Like clockwork, Mr Tromley closed the doors bang on midday for an hour and Steve gathered his sketchbook along with the brown paper bag which contained his cheese and bread, and headed outside into the sun. At Mr Tromley’s instruction he selected an apple from the display and crossed the road avoiding the yellow cabs and cyclists and trams, taking up seat on the bench which sat directly opposite the shop front. He chewed his lunch, washed it down with the tin bottle of lemonade that Mrs Tromley had filled for him earlier, and then once he had finished his apple he tossed the core over to a pigeon who instantly began pecking at it. He then untucked the pencil that was behind his ear, opened his sketchbook and resumed the detailed landscapes he was doing of the buildings surrounding the shop front. Drawing was his escape, something he did any chance he got. He dreamed one day of travelling the world, drawing all the different sights he could, but that was out of the question. Well, until he finally got into the army. With 4 failed attempts under his belt already, most men would have given up but not Steven Rogers. Stubborn, tenacious and plucky to a fault, he was already planning his next attempt at enlisting, this time he was going to hail from New Jersey. Well, as good a place as any.

And Steve just couldn’t help himself.

“Hey…” he called, jumping up and hurrying across the street “Let the lady go.”

“Back off, this has nothing to do with you.” The man rounded on him, looking at him before he snorted at Steve’s stature. “Besides, what you gonna do about it anyway?”

Steve took a deep breath, he was used to people looking down their noses at him, both figuratively and literally. That was part and parcel of being only 5 foot 4 inches tall. He also knew that at 100lb give or take, he didn’t cut a formidable figure either, but he was damned if he was going to let this bully manhandle a dame in the middle of the street.

“What did you just say?” a sudden darkness crossed the man’s face as he looked down at the woman who stood, un-yielding, clutching her purse as it hung around her shoulder.

“You heard me, well unless you’re deaf as well as ugly.” she shrugged slightly. At that Steve really couldn’t hold his face straight anymore and he felt the side of his lips curl up into a smirk. He was sure the pretty dame’s eyes flickered to his but he must have imagined it as when he stole a glance back at her she was staring straight back at the man who’d been giving her the trouble.

“Mouthy little broad you ain’t ya?” he snarled.

He braced himself, ready for the inevitable fight, legs slightly apart, hands balling into fists by his side. But it was no use. He was never going to be fast enough or strong enough for one of these guys, let alone 3, and as the fist connected with his face he heard a scream and a yell as he fell backwards into the display of oranges and apples which he had lovingly helped Mr T prepare before.

“Get outta here…” Bucky shoved the one that he was holding harshly into the road where he narrowly avoided colliding with the side of a yellow cab. Then turns to Steve and pulls him up.

“Seriously?” Bucky groaned and Steve shook his head, dusting himself down “You pick a fight with 3 at once?”

“That’s Stevie, a regular Knight in shining armour…” Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair as he gave an exasperated sigh, pushing himself away from his best friend. “Especially when there’s a beautiful dame involved.”

The lady looked at Bucky, arching an eyebrow slightly before she looked back at Steve and he gulped slightly as for the first time he took her in properly. She was gorgeous. Deep green eyes that sparkled like emeralds in a coal mine looked back at him from a heart shaped face, nose speckled with freckles which twitched a little as she smiled revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth

"I guess I should thank you Stevie." She spoke, and Steve felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

"It was nothing...I just.." he stopped dead as she reached out and straightened his tie, long eyelashes blinking against his cheeks as she smoothed over his shoulders and dropped a kiss to his cheek.

"My hero"

Steve swallowed and looked at the woman as she stepped back, smiling at him.

“I err, it was…my pleasure.” Steve stuttered and the lady arched an eyebrow, a grin on her face.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“I’m sorry about that.” She turned to the shopkeepers who looked at her, Mrs Tromley waving her away.

“Not your fault dear.”

“Can I at least buy some of the flowers?” She asked, a little shyly “That is what I actually wanted to do after all.”

“Of course, Steven, can you…” Mr T nodded to Steve and then his eyes fell on Bucky “James Buchanan Barnes, what are you doing here?”

“Got a week or so’s furlough, Mr T and Ma sent me for some stuff, I gotta list.” he nodded, fishing it out of his pocket.

“You’re not from round here, right?” Bucky asked.

“What makes you say that?” she countered with a question of her own, looking Bucky up and down as she spoke.

“Never seen you before.”

“Know all the girls in Brooklyn, do you James Buchanan Barnes?” she asked, and Bucky gave a chuckle as she repeated his name to him and winked.

“Only the pretty ones.” “Well I suppose with most men joining the army the moment, even the pretty ones can’t be choosers.”

At that Steve let out a snort of laughter as Bucky blinked in surprise. “Ouch.” He gave a little scoff and shake of his head before he turned to walk into the shop.

“He always like that?” the lady looked at Steve who took a deep breath and smiled a little.

“Yes Ma’am. And to be honest it normally works.” Steve glanced at Bucky before he looked back at the woman who was looking at him, her eyes twinkling “Most girls just can’t say no!”

“Well, I’ll let you into a secret.” She grinned and leaned closer to Steve. “I’m not like most girls.”

Steve swallowed again, nervously brushing a hand through his hair as she straightened up and smiled at him. “I’m Katie by the way, seems only fair you know my name seeing as I know yours.”

“I err, that’s a pretty name.” Steve smiled and then inwardly cursed himself again. He really had no idea how to talk to dames.

“Thank you.” She giggled, and then she turned to the buckets “So errr, do you wanna make me a bouquet Steve? Something pretty for my room.”

“Yeah we don’t have any lilies, unfortunately.” Steve shrugged “They were my Ma’s favourite too.”

If she noticed the use of the past tense verb when speaking about his mother she didn’t say anything, but really what would she say? They’d met literally about 5 minutes ago. Steve set about gathering a generous bunch of flowers as she instructed him to make it a large bouquet and then she followed him into the shop where he wrapped them in brown paper and string as Bucky was leaning against the counter, chatting to the Tromleys, Mrs Tromley laughing loudly at something he’d said.

“You are a cad Bucky Barnes!” she look at him, shaking her head “Isn’t it bad enough you joined the army? You’ll give your ma a heart attack one of these days.”

Bucky shrugged “It wasn’t so bad, he never caught me. Even on a bum ankle I was faster.”

“You been caught in places you shouldn’t be again Buck?” Steve looked at him and he shrugged, grinning.

“You know me Stevie…”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Steve rolled his eyes before he tied off the bouquet with the string and then handed it to Katie. She smiled.

“You have talented hands.” She spoke gently and Steve flushed once more, rubbing the back of his hands.

“Yeah, he’s good with them.” Bucky spoke and Steve glared at him. Katie turned to look at Bucky again, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Makes a change, in my experience most men don’t know the first thing about how to use them.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge.” Mr Tromley spoke suddenly but Katie shook her head.

“I insist, I was responsible for your display getting trashed, least I can do is pay for these.”

“Oh trust me.” Mr Tromley smiled, “Seeing you put that toe-rag into them was worth it.”

“Yeah, you had some pretty vicious moves for a dame.” Bucky looked at her and she shrugged as Steve frowned.

“Wait, you…” “Don’t look so surprised.” Katie smiled “A girl should always know how to defend herself. But if I’m honest, it’s always nice to have a man do it for you.”

At that she smiled and slapped some money down on the counter, stepping back. “Keep the change in insist.”

Mr Tromley looked at her, then at the note, his mouth falling open a little.

“Thank you again Steve.” She picked up the bouquet. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so, I mean…yeah…come back soon.”

She smiled and with a final look in his direction she left, the bell ringing as the door opened and shut behind her. There was a pause until Bucky turned to Steve.

“Come back soon?” he looked at him “Really? That’s the best you could do?”

Steve groaned. “Piss off Bucky.” He shot, giving a yelp as Mrs T swatted at his head.

“Language Steven!” she scalded, as Mr T chuckled and slid the money she’d left to Steve across the counter. Steve blinked and looked at it, before he shook his head. Mr Tromley glared at him.

“You don’t take that you’re fired.”

“You know, that dame was practically begging for you to ask her out on a date.” Bucky picked up the paper bag containing the groceries he had come for and Steve looked at him, snorting.

“You’re joking right?” the smaller man shook his head “Dame’s like that don’t want a guy like me.” “Clueless.” Bucky shook his head “Absolutely fucking clueless.” Steve watched him head to the door, before he stopped and turned back. “Oh that reminds me. Ma’s expecting you about 6 for dinner. She’s making meatloaf and told me that if you refuse she’s gonna, and I quote.” Bucky cleared his throat and spoke in a light, airey impression of his Ma “march round to his house and drag him outta that apartment by his ear.”

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” the taunting voice of his opponent rang in Steve’s ears as he staggered to his feet. This wasn’t how he’d planned his trip to the movie theatre going, not one iota. But when the loudmouthed asshole had done nothing but show total disrespect to those fighting overseas as the infomercial was showing, his temper had gotten the better of him and once more had led to him getting into a fight. As far as Monday’s went, this one was pretty crappy.

Which of course he could never walk away from.

“Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve replied, pressing the heel of his palm to the cut above his eyebrow, wincing a little from the various blows he’d taken.

Bucky said nothing, instead he bent down to pick up the enlistment form that had fallen from Steve’s pocket and with a sigh he glanced at it.

“How many times is this?” his eyes scanned the information and he arched an eyebrow “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

Steve ignored him, and then for the first time looked up at his friend to see him stood tall in his full army uniform. Which could only mean one thing. “You get your orders?” he frowned a little.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

Steve sighed, great. Just what he needed to hear. “I should be going.” He shook his head dejectedly.

“Come on, man, it’s my last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“The future.” Bucky handed Steve the newspaper he was holding. Steve opened it to see the ad for the World Exposition Of Tomorrow.

“Buck…” he began to protest but Bucky stopped him.

“Seriously? My last night before I ship off to bust Nazi’s and you’re already tryin’a bail?”

“No, I just…” “Stevie!” Bucky whined. “Since I got my draft last September, I’ve hardly seen you other than when I’ve been home…”

“I’m well aware of that.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“So come on! Let’s go, have some fun. Cut loose a little. It’ll do you good.”

Steve looked up to see Bucky’s eyes shining with mischief, his handsome face grinning at him and he rolled his eyes “Fine, but you’re buying the hotdogs.”

“What else is new?” Bucky grinned, grabbing Steve in a headlock and ruffling his hair a little.

“Jerk.” Steve said furiously, pushing him away.

A couple of hours later the 2 of them entered the Expo, Steve taking in the sights around him. It was crazy busy, a buzz of excitement around the air and it was hardly surprising. Howard Stark, the guy at the centre of it all was somewhat of a celebrity. He’d founded his company some 4 years ago at the age of 22 and it had grown from strength to strength, with numerous pioneering technological advances to his name. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited to see the latest and no doubt flamboyant invention the guy had come up with, but his mind was still on his failed Army application, the feeling of inadequacy exacerbated even more by the fact Bucky was going to be leaving him behind to serve his country, something that Steve felt he should be doing right along with his best pal.

Sensing his brooding nature, Bucky nudged him and opened his mouth no doubt to make some wise crack, but Steve shook his head.

“Buck, just don’t”

“Well, I’d settle for just one.” Steve muttered and Bucky grinned, Steve allowing a little smile to spread across his face at his own joke.

Great, here we go again.

“Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow.” The expo announcer spoke “A greater world. A better world.”

“Oh, my God! It’s starting!” she squealed and yanked on Bucky’s hand, pulling him closer. As Steve stood behind them he saw the stage light up to reveal a row of women all dressed in black and white striped waistcoats, short jackets and top hats. One of them walked across the front of the stage, smiling as she spoke into a microphone

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!”

“You know…” a vaguely familiar voice spoke and Steve looked up from where he had been examining his bag of bonbons, wondering what was wrong with them, to see the woman from the shop a few weeks ago, Katie stood to the side of Bonnie. She was dressed in a simple grey dress which sported a pencil style skirt, with a light blue cardigan covering her shoulders. “When a gentleman offers you a sweet and you don’t want one, there’s really no need to be such a rude bitch about it.”

Her eyes were narrowed as she gave Bonnie a scathing look. Bonnie floundered a little as Katie reached out, dipping her red nailed, manicured hand into the paper bag and taking a sweet. In doing so she jostled Bonnie forward a little with her elbow, and turned to the stage, popping the bonbon in her mouth, giving Steve a little wink. Steve felt his cheeks flush a little as Bucky turned a little, his attention drawn to the slight scuffle behind him. He saw Katie stood next to Steve and he grinned.

“Hey Dollface.” Katie turned her head and looked at Bucky as Steve rolled his eyes. However, just like at the shop, she payed Bucky no attention other than a flick of her eyebrow, before her eyes flicked back to the stage, Steve doing the same to see that Stark was now stood by some sort of podium.

“Holy cow.”

But he spoke too soon, as the robots making the car hover suddenly malfunctioned and the car fell back onto the stage with a loud crash, sparks flying out round it.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, smiling as Steve’s eyebrows raised, and besides him, Katie gave a snort.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard laughed, leaning on the bonnet of the car.

“Few years my ass.” Katie mumbled and Steve looked at her.

“What?”

“Nothing, doesn’t matter.” she shook her head. “Listen, I gotta go-”

“Oh, ok.” Steve tried not to sound disappointed but Katie smiled at him softly, cutting him off.

“Meet me at the Cider cart in an hour.”

“I err…” Steve stuttered, before he frowned “You sure, you wanna meet me?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have said so.” Katie grinned, “1 hour, don’t you dare be late.”

“Yeah, an hour, got it…”

“You’re kind of missing the point of a double date.” He said, shaking his head as Steve stepped away, turning to face him “We’re taking the girls dancing.”

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” Steve replied, hands dropping into his pockets.

“What, you had a better offer? From Doll face?”

“Her name is Katie.”

“Oh my God I’m right!” Bucky laughed “Good for you, Punk!”

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” Steve answered with a little shrug.

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” Bucky’s voice was frustrated and Steve gave a little smile.

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this, but I’m more-“

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war!” Bucky cut him off.

“I know it’s a war. You don’t have to tell me that-“ “Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.” “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal-“

“Yes!”

“-in my little red wagon?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Steve argued, shaking his head.

“I don’t…” Bucky protested once more and Steve cut him off.

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.” Bucky said gently and Steve took a deep breath. But before Bucky could say anything else Connie called out to him.

“Hey, Sarge! Are we going dancing?”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve shot back and Bucky shook his head, giving a snort.

“You’re a punk.” He walked back towards Steve and hugged him goodbye.

“Jerk” Steve said gently slapping Bucky’s back. “Be careful.”

Bucky stopped and saluted him before he strode down the steps, “Come on girls. They’re playing our song.”

“Wait here.” The Doctor turned to him, moving to the curtain.

“Is there a problem?” Steve asked, frowning a little.

“Just wait here.” The doctor repeated his instruction before he walked out.

“Excuse me?”

“Dr. Abraham Erskine.” The man closed the folder and walked over as Steve stood up, shaking his hand “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“Steve Rogers” Steve nodded, noting the man’s accent as he placed the file on the medical bed and started to look through it. “Where are you from?”

“Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” He adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Steve “This troubles you?”

“No.” Steve replied honestly, shaking his head.

“Where are you from, Mr. Rogers?” Erskine asked, resting both his hands on the bench “Mmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities.”

“That might not be the right file.” Steve began to try and get out of whatever trouble he was in but Erskine was quick to cut him off.

Steve glanced to the side before he looked at Erskine “Is this a test?”

“Yes.” The man replied bluntly and Steve took a deep breath, before he answered as honestly as he could.

“I don’t wanna kill anyone.” He shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Erskine’s “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”

“I’ll take it.” He said, hastily grabbing his belongings and following Erskine out.

“Good.” Erskine placed the file down on the desk and picked up a stamp, before replacing it and reaching for another “So where is the little guy from, actually?”

Steve smiled “Brooklyn.”

Erskine smiled back, stamped the form before closing the file and handing it to Steve. “Congratulations, soldier.”

Steve hastily opened it up and did a double take as he saw the stamp was a 1A this time, not 4f. He let out a deep breath and glanced up to thank the man, but he’d already left.

Shit.

He hastily made his way outside the building and headed back to the pavilion, weaving his way through the crowds. One bonus to being small was that it made it easy to do so. He found the cider cart and saw her waiting, chatting to the man behind the counter, her brown hair hanging round her shoulders, rouged lips which curled up into a smile as she spotted him approaching.

“You’re late.” Katie looked at him and Steve flushed. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”

“I wouldn’t do that, my ma taught me better.” He gave her a small smile “I was just...” he waved his enlistment paper at her and she frowned a little

“You enlisted?”

He nodded “Yup.” “Wow.” Katie blinked, “Erm, congratulations, I guess. Is that the right word?”

“It is when you’ve tried and been rejected several times already.” Steve shrugged before he snorted “Story of my life.”

“That girl before was fuckin’ rude.” Katie’s eyes narrowed and Steve blinked at the profanity coming from her mouth before she rolled her eyes “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact I swore means I’m gonna go to hell.” She snorted “If it does, then I got that particular ticket a long time ago.”

“Sorry, I was…” he took a deep breath “For such a pretty woman you certainly…er…”

“Have a filthy mouth?” she asked and Steve snorted, shrugging as he looked away, his lips curling up into a crooked smile as he raised his eyebrows. She leaned closer to him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered “You have no idea.”

Steve swallowed at the blatant innuendo causing her to laugh at him even more before she nudged him with her elbow “Come on soldier, what do you want to drink?”

Soldier…that was the second time in 10 minutes he’d been called that, and Steve liked it much more coming from her. He watched her for a second before he realised he was staring and she jerked her head towards the stall.

“Cat got your tongue Stevie?” she grinned and he took a deep breath “What do you want?”

“Erm, an ale…please…hang on.” he began fishing in his pocket but Katie gently wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“No need.” she smiled, as the man behind the counter held out the ale for Steve along with a cup of cider for her. She took it with a thanks and smiled, taking a sip. “Put it on the tab, will you?”

The stall attendant snorted and nodded “Whatever you say, Katie.”

She turned away and started walking slowly over to an exhibit, Steve falling into step besides her.

“How does he know ya?” Steve asked. Katie looked at him as she swallowed a sip of her cider

“Because I work here…well, I do at the moment.” She smiled as Steve looked at her blankly “I helped organise this.” She waved her hand around.

“You work for Howard Stark?”

“Kinda.” Katie shrugged “Now come on, I’m not working now and I wanna see how everything looks.”

By the time they’d done pretty much a lap of the main area of the Pavillion, stopping to examine The Synthetic Man in great detail, Steve was surprised to find that he’d spent over an hour with a woman who hadn’t been seeking to lose him at the first opportunity, quite the opposite in fact. On more than one occasion he noticed men looking in her direction, then to his with puzzled expressions on their face, and he had to admit was it the other way round he’d also probably be slightly surprised to see them together. She was a good 2 inches taller than him, but he was used to that, she was pretty, vivacious…well out of his league all things considered. But she was good company, and he was thoroughly disappointed when they seemed to be heading back towards the place they’d started, signalling their time together was likely coming to an end.

“So, do you need to find Barnes or…” she looked at him and Steve chuckled.

“Er no, no. He’ll be…busy.” Steve shrugged

“What he just ditched you for those girls?” Katie frowned.

“No, not entirely. I ditched him, well, I went to join the army. He doesn’t approve.” Steve finished, explaining slightly.

“Approve of what?”

“Me signin’ up.

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t think I can cope.” Steve shrugged “I wasn’t exactly a healthy kid so…”

“Well they let you in so you can’t be that bad.”

Steve wrinkled his nose and shook his head slightly “Some doctor in there offered me a chance, what can I say? Said that there were so many big guys fighting, maybe they needed a little one.”

At that Katie stopped walking and looked at him. “Wait, it was a doctor that accepted you?”

“Yeah,” Steve frowned

“You mean one of the Medical Recruitment Officers?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve’s frown deepened “He was with some Scientific Division” he looked at Katie, who was looking right back at him, her eyes wide “Wait, is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing…just surprised me a little, that’s all.” She looked around, as if she was searching for someone and Steve watched her, a little confused as she chewed her lip with an air of contemplation before she looked back at him, her green eyes locking onto his with a softness in them that made him go weak at the knees, well, weaker than normal “Thank you for keeping me company tonight Steve, I had fun.”

“Me too.” He said earnestly “Hey, if you want, I mean only if you want, we could maybe meet up again, you know, before I get my posting?” At that Katie’s face fell and Steve sighed, he’d blown it. She’d only asked him to accompany her round he expo out of politeness, duty even as a thank you for his intervention on the street a few weeks back, and now he’d put her on the spot. “It’s ok.” He started to back track “I get that you’re probably busy and get asked that all the time…”

“No, it’s not that.” She shook her head “I’d love to go out with you Steve, but I leave town tomorrow. I’m needed back at…well, my other job.”

“Oh, ok.” Steve popped a shoulder up, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, I err…good luck. With whatever that job is.”

Katie laughed “It’s me who should be wishing you good luck, trust me.” She cocked her head before she took a deep breath “Just remember Steve, the world needs men like you, be a shame if we lost you all in the war.”

Steve floundered a little, mouth gaping as he watched her disappear into the crowd, and with a final shake of his head and a deep, steadying breath he headed for the exit.

The morning rolled round ridiculously fast and both the Tromleys and Mr and Mrs Barnes insisted on seeing him off. Once more Ada and Winnie hugged him tightly before Mr Tromley and Mr Barnes shook his hand, the latter promising Steve he would sort out everything with his landlord, taking the key to his small apartment in the tenement building where Steve had lived in all his life. Steve felt a little pang of emotion at that point, this was the last physical tie he really had to his mother but he took a deep breath letting it go slowly. She’d been dead now for 7 years and anything that remained of hers in the building was all safely stored.

No, Steve had absolutely no doubts about what he was doing. This was all he had ever wanted, to follow in his father’s footsteps and so, at 6am on the 16th June 1943 Steve Rogers boarded the Army bus that arrived at the bus station to take him and a number of other recruits to New Jersey, leaving the place he’d called home for his entire life behind.

#stark spangled rebirth #pre-serum steve #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers smut #katie stark #captain america #the first avenger #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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gingyboo · 3 years

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Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1

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Chapter 2

Bucky stared into the mirror as the reflection changed back to himself. ‘Don’t be a coward’ he said to himself. Nancy knew who he was, Nancy knew what he’d done and where he was. Maybe most importantly, Nancy was made for him, and him for her. He had to meet her, but he also had to protect her. The conflict in his mind, how could he keep her safe, war followed him everywhere he went. But to not be with her, to know her and not be together, that was unbearable.

‘’Come on ice man, we got a job to do,’’ Sam shouted outside the door to Bucky’s hotel room.

‘’I’ll be right out.’’

They were staying in Paris, following up a lead on an arms dealing ring when he’d got the message, ‘Wakanda needs you white wolf’ then an address.

The journey there was simple enough, Sam was on the phone to Torres for a long time, organising a jet to their location if required. The address as it turned out was the Wakandan outreach centre in Paris. It was a modest sized town house overlooking the Seine. They were led inside by a stoic faced man, looking to be in his late 60s, white hair stark against his dark skin. He silently brought them to a small office. Children’s faces were pressed against the banisters opposite pointing at them laughing and waving. Bucky couldn’t help but smile, waving two fingers in a salute of greeting. Their guide turned to usher them away. When they entered the room, the door closed behind.

‘’White Wolf.’’ Bucky didn’t recognise the woman behind the desk. She was tall, had long braids pulled back off her face and wore an immaculate black suit. Her face was striking yet kind, there was a deep worry line on her forehead. Bucky nodded at her and Sam introduced himself. Kitama was her name.

‘’We have a job for you, a rescue of sorts.’’

Bucky and Sam shared a quick glance between them.

Kitama continued,

‘’There is to be a kidnapping attempt on a British socialite, we need you to stop it.’’ She spun the screen in front of her round and Bucky’s heart stopped.

Nancy’s face was plastered across the screen. If anyone in the room noticed his shock, they didn’t show it.

"Nancy Cartwright is the daughter of England’s ambassador in Wakanda, she’s attending a dinner representing her father tonight, then her and some other select officials will attend the royal opera house for a ballet. Our intel tells us that is when the terrorists will take her.’’ Bucky still couldn’t speak. He couldn’t take his eyes off her picture. She wasn’t smiling, she didn’t even know the picture was being taken, her getting into the back of a black car, red dress hitched up showing her black heels, gazing back at the building she must’ve just left. Her home. ‘Go back’ he wanted to shout at the picture.

‘’What do they want with her?’’ Sam asked, Bucky was grateful he was dealing with the conversation.

"Ransom."

"Money?" Sam asked

"Not exactly, we believe they wish to force the hand of her father, to work on their behalf."

‘’Where is she, we’ll go now, we’ll get her safe.’’ Bucky thought he saw Sam’s jaw drop at his statement, but it didn’t matter, he had to find her, get her safe, and the safest place for her was right by his side.

The details were passed on in a blur, Bucky’s attention was fixed on Nancy, the royal opera house in London, Torres would get them there, Sam could survey the outside, he could get in grab her and get out, quicker the better, the rest could be sorted later.

Before he knew it he was sat opposite Sam in a stealth plane, quiet as they took off over Paris.

‘’What going on blue eyes?’’ Sam asked and was met by a stony glare. ‘’Come on, I saw your face in there, you know this kid, knew her back in Wakanda?’’

‘’She’s no kid and she’s never lived in Wakanda.’’ Bucky said without thinking.

‘’But you do know her?’’ Sam pushed.

‘’Complicated.’’

‘’Look I know you’ve got this while silent and deadly thing going on, but if there’s something I should know, you probably best to tell me, so there’s no surprises.’’

Bucky shook his head and Sam stood up to adjust his suit, stalking over to Torres. Soulmates were sacred and Bucky wasn’t ready to share that truth with anyone but Nancy right now. Sam knew something was up, he wasn’t stupid. However, he also knew when not to push Bucky.

The trip across the channel was short and Torres came over with Sam. They had to fly low and quiet, small jump to the adjacent roof and get down to the third story window. Take the bridge between the two buildings. From then Bucky would need to memorise the layout, find his way to the box and get her. Then down to the streets and blend into the busy city. Sam would find them, monitor anyone following and then Torres would pick them up for extraction. Simple. Simple up to a point.

The grandeur of the opera house surprised Bucky, the patterned carpet and large stairwells reminded him of a time long ago. Sam stayed pitched on adjacent roof, shield in hand, monitoring the CCTV footage whilst redwing scanned the surroundings.

‘’Next right Buck, should be a stairwell, you are looking for box 5, she should be there, the corridors unguarded,’’

‘’On it,’’ he took the stairs 2 at a time,

‘’ you gonna tell me what’s so special about this girl yet?’’

‘’No.’’

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Nancy lent forward in her chair as Tchaikovsky’s music swirled around her. She was enjoying this, if only because feigning great interest stopped the foreign secretary from attempting more conversation. No, she didn’t know what her father’s position was on an exclusive trade deal with Wakanda, and no she wasn’t sure when he’d be back in the country. She also didn’t need him to get her an ice cream in the interval though a strong drink might be appreciated. He swapped from treating her like his 13-year-old daughter to trying to catch a glimpse down the front of her dress. More than once she thought of Bucky, off on a mission, out their doing something for the greater good. Nancy liked helping her father, reporting back to him on the goings on at such events, feeding him information on the British perception of Wakanda. These were turbulent times, and yet she still felt nothing more than shiny ornament brought out for parties.

She felt the door opening before she heard it, a slight change in pressure within the top box. The minister didn’t notice, in fact she thought he might have dropped into sleep. She felt someone behind her, silently approaching, the hair standing straight on her neck. No one else should be in there. She swung round quickly arm raised. A metal hand caught it as a palm of flesh covered her mouth, she bit into it on instinct before seeing who it was. Bucky. Her face of fear relaxed at once and Bucky gently knelt behind her chair, the minister hadn’t so much as stirred. His breath was at her ear as he wound his right hand into hers, holding it tightly.

‘’In ten minutes, the interval starts, get up and leave the box, we have to get you out of here.’’

His voice was barely a whisper, she responded in the same tone.

‘’What’s happening?’’

‘’Shhh,’’ he breathed stroking his thumb overs hers soothingly, ‘’later.’’

And so, the sat in silence, him holding her hand and her watching the ballet. As the curtain closed and the audience clapped Bucky drew her silently to her feet and out the door.

He looped her hand through his arm and steered her down the stair well.

‘’What’s happening?’’ Nancy tried not to shout as she struggled to keep up with his long strides.

‘’The Wakandans sent us, someone’s planning to take you,’’ he pulled her close to him stroking a thumb along her cheek. She shivered gently, his eyes darted around her face ‘’I won’t let them.’’ He turned on his heel and pulled her after him.

‘’Slow down Buck... Bucky- ‘’she stood firm, ‘’James!’’ There were people milling around them now, coming out from the lower circle.

‘’ I’m prepared for this, my whole childhood, we had like practice runs, what’s the plan?’’ She held his gaze sternly. Bucky felt pain in his chest, who has to prepare to be kidnapped, what child should have to worry like that. He stalled for a moment.

‘’We go out, down to the streets, find a safe place to wait for an extraction.’’ He looked her in the eye, trying to read her feelings, she rolled her eyes.

‘’We’ll go to my house, it’s safe there.’’ She made to walk off, but Bucky’s grip on her arm stopped her.

‘’We are getting you out of the city, tonight.’’ He said firmly.

‘’Not gonna happen, there’s things I need.’’ Nancy kept trying to walk away but Bucky wouldn’t move.

‘’Nancy- ‘’

‘’No Bucky- ‘’

‘’No Nancy stop! Look at me, pretend we’re talking, laugh at something I said.’’ He pulled her easily back him. She laughed cheerfully, a sound like Christmas bells.

"Too men against the wall back there," he breathed just loud enough for her to hear. "don’t look, they’re watching you, we need to find another way, walk with me." He linked his fingers with hers and they walked slowly back towards the box, they could’ve been just another couple out to see the ballet. He was even dressed the part, black suit and shirt, he hid the metal had in his pocket.

‘’Are they following?’’ Nancy whispered. Bucky nodded his jaw clenching. ‘’I got a plan, meet me on the roof’’ she said as she pushed off him with surprising force and her hand slipped from his. She darted into the woman’s bathroom.

The queue inside was thick, woman everywhere touching up makeup, waiting for a stall, drying hands, noise and people, a good place to hide. She shimmied through the crowd, muttering apologies as she went, and found the window she was looking for. Pushing in wide It locked in its stays, shit, she thought glimpsing the fire escape she was looking for, the gap was too tight for any adult to fit through. Nancy took a moment, breathed in and out. She jumped up on the windowsill and amongst shouts from the other ladies, kicked on the window stays. Property damage, great they might not let her come back now. She slid out the window, landing on the fire escape just as the window above smashed and Bucky’s arm appeared. He soon followed, shouts following him. Nancy ran up the stairs to join him as they continued up to the roof. No easy feat in stilettos.

‘’What’s this plan then doll?’’ Bucky said turning to her as side of the building turned into the deep London sky. Nancy looked around finding her bearings.

‘’Over there, there’s a way down, comes out the other side of the stage, go down take the side door out. Hit the streets, get back to my house.’’

‘’We can’t go to your house- ‘’ Bucky’s protests were stopped short by the roof door bursting open. ‘’Ever used a gun before?’’

‘’Give us the girl!’’ A masked man shouted, he was followed by three others, behind them Bucky could hear feet pounding on the metal fire escape.

‘’No of course not.’’ Nancy replied not taking her eyes off their assailants. Bucky had his handgun drawn, Nancy hadn’t seen where it had come from, he’d been too quick.

‘’How about a knife?’’

‘’No not that either.’’

Bucky pushed her down and drew another gun, seemingly from nowhere, one pointed towards the masked men and the other back towards the fire escape where more men now emerged.

He shot first, the masked men had drawn guns as well, but they were no match for his superhuman reflexes. He aimed for hands and feet, to disarm not kill, this gave Bucky time to move Nancy towards the buildings edge. One escaped the fire though, dashing round and grabbing Nancy round the middle. Before Bucky could respond Nancy had landed a sharp elbow to his nose, stepped back, digging a heel into the top of his foot. The attackers grip loosened enough for her to break free. She grabbed his arm bending it around his back until she heard the tell-tale crunch of dislocation, then forced him into the floor with a kick to the back of the knee.

‘‘Where’d you learn that?’’ Bucky called over his shoulder as another figure approached him.

‘’I told you, I’ve done a lot of preparing.’’ She shuffled back then realised she was at the roofs edge, there were still 3 men coming toward them.

‘’Do you trust me?’’ Bucky said turning briefly towards her.

‘’Of course, I do.’’ For she did, since the moment he first spoken to him, the first time she knew what he was to her, she’d known, he will protect me, he will never let me down. I am his and he is mine. There was no thought of doubt. Although she was surprised when he pushed her. Hard in the chest and she toppled. Next she was falling and falling fast.

#bucky barnes #the winter solider #sam wilson #captain america #mcu

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brokasteltranslations · 5 years

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Fate/Requiem: Chapter 4

Several days had passed since I had been relieved of my duties as the Reaper. No more work had come in from my master, Caren Fujimura, since the Kundry case, and I no longer received information on a preferential basis over the municipal network. I had been barred from the critical point where the Akihabara district barrier was located, and my access to Kanda Shrine and Yushima Temple, where multiple ley lines converged, had also been restricted. Stripped of my rank and duties, I was nothing more than another truant – and one dragging a nameless, powerless, useless Servant in tow to boot. A lone wolf not even worth employing as a guard dog.

Fortunately, Akihabara was a prime tourist destination, and as long as I wore my usual swimwear and windbreaker I would more or less blend in with the usual clientele. However, that did nothing to help me feel less out-of-place. Whatever I did, I just felt like running away and hiding in a hole.

I had received no more information on the Command Seal Hunter. It was worrying that the case had not yet been publicly acknowledged. My gut told me that it had not been quietly solved and faded away. It was merely biding its time.

Whispers of the “Woman with the Missing Hand” circulated Shibuya. It had become something of an urban legend among students.

Don't you know better than to cut that out? Keep repeating it and it'll become real, and then who'll have to deal with it? It'll be... actually, I suppose it won't be me. Not any more.

----

As a consequence of my newly-imposed freedom, I had taken to wandering the town aimlessly with Pran on a daily basis. Wherever we went, we found faint traces of Chitose's presence. It crossed my mind more than once to quit Akihabara for one of the other wards.

–

There were many things that seemed to draw Pran's interest, but over time I started to notice a broad pattern. It was live experiences that he seemed to enjoy - street performers, buskers, speed painters and the like were what most often caught his eye.

Thinking back to the episode with Kuchime, I tried taking him along to a shop geared towards those 'otaku'. It was crammed to the rafters with endless figurines of buxom girls, male-oriented toys and all manner of merchandise, to the point where I was almost sick of looking at it. However, none of it particularly seemed to resonate with him.

Maybe it's because they're all manufactured goods. Perhaps it's originality that appeals to him?

He stood by, a little sleepily, gazing into the distance as though squinting into the sun, watching faraway strangers. Only when we passed a shop selling astronomical telescopes did he exhibit a different reaction. He squatted down in front of a poster of the planets – clearly not hand-made – and stayed there for well over a minute.

“Do you know Jupiter?”

“This eye... it follows me.”

“Eye? Oh, you mean the Great Red Spot?”

“This planet's so big. It's so big...”

He shivered, then pulled the goggles resting over his head down over his eyes, and peered at the poster once more.

“A planet, huh? I'm surprised you know that word.” Had he picked it up from when I read The Little Prince to him? He had initially talked about coming from somewhere far away – perhaps he wasn't just making it up? Or maybe... no, was that even possible?

I chose my words carefully. “That's a very old photograph. From before the war. The Great Red Spot on Jupiter isn't there any more. It got smaller and smaller, and then it disappeared.”

He smiled gently at the poster.

“Maybe it went to sleep. I hope someone comes to wake it up.”

–

Before I knew it, the day of the Grail Tournament had arrived. I hadn't exactly been waiting with bated breath, but still I found myself in front of the Colosseum.

The colossal stadium was located on the outskirts of Akihabara, bordering the ocean. Its enormous silhouette threatened to overwhelm the surrounding cityscape. Towering arches, each easily the size of a skyscraper, rose high in three, four levels to form the thick exterior of the cylindrical structure and enclose the arena within.

This was a place of pure competition. The poets once spoke of the ancient Roman emperors giving their people bread and circuses; here was the circus reborn for the modern age, the manifestation of the people's right to entertainment.

–

I had ended up accompanied to the Colosseum by Pran and Karin. Koharu had, to my great chagrin, seen fit to furnish me with not one, not two, but a whole four reserved tickets – two Master-Servant pairs. Technically Servants had no need for tickets – after all, they could just assume their spiritual forms – but no-one willing to come to see the Grail Tournament in person could reasonably be refused a seat, and they were provided in pairs as a matter of course. That being said...

“How long's it been?”

It had been twenty minutes since the stadium had opened, and we were still waiting.

Enormous lines snaked from each and every one of the Colosseum's myriad entrances. At this rate, the tournament would probably have started before we got to our seats. Personally I hardly minded, but it must have bothered Karin, because she suddenly yelled out at the top of her voice.

“All right, fine! Flake out on me, see if I care! We're going in, you hear?”

“You really want to go in? You sure you don't want to wait a bit longer?” I did my best to keep my voice neutral.

“Damn right I'm sure! Never should've invited you anyway, you lousy no-show son of a...”

None of her messages had prompted a response, it seemed.

–

The individual keeping us waiting was the weary-looking guitar player, Kuchime.

Unsure what exactly to do with my four tickets, I had decided to start by offering them to people I knew. Karin herself had snatched the chance with typical zeal, but her partner Kouyou had been reluctant to join us, leaving me with one left over. However, a few days later the two of us had happened to stumble across Kuchime in a side-street in Akihabara, strumming away with his usual gloomy air and being flatly ignored by every passer-by. Karin had called out, probably taking pity on him.

“Hey, Kuchime, was it? Ever thought of checking out the Grail Tournament? Maybe the halftime show'll give you some tips on how not to make your customers run a mile.”

“Ain't got no need for that, little missy. I'm happy as long as I'm getting' through to people with ears to hear.”

“Think you're some kinda auteur, huh? Keep dreaming, idiot. Why don't you just go the whole way and die young while you're at it!”

I had watched blankly as she exploded at him unprovoked. Her tirade had ended with her snatching the ticket from my hands and thrusting it squarely into his unshaven face. Had she done it in a spontaneous surge of pity for this dishevelled musician, or had she been planning it all along? I may have been the Reaper, but even I wasn't so insensitive as to probe any further.

However, in the end, the chance she had taken came to nothing. She stalked towards the arena, fuming. I followed her, leading Pran by the hand.

–

Eventually, we arrived at our designated seats. The interior of the Colosseum was spacious, tall, and delightfully modern.

I now understood why the queues today had been particularly bad: the staff were conducting unusually extensive baggage checks and body searches on all attendees. I had even seen staff members flagging down particular individuals for Command Seal checks, and it was hard not to notice the guns at the hips of a number of security personnel dotted around the stadium.

I'm glad they didn't try to check my Command Seals. Maybe the reservations got us through...

In any case, it was gratifying to see that my warning to Hannibal hadn't gone unheeded. Although there was always the possibility that the organisers had gotten wind of the serial killings themselves, and acted of their own accord.

“Yo! Sorry we took so long.” Karin reappeared with Pran in tow. Both of their arms were piles high with soft drinks, packets of peanuts and other junk food. She tossed me a freshly-grilled hot dog.

“So this is the bread part, huh? Shouldn't be long until the circu- Yeowch! Aah! My tongue!”

“Circus? You mean the halftime show, right? Oh yeah, there was a stall selling some kinda porridge too if you want some. I tapped out though, seemed pretty weird.”

“Porridge, huh? How odd... Hey, who gave you those?!”

I suddenly registered Pran was decked from head to toe in tournament merchandise, complete with a little paper cap and a megaphone. He was ready for the show.

I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing, and soon both me and Karin were clutching our sides. She was so engrossed in the tournament now that it was hard to imagine she had been furious not twenty minutes ago. I could probably learn a lot from how quickly she rebounded.

Next to our seats on the very front row was a space to be kept open in case of emergencies. Fortunately, it was just large enough for Kouyou to squeeze in. Accommodating larger Servants was probably half of the reason it was there.

–

After a minute or so, the music playing throughout the stadium increased in volume and a rousing melody began to play. It seemed we'd timed our arrival perfectly.

The music faded away, and for a moment, the entire arena fell silent. Then, as if on cue, a voice rang out across the stadium. Below us, eldritch lights began to dance across the very front row where the patricii would have sat in the original Colosseum. A diminutive figure strode down to the aisle, and unfurled a pair of feathered wings. At the same time, the main screen cut to a close-up of a girl - a woman? - dressed in a plain white Grecian tunic.

“Good evening, my lovely little piglets!” Her greeting echoed around the Colosseum at amplified volume. “Welcome, one and all, to the ocean stage of the Grail Tournament! That's right! We're all setting sail for Okeanos, and I, the great witch Circe, will be your guide!”

She stoked the crowd's excitement, and they answered with a deafening roar… although I did pick up some rather crude jeers mixed in with the cheering.

“Thank you, thank you, my little piglets! I love you too! Now, before we meet all our brave warriors, I'd like to introduce our commentary team!”

Two burly men strode down the aisle to join her, waving to the audience.

“First, for the Ottoman Corsairs, we have a scallywag among scallywags! The Gentleman of the Caribbean! The one and only Blackbeard, Edward Teach!”

“That's me!” Blackbeard was greeted by deafening boos. He did not seem to care a jot.

“Sounds like you know him well! Let's move swiftly on!”

“Wait, that's all I get?!”

“Next, for the Carthaginian Alliance, we have the king of admirals! The man who saved the Roman Empire from the Ptolemaic Dynasty! Friend and advisor to Emperor Augustus, I give you Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa!”

Agrippa! The commander who led the Romans to victory at the Battle of Actium!

I expected him to bask in the applause of the crowd, but instead he rounded on the emcee.

“What is this? I never agreed to this! First you invite me to attend nigh on midnight last night, and now you expect me to commentate?! Explain yourself!”

“About that... Honestly, we wanted Eukleides of Alexandria, but he cancelled at the last moment. What are Foreigners like, right?”

“Some nerve on you, girl! You expect a general of Rome to commentate on the Carthaginians? And you! Yes, you, the Servant with the easel! You think capturing my face is funny, do you?!”

The sight of the irate Agrippa slowly being talked down by the witch emcee, and eventually taking a reluctant seat at the commentator's desk, drew no small amount of laughter from the audience.

“All right, everyone, make sure you have your channels all set to your favourite team! If you're feeling peckish, why not try some delicious kykeon?”

–

“Well, that sure was something.”

Karin was grinning next to me. I, for my part, was aghast. This was grotesque, a vulgar display that made a mockery of Servants' pride and nobility. It was difficult to tell how much was real and how much was acted, but the tastelessness of the ambiguity only made me feel more disgusted. The tournament itself hadn't even begun yet, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

I guess the least I can do is watch it through. I probably won't be getting another chance.

My reasons for being here were twofold. Firstly, I wanted to see what I could learn about Koharu's mysterious Possession ability. I had also been deeply impressed by the way that, despite being aware of her naivety, she disapproved wholeheartedly of any wrongdoing, and the evident admiration with which she viewed her companions.

My second reason was that I wanted to see for myself the incredible power that Servants were permitted to wield here. I felt both awe and terror for Noble Phantasms. It was baffling to me that abilities so destructive might be allowed to be used freely.

The citizens of Mosaic City were different to Masters in the true sense. They were no magi, with magic circuits passed down from previous generations or developed through special training, and it went without saying that none of them possessed a Magic Crest. The mana that powered their magecraft originated from the Holy Grail, and was distributed throughout the city via ley-lines. This mana was more than enough to sustain a Servant in everyday life with no discomfort. However Noble Phantasms, which employed magecraft on a much larger scale and consumed vast amounts of mana, were another matter entirely. Activating them was highly challenging, and they could kill a Master unless attempted with extreme care.

Broadly speaking, the most common foes I encountered in my work were Masters who fought with little regard for their own lives, because they had found something they valued more.

Had the combatants in this Colosseum all reined their latent magical abilities to extraordinary levels? Or had the footage I had seen simply been enhanced in some way after the fact? I had come to determine the truth.

“Oh, there you are, Kouyou.”

In the formerly empty space in the midst of the cheering crowd, the enormous bulk of the Ogress had appeared. She sat with her belly pressed to the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. Occasionally her eyes glanced sideways to meet with Pran's.

–

Feeling a little relieved, I turned back to the arena. The battlefield was enormous: a huge rectangular arena, two hundred metres on the larger side. Above each of the spectator seats floated semi-transparent screens that provided a closer view of the action.

Finally, the battlefield began to change. Cracks ran across the centre, and the stage began to fold in on itself with mechanical precision, forming a deep, wide basin. Water swirled in to fill it, and rocks rose from beneath its surface to form a maze of crags in the open water. Two galleys burst from the canals at either side of the stage, defying the current. They hung in the air for a second, like salmon poised mid-leap above a waterfall, and then crashed down into the water below with a mighty splash. A host of smaller boats and schooners followed them out, and quickly organised themselves into two fleets.

There was no magic in this, only the most cutting-edge stage equipment... although perhaps it was best not to think about the enormous, ominous shadow circling beneath the water's surface.

–

“Now, my little piglets, I think we've kept you waiting long enough! Let's get this naumachia started! We know you're tired of the same-old same-old, so this year we thought we'd change things up a little with a large-scale team-on-team battle! Which of our brave teams in Akihabara today will be crowned the conquerors of the high seas?

“First, we have the Ottoman Corsairs! For these terrors of the Mediterranean Sea, this man once more takes up the rank of Pasha! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great pirate of Barbary, the Redbeard, Heyreddin Barbarossa!

“And that's not all! Next we have his second-in-command! There's not a man west of Austria who doesn't know his name: the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay!”

The witch introduced each of the competitors one by one, stoking the crowd's excitement. Illustrious admirals and infamous pirates lined up upon the deck.

“And now, last but not least, someone you know very well! The mightiest commander of the navies of the far east - can you say “Hassou-tobi”? Our favourite natural-born Heike-killer, Minamoto Kurou Yoshitsune!

“Could this samurai be the most dangerous competitor on the field today? I'm sure the other side won't be showing much quarter, so look forward to some spectacular acrobatics!”

–

The pretty young warrior looked a little uncomfortable in responding to chants of “Ushiwaka!”, but eventually gave in and began to wave to the crowd. The sight broke me from my trance, and a young girl standing nearby caught my attention; she hadn't been introduced.

Could that be Yoshitsune's Master?

She was dressed in elegant traditional Japanese robes and heavy facial makeup, matching Yoshitsune, but she herself appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary citizen. Behind or beside the other Servants stood similar unassuming figures. More than a couple of them were wearing masks that obscured their faces.

Eventually, the oriental arrangement of Mozart's Turkish March playing throughout the Colosseum drew to a close, and was replaced with an unsettling, savage, African-style drumbeat. The Grail Tournament was as tasteless as ever.

–

“Now swivel your heads the other way, my adorable piglets! Little corkscrew tails to the east, and snouts to the west! Please give it up for the mighty heroes of the Carthaginian Alliance!

“Cast your eyes upon Rome's worst nightmare! At his back, the souls of three war elephants with whom he crossed the Pyrenees and the Alps! Ladies and gentlemen, the Lightning Commander, Hannibal Barca!”

The sight of Hannibal, cross-armed on the deck in traditional battle garments, was so wildly different from the garrulous old tourist I had met in Cafe Borges that I could hardly believe it was the same man. The mighty cheer from the crowd put not so much as a crack in his stern expression, and he harboured a menacing aura.

“And not to be outdone, his second-in-command: The Firebrand of Castile, El Cid!”

The witch continued with her introductions, each one punctuated with thunderous applause. I tuned them out. My attention was absorbed by a small figure on the deck, with a white coat draped across her shoulders. I followed her with my augmented vision as she stared keenly into the enemy ranks.

He stood a short distance behind her, head askew, hands on his hips. He seemed devoid of tension, as though this were nothing more than a routine warmup.

“And taking up the rearguard is someone I'm sure you all remember! None other than the warrior who took the Newbie Tournament by storm! Our proud Knight of the Round Table, Sir Galahad!”

–

With the introductions concluded, the galleys began to slip forwards, and each team assembled into their respective formations. Karin rapped on my knee with her megaphone, unable to conceal her excitement.

“I told you it was gonna be awesome! Dunno much about the pirates, but even I know Yoshitsune!”

“You expecting me to be impressed or something? You could hardly call yourself Japanese if you didn’t.”

I could not imagine it would be easy for this collection of pirates, outlaws to the bone that they were, to assimilate cleanly into everyday life in Mosaic City - although, of course, there were exceptions. Perhaps it was for the best that there was a place for them here, where they could put their talents to use while also entertaining the populace. However...

“I know it's just a mock battle, but don't you think this seems really one-sided? The Ottomans are obviously better at sea. Hannibal's famous for his war elephants, but he can't even use them on the water.”

“Haven't been reading up, eh Eri? Here's a flyer for you. See? Says right here the field will change halfway through, and turn into a land battle. There's your Carthaginian advantage.”

“Ah. I get it.” This was never supposed to be a fair battle, but a dramatic turnaround against overwhelming odds. The perfect script to drive the audience wild. I myself had to confess, I was looking forward to seeing Yoshitsune and Galahad face off – so much so that a part of me wished this were a real Holy Grail War.

“Yeah. Now I see.” I gazed around at the nearby spectators with dawning realisation. I felt as though I'd grown a little closer to understanding how these competitors could wield such extraordinary power, and the system that supported them in doing so.

----

“Eh?”

The back of my neck prickled. Someone, somewhere, was watching me.

I slid my gaze slowly around myself, careful not to let my reaction be noticed, but my stalker was impossible to discern through the interference of the crowd around me.

I'm being watched. No doubt about it. There's something else, too. A familiar, maybe?

The Borgia siblings' warning came to mind. Someone I'd previously crossed, out for revenge. As I looked around warily, hoping to forestall some impending attack, I noticed something strange: dotted throughout the crowd were spectators standing motionless, seemingly blind to the excitement around them.

Victims of the Command Seal Hunter? No, that doesn't seem right...

I focused, filtering out the auditory noise, following the sense of wrongness back to its source... and happened to catch a snippet of conversation from the row in front.

“You serious? A fire in Shinjuku?”

“Where? Tsunohazu? Kashiwagi?”

“Seems like it's around Hanazono way.”

Hanazono?

My old house was in Hanazono. Which was to say, Chitose's house was in Hanazono. I leaned forward a little, and stared at the woman in front's phone from over her shoulder.

“Eri, the hell are you doing?”

On the screen was a video someone had uploaded to the municipal network.

“What on earth...?”

A video of a building on fire. In real time.

A row of old wooden houses in Shinjuku wreathed in smoke. A human figure appeared from the billowing grey curtain, aflame from head to toe. However, they did not run or drop to the ground, but continued calmly into the next building, and even as their blood boiled and their skin charred with the flames' caress, began to feed the flames.

The video cut short - interrupted by a new upload of a public train brought to a standstill, flames licking at its roof.

As I watched, a buzz of concern began to spread throughout the crowd. It was hardly surprising; there were probably no small number of spectators here from Shinjuku. I turned around to see that Karin, too, was transfixed by her phone.

“What's wrong?”

“They say there's been some kinda 'pedestrian accident' in front of Shibuya station. A tram derailed and went across the cross... Oh. Ew. I'm not looking at that. Trains are stopped too. The hell's going on?”

Simultaneous incidents, all across Mosaic City.

“Ugh...”

I gripped my arm as a dull pain blossomed inside it. The stench of death was agitating the spirits. Black blood oozed out from beneath my hand, as their ire turned on my own body.

Just when I thought I'd gotten them under control...

This arena was no longer a place I should be. I was the greatest threat here, to the tens of thousands of spectators present and the partners by their sides. Right now, these simultaneous incidents concerned me.

Security here was tight, and more to the point, greater warriors than I could ever hope to be now thronged the main stage. This was perhaps the safest place in all of Mosaic City. My place was not here – as much as I had wanted to see Koharu fight, I no longer had time to worry about that.

“Eri, wait.”

Karin must have guessed my intentions as soon as I stood up.

“You're going? Just like that? Without me, again?”

“Sorry. I know I invited you out here and everything, but... there's something I need you to do.”

“What is it?”

I stared back at Karin for a moment, then looked down to the boy by her side.

“Kouyou, do you think you could take care of Pran?”

The ogress looked to Karin questioningly, then gave a slow nod.

“Consider it done. Just leave it to us, Eri.” Karin flashed her newly-recovered Command Seals, alongside an irrepressible grin. Just as I made to leave, Karin's phone buzzed with a notification, and she pulled it out.

“Who's texting people at this kinda time?”

She checked the screen and sighed.

“It's that Kuchime asshole. He says “Sorry.””

“That's all?”

“That's all.” She smiled, resignedly and a little sadly.

----

I left the seats behind and made my way to the outer hall. While still indoors, this was an airy, open space, with high arches modelled meticulously after Roman architecture. It extended far away in both directions, curving gently to match the shape of the arena. Shops lined the outer wall, still milling with a fair number of late customers. Here and there people clustered around screens outside the storefronts, drinking as they watched the matches unfold.

What's even the point of coming here?, I thought. You could be doing that at home!

–

As I hurried towards the exit, I organised the idea I'd hit upon earlier in my head: to whit, that the competitors in the Holy Grail Tournament were taking their mana from the crowd itself. Tens of thousands of pseudo-magi, all pouring mana into the Servants doing battle below. That was my hypothesis.

This Colosseum was not a post-war addition to Akihabara. It had been a part of this town since long before the world was restructured, and it was far too large an anomaly to be permitted to exist without a reason. And in ancient Rome, the battles that took place in the colosseums had been sacred acts; offerings made to the gods.

Heroic Spirits take on all of our thoughts, hopes and dreams. They draw power from them.

The greater the mark a Servant had left upon history, and the more fame they had earned, the more power they drew. Such was their nature – and as an unintended and tragic consequence, Servants were occasionally summoned with the strange and cruel skill, “Innocent Monster”.

How much of this do the Riedenflaus family realise, I wonder?

I couldn't help but wonder just to what extent thaumaturgical systems might be entwined with the structure of the Colosseum itself.

An unexpected voice called me to a halt.

“Erice, we need to talk. It's important.”

It was the first time I had seen Ms. Fujimura in several days. I wheeled around to find her standing in the dimly-lit outer hall, dressed like a librarian as always.

Why is she here? What could she possibly want to talk about?

I strode towards her, with the intention of grilling her on the events in Shibuya and Shinjuku.

As I opened my mouth, I heard an odd sound from the broadcast. As the camera focused on the Carthaginian flagship, the witch performing the commentary had yelped in shock. I spun around to look. Ms. Fujimura, too, focused on the screen.

What I saw defied comprehension.

Regardless of the fact that the enemy was still distant, Hannibal, the Carthaginian commander, whipped his blade from the sheath at his belt, and without a moment's hesitation thrust it deep into the chest of his second-in-command, El Cid.

“Gah!”

El Cid's face froze in an expression of disbelief. His Master rounded on Hannibal in his confusion. The Carthaginian pulled his bloodstained sword from his ally's chest, and without a care for the man's protests, swung his sword crosswise in a vicious slash.

Both El Cid and his master collapsed. Two heads flew from the boat, to splash down unceremoniously into the artificial sea.

#Fate/Requiem #Fate #translation #light novel

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oldmansunchips · 5 years

Photo

Done my first ever convention yesterday as a stall holder!

I learned I lot from this experience, so I thought I’d share what I learned from this:

1. Have a pal!

If you’re doing a stall alone like I did, have a pal with you! Logan helped so much with cutting stickers, making sure I had the correct change, helping organise and display everything so they looked appealing. It’s always good to have a second set of eyes and opinions to help gauge whether what you’re doing is a good choice or not.

2. You don’t need as many prints as you think!

I kinda went mad with prints because I knew loads of people were coming, so I ordered a lot when really you actually just need about 10 prints of everything you want to sell. However, if you do order a lot and you have leftovers, IT’S A BONUS! Because if like me you’re always on waiting lists, if you get picked last minute for a stall you already have everything you need, so there’s no rush to get prints/stickers made.

3. Engage!

This part can be hard for those of us who are on the anti-social side, but it makes a big difference! I was an avid cosplayer before I went into this side of attending conventions, so talking to people at cons wasn't so bad. If you see cosplays you like, tell them that you love their outfit! Talk to them about the similar interests you have and have a good time, plus it brings people over to your table, and that is what we’re after. You’re there to make money, but also to leave an impression!

There was a moment when a young girl came up dressed as Bee from Bee and Puppy Cat and funnily enough I had a Puppy cat print, so without hesitation I gave her a free print of Puppy cat with her purchase as a one off because I felt if anyone should have the print, it should be her to go with her cosplay. It absolutely made her day, and it even turned out her mum earlier on had helped us with getting change, so the good deed kinda went full circle!

4. Talk about money!

By the end of the convention people were coming up and struggling to buy things without making themselves totally skint, so I would ask them, “Well, how much do you have?” and by bringing this up it meant I could adjust my prices so they could leave with a good impression and a print from yours truly. You don’t need to drop to pennies, but have a chat, shave a quid off and have a happy customer. I know as a con goer money can be tight, so as the person behind the stall I knew I wouldn’t be loosing much by making things a little cheaper.

However, I was in a position where I got my prints cheap enough that anything over £1.50 was still a profit. Don’t loose out on money just to make people happy if you cannot afford it.

5. Bring munch!

Getting to the toilet without feeling like you’ve been away from your stall for 500 years is already hard enough, never mind trying to find a place to grab lunch. Bring some snacks with you to munch on when things get quite because you’re gonna be sat around for a loooong time, and being hungry during that time sucks! Bring food and water/juice with you because you will need it! Don’t forget to look after yourself!

6. Take notice of what people are buying and asking for!

I got small prints made sometime last year and I was always someone who bought big prints so I assumed they would sell more than small. Wrong. Small prints is where it’s at! They’re cheaper to be made (Sometimes even free depending where you go. Places like photobox do 30 free small prints when you first sign up, so whats to loose?) and take up less space! Notice what people are buying and keep track so you know what to get more made of etc. A lot of people asked for smaller prints of some of my big prints and sadly I only had them in one size, so I lost out some sales because of that.

7. Have a good time and be organised!

That’s it, just have fun and be organised so that everything runs smoothly from set up to packing it all away. Chat with other stall holders, kill time by drawing, stay well fed and hydrated and just go with the flow.

I’m not a professional, this was my first stall but I certainly learned a lot! I hope this helps some of you guys out there, and if not then whatever, y’know?

#artist alley #deecon #deecon2019 #scottish convention #comic con #comic convention #illustrator #illustration #digital artist #selling art

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1 (Revised)

The Tiger and the Dragon by George deValier

February, 2010 A city in America

"Yao, honestly, would you lighten up? You've barely said a word all night!" Arthur snatched a red paper streamer from a passing vendor, scrunched it into a ball, and tossed it at Yao's head. Yao attempted, unsuccessfully, to catch it before it hit him.

"It's called fatigue," Yao grumbled irritably. "I haven't had a day off in two weeks." He fumbled for the red paper ball and tossed it back at Arthur. Alfred neatly intercepted it then unravelled it, placed it over Yao's neck, and tied it into a neat little bow. Yao stopped and glared at the too-cheerful American.

"Yao, you have to celebrate!" Alfred grinned down brightly.

"Why?" Yao asked through gritted teeth.

"Because it's Chinese New Year! It is a time for your people to gather, dress as giant dragons, consume fortune cookies, and purchase tacky little Buddha statues!"

Yao continued to glare blankly. He did not know which was more astounding - Alfred's wilful ignorance, or the fact that after all these years, it still managed to surprise him.

"Alfred, you are an imbecile," said Francis disdainfully, swatting Alfred over the back of the head.

"What?" asked Alfred indignantly, rubbing his head as Arthur just laughed. The four young men continued walking down the busy, colourful inner-city street, passing energetic performers, crowds of onlookers, and endless rows of bright market stalls. A swarming, yelling, cheering mass filled the streets of Chinatown, and Yao could feel a headache developing. He had not ventured out for Chinese New Year in a very long time, and now he remembered why. He never did do well with crowds. He grimaced in annoyance as a loud group of men suddenly pushed through them and nearly knocked him over.

"Watch where you're going you bastards!" shouted Arthur. One of the men flipped them his middle finger and Alfred had to wearily restrain Arthur from chasing after him. It was the third time Arthur had tried to start a fight all evening. "Wankers!" Arthur finally gave up and fell back into step with the others, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it swiftly.

Yao sighed in exasperation. This was all far too much hassle. "Guys, seriously, why did you make me come out here? We could have just had a few drinks back at my apartment."

"You never want to go anywhere lately," whined Francis. "You're becoming a complete shut-in. Not to mention a bore, mon cher." Francis took a swig from a bottle concealed in a paper bag and offered it to Yao. Yao took it and drank - maybe it would get rid of his headache.

"That's not true." Yao coughed slightly. He never was a big drinker; even a few sips of strong wine were enough to burn his throat. "We just went out like last week, remember? That big party at the Beilschmidt's place."

"That was a Christmas party," said Arthur, reaching insistently for the wine bottle. "A rather early Christmas party, if I remember correctly."

Yao took a few more gulps before handing the bottle over. "Fine, so it's been a few, er, months. So? You know how busy I get at the restaurant."

"Oh, for the days when our Yao was the life of the party," said Alfred, sighing loudly and shaking his head melodramatically.

"What days were those?" asked Arthur before taking a large gulp of wine. "I never remember our Yao being the life of the party."

Alfred shrugged. "Well, at least we could drag him out of the house."

"Um, guys, I'm not dead," snapped Yao. "I've just been busy lately, aru." He immediately swore under his breath, annoyed that his friends had got an 'aru' out of him. An old nervous habit, Yao only came out with it these days when either very angry, irritated, or nervous.

"Oh please," said Francis flippantly. "You are making excuses. I work the same hours as you at the restaurant."

"You see?" said Alfred, waving his hand. "And Francis hasn't turned into a predictable, boring old man!"

Yao scowled. "I hate it when you call me an old man. And I'm not that predictable." He quickly tried to remember the last change to his routine. "Uh... only the other night I stayed up until two a.m."

Alfred whistled then shouted, "Two a.m, look out, he's a wild one!" He immediately ducked as Francis aimed another swipe at his head.

"Really?" asked Arthur, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "What were you doing?"

"I was… rearranging my shoes." The others stared blankly as Yao tried to explain. "I couldn't sleep, and they were messing up my closet, and…" Yao trailed into a mumble. He felt slightly embarrassed, but the feeling was quickly drowned by indignant anger. Fine, so he'd been a little antisocial lately. That was no reason to attack him! "What the hell is it to you if I want to stay home and organise my wardrobe anyway?" Yao shouted. "I don't have an obligation to go out with you anytime you want, you know!"

Alfred and Arthur looked faintly amused at Yao's outburst, but Francis tilted his head apologetically. "Oh, forget this, mon cher. We are here to have fun, no? Here, have a Buddha statue." Francis stopped in front of a stall, picked up a small figurine, and threw it to Yao. Yao was surprised when he managed to catch it. "It may bring you luck." Francis winked before turning to pay the stall owner.

Yao seethed silently as they came to a stop on the street. He knew he should be used to his friends' teasing by now, but he was still annoyed - not least because he knew they were kind of right. Sure, Yao worked long hours. Sure, he was a perfectionist when it came to his work. And sure, he had chosen a competitive business and strived to be the best. But maybe that was all just an excuse. Maybe Yao really was as everyone saw him - tedious, boring, and predictable.

"Red streamer neckties, little Buddha statues… you're getting into the spirit of the New Year after all." Alfred grinned widely. Yao restrained himself from kicking Alfred's foot.

"Is there an off-licence around here somewhere?" asked Arthur, waving the now-empty bottle as Francis rejoined them. "I finished your wine."

Francis' face twisted in disgust. "Merde, who gave you that?"

Arthur straightened up confrontationally. "Whad'ya mean by that?"

Francis put his hands on his hips and met Arthur's stare. "I mean, ros-bif, that it is never a good idea to hand you a full bottle, for it will invariably be empty before you hand it back."

"Sod off, Frog, this French piss tastes like vinegar anyway." Arthur exhaled a stream of smoke in Francis' direction.

Alfred looked confused. "What the hell is an off-licence?"

Arthur scoffed and flicked his cigarette butt to the ground. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you only speak Dumb American."

Alfred folded his arms huffily. "You expect me to keep up with your insane British names for everything? Why can't you talk normal?"

Yao took a few short steps away from the group and looked down at the tiny Buddha in his hand. Years of practice had enabled him to tune out the sound of his friends bickering, so all he heard was the noise of the crowd buzzing in his ears. He turned the small brown figurine over in his hand, contemplating the previous conversation. Yao was utterly sick of being thought of as boring, predictable, old man Yao Wang. It was infuriating. It was insulting. And it wasn't who he really was. Yao squeezed the lucky Buddha and slowly came to a decision. Starting right this moment, he wasn't going to be old man Yao Wang anymore. This was the New Year, after all. It was time for a new beginning. It was time for his luck to change. Yao nodded decisively, put the figurine in his pocket, then immediately jumped when he heard an unfamiliar voice right behind him.

"Hello."

Yao spun around. The first thing that struck him was the man's size. His chest and shoulders were massive, and Yao almost had to strain his neck to look up into the man's smiling, interestingly handsome face. The next thing that struck him was the man's eyes - cold, piercing, and the strangest shade of violet. The third thing that struck Yao was that he was frozen still, staring dumbly up at a stranger in the street and gawking like an idiot. He quickly cleared his throat. "Um, hi."

"You are very beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?"

Yao paused, feeling a little thrown. Well, this was unusual. The man's voice was heavily accented, most likely Russian. He was dressed immaculately in a boot-length trench coat, slightly open to reveal a black suit and a pale scarf around his neck. His presence was overwhelming. Yao opened his mouth but did not know what to say. The man just smiled down at him, those violet eyes stared through him, and Yao felt some reckless part of himself grasp at what seemed a perfect opportunity. "Okay." Yao turned to his friends to find them all staring at the stranger warily. He smiled smugly. "I'll be back soon, this strange Russian man is going to buy me a drink."

Arthur, Alfred and Francis stared at Yao with open mouths and raised eyebrows. "You're not bloody serious," said Arthur.

Yao shrugged nonchalantly, enjoying the shock of his friends. Now who was being boring? "Hey, it's still early." He grinned. "I'm being unpredictable."

Alfred abruptly grabbed Yao by the arm and dragged him a few metres from the stranger. "Are you crazy?" he hissed. "Accepting drinks from Russians in trench coats isn't unpredictable - well okay it is, but it's also insane!"

Yao narrowed his eyes, muttering quietly so he wasn't overheard. "Don't be ridiculous, Alfred, it's just a drink."

"Yeah," snorted Arthur, "Francis does it all the time."

"And if Yao doesn't go, I will," said Francis, gazing appreciatively at the Russian. "He's hot."

"I am going," said Yao insistently, shaking his arm free and backing away. He gave a tiny wave. "Bye guys!"

"Wait!"

Yao stopped at the frantic tone of Alfred's voice. "What?"

Alfred looked almost panicked. "Do you have a can of mace?"

Yao raised his eyebrows, rolled his eyes, and turned back to the still-smiling stranger. The Russian had simply waited patiently during the entire whispered conversation. Yao looked up at him, heart thumping in his chest, and smiled back. "So. Where are you taking me?"

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#george devalier #the tiger and the dragon #the tiger and the dragon chapter 1

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paullicino · 5 years

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On moving

I am packing my things. It is, at this point, just another routine. There are various combinations of packing that I do depending upon the transport I’m taking and I’ve become very good at following routines that mean I immediately, instinctively know where to find things later.

These things go in the suitcase. These things go in my messenger bag. Long before I reach any airport scanners, all of the objects in my pockets are already in the pockets of that same messenger bag. I know exactly which of my things will set off a metal detector. I dress appropriately the morning before. And I shave. I shave and look like as respectable a traveller as I can.

Outside the sky is a pale blue the exact shade of longing, pierced by telegraph poles and criss-crossed with wires hanging heavy under the weight of the stories they carry. One of those stories is mine, carried on to you right now.

Change might be coming. It might happen any moment now. Nobody is sure. Nothing is certain. The wind blows and every plant, shrub, bush and tree bends in accordance as if this was always meant to be.

Something happens when I try to move. The wheels of time become greased and the clocks spin right in front of my eyes. At the same time, the ground becomes tar. It is sticky and sour and it yearns to pull me downward even as I try to move on. Whatever day I decide I’m travelling on I never manage to get enough sleep. I never make enough time. I am always in a rush.

I got up today before seven. I had all sorts of tasks to finish. I still haven’t. Sat next to me right now is a postcard I need to send back to friends to thank them for taking care of me. I haven’t had dinner. I haven’t checked my travel times.

That tar has been following me around for a long time now. It’s a strange creature that lives in the ground and that slurps its way from continent to continent, hunting me down, ready to form a new broiling, bubbling pit of blackness below me when I most want to be free. I fear that, one day, it will suck me down inside and I will never be able to move on again.

I have been re-reading things that I wrote back in December 2014. The month was a blur. It was a blur of packing, of travel plans and of shedding so many of my possessions. I climbed into a catapult aimed at Vancouver and I missed. I was so tired that I booked a flight to Calgary.

I struggled to get rid of a sofa for free. London is packed with middle class people who scour freecycle sites and they get very picky about the furniture you are giving away. You live too far. It’s too scratched. It’s the wrong colour. It’s a fucking free sofa.

I frantically edited the longest video I ever made, staying up late, unable to sleep, falling into bed to wake up at all kinds of times and watch those clocks spin and spin and spin.

At moments like these I try to do everything myself, because I feel more confident that way and also more informed. I organise it all and, apart from the occasional flight to Calgary, I tend to get it all right. I got a lot of things wrong in December 2014, mind you, because I had never before given away or thrown away half of my worldly possessions, planned to move abroad or leapt forward into the void without knowing where I was living next. At moments like these, my friends and family also find tiny ways to help, which inevitably end up becoming extremely useful. They can be as simple as Ed booking me the cab that took me away from my last London flat for the last time.

I cursed myself as I left, because I realised I’d forgotten my toiletries. I’d also left cheese in the fridge and I would find out later that the landlady was furious about this. The flat had months of water damage from flooding that she hadn’t been able to repair because of the complexities of where the leak was coming from and because an infinite amount of plumbers and builders had given her estimates she didn’t like, so she just kept sending new people over to tut at the mouldy walls and leaking ceiling.

There were a bunch of other problems, too, but that was the worst. Everything stank long before she complained about an ageing piece of cheese that it took five seconds to put in the bin. Fuck her.

I looked back over my notes from that time. I found that I’d written this.

“I don’t sleep much. I wake up stressed about packing and preparation. Moving out remains a full time job.

Ed came to see me and, very kindly, also ordered me a taxi. It was a taxi that would help take me and more objects than I ever expected to carry all the way out of London, where I may well never ever live again. I dismantled my PC in front of him and gave him the case. I packed the rest of its wiry innards away. I heaved a rucksack onto my back, loaded my laptop bag with everything that would fit inside it and crammed the last of the things I had into the giant rolling suitcase that I bought myself a few days ago.

It took me a long time to pick that suitcase. I found a street vendor on Tottenham Court Road who had an enormous stall selling cases of all shapes and sizes. I tried to work out weights. I tried to work out capacities. It took me a long time, as I fussed and fretted over every possible one, trying them all out, seeing how solid they were, seeing if they would safely transport computer parts or fragile items or anything else. The guy selling them was very, very patient and helpful. I trundled away with a blue thing which is effectively my new home.

I talked with Ed and he wished me well and then the taxi he’d called arrived. I loaded all my many things into the back of it and began the slow, constipated journey toward Waterloo, inching and forcing a passage through the twisting intestines of south London's bulging and buckling infrastructure. All things were dark and dense with people and litter and London's very particular flavour of incredibly oily night seeping into it all.

The capital looked stained and weathered and wrinkled everywhere I turned my eyes, at every junction, intersection or street that my taxi tried to squeeze its way through. It held onto me as long and as tight as it could and I pushed my way through the thousands of people filling Waterloo in numbers I never saw when I took my first regular trips in, well over ten years gone. I felt only the tiniest bit of pity for it as I snatched typical station snack food from an outlet and dragged all my things onto a train, ready to be firmly, thoroughly, definitively expelled from that strange and sickly and suffering underworld of a place.”

I also wrote that London was a tar pit. I feared that I was sinking into it forever and that I would never be free. Each time I pulled one part of myself out, another was newly smeared as something began to tug it under. I couldn’t get my feet free. I couldn’t get my hands free. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe.

I hear that tar bubbling again. I am going to pack the last of my things away now. I have to go. Change might be coming. It might happen any moment now. Nobody is sure. Nothing is certain.

The wind blows and I stand firm against it. I step forward.

This writing was funded by my supporters on Patreon. I’ve decided to make my standard posts there public, so you can now read lots more work like this. And if you’re interested in reading even more, there’s plenty to enjoy if you'd like to support me at a higher tier.

#Travelogue #Seattle #London #Canada #writing

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rinniboo · 6 years

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I decided to embark on a solo trip to Bali after seeing travel brochures for a paradise looking like island and I was sold! I also found it’s a pretty safe place to travel alone and the locals are very friendly. So here’s my fantastical blog on what I did there for a week with all of my golden tricks and tips!

Ladies travelling back from prayer

What originally started as a month long trip around Asia had to unfortunately get cut down to two weeks max as I picked up a new job contract. So I had already planned to fly to Singapore and use it as my base, which is very common when travelling around Asia! Singapore airport is not only the most popular place for connecting flights but long running top rated! Check out my Singapore in a weekend blog post here. I booked a return flight to Bali with Scoot and I read reviews that it was a great budget airline to use.

You can hire a horse to ride along the beach at Gili T

Unfortunately, I had quite a terrible experience with my flights out to Bali from Singapore as the pilot announced an hour into the flight that we were delayed for half an hour because they originally couldn’t turn the engine on! That was resolved after they restarted it but now we had to turn around and land back into Singapore because a new fault has cropped up! This meant we had to fly around for three hours to burn enough fuel to land and then we didn’t get onto a replacement flight and actually into Bali until 6 hours later! By this time all my plans to check out the local neighbourhood, sample the local cuisine and sit down to plan my trip there with everything unpacked had gone out the window! I also got charged a fee for an after hours pick up from the hotel, which I was not aware of and I had already given the taxi driver a big tip anyway! Thankfully my flights back all ran quite smoothly and I left plenty of time to catch my flight home to the UK straight from Singapore (lots of time to hit the duty free – hard!)

The Moksha Ubud garden

The Moksha Ubud communal pool

Views from The Moksha Ubud

I had pre organised an AirBnB well in advanced at the Spa & villa Moksha Ubud. It’s a beautiful villa with a communal pool, garden and spa hut out back where you can pick and choose from a range of spa treatments and even book a week package where you can get a select few wonderful treatments each day! The place is run by the friendly duo Mega and Ali with dedicated security at night and a great team that made me feel safe and right at home. They do not rent out scooters but you’re only less than a 5 min walk from the main road where there’s a plethora of travel shops and stalls where you can hire scooters, book transport and a variety of trips.

The Fire dance and performance was a spectacular to watch!

Temples! Temples everywhere!

You can’t go to the yoga mecca without going to at least one yoga class! Try Radiantly Alive Yoga or the famous Yoga Barn!

For the first day I farmiliarised myself with my local surroundings so I took a walk along the whole length of the main road and scouted out where the most popular places were to eat by the locals. I then ventured to the monkey forest where they had an event on and all of the women were there dressed in their traditional prayer garments and listening to the show and testimonials. Having visited a monkey forest in Manchester before, the proximity to the cheeky furry creatures was not new. However, their fearlessness of teasing visitors and nicking personal belongings astounded me! I made sure all of my things were tightly packed away in my drawstring bag, but even an unfortunate shop keeper from the string of stalls in there had their stationary stolen by a cheeky monkey!

All of the architecture just took my breath away, the temple arches were decadently adorned and everywhere exudes history with the mossy weathered cobbles and bricks. I really disliked how touristy Ubud was as the streets were heaving with visitors and this attracted a lot of hawkers, which unfortunately made every step along the road a constant battle to reject taxi rides! A great way I met new people, locals and other solo female travelers (which there were a lot of in Ubud!) was by using the Couchsurfing app. Speaking the local Maly language encourages shopkeepers at the local markets to haggle in your favor and is a great shopping experience!