#which tracks with how our last in person conversation went. But she has no control over it and technically the paper is in my ma paper

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

does the tone of this succinct email suggest my academic advisor is annoyed with me or is it just that I put off eating lunch for 3 hours? and other fun games to play

[bomberqueen17]

vacation

I'm in Maine with my dude. Our anniversary is around the 4th of July so we kinda try to do stuff around then. This year is 22 years, which marks the point at which it's been more than half of each of our lives. So that's keen. Not to be mushy.

I just saw a thing about celebrating Pickett's Charge Day and it amused me a lot. As an impressionable child I read Michael Shaara's The Killer Angels repeatedly, which is an account of the battle of Gettysburg with alternating points of view from participants on both sides-- it was adapted into a movie but I didn't see that so IDK if it captured any of what I found so poignant in the narrative. (Does the song Kathleen Mavourneen play a big role in the movie? bc it does in the book.) But because of this I knew that it was the 20th Maine Reg't led by Col. Joshua Chamberlain that held the left flank against repeated assaults on that day, so it seems fitting. I looked it up before I posted this, but I did actually know that.

No, I've never been to the battlefield at Gettysburg either, I'm a poor secondhand student of the civil war. My mom wrote a book about it but it's unpublished, she just put it up on the town website. LMK if you want to read it (I'm not linking directly to it because it's on the town website so it's kind of uh doxxy, LOL); it's an extremely dry work, simply recounting the results of her research into the service record, origins, and ultimate fate of every single person she could track down who either served in the regiment our town sent to the war, OR who served in the war and later settled in our town. It was years of research by her including many trips to battlefields. This is my background, is all I'm saying, and the reason why I know the names of like a bunch of the colonels at Gettysburg without checking.

Anyhow. We're not up here for civil war purposes, we're here to sit in a house on a lake and listen to some loons. We went last night and got on a schooner and schooned around Penobscot Bay, which was fantastic; saw the sunset, but not the moonrise, as it was cloudy. It's been mostly rainy here but it stopped raining long enough for that and that's all I care about. If it rains tonight, so much the better, as it'll keep the noise down. Na ha I'm the Grinch of the Fourth of July.

so anyway a couple of photos and some meandery stories behind the cut:

I'm putting the descriptions/captions in the alt, idk how well that works. Ah you can see the lighthouse here-- Camden, ME has a slightly dangerous harbor entry , with two nice wide channels that allow easy entry but a large submerged rock ledge in the middle that at high tide is completely invisible. Every year, our skipper said, some boat forgets about this and runs violently aground. This year's sacrifice was a 50-foot powerboat, and he heard the mayday call as he was on his morning commute. Some lobstermen were in range and managed to haul the boat off the rocks and tow it in to port, but it sank in the launch area-- still, they could easily raise it from there. The passengers were all unharmed, following behind in a dinghy very abashed. A couple weeks later on one of his several-times-daily tours our captain found all the cushions from the wrecked powerboat washed ashore in a nearby cove, and was wondering at the etiquette-- should he collect and return them? He did not reveal whether he had, as conversation moved on.

He was a college kid, raised locally, home for the summers, but in his senior year as a computer engineer up at the U of Maine in one of the campuses about an hour away.

Since it was not very windy we had to use the motor a bit, but we did sail for a goodly while, and in the very light breeze he said "So I'm going to do a controlled jibe here, because the wind is super chill, and if you know a lot about sailing you'll know why I've been taught not to do this move but this is the ideal condition for it. So everybody duck, I'm holding it but the boom is going to move."

A schooner has two masts, so that meant both booms moved. And the mate controlled the forward one admirably, and he the aft, and we were all fine. But as we were coming into the harbor and taking the sails down, the forward boom swung again a little unexpectedly, and the passengers sitting below it had to duck. The mate worriedly asked if everyone was okay, and one woman said "Oh, no, I had a past life regression where I learned I was killed by a sail boom, so I'm really good at ducking!" to which the mate cheerfully, slightly awkwardly, replied "Oh that's great! that! uh! I mean not that you died! But that you didn't this time!" which was extremely gracious of her, especially given that she was about seventeen years old. (She had just been explaining to us that her doctor made her wear glasses full time now because she had gotten her driver's license and he didn't think she should drive without glasses.)

ANYWAY the lighthouse at Camden has been automated since the 1980s, like all US lighthouses, BUT has still had a lighthouse keeper-- a local woman lived there 50 years and raised a family there and only recently at 90 retired as the keeper, and now the assistant harbormaster lives out there. Nobody really needs to be in that lighthouse but it's a point of local pride to have a manned lighthouse.

There are also bell buoys, which I hadn't really noticed as a thing before-- but it's just a buoy with a large bell on it, and the waves' rocking tolls the bell constantly, and it's meant to warn of a hazard. There are several in Camden harbor, because there are a number of very tall rocks that stick up out of the otherwise mostly 180-200ft depth, and some of those rocks are submerged at high tide so you would never see them coming and your onboard depth sensor thing wouldn't catch them in time. (Those rocks, our skipper said, are called The Graves, because of the number of wrecks on them, but they're so steep you can almost touch them from the side of a passing boat; they're used as turning points in some of the tall ship racing that happens locally, and he was aboard one once that turned so tight around one of those rocks and he said he was so terrified the whole time and would never himself sail that close to one.)

It was so calm while we were out there-- Lake Erie is choppier-- but it was sunset, which is when the wind changes direction usually, and the weather here has been heavy rain for days and it was a break in the weather. Anyway that was the Atlantic Ocean, though we weren't really out in it, it was all Penebscot Bay.

Apparently the Olad's original name when commissioned was The Whistle Binkie, which is terrible and hilarious.

OK next slide, good thing I'm only doing two

Good morning, I woke at 5 and noticed the sky was pink and knew it would be fleeting, so I threw my bathrobe on and went out even though I really needed to pee, so I suffered for this art-- I got out a little ways on the dock and listened to a loon calling and took several photos, and then went inside and when I came back out the light had gone, so I'm glad I ran out when I did. Those bridges are narrow though, and I'm not the steadiest when I first wake up, so I was not going all the way out to that last dock. The view is great from that last dock but the great view is to the north, and the pink clouds were to the west, so for this photo, this was the better view anyway.

This is Megunticook Lake.

Today we have no plans; the restaurants downtown were nuts last night, we walked into one place at 4:45 and were told we could be seated around 6:25, so we walked back out and went instead to the Sea Dog brewery, which I had heard of-- I've had their beer somewhere-- but we're thinking tonight will be nuts, so we're going to stay home and eat the stuff we brought for today's lunch instead, and we're going to venture out for lunch today in hopes that it will be less insane.

We'd asked the skipper of the Olad what the 4th of July was going to be like, did he have the day off etc, and he laughed and said no, he works on that day, but it is kiiiind of the worst, because everyone with a boat or access to a boat has to take it out on the 4th of July, and they're all drunk, so he spends most of the day trying to avoid drunk boaters and trying to make sure nobody falls off his boat. (When we'd boarded he'd given us the rules before we pulled out of the berth, and the only actual rule was stay on the boat, and I don't like to think about how emphatic he had to be about that.) I think I mentioned, he was like twenty, and when someone asked him how long he'd been doing this he blithely said "oh this is my first day!" but then admitted it was actually his first season as skipper, but he'd been crewing these kinds of boats for about five years now. Uncommonly among tourist attractions, his job had gotten more busy during the pandemic, because honestly it's an extremely low-risk activity, you could not be any less enclosed, though they had to abide by the same regulations re: mask wearing as airplanes and large commercial ferries, so it was a bit silly-- but absolutely lowest risk of all given that they're wind-operated.

So we know Camden town is going to be insane all day tomorrow, and there's a fireworks display they launch off a boat in the harbor, and we are not going to attempt to go see it! We will hear it from here, and that is fine. We brought our own sparklers, should we be so inclined.

[snaggletoothedbastard]

explaining why i want to play the main character in the play that i wrote to a bunch of strangers on tumblr because Reasons

so i did not even originally write this role for me. i actually wrote the role of the busker for myself, and then i met my best friend and was instantly like "he would be perfect for this role" so i had to look for other options for me. and the more i've thought about my main character, named sasha, the more i really really want to play her. and i want to play her even more because of an argument i had with my dad the other day.

to sum it up, i went out with some friends last week and my dad picked me up from two of the friends' house. he came into the house through the back door, which i was not expecting, and i was feeling rather hyperactive from having fun with my mates and also embarrassed because "oh god my dad is here and i'm surrounded by teenagers who i was just playing cards against humanity with. what the fuck do i do. i know i'll say something funny!"

so i said to my dad "where the hell did you come from?" in what i thought was the kind of voice people use when they're telling a joke. well my dad didn't agree with that and he also managed to completely mishear me? he thought i said "what the hell are you doing here" which is totally different from what i actually said, and if i had said that i would understand why he was pissed, but i didn't say it so he was just getting mad at me for something i did not say.

and he kept saying he didn't like my tone, which is a conversation we've had hundreds of times and i always try to tell him that my tone has nothing to do with the words i'm saying and i don't have much control over it, and every time this information goes over his head.

this time i guess i was just well and truly sick of it because when we got home i had a meltdown out of stress. the next morning i was able to explain the situation to my dad and he understood a bit better and he was very apologetic, which is good.

but this has given me even more incentive to play my own character.

because the thing about sasha is, obviously she's autistic right, if you've been keeping track of my play you know that by now. and if i were to play her, i would give her my voice. i would give her the voice that gets me in trouble. and i wouldn't have her apologise for it or learn to talk differently because there's nothing wrong with it, and i am tired of being told that my voice is unpleasant to listen to. that it stops people from listening to my words.

it would be like saying to the audience, "look. this is how some people express themselves. and we're not going away and we're not changing for you, so it's about time you grow up and get used to it."

i don't want to perform a pantomime of cheerfulness to make people listen to me. especially if the person i'm talking to is my literal fucking father. and i don't think sasha wants to do that either. so taking inspiration from my experiences allows both myself and the character to express ourselves in our own way, something that i think we both need.

[damonalbarn]

Hey I was wondering if you knew the article that Justine spoke about suzi in?!

It was in The Guardian in 2000. Here you go:

Sweet revenge

In the mid 90s, Justine Frischmann and Damon Albarn were the First Couple of Britpop. Then he used a Blur album to rake over their break-up, while she languished in obscurity amid rumours of heroin addiction. Now she's back with a new album, and it's her turn to exorcise her demons.

Caroline Sullivan

Friday March 24, 2000

As Alison Moyet once said, it's hard to write a decent song when you're happy. Rock bands thrive on romantic turmoil in their private lives, without which they would be reduced to padding out lyrics with football scores and the weather.

Thus it was for Blur's Damon Albarn in mid-1998 when he sat down to write what would become the 13 album. His eight-year relationship with Justine Frischmann of the chart-topping Elastica, whom he once described as **"the only person who's ever been completely necessary to me" **had just ended, at her instigation. Pained and humiliated, he decided to exact revenge by exposing their most intimate details to public scrutiny.

The outcome? Embarrassment for Frischmann, a number one album for Blur and a bit of a result for Albarn.

Break-up albums are by definition both embittered and yearning - in the case of Marvin Gaye's vindictive Here, My Dear, they're just plain nasty - but 13 got more up-close and personal than could be considered gentlemanly. Albarn portrayed his former partner as neurotic, even slipping apparent drug references into the single Tender: "Tender is the ghost, the ghost I love the most/Hiding from the sun, waiting for the night to come". Frischmann was the ghost, supposedly, who was on the verge of being consumed by what one music paper euphemistically called "the darkness at the heart of Elastica".

Frischmann's response can be found on a song called The Way I Like It, which appears on Elastica's first album in five years, The Menace (out next month): "Well, I'm living all right and I'm doing okay/Had a lover who was made of sand, and the wind blew him away".

This is unlikely to be her last word on the subject. As she ambivalently begins her first round of interviews since 1996, she's finding that everyone has the same three questions. Why did Elastica nearly sabotage a promising career by taking so long to follow up their million-selling debut? Had Frischmann taken leave of her senses when she walked out on Mr Britpop? And what about the drug rumours?

"One journalist said to me, 'Dahling, I heard you were on heroin - Mahvelous!' " she says with some amusement. "Drugs are around, but I'm not that interested and never have been, although there have been elements of party animal in my band. The rumours are a lot to do with rock'n'roll mythology, where people want to believe you're having a more exciting time than you are."

The only drugs on her person today, as she perches on the edge of an armchair in her publicist's north London living room, are Marlboro Lights. Her other indulgences are two cups of herbal tea and a Cadbury's Flake cupcake, which she nibbles with well-bred pleasure. Her dark eyes are clear, and her long, tanned body is a testament to the virtues of a daily swim in a pool near her Notting Hill home. Only Elastica know whether they really succumbed to heroin and hedonism after their self-titled debut made them more famous than they'd ever expected to be, but if they did, Frischmann, 30, seems little the worse for it.

Given the current predominance of damnable boy bands, the Britpop mid-90s are beginning to seem like a halcyon period for English music. It was a time when the underground went overground, and a self-described "little punk band" like Elastica could sell 80,000 albums in a week.

More than a few loser guitar groups saw Britpop as a licence to print money, but Elastica, led with cool elan by the androgynous Frischmann, were one of its gems. The Blur connection was a marketing godsend (Frischmann and Albarn met on the London indie circuit, she as guitarist in an early line-up of Suede and girlfriend of frontman Brett Anderson, he as a cherubic baggy hopeful), yet the spiky-haired Elastica LP embodied that euphoric time like nothing else.

Frischmann, guitarist Donna Matthews, drummer Justin Welch and bassist Annie Holland were unprepared for the album soaring to number one in its first week. When they signed their record deal, Frischmann, whose great-grandfather was a conductor of the Tsar's orchestra at the Summer Palace in Byelorussia, was five years into an architecture degree at London University. A liberal north London Jewish upbringing - her engineer father built the Oxford Street landmark Centrepoint - had instilled expectations of success, but the reality of being photographed in the supermarket and having her rubbish stolen was a shock. Fiercely independent, she also resented her unsought role as half of Britpop's First Couple.

There was more. Two of Frischmann's musical heroes, The Stranglers and Wire, decided that two Elastica songs were suspiciously similar to two of their own tracks, and won royalties. Meanwhile, there were malicious rumours that Albarn had done much of the work on the record. He hadn't, but he did find Justine's success in America, where she was substantially out-selling Blur, hard to endure.

"It was very hard for him to deal with and he's very confrontational," she says, with the flattering openness of someone who prefers interviews to be more like conversations. She admits she often says too much, but in an era of image control and spin, her honesty makes her a one-off. Not that she's likely to land herself in it too badly - she possesses the intellectual ammunition to look after herself, which must have been instrumental in attracting two of rock's more articulate stars, Albarn and Anderson.

She's been accused of being a professional rock girlfriend, though it was probably they who were lucky to get her. She spent the cab ride over reading the Sylvia Plath letters in Monday's Guardian, and muses on the irony of the poet's subjugating herself to Ted Hughes when she was the more gifted. (Her new boyfriend, by the way, is an unknown photographer, "though that'll probably change, because men seem to get famous when I go out with them".)

"I reacted the way a lot of women do, by being passive," she continues. "He put a lot of pressure on me to give up Elastica. He said, 'You don't want to be in a band, you want to settle down and have kids.' " In so many words? "In so many words. He kept putting on pressure till I started to believe him." She adds bemusedly: "I've met his new girlfriend, and one of the first things she said was that he wanted her to give up travelling with her work to stay home with the baby [Missy, born last autumn]. I'm surprised he's got away with being thought of as a nice person for so long."

After 18 months, during which they did seven American and three Japanese tours, Elastica came off the road to record company demands for an immediate second album. Annie Holland's response was to quit the group, while Donna Matthews became renowned for hard partying on the nocturnal west London scene. They lethargically recorded some demos, but their heart wasn't in it. By 1997, when a second album should have been ready to go, Frischmann and Matthews were barely speaking, and there was nothing useable down on tape.

Holland's replacement, Sheila Chipperfield (of the circus Chipperfields), was deemed not good enough and left by mutual consent. By 1998, their continued lack of productivity was being likened to the Stone Roses' lengthy and ultimately self-destructive holiday between their first and second LPs.

"I didn't think Elastica were going to continue at that point, and we did kinda split up," she says, absently stroking her publicist's cat. Frischmann is a cat person; she's owned a tabby called Benjamin since she was 10. "Unconditional love," she coos. The pet's place in her life is so assured that prospective boyfriends are subjected to his feline scrutiny before she'll go out with them.

On top of everything else, in early 1998 her relationship with Albarn was in trouble. Frischmann retains enough of the indie ethic to detest the phenomenon of celebrity couples, and was dismayed when they became one. "I really hated the tabloid interest, and I went out of my way not to be photographed with him. Only about three pictures of us together exist, I think. In many ways, I think the media interest broke us up, because it made me feel the relationship was quite ugly, and I had to get away from it. There were other factors, too, obviously, because we were together for eight years, and I finally felt it was better the devil you didn't know, really."

Albarn's ego seems to have been severely undermined by having a girlfriend who was nearly as successful as he was, and something of a sex symbol to boot. Despite adopting a resolutely boyish T-shirt-and-jeans uniform, she's thoroughly feminine, a mix that got her voted fifth most fanciable woman in a lesbian magazine.

"I'm completely heterosexual, so I didn't know how to take that. It scares the shit out of me, the idea of being with a girl. I'm glad I've narrowed it down to half the people in the world."

She seems to view Albarn with indulgent exasperation these days, simultaneously praising his intelligence ("The Gallaghers just couldn't compete") and ticking off his flaws. "Damon adores being in the press, and sees all press as good press. He orchestrated that rivalry thing with Oasis. He really wanted kids, and I didn't feel our relationship was stable enough. He was a naughty boy, and he wasn't the right person to have kids with. I had this cathartic moment..."

At which point they split up. Albarn wrote 13 and then met Suzi Winstanley, an artist. "She was pregnant within three months," Justine observes wickedly.

Of the acclaimed 13, she's tactful, describing several songs as "really lovely". She studies her cigarette for a while before adding, "but I'm cynical about selling a record on the back of our relationship". But you're doing the same now. "It's true, but at the time I had no right of reply."

Elastica finally pulled themselves together last year, just as the music industry was about to write them off (their American label had already "very kindly let us go", as she puts it). Holland rejoined, Matthews went to Wales to sort out her life and the band banged out an EP and played the Reading Festival. Things came together quickly after that. They spent the last £10,000 of the recording budget on re-recording a dozen tracks, finishing the album, after years of procrastinating, in six weeks. They've called it The Menace "because that's what it was like to make".

It's dark and resolutely uncommercial - all wrong for 2000's pop-oriented climate. It's unlikely to match the success of the first one, which is fine with them. Call it (though Justine doesn't) their White Album. Its 70s punk aesthetic brings to mind angry girls such as the Slits and the Au Pairs, although the defining mood isn't anger so much as catharsis. None of the songs is specifically about Albarn, she claims. "The dark feeling is due to the sense of isolation, tasting success and getting frightened by it. I was questioning whether I wanted to be in a band any more, and there was no one I could ask for advice. Getting success and everything you ever dreamed about is hard to handle, and makes you question everything."

She's better prepared for success, if it comes again, this time. Already the privacy-preserving barriers are in place. The next interview of the day is with Time Out magazine, which wants a list of her favourite restaurants. "I'm not telling them where I eat," she says reflexively. "I'm gonna lie."

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

That time of the month

Yelena Belova X reader, one shot, angst+fluff, mentions of Red Room methods of control, dealing with their consequences, overall a heavy topic

You had that feeling every month. Yelena was hiding something from you. Something very personal. Something after all this time you didn't deserve to hear. For a few days she was quiet, distant, cold. Your clingy girlfriend was turning into someone else. You didn't know that version of Yelena. That one wasn't yours. And she didn't allow you to change that.

Sometimes she was on the missions during those days. You hated yourself for thinking that was a relief. A relief from a woman you wanted to spend your life with.

You remembered vividly when this happened for the first time. Your first month together. Every time you touched her that day she flinched. Your Yelena didn't want you. And that was hurtful.

Other than these few days you had perfect relationship. You both wanted to have a home, a family, white fence. A cliche fucking fence. You wanted a life together. You two, your dogs, maybe a parrot. Who knew.

Maybe it was all your fault. You were not supportive enough, not open enough. Not dying for Yelena enough.

You met on a rainy day in a coffee shop with her colleagues, damn dark avengers, daring her to approach you. Any other person would get a cold smile and idontcarewhoyouarenoidontwanttohaveagoodtime. But you've noticed her before she even looked at you. With her weirdly low voice and a confusing laugh. And apparently with both a knife and a multitool sticking out of her vest.

On your first date Yelena brought you to a race track. 'cause you mentioned you've never ridden a bike. Sure, she had a BMW, modified by some genius. You were driving a Peugeot.

On a second date she brough you to the shooting range. Before that you shot from a slingshot once or twice in your childhood.

On a third date there was an attack on the facility. She had to go. After the attack she went to your apartment and stayed there. It's been 4 months.

You were so different, but managed to be a perfect match.

She even introduced you to her family. Weird and, well, Russian. Allowed you to walk her dog and even wear her vest.

She loved you. But your Yelena loved you. Not that distant one.

You had a guess. of course you did. But that was a vague answer. The one you didn't want to say out loud.

For 4 months not once did you notice Yelena having "that time of month". Not a single word or sign. She could have had them on her missions, while she was away. While she was saving a world. You tried to ask once, but she quickly brushed it off

Your Yelena would tell you if there was something. You were sure.

Until one day you felt a familiar pain. You could swear someone was squeezing everything inside. Luckily Yelena was near. Burning your neck with her breath. one of calmer nights or mornings rather. without nightmares or muffled screams.

You groaned. Your periods have always been so painful. First day almost unbearable.

"are you all right?" Of course Yelena woke up.

"no, I'm..." Another spasm.

And than Yelena got it. Your painkiller. It was on her side of the bed, 'cause of the recent injury.

She gave it to you. "Don't drink them, until I get you some water."

You could hear her walking barefoot to the kitchen, trying not to wake up Fanny.

Two minutes and she was with you. Stroking your hair, kissing your palms. She would always do that. Her ritual.

You took the tablet.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up." You could feel your body heating up.

"it's ok, babe. I know how it's for you. Do you want anything else?"

"No, it's fine. I guess I need to go to the gynecologist. Maybe she would recommend me something. Pain is getting worse every time"

"Sure. I'll go with you."

"maybe I should go to a different doctor. Which one do you go to?"

Yelena froze. She stopped caressing you. A familiar feeling. Those days. Cold days.

"Babe..." You kissed her cheek to get attention.

"Yeah. I was just... You know, I'll ask Kate if she could..."

"Sure. But I was asking you, babe. Where did you go the last time you did a check up? Or you have one at your facility?"

"Нет (no), нет (no), у нас нет (we don't have one)."

Something was very wrong. With you Yelena was using Russian very rarely. When she was mad or... lost. Like that one time she didn't understand your interaction with a friend and got jealous. Or when Fanny had a surgery after an accident with a bulldog.

"i... Well ... Просто (just) I don't do check ups"

"what?" You were not hearing it right. Yelena is in her top form. She has to be. Her organism has to be in perfect condition.

"мне не нужно (no need)."

"how is that possible?"

You didn't want to push her. Be nosy.

"hey, babygirl." You cautiously took her hand and stroked it. "Remember. It's your safe place."

"Yeah." She smiled weakly. "And you're my safe person."

You had this conversation before. Many times. Piece by piece she was telling you about her past. Blood on her ledgers. That's her term. At first you were terrified. But day by day, story by story you taught herself to understand her and never to judge.

"Do you want to call Fanny to lay with us?"

"No, I'll be fine."

You expected her to get up and add the distance between you two. But she did the opposite. She hugged you and started talking.

"I've told you about the Red Room. You know what I've been through. Physical, psychological torture. Humiliation and manipulation. We were mindless robots. And you know what a robot doesn't need?."

She let out a bitter laugh. "I never specifically told you what they did to us. What would be the point? Напугать тебя или надавить на жалость? (To scare you or to make you feel sorry?). Нас бы это убило (this would kill is). Well, attachments and feelings. You see where I'm going with this?"

Yelena looked you in the eyes. Hers filled with tears and sadness. She was afraid. She never told this story to anyone outside the Red Room. She lived with this. Not a burden. But rather a fact. Reality. Truth. Days of the months when she felt nothing.

You slowly nodded. Your Yelena was lost. And she was lost even when she was with you. And you didn't see that.

"They call it a церемония (ceremony). Hysterectomy. No emotions, no desires, no problems." Yelena sobbed. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you before. You have a right to know."

You did have a right to know. Sure. But that wasn't the thing that mattered now. Somehow you already thought of that. Somewhere deep inside, barely a though but a sensation. But now, hearing it from her broke your heart, tore your nerves apart and took away your peace.

"It's.. it's not about me." You tried really hard to sound confident. "Babygirl, I... I won't say that I understand what you've been through or what you feel. But I swear I'll be there for you. It's our family, our pack, our fence. Remember, we're each others life."

How cheap it all sounded. You knew that. Yelena knew that. You took her face in your hands, touched her forehead with yours and whispered. "You're my Yelena. We're gonna go through this together. You're not alone."

"you sure you want me like this?"

"there's no like this. Just my Yelena"

[a-froger-epic]

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

J

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

J

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

[valwentinefics]

Altruism Ch. 3 - Zemo x F!reader x Bucky

A/n: So this chapter isn’t the best but I thought I’d give you Bucky fans something. I am benevolent. I can’t wait till I don’t have to type out what the characters say word for word in the show, its torture.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence

Translations: Liebling (Darling)

Series Masterlist

Madripoor - 2024

Y/n’s mind ran at a thousand miles an hour as the group walked down the hall, her hand still intertwined with Zemo’s. She longed to go to Bucky, to ask if he was okay and help him through whatever thoughts were bound to be swirling through his head right now, but she knew she couldn’t, it would jeopardize the whole mission. She was grateful to at least have Zemo to cling onto, despite her feelings about the man. His cool, confident demeanor was comforting to her during this time and his warm hand wasn’t that unpleasant to hold.

“You should know Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Stated a short white haired woman who lounged on a snakeskin patterned couch. Her presence was intimidating, Y/n felt uncomfortable being around her.

“Not a demand, an offer.” Zemo stated, sitting down in a chair and pulling Y/n into his lap which startled her. “Keep with the act Liebling.” He mumbled into Y/n’s ear. She wasn’t sure what he had called her, she had to remember to ask him what it meant later.

“A lot has changed since you were last here.” Selby glanced over to Bucky who was doing his best stoic stare. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” He paused, looking smug. “I’m sure you already know what I’m here for.”

Selby seemed to be stalling, pointing to Sam. “You’re taller than I’ve heard, Smiling tiger.” Sam replied with a nod as always. Y/n considered herself lucky, unlike Bucky and Sam, attention was never on her, she just had to sit there and look pretty. However, that thought jinxed her.

“And who’s the girl? Never thought you were the meek and pretty type Baron.” She commented on Y/n’s frightened demeanor.

Zemo’s arm wrapped tighter around Y/n’s waist “I just call her my little bunny. But Selby, to what we were discussing.” Zemo said, putting the conversation back on track.

“Right then, what’s the offer?” She asked, looking around the room, her eyes lingering on Bucky.

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him.” Zemo gestured to Bucky. “Along with the code words to control him of course.”

A mischievous grin spread on her face, sending a chill down Y/n’s spine. “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. The serum is here in Madripoor, Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you’d want to thank, or condemn. He was working on it for the power broker but things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Asked Zemo. Somehow his confident and cool demeanor never faltered. Y/n had to admit, in a way the man was quite attractive with the way he managed to navigate the criminal underworld without batting an eye.

“Oh” she said with mock sadness “The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost ya’ Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” She got up and began to approach Y/n and Zemo. The tense moment was interrupted by the ringing of Sam’s phone. “Answer it.” 

Sam tapped on his phone, a woman's voice coming out of it, the words she spoke making Y/n’s blood run cold. “Hey Sam-” Quickly Sam hung up, but not before the damage had been done.

“Sam? Who’s Sam? Kill them!” Selby commanded, that same instant a bullet came flying through the window and into her chest, a choked noise coming from her as she collapsed to the floor. 

Y/n sprung up as Sam and Bucky fought the guards, swiftly disarming them with precision. Bucky looked through the scope of the gun he had taken, looking around with the precise caution of a hawk. Y/n moved closer to him, not wanting to be near Zemo any longer. It wasn’t that she didn’t like being around him, it was the opposite. She found his touch comforting, and she knew she had to stay away for that reason.

“They’re gonna pin this on us!” Sam worried, standing by the door and gripping his gun. 

Zemo only sighed. “We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Y/n was confused. Leave their weapons?  How would they defend themselves? Nonetheless Sam and Bucky did as they were told.

The sound of cellphones chiming rang out all around them as they quickly walked down the street. Y/n’s nerves were acting up, her whole body feeling as if it was in fight or flight mode. She was scared of what would happen next, never before had she been the target in a battle. They had just crossed under a bridge when a few lights went out without warning. Y/n looked at her comrades with a panicked look, moments before gunshots rang throughout the area. 

Zemo grabbed Y/n’s hand, pulling her away from the others. She stumbled after him as fast as she could, lucky she was somewhat adept at running in heels. Her breath was heavy as she resisted the urge to look back, her body aching to run after wherever Bucky and Sam went. Roughly Y/n was pushed against a wall in an alley, Zemo’s warm body flesh against her own. His breath was hot against her neck as they hid in the shadows until a set of headlights passed by. She barely had time to catch her breath before she was pulled away again. Zemo pulled a gun out of his coat as Sam and Bucky grew closer, shooting a man who was approaching them. Y/n watched in shock as he slumped to the ground. Two more men approached from the shadows, Y/n ran over to Bucky and tucked herself behind him, squeezing her eyes shut in fear before the sound of two more gunshots rang out. Hesitantly she opened her eyes, seeing the two men now dead.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Said Zemo, alarm showing on his face.

“Well this is too perfect!” A feminine voice stated, Y/n’s eyes widening as she realized it was Sharon Carter.

-

Sharon Carter was kind of awful now, but Y/n couldn’t complain as the woman agreed to help them out after she had the situation explained to her. Now Y/n and Bucky were alone in her apartment above her art gallery as a party raged downstairs. Zemo and Sam had been happy for the chance to let loose after everything that had happened and opted to join the party while Sharon looked for information. Y/n was glad to be out of that godforsaken dress and instead in an outfit of her choosing, no longer feeling like she was flashing someone every time she moved.

Y/n sat down next to Bucky on the green couch, leaning into him slightly. He didn’t seem to mind it, his arm resting around her body comfortably. Unlike Sam and Zemo, Bucky didn’t want to indulge himself in a fun night after the events that had happened earlier, and so as a good friend Y/n decided to stay with him to make sure he was okay.

“Bucky, how are you feeling?” Y/n broke the silence between the two, angling her body to face him.

“Fine… I’m fine.” He smiled at her, although Y/n could see through his façade.

“You don’t need to lie. What you had to do must have brought up a lot of feelings. You don't need to explain them to me, I just want to check up on you.” She looked at the man who’s steely blue eyes were filled with a deep sorrow she couldn’t even imagine feeling. Part of her wanted to hold him close, to let him know he’s loved and cared for, but she didn’t want to overstep right now.

Bucky exhaled, looking away. “I think Steve was wrong about me. Maybe I am just a monster.” His voice cracked as he explained, holding back tears. Bucky’s fear of being nothing but a coldblooded killer was a frequent discussion between the two during late night talks where they poured their hearts out to each other in Y/n’s apartment. So although this thought came as no surprise to Y/n, it still hurt her to see her friend and slight crush feel that way. “It was so easy to fall back into being the Winter Soldier… maybe it's because even after all this time that's who I still am. A killer.” He looked at his gloved metal hand with a sorrowful glare.

Y/n placed a comforting hand on his thigh, moving his gaze from his hand to Y/n, his eyes searching her face for comfort. “Bucky, that’s not who you are. You call yourself a monster but you’re the most caring and kind man I know.”

“I saw how you looked at me Y/n, you were terrified. You were clinging onto Zemo as if you were scared I lost control.” He looked away from her and down at the floor. “You’re the person I care for most now that Steve’s gone, and you were scared of me. I never wanted you to have to see me like that.”

Guilt bit at Y/n, blaming herself for her friend's state. “Yes I was scared. I was scared you would lose control, that you would revert back to the Winter Soldier. My fear was for you, not of you.” She explained. “Bucky, I could never truly be scared of you. Those late nights where we would watch movies or listen to music and just talk about our lives mean so much to me. I know you’re good in your heart, remember when I healed the wounds the Wakandans couldn’t fully fix before you went under again? If I thought you were a monster I wouldn’t have done that, I wouldn’t have wanted to handle your pain for you. But I knew you weren’t a monster, nothing you did was your fault. I know it, Sam knows it, hell even Zemo knows it! And Bucky, I’ll be here for you until you realize it too.” She held his hand between hers, her eyes studying the side of his face.

“Y/n.. I need to tell you something. I-” Bucky began hesitantly, only to pause when Sharon entered the room looking proud.

“Guys we’ve got to go, I found some information about the serum.” She said. The pair stood up, following her to find Zemo and Sam.

The question of what Bucky was going to say hung in Y/n’s mind as she navigated through the crowd of people, her hand reaching for Bucky’s to ensure she wouldn’t get lost. His hand firmly wrapped around hers, giving it a small squeeze as to let her know he would always be there for her. Through the security and safety she felt just by holding his hand, Y/n realized she didn’t need to find out what he was going to say right away. The two would have all the time in the world to tell each other things, because she knew Bucky would never let go, and she never wanted him to.

-

@yaskna​ @noavengers​ @lostghostgirl94​ @whatawildone​ @lady-latte​ @chipster-21​ @viviace​ @writeroutoftime​ @spookycereal-s​ @nadder37 @ajeff855​ @safiakillspop​ @thiccmemechicc​ @sgold If I missed you, added you on accident, or you would like to be added/removed let me know!

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 150

I think for the time being, I am going to quit calling myself ‘late’ posting as long as I get the chapter up on the right day of the week *facepalm*.  Bc I am barely keeping ahead, much less remembering to queue things up.

I am so, so sorry about that....

Fair warning before anyone @s me: The French is a joke, so if I got it super wrong I am equally sorry to the degree of which it’s wrong.

Unless it’s obscene. Then I want to know so that I can laugh with you, and I am LEAVING IT.

As always, shouts out to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog!

Heaving an enormous Dutch oven onto a burner, I turned on the heat low and started chopping vegetables. After the first celery stalk, I glanced up at Derek, who sat across from Maverick in our living room.  The quarters were shaped differently, which had distressed Derek initially, but the addition of his favorite blankets to the sofa had helped.  Currently, he was completely distracted from even Mac: staring off into space, his fingers flying and flicking with a feverish, almost convulsive movement.

Maverick glanced up at me with a smile before following my gaze. “Yep, the cyber siege continues.  He’s doing well, from what Zach told me.”

“I thought he was only supposed to attack human-managed systems,” I grumbled, thinking back to the cold shower I had been subjected to that morning. Turning back to the vegetables, I made short work of the celery before taking my frustration out on the carrots. Scooping the diced vegetables into a bowl, I started measuring out paprika, sugar, salt, pepper, basil, and oregano into another bowl.  “Where’s Sam, by the way?”

“On the way,” Maverick promised. “With Terran-style tomatoes, he swears.  And Derek is only attacking systems we manage.  When BioLab 2 was set up, we had to take over water management, to protect the lab from any sort of contamination.”

The knife in my hand, brandished at three cloves of garlic, clattered to the work surface. “Seriously?” I glared at the tap, suddenly suspicious.

“Probably get water from the console,” he winced, nodding briskly at Derek, who nodded in confirmation without stopping his tapping and flicking gestures.

Groaning, I shook my head and crushed the garlic, removed the skin, and started mincing. All that was left was to wait on the tomatoes from Sam.  The garlic was potent enough, and I wanted to avoid cutting any onion until absolutely necessary since Derek was clearly parked for the duration.

I was saved about fifteen minutes later when Conor and Sam stopped at the door.  Sam waved cheerfully and held up the requested vegetables while Conor removed his boots. A quick shuffle later for Sam to remove his own shoes, and both came to the food prep area - too small to be considered a proper kitchen - to greet me. 

First, Conor gave me a big, smelly hug and a kiss on my hair. “Did you already slice the bread?”

“Ew, you gorilla!” I laughed. “And I haven’t sliced any bread yet, I wasn’t sure how long I had and I didn’t want it to get too stale.”

“They’re toasties, love.” He shook his head with a grin before swatting me on the butt. “No one cares if the bread was a bit stale before you started.”

Over his shoulder, Derek’s head bobbed side to side. “I think someone disagrees.” I looked meaningfully past him.  To Conor’s credit, he looked sheepish.

Sam squeezed around and handed me the tomatoes and gave me a hug. “Thank you for making soup.”

“I know it’s our favorite,” I winked before shooing him out of the area. “Not enough room for more than one in the kitchen. Y’all go unwind out there, and make sure you warn Derek that I’m about to start cutting onions.”

As he held up his hands and jokingly scurried away, I turned to the stove and started cursing myself. I’d forgotten to start boiling water. Snagging a small saucepan, I got a carafe of water from the console and started rectifying that, tossing in a generous pinch of salt.  Gently, I cut an X into the bottom of each tomato and set them aside before peeling and dicing the onion.  Immediately, the onion, carrots, and celery went into a food processor.  “Derek, I’m about to be loud,” I called softly before counting to ten to give him time to cover his ears or step into the corridor.  A quick blitz later, the vegetables were perfectly between a mince and a puree.

A quick swizzle of oil went into the already-hot dutch oven before adding the mirepoix and giving it a quick stir. As if on cue, Tyche and Antoine breezed through the door, noses twitching.

“I smell food,” she announced, stalking into the kitchen.  One look at the ingredients was all it took. “Ooooo you’re making the tomato soup.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “I am, and you know I don’t have room in here for spectators, unfortunately.” Arching an eyebrow, I pointed the spoon in my hand at the table.

She wasn’t having it. “One of these days, you’re going to show me how to make that. May as well be today.”

“Nice try, but I need some secrets. Besides, the longer I argue with you, the more likely the vegetables are going to scorch. Scoot!”

She scrunched her face at me but acquiesced. As I scooped the garlic into the pot, I heard her change topics. “How much longer is the stress test? My music keeps getting mixed up with Antoine’s. I don’t mind it, but…”

Antoine smiled softly and shook his head. “But it is quite a shock to expect classical music and instead her rock starts playing.”

Personally, I liked both, but still shuddered at what he was talking about. Carefully lowering three of the tomatoes into the now-boiling water, I glanced at the sauteing vegetables and gave them a quick stir to check. “We have about six more days before the repairs start, maybe four more after that?”

Conor sighed. “I wish we could ask if anything important was being hacked, not just annoying environmental controls.”

“Plants aren’t dead yet,” Sam pointed out, tipping his bottle of water toward Conor in a practiced gesture.  Everyone laughed when, rather than being reassured, Conor leapt to his feet to check on his ‘babies’ in the room.

Cursing, I dipped the tomatoes out of the boiling water and dropped them immediately into an ice bath.  A couple pokes with my trusty spoon showed they weren’t overcooked, thankfully. “None of my information for work has been acting up,” I admitted as I started peeling them. “But Pranav advised that more critical data would either go completely missing or not show any signs of infiltration.  We won’t know until after the test is over.”

“Lovely,” Tyche drawled as she watched Conor fretting over the plants. “So it’s all or nothing.”

I shrugged and dumped the tomato paste - admittedly, from the console - into the pan of other vegetables.  When I stirred, I was satisfied that the carrots, onion, and celery had cooked down to where they were soft. “In a weird way, it makes sense. They’re testing for catastrophic data breaches, which would pull everything down, or for data theft, which you wouldn’t want to leave traces of.”

The corner of Antoine’s mouth quirked up as I dropped three more tomatoes into the pan of boiling water. “No hidden boba tea this time, that is reassuring.”

Hands still moving without hesitation, Derek whipped his head toward Antoine, paused, and turned back to where he had been staring. Derek’s version of a glare.

“That was Charly,” I responded in unexpected unison with Maverick and Conor.  I smirked while dumping the already-peeled tomatoes into the processor with another pinch of salt. “Seriously, Derek had nothing to do with that other than divine retribution.” I paused for a moment. “Although I do have to admit that the cold showers do seem to track with what Charly reported.”

That only got a shrug from Derek, which was as good as an admission.

The conversation shifted again - something Conor and Sam were working on in the aeroponics labs that I had already heard multiple details on, plus repetition.  Tuning it out, I pulled out the last three tomatoes, dropped them in the ice bath, and took a platter with a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, and butter out to the table. “Mav, can you start setting up the sandwiches?”

He went to stand, but Tyche shooed him back down. “I got it. She may not let me help make the soup on this one, but I can prep a grilled cheese with the best.” Staring me in the eye, she started cutting slices from the loaf defiantly.

I just laughed it off. This was the only tomato soup either of us liked, and she had been chasing me for the recipe for ages.  It had become a running joke at this point, so without hesitation, I moved back to the food prep area, peeled the remaining tomatoes, and gave another warning that I was going to be loud.  Some more blitzing later, the now-pureed tomatoes went into the pan of veggies along with the spices I had already measured out, the juice from one lemon, and enough water to fill the pan three-quarters full.  Leaving that to boil, I moved the boiling water off the stove and swapped it for a grill-pan.

“Sophie!” Conor cried from the armchair where he perched. “You’ve seen the plants we’re growing in the lab! Tell them we’ve managed a crop of roots!”

I winced. “Jury’s out… I’m not sure how aeroponic potatoes are going to turn out, but I can confirm they are in the process of finding out?”

Tyche’s knife fell to the table, and she moved her mouth silently in a very accurate imitation of a fish before managing to sputter. “Air-grown… potatoes?”

The confusion on Antoine’s face was painful to look at. He started to speak before stopping himself and instead pulling up his datapad, jotting a message, and flicking it out to the room.

When I read the message, the confusion was so clear that I hurt my sinuses snorting. Des pomme de terre en l’air? Pommes aeriennes? Talk about being lost in translation…. “Conor, Sam… I think Antoine has the perfect name for those if they work out. Just sayin’”

Tyche snorted and shook her head before handing me the platter, with a stack of perfectly buttered bread, two slices of cheese between every other slice of bread.  The soup had just come to a simmer, so I was stirring intently and just nodded for her to start grilling sandwiches.  Several appreciative sniffs and twenty minutes later, six bowls of soup and six matching sandwiches - three cut vertically and three cut diagonally, because it mattered and was not a battle I was willing to fight - hit the table.  Tyche politely placed the salt cellar and a pepper grinder on the table, although the glare she dished out to the collected group promised strong retaliation to anyone who touched them.

I held up half of my grilled cheese in a mock-toast. “To soup night!”

“To air potato soup, soon!” Maverick offered up with a grin, only for everyone to echo his sentiment with the exception of Derek - who just held up half of his sandwich with one hand and tapped away with the other, not even relenting to eat.

Frankly, as long as he spared a hand to eat, I couldn’t bring myself to care.  He took these tests very seriously, and generally only stopped when he was completely asleep.

Everyone dug in, but it was only after my first spoonful that I spoke up. “Considering how long it took to make sure the tomatoes wouldn’t be poisonous, I’m not sure the potatoes will be ready before we get to Von.”

Conor and Sam nodded, as did Tyche and Antoine, but Maverick stopped with his bowl halfway to his mouth.  Setting it down gently, he angled his head. “What do you mean, poisonous?”

“They’re nightshades,” Conor told him, as calmly as if he was telling us that water was wet. “Tomatoes are the only edible berries of that family, and potatoes are the only edible tubers, so we have to be extra careful.”

Maverick’s eyes grew wide and turned toward his soup. Tyche just reached out and patted his hand. “You’ve eaten this soup for years, and you love tomatoes. They’re safe, I swear.  And Sam won’t let Sophia near the new ones until he’s completely sure they’ll be okay to eat.”

Sam nodded, shoving a soup-covered wedge into his mouth. “We’re growing them in simulated Von-light, hoping that keeps the roots from creating chlorophyll.  If we’re wrong, there’s a forty-three-point-six percent chance they won’t grow at all, ten-point-five percent chance they will give you a stomach ache, eighteen-point-four percent they won’t taste good, and twenty-seven-point-five percent they will taste good and be safe to eat at the same time.”

“Meaning they won’t kill you, you might get a tummy ache, but most likely for this generation, they just won’t grow,” Conor translated.

“Hang on,” I held up my spoon. “What kind of stomachache are we talking here?”

The mad botanists looked at each other and made a few thoughtful faces. Finally, Conor nodded and Sam spoke. “Unripe apples,” he stated flatly. “But just unripe apples.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” I shrugged and crunched into my sandwich.

Derek finished his half-sandwich and blindly reached for another. He had it halfway to his mouth before he looked at it and dropped it back to the plate in alarm. You would have thought it tried to bite him rather than vice versa.

Antoine shook his head and reached past the vertically cut sandwich Derek had dropped and delicately handed him a diagonally cut one. “Here you go, friend.”

Glaring at the sandwich like it may betray him, he bit it viciously before going back to the screen he could only see in his mind, seemingly satisfied that the sandwich would not change into the offending shape.

I told you, it matters.

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[goldheartedsky]

I told myself I wasn’t going to make a post like this—that I wasn’t going to stoop to the level of making call-out posts—but I really can’t stay silent after what has happened in the last day or so.

The TOG fandom has a serious issue with excusing antisemitism and allowing people who have painfully hurt marginalized groups to continue to ignore, dismiss, and refuse to acknowledge their limits of intersectionality in regards to social justice. I have seen it myself, been on the receiving end of it, and have talked to other Jews in this fandom about what’s been going on and it needs to start being addressed.

Now, I’m not going to name names or tag people (mainly because I have been blocked by almost all of them for this very issue) but if you message me I will gladly tell you the users involved in this. Also, if you have doubts of any of this’s validity and would like screenshots, feel free to reach out to me here or via Discord and I will share them.

A lot of this started when a member of the All&More server had brought up the scientific and medical “discoveries” during the torture and medical experimentation that took place during the Third Reich and how a lot of the origin of it isn’t taught. LR made a comment saying that “we are three-dimensional creatures who are stuck moving forward in time and can’t go back” and added that not using the research won’t make past horrors not happen. When the original user added that there has been a movement in medicine for removing Nazi scientists names off discoveries and that progress was slow moving, she deflected the conversation onto herself, saying “Not using research won’t make my family not harmed by the Japanese” and then immediately pivoted into admitting that, from what she understood, there weren’t any particularly valid scientific discoveries made by them. She then said, in regards to said Nazi atrocities, “Take it, learn about it, put it in context, and then own it and transform it.”

A Jewish member of A&M voiced their discomfort about possibly taking medicine that was a direct result of the murder of their grandparents and other relatives, to which LR said, “Still stuck in the 3rd dimension, still moving forward in time.” I brought up the fact that medicine was built on antisemitism and racism and that starting over would be better than a lot of the procedures we have now. There is a longstanding issue in medicine of disregarding black pain and so much of what we have now is created by eugenicists—including Nazi scientists. There is still a lot of Jewish trauma due to medical experimentation and that is oftentimes dismissed.

LR then made a flippant comment about “Does this count as Godwin’s Law?”—which is about how all internet discussions lead to someone being compared to Nazis/Hitler. When called out on the inappropriateness of the comment, she did not respond and was backed up by one of the mods of the server. There was no apology made nor an acknowledgment about the casual antisemitism of the comments she made and the dismissal of Jewish trauma/pain.

Now, fast forward a couple months when I was contacted by a third party who had not been in the server at the time but had joined and heard about what LR had said there. H said they were friends with LR and had concerns about antisemitism and would like my perspective. I explained what had happened and offered screenshots if they would like them, which they did. They thanked me and apologized that it got to a point that I felt unsafe in the server and had to leave, which I appreciated.

A couple weeks later they reached out to me again and offered to broker a conversation between LR and myself because the situation wasn’t sitting well with them. I was skeptical (because I had been blocked at that point) and didn’t have a lot of hope that this conversation would actually take place but I felt a responsibility to try and be the bigger person and deal with what had been said head on, so I agreed to sit down and have a discussion with her as long as there was a third party in the chat as well—given our history.

After a couple weeks of back and forth with H and hearing that LR had said that she would “think about it”, she finally agreed. I was asked for a time and date and I gave my availability and was told she would be asked for the same. A couple days later, I was suddenly told LR would only be comfortable with this conversation if H acted as a “literal go-between” with us copy-pasting our responses in their DMs so we can “sit with the message and everyone can get to them when they can” rather than it being a session with an actual back and forth and was asked if I was okay with that. I honestly said no, because this was supposed to be a situation where she and I sat down and discussed what she said in the server, not a back and forth message relay where the conversation got dragged out for days or weeks or however long it was going to take. I said if she was serious about meeting me halfway on this, she needed to be able to sit down and actually talk.

H copy-pasted my response to LR and came back that she had backed out of the conversation, which part of me had expected from the beginning—even though all I wanted from this sit down was for her to understand how hurtful the antisemitic comments were and an apology.

These comments that were made in the server are not a secret. It’s pretty well known what was said and again, these were all on record, not privately made in some DM. She has still not owned up to the comments she said, nor has she ever apologized for them. She has ignored message after message about them and blocked more people than I can count. Many of the people defending her when the discourse begins have also been messaged about the comments she’s said and also either block people or ignore the messages completely and refuse to acknowledge them.

Now, this being said, in the most recent conversation about fandom racism, someone brought up the post that was made reducing users on ao3 to faceless, nameless numbers without saying who they were, what they had done, and how they were specifically contributing to the problem of racism in this fandom. They made the comparison of other situations like HR looking at pay stats to see how to fire and included “Nazis, capitalists, and colonizers.”

This is not an invalid argument. There have been other Jews in the fandom who specifically voiced feeling uncomfortable for the exact same reason. However, another person, LT, decided to specifically make a post calling the OP out and drag them for having the audacity to liken it to the Shoah (which, mind you, this person is not Jewish nor did they decide to capitalize Shoah or the Holocaust as they should have). She received a reply saying, “you’re offended by antisemitism? Here’s LR’s (someone LT has agreed with multiple times over racism in fandom) track record of antisemitic comments” which outlined everything I delved into previously.

LT said that they were “unaware of this incident until a couple days ago” but agreed that it was an upsetting display of casual dismissal of Jewish pain and hoped that LR had apologized. She was then called out for being aware of it and still continuing to reblog LR’s posts even after knowing about the comments and was linked to my post clarifying that LR had not apologized and refused a discussion about it, to which LT said that she had gotten “quite a different version outlined in the post linked and corroborated by a third party” and “felt uncomfortable” making a value judgement, insinuating that I was not being truthful about my side of the story.

I messaged LT off-anon and said that I was not lying nor over-exaggerating about what had happened in the server or about the following discussion about trying to broker a conversation with LR, and was immediately blocked by her. I am also not the only Jew who has sent her messages about this topic, only to have their messages ignored.

Now, am I surprised that I was immediately blocked after voicing my issues with what LT had said in that post? No.

She has a history of making antisemitic comments, most of which happened during the brunt of the Israel/Palestine discussion happening, which included statements such as “You cannot be considered indigenous if you hold a position of power”, that, despite having been displaced for 2,000 years, the Jewish diaspora was “integrated” into their respective communities (a wholly untrue statement), as well as linked to and promoted a website with extremely antisemitic articles including one about “Spartan Jews” and how Israeli Jews are violent to “send messages to their deprived self-esteem” that they won’t be victims again. Half of the comments on the site’s front page included such hits as “Death to all Jews” and “Wow, I had no idea this was happening—I guess it is true that Jews control the world and the mass media.” This website was repeated in multiple posts as “unbiased” and “a good resource” for other people to truly know what was going on.

Jewish dissent on the content of some posts and that website went unacknowledged and dismissed.

Being that LT is a relatively big user in the TOG fandom, her posts got circulated frequently. Seeing things like that touted as unbiased was extremely triggering for me and multiple Jews in this fandom that I’ve spoken to.

Now, the reason I made this post in particular was because I have seen a lot of echoing of the sentiment: “no matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is...well aligning yourself with racists.”

This statement NEEDS to become intersectional. If we are criticizing the work of people because of who they hold company with, why does that end at racism? If we are going to have a discussion about racism in this fandom, why are we letting it come from people who have openly said antisemitic things, people who have stood by them and supported them in silence, and people who have silenced Jewish voices speaking up about this issue.

These are not separate issues. This is a really good post regarding the white washing of Jews in social justice discussion and it comes full circle into the medical experimentation discussion. Jews were not seen as white during the Holocaust. The Nazis were trying to cleanse the Aryan race because they did not view Jews as white. They experimented on them because they did not view them as white and, thus, disposable.

Every Jewish diasporic community is still vulnerable. Even though the US has half the world’s Jews, over 50% of the religiously based hate crimes are consistently anti-Jewish even though Jews make up 2% of the population. Chinese Jews are still holding their holiday celebrations in secret due to government crackdowns. The attempted genocide of Beta Israel was less than 50 years ago. Across the Middle East and North Africa, Jewish communities are barely hanging on after centuries of attempted destruction. These are not just Jewish issues but racial issues as well because when people make the sweeping generalization of “Jew” and they only mean white-passing Ashkenazi Jews, it erases so much of our community.

I absolutely agree that this fandom needs to have a discussion about race and portrayal in fic and what we can do better moving forward—and I want to see that done—but we also need to acknowledge what so many people starting this discussion have said and the marginalized groups they have hurt along the way. I see these posts come across my dashboard and know exactly who they're coming from and what they think of people like me. If we are going to say, “No matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is aligning yourself with racists,” then we NEED to be saying, “If you are aligning yourself with antisemites, you’re aligning yourself with antisemites.”

We all need to move forward. But that means moving forward together. Jews included.

[ladyeliot]

It will always be you

Prequel: Stay with me

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: The snap has happened, the return of Wakanda has not been as you all expected, but now you have to face reality, and you just can't stop thinking about him, about Tony.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff.

Word count: 4101

A/N: Post Infinity War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

Life is a continuous struggle of choices that you have to make without stopping to think for a second. It is said that hope is the last thing to be lost, probably because the choice you made almost left you without it. You must also learn that happiness is the last thing to be found, probably because the choice you have made has made you unhappier than you will ever be. Your life has been full of choices, you might have regretted many of them, but you decided at the time to make them, so you never allowed yourself to regret your actions, until that day.

Three weeks after Thanos snapped, hope was completely lost. The new facility has been uncharacteristically silent, no one has been able to say more than two words in a row, and you had barely managed to say one since your return from Wakanda. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner and you, those were the surviving Avengers, the ones that life had given you a second chance, but it didn't really feel like one.

You were in your old room, old because two years ago one of your decisions had taken you away from that place, yes, you were against the Sokovia Accords, that had led you to take the side of the Captain and to fight against the side of Iron Man, who had been the person who had saved you from the madness that your powers had generated in your mind. But even if you had turned against him, you knew you owed him everything. Evidently this was something he didn't understand, which led to a wide rift that had never been bridged on either side, and which led to a breakdown in your relationship of closeness.

Every corner of that room had been kept exactly as you had left it that night when you fled with Wanda. Your drawings together with the charcoals scattered on the desk, the book 'In Search of Lost Time' by Marcel Proust on the bedside table and that bracelet that Tony had given you for your 26th birthday that you had left next to the open jewellery box on the bed. It was really painful to see all of this, knowing that those facilities would probably never be what they once were, that Wanda would not suddenly appear at your door, that you would never sit around the dinner table and that Tony would not occupy the armchair next to your bed to try to cheer you up after a mission that hadn't gone so well. You didn't know whether frustration was taking over the fear and sadness or whether you just didn't know how to control your feelings on that occasion.

The days were long, each of you working in silence trying to make sense of what had happened, looking for a solution that would never come to the problem. You shared the hours, but the solitude that enveloped you was too austere to realise that there was a person by your side. You didn't know Thanos' location, however, even if you did, especially if you did, it had become clear that you could not stand alone against his entire army.

"Would you like some?" asked Natasha offering you a plate with a veggie sandwich on it, which you took with an almost soundless 'thank you'.

Yes, actually that had been your first word in five days, since you said goodnight to Bruce last Sunday, food and sleep were not high on your priorities, especially when you spent the night using your telepathic detection trying to find some sign of life that would make you believe Tony was alive, but it was useless. Your psionic senses allowed you to track any sentient being, you were able to scan large areas, but your ability did not address the entire universe.

That night your spirits seemed to be running low to the ground, three weeks without having achieved anything that would allow you to have any lucidity in your plans was too long as the situation stood. You could hear in the background a soft murmur coming from a conversation between Natasha and Steve, but you weren't really paying attention to it, it was all in your thoughts. But at that instant, an inner burst made them evaporate. A signal came into your brain, a psionic emanation that alerted you to the presence of a spaceship entering the stratosphere, with a fixed direction, yours. You rose from your chair, standing upright, capturing the attention of the people around you. You closed your eyes, heightening all your senses, taking in all the information that was coming to you, at that moment you felt it. You opened your eyes and looked at them.

"He's here," were the only words you could utter before you rushed outside. Your companions soon followed your path, asking questions to explain what was happening, but your inner euphoria prevented you from saying a single word.

That ship appeared above you as you raced across the garden, night was falling relentlessly and you could only glimpse a halo of light that seemed to direct the ship as it landed delicately on the wide grassy esplanade. The five of you paused, taking in the scene, discovering how a side door opened to project a flight of stairs. When you saw his face for the first time your lungs deflated, letting out all the air they had accumulated over a long period of time. Your body went rigid and you didn't react until Steve ran past you and approached the ship to help him down.

He looked terrible, it was evident in every facial feature and in his body movements, you knew what you had been through, but you had no idea what Tony had been through since his disappearance in New York, although you could get a pretty good idea. Before your eyes were Steve and Tony in custody, reunited again, after all that had happened, none of it mattered, at least not to you, and perhaps you had a vain hope that it didn't matter to anyone else either. Even so you didn't know how to act when your eyes connected with his, for a slight moment you wanted to approach him, offer him a hug and tell him that you were relieved to discover that he was there, with you, after all, but you chose to stay where you were, next to Natasha.

It wasn't until you headed inside that the stiffness disappeared from your body. A whispered 'are you okay' from Steve made you react again and pay attention to Natasha's words that were projecting all the information gathered during those days.

"The governments are destroyed," she reported as she projected images showing the missing, like Wilson, Maximoff and Parker, among others, "the working parts are trying to do a census, and it looks like he did it. He did what he said he would do. Thanos wiped out 50% of all living things."

Silence echoed around you, you were sitting in an armchair, somewhat away from the other members, playing with your fingers, trying not to look up, until he spoke.

"Where is he now?" asked Tony. "Where?"

"We don't know," Steve informed him from beside you, sitting at a table. "He opened a portal and went through it. We looked for Thanos for three weeks, with deep space scanners," Steve looked at you, "and satellites, and we found nothing." He looked at Tony. "Tony, you fought him."

"What are you talking about?" asked Tony from his wheelchair. "I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the wizard gave away the store. That's what happened, there's no fight..."

You took a breath and sighed, because you could contemplate what was about to happen right now, the nerves were there along with the negativity and failure of some of the superheroes on that planet and others, and you knew it could explode at any moment.

"Tony, I'm going to need you to focus..." Steve repeated again hoping that Tony would offer him some clue as to the whereabouts of Thanos.

"I needed you," interrupted Tony in a raised tone. "as in past tense.  That trumps what you need. It's too late, buddy. Sorry." He used a second of his silence to look at Steve and another second to look at you, who stood beside him. You took in most of the feelings hidden in his gaze, and none of them were positive or forgiving. "You know what I need? I need a shave," he tried to get out of the wheelchair, taking everything on the table in his stride. "I don't believe I ever remember telling you this..." he ripped out the IV that connected the drip to his left arm. "To the living and the dead, What we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not," he looked back at you and Steve repeatedly. "That's what we needed!”

The discussion continued, avoiding an upset Tony explaining everything he thought about the current and past situation, ignoring the suggestions Rhodes was giving him to calm down and take his seat again.

"[...] Bunch of tired old wheels!" he pointed at Steve. "I got nothin' for you, Cap! I've got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options! Zero, zip, nada. No trust - liar."

Almost ipso facto he turned to you ripped off the reactor prostrate on his chest and handed it to Steve in his hand, leaving those present virtually speechless, if you still had any left.

"Here, take this. You'll find him, if you put that on. You hide-"

After those words you gazed again into his eyes full of resentment at the past, before his body could take it no more and he collapsed in the middle of the room.

In the hours that followed, you were the shadow of a ghost gazing at him from a distance from the door frame of one of the recovery rooms in the new complex. On the one hand fearing his reaction against you when he woke up, while on the other hand wanting to hear it because you knew that sooner or later it would come but you wanted it to come as soon as possible so that you could face it. Those words she had said to Steve were harsh, but they were really nothing to what you expected might happen. It seemed absurd at the time to have entertained the idea that it might have been forgotten.

"Bruce gave him a sedative," Rhodes said, looking up at you, who were leaning against the doorframe. "He'll be unconscious for the rest of the day. Do you want to sit down?"

"No...I'd better..." but Rhodes didn't allow you to finish your words, as he had risen from the armchair next to Tony and offered it to you. "Thank you."

The door to the room ajar to offer you some more privacy. As you turned your gaze towards him you realised the fragility his body conveyed in those moments, he had spent weeks wandering through space not knowing if he was going to get the chance to return home again and yet he had been able to stay alive and find himself there. You closed your eyes and settled back on the couch, you remembered the first time you did that with Tony, he had spent too much time without sleep after the events after the Chitauri invasion, he could barely sleep because of the nightmares and he begged you to stop them every night, so with your eyes closed you concentrated and invaded his mind with caution releasing the tension you found in it and giving him the peace he needed. When you opened your eyes again, her expression seemed to have changed, she seemed to have found some relief inside her, that fact made you smile. But a knock on the door woke you up.

"We need to talk," Steve's words sounded serious.

A new piece of information about Thanos' whereabouts came as a surprise, but for you the surprise came right after.

"Wait, is this some kind of punishment or something?" you said completely dumbfounded, just outside the room where Tony was, with what Steve was proposing. "Why me?"

"Because we need someone to stay with Tony," he said calmly crossing his arms.

"Is it because I'm the smallest of the whole team? Because I could really knock you all out right now with the blink of an eye," you said crossing your arms too.

"It's because Tony needs you," Steve lowered his tone, "and you need him."

There was nothing but truth in those words. You didn't know if Tony really needed you, but what you had assumed was that you'd needed him for a long time, and you'd put a lot of things before that need, creating your close relationship to go to shit, basically.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you on this mission," Steve said frankly. "And he wouldn't forgive me either if I said that happened."

You lowered your face as you nodded, accepting his words and the job you had been given.

"Be very careful," you said before Steve disappeared from in front of you to take a path that you had no idea what could be in store for them.

From that moment on, the hours went by really slowly, you took your position in that armchair again, you needed to have a clear mind, you couldn't continue martyring yourself with all the events that had happened, so you started reading 'In Search of Lost Time', that book that had been forgotten on the bedside table since you left that place. News was nil, you barely got a sign of what might be happening and you knew it would probably be days before you got it. 

Night was falling on the compound again, Tony was barely making any sign of waking up, which also gave you time to consider how the situation would play out, and various possibilities for coping with it. Some of his belongings had been salvaged from the ship, and his helmet, or rather what was left of it, stared at you from the dresser in the room. Without having a reason in mind you approached him, causing a blue light to suddenly flash across his eyes, showing you his figure in the middle of the room.

"Is it on?" a figure of a seated, completely haggard Tony appeared before your eyes. "Hey, Ms. Y/L/N, Y/N," your brow furrowed, but you approached his reflection. "If you find this footage don't put it on social media, it'll be really tearful," his words brought a sad smile to your face. "I don't know if you'll watch these videos. I don't even know if you're still... Oh god, I hope so..." there was a silence from his words, but you could see him bring his hands to his face, something inside you cracked. "I guess it's easier to do this if you know the chances of seeing you again are practically nil," something inside you made your heart shrink. "I probably should have realised this a lot sooner," he fell silent, "yeah, but I was busy trying not to hate you too much, you know, when you decided to abandon me and choose the other side," exhaustion almost prevented him from keeping his eyes open. "Anyway, anyway that made me realise how important you had been to me," he let his gaze wander, "I tried to be there for you ever since I met you and... god, this is getting too depressing," he ran his hand over his face. "I just want you to know that I wish you were here, because you're the only person I'd like to share my last hours with," he nodded slightly, you knew what he was trying to say with those words, which made your eyes water. "Don't feel bad about this, I mean, if you stay prostrate for a couple of weeks... and then move on with immense guilt..." he hid his face in the palm of his hand and closed his eyes, you wiped away a tear that ran down your cheek keeping the bitter smile you had been wearing all along. "I want you to know... when I've fallen asleep, it will be like the nights we spent together. I'm fine. All right," he gestured towards you. "I'll dream of you. Because it will always be you."

Suddenly, as if nothing had happened, his image disappeared in front of your eyes, leaving you with hundreds of feelings invading your body and mind. You looked up and there he was, still there, sleeping pleasantly, barely knowing what had just happened. You hurriedly wiped away the last tear running down your cheek and sat back down, putting your feet up on the couch, unable to take your eyes off him. Perhaps those thoughts were drawn from his most desperate moments, believing that his life was about to come to an end, perhaps he was unwilling to show them to you now that he had resumed the course of his life, so even though it was not possible you tried to send them to a hidden place in your mind.

You had hardly slept in those three weeks, your mind hadn't rested for days and you didn't know why, but finding yourself curled up in that armchair next to Tony was giving you back the tranquillity your body hadn't known for too long. It was impossible to stop your eyelids from closing, on the contrary you were willing them to do so and for sleep to warmly invade your body, no matter how long you could stay asleep. That's how it happened, making the hours pass without you even noticing. 

Like a little gust of wind, something in your body made the light enter through your eyelashes. Slowly you opened your eyes, feeling in various parts of your body a tightness due to the position in which you had fallen asleep in that armchair. You discovered that a woollen blanket covered your limbs, but what kept you alert was the bed next to you was completely empty. Tony wasn't there. You jumped up, looking around, the bedroom door was ajar and Iron Man's helmet was missing.

"Tony?" you asked, raising your voice, stepping out into the hallway. "Tony! Where are you?"

You barely heard an answer, so you were thankful those powers were within you, you stopped in the middle of the corridor and closed your eyes, your receptors picked up a signal coming from downstairs, it was him. You found him leaning on the kitchen counter, his eyes closed as he tried to stand. You ran to him, grabbing his arm to hold him up.

"What do you think you're doing?" you said, leading him to the nearest armchair in the living room.

You discovered that he had shaved, taken a shower and was wearing one of his Tom Ford suits that were so recognisable to you. That meant he had been wandering around the house unsupervised for over an hour without waking you up. You knelt down next to him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" you asked with a worried look on your face as you contemplated that he was extremely tired. "Bruce gave a set of instructions for you to follow, you can't just walk around..."

"It was your turn?" he cut you off with an angry tone. "Be my babysitter? How did you do it? Did you draw lots?" his countenance was serious, you could still see the puffiness in his eyes and his face fully dehydrated. "Whoever draws the shortest stick gets to look after poor Stark, all right, listen..."

"No! You listen to me," you cut him off, raising your tone above his, standing up and resting your hands on each armrest "Tony, we all lost. We all fought and lost, none of us made it," your face was three feet above his. "So now all we can do is try, in some completely illogical way, to move the situation forward. And if we can't, at least look to the future by doing our best to honour those we have lost."

Silence flooded over you.

"So please don't make the situation more complicated," you continued, lowering your tone, almost begging him. "If I've stayed with you it's because Steve has made me understand some things, because yes, it wasn't really my intention to stay with you from the start, but then I realised that if anyone had to stay with you it was me. I realised that if I had to risk my life again I didn't want to go on the mission, because that would mean never seeing you again.And I've also realised that I've needed you for a long time, that I'm finally by your side and I have no intention of separating from you. Whether you like it or not." Tony cut his gaze with yours by ducking it, but brought his right hand over yours.

That gesture provoked you to bring your other hand to his face, placing a gentle caress on his cheek.

"I know there are a lot of things we need to talk about, but one thing we do have is time," you explained as Tony intertwined his fingers with yours. "So please, don't do anything more stupid and don't disappear," maybe it was the atmosphere generated by the situation, but you risked saying the next words. "Because it will always be you."

Tony closed his eyes a little regretfully, a little embarrassedly, and brought his free hand to his face.

"I knew you saw that," he added calmly removing his hand from his face. "Well, at least I've saved myself from having to repeat it in person."

"I'm not sure I got it right," you said falsely. "You know, there was a lot of interference, and besides, I couldn't really understand what you were saying, so..."

"Sorry, there was only one pass for the film," he said wryly which caused you to smile widely as you rediscovered that the old Tony was still hidden in it. "We won't know when there will be a revival."

"Too bad, I really liked that movie," you sat down on the armrest without letting go of his hand and looking up at him.

"Really?" he asked for the first time modestly, and putting aside all the irony that surrounded the situation.

"Totally," you nodded, trying to express all the many feelings through your eyes.

Silence again kept you company, until Tony somewhat uncomfortably broke it.

"I suppose you know that by now I would have kissed you and created a fully effective plan to make love to you for hours until you begged me to stop in pleasure," he stated lamely, "although I think if you give me a couple of hours..."

"All right, Don Juan," you cut him off with a chuckle, "we'd better leave all that for later, and I'll take you back to bed now."

"I think it's a good start if you take me to bed," he continued with his insinuations.

You got up from the armrest and helped him put his arm around your shoulders, even though he repeatedly told you he could walk unaided. 

"Have we heard from the team?" he asked, slowly climbing the steps of the ladder.

"Soon," you said with a halo of hope. 

You definitely made it back to the room, having made it successfully through the journey. You helped him get rid of the shoes and shirt that his pride had forced him to wear, but which now made no sense when he was going back to bed.

"See, you're finally going to get what you wanted, I'm undressing you," you said jokingly causing a smile to appear on Tony's face as he lay back down. "You rest, I'll be here. I'll always be here."

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Stay with me - tony stark x fem!reader

A/N: I've re entered my marvel phase once again and I'm not mad about it! I'm so desperate to see Black Widow it looks so good! Anyway enjoy this. The details about panic attacks are based on my personal experiences but they can effect different people in different ways.

Warnings: Panic attacks, swearing

***= Time Skip

Word Count: 2680

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Guys I’m going to be fine. I always am. It was a one-time thing, I promise” I sighed as Nat, Steve and Bruce followed me into the kitchen of the avengers compound.

“We just want you to be okay, it didn’t exactly look like you enjoyed the experience.” Nat said sitting opposite me.

“You almost passed out. That happening while your out is the last thing any of us want for you.” Bruce added. I sipped my drink, not wanting to continue this conversation. The team had becoming increasingly cautious around me since I had a really bad panic attack last week. The truth is I’ve been dealing with them since I was a kid, before I’d even met any of the avengers, I just learnt how to hide them. But last week, things got too much, and I lost control. I don’t remember much but evidently everyone found out. They thought this was a new thing to me and were now trying to wrap me up like some sort of fragile object.

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to be with Casey, and I’m literally just going to be sat in an office all day. The hardest thing I will have to do is battle her shitty coffee machine” I joked, trying to get them to drop the subject. My best friend Casey had asked me to come into work with her to sort through a bunch of files that her boss had dumped on her after she broke up with him. I have no clue what she actual does but she was apparently ‘up to her tits’ in paperwork so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to join her. Just then my phone rang.

“Hey Case, I’m just about to leave. Yeah I’ll meet you at the station. Okay cool. Bye” I hung up and grabbed my bag. “Well, this has been fun, but I have a train to catch so I’ll see you all later.” As I turned to leave I felt someone grab my arm, pulling me back.

“You’re not getting the train. Get happy to take you.” Steve said causing me to roll my eyes.

“Steve I’m not a child, I’m capable of getting a train. Plus, it’s not Happy’s job to chauffeur me around, he has tony for that.” I replied.

“Who has me for what?” Tony piped up walking in.

“Nothing, I have to go.” I said before once again turning to leave.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y call happy and tell him to get the car ready.” Tony said not looking up from his phone.

“Right away Mr Stark”

I groaned. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey for once I agree with capsicle. We don’t need you dying on a train now do we?”

“I hate you.”

“Ouch my heart.”

It was starting to piss me off at how the were treating me. I get that they just wanted to look out for me, but it was just making me feel even more pathetic than I already did. I slumped down onto the sofa irritated. Suddenly I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Looking up I saw Nat leaning again the back of the sofa, looking down at me.

“I know it might feel like we’re being unfair or irrational, but we just want you to be safe. We need you.” I smiled slightly at her words.

“Thanks Nat.” She nodded at me before walking off.

“Miss Y/L/N. Happy is ready for you.”

“Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y” I grabbed my stuff, yelling a quick goodbye to everyone before making my way downstairs and into the back of the black Mercedes parked outside the compound.

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

“Seriously did you have to dump him 2 weeks before you were due to leave? There’s so much crap here.” I groaned jokingly, sifting through the many papers laid out in front of me.

“It’s not my fault he was boring. I just couldn’t hack it anymore” Casey replied chuckling.

“Why did I agree to this?” I said leaning back in my chair.

“Because you love and care about me.” She said smiling at me

“Hmm that’s debatable.” I joked, causing her to swat my arm with the file she was holding. Thankfully, there was a small knock at the door that saved me from any further attacks.

“Excuse me Casey, boss man needs you in his office. He didn’t sound too happy.”

“Okay thanks, I’ll come now.” She replied. As she left the room she shot me an anxious look to which I responded a very supportive thumbs up. I know, I’m great.

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

I don’t know how long Casey had been gone but I’d suddenly began to feel a trickle of anxiety wash through my bones. I’d felt uneasy as soon as she’d left but I tried to push the feeling away and throw myself back into the paperwork. But every time I looked at the page, my eyes couldn’t focus. All the words were merging together in front of me.

“Please not now.” I mumbled to myself. I could feel my heart hammering a mile a minute against my ribcage as my hands began to shake uncontrollably. My throat felt as if it was collapsing in on itself as I tried my best to get oxygen into my lungs. I wanted to get up, to run outside, but I felt like if I moved I was going to be sick everywhere. So, I stayed there, trapped, with my head in my hands praying for this to be over. After what felt like a lifetime, the feeling began to dissipate – only to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of tiredness. Physically unable to hold myself up any longer, I let my head fall against the desk. I felt so drained, so weak I wasn’t sure how I would get home at this point. Where the hell was Casey?

---AT THE AVENGERS COMPOUND(third person pov)---

“Mr Stark. You told me to alert you when Miss Y/L/N’s heart rate began to climb. It has rapidly increased over the past few minutes and does not appear to be settling” F.R.I.D.A.Y said. Tony rushed over to the screen that was currently displaying Y/N’s heart rate.

“Oh shit.” He said to himself, running his fingers through his hair. A moment later, Steve entered the lab.

“Everything alright stark?” He asked leaning against one of the desks.

“Not at all. Y/N’s having another panic attack right now.” Tony explained, visibly stressed.

“What?” Steve said standing up straight.

“I have to go get her.” Tony said pulling his jacket on. Before Steve could even reply, Tony headed for the door.

---BACK AT THE OFFICE(first person pov)---

I’d been able to prop my head up in my hands once again, but I was barely able to keep my eyes open. All I wanted was to go home. Suddenly I heard the door open.

“Oh my god Y/N. What happened? Are you okay?” Casey said rushing to my side, clearly noticing my dilemma.

“N-no” I stuttered. My voice came out as a sort of broken whisper. I’d never felt more drained. I heard the door open once more.

“Casey?-“

“Not now, I’m busy”

“No seriously-“

“Did you not hear me? Go away john”

“But Tony stark is looking for you.” He spat out. Relief spread throughout me at the mention of his name. Casey jumped up and ran out, soon retuning with Tony.

“Thank god” I breathed. Tony knelt down beside me in an instant.

“Hey you.” He said softly. “Let’s get you home okay?” He smiled at me sympathetically. I nodded and went to reach for my stuff.

“I’ll get that, put your jacket on.”

“Didn’t bring one.” I mumbled.

“Of course, you didn’t” He said sarcastically as he pulled his off and wrapped it around my shoulders. I slipped my arms in and hugged it tight to me, enjoying the heat it was providing.

“Come on then.” I felt Tony slip his arm around my waist as he pulled me to my feet. I wrapped one of my arms around his shoulders as the other fell by my side. “You okay?” He asked.

“Just get me home.” I whispered.

“Why do you think I’m here?” He joked. We made our way down the hall, tony taking the most of my weight.

“Thank you for coming.” I said as we got into the elevator.

“Anytime gorgeous.” He replied with his signature grin.

“How come you are here though? How did you know I needed you?” I asked.

“I have a sixth sense. Like peter, expect I sense panic attacks” he said chuckling.

“Seriously tony. I didn’t even call you.” I pressed. He fidgeted uncomfortably next to me.

“Okay don’t be mad at me. Because if you think about it if I hadn’t done it I wouldn’t have known you were freaking out and you’d probably still be stuck there, and I know that that’s the last thing you would want so technically I-“

“Just spit it out stark”

“I tracked you.”

I starred at him. “You tracked me?” He nodded sheepishly. “Wha- How?” I stuttered.

“You know I gave you that new watch? Well, I may have changed some things” He said avoiding my eyes.

“What things?”

“Well, I just made sure it would be able to give me your location. A-and if your heartrate reached a certain point, F.R.I.D.A.Y would let me know.” He explained. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t even mad, but I like the fact he thought I was. “Look before you have a go at me I just wanted to keep you safe.” I smiled at his words.

“I know. I’m not mad.”

“Oh, thank god.”

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

The journey home was harmless. The fresh air had done me the world of good. Even those I was still worn out; I was feeling a lot more human. When we pulled up to the compound, Tony rushed to my side to open the door and help me stand.

“I’m okay tony you can relax now” I chuckled.

“I just don’t need you passing out on my watch, Steve won’t let me hear the end of it” He joked.

“Nice to know you care about me.” I replied. As soon as we walked in, I saw Steve talking anxiously with Nat and Wanda.

“Y/N thank god.” Nat rushed over to me, pulling me in for a hug.

“I’m alive guys false alarm.” I said light-heartedly, letting her go.

“Do you know why this keeps happening to you all of a sudden?” Wanda asked. Before I could answer she gasped slightly. “Oh…” Shit. I forgot she could read minds. She’d figured it out.

“What is it Wanda?” Steve asked. Wanda starred at me for a moment. I really didn’t know if she was going to tell them so I cut her off before she could.

“Casey was having an affair with her boss.” I blurted out, causing them all to look at me. “That’s why I went in with her today, she broke up with him and to get back at her he’s been giving her a shit ton of paperwork for no reason. While I was there he called her into his office, leaving me alone. I guess I was just so stressed about what they were talking about I worked myself up.” I lied. Wanda nodded in agreement with me, but the look she gave me made me think that this conversation definitely wasn’t over.

“Okay well I’m going to get this one into bed, see you guys later” Tony said coming up behind me, placing his hand on my back. We made our way up to my room where I promptly flopped onto my bed, gladly expecting the comfort it provided.

“Nope come on get up.” Tony said tugging my leg.

“What? I thought we came up here so I could sleep? I’ve had a long day tony.” I groaned.

“Yes but you need to change. I’m not having you sleep in jeans. The thought of it alone is enough to give me nightmares.” He replied, pulling me so I was sitting upright. “You stay there, don’t fall asleep.” He said before quickly dashing out of the room. I sighed, leaning back on my elbows. Tony was my best friend, sure, but that didn’t stop him being a massive pain in the arse. He soon returned, holding what looked like pyjamas.

“Why have you brought those? I have my own clothes you know.” “No shit sherlock. But I know that you like to wear these when your ill so I figured you might want some comfort after what happened today.” He said setting them down beside me. His words caused me to stare at him for a second. The genuine care in his voice was enough to make my stomach flip. The fact that he’d even thought of something like that caused a few tears to come to the surface.

“Stop starring at me, it’s creepy” He said with a chuckle. When he looked over at me, his face dropped. “Y/N? Are you okay? Why are you crying?” He knelt down in front of me, taking my hand in his.

“I just- Thank you. For the clothes. The fact that you noticed that means the world to me.” I said softly, gazing at our hands.

“I always notice” He mumbled. I looked at him fondly, a strange feeling growing inside of me. We settled in a comfortable silence for a moment. For some reason, my view on tony shifted. That one gestured made my entire opinion of him change. I’d always known I cared for him deeply, more so than myself. And I won’t sit here and tell you I’ve been in love with him since I first met him, because that sure as hell isn’t the case. We’d been friends. Nothing more, nothing less. But now, seeing this side of him, maybe there was a possibility for us to be something more. Whatever that was we didn’t need to figure out right now. But I wanted him with me.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.” His voice snapped me from my thoughts as he dropped my hand from his.

“No, wait don’t go.” I said hurriedly going to pull him back.

“I’ll just be on the other side of the door.” He chuckled. I let him go and went about changing. He’d left me one of his old Metallica t shirts. It wasn’t too big for me, but big enough to be comfortable. I paired with a pair of basketball shorts I’d bought him a couple years ago for Christmas. Not that he actually played basketball, I just thought they were cool. I went over to the door and opened it, not expecting tony to fall back onto my feet. I laughed as he scrambled to stand up right.

“You could’ve knocked or something.” He said straightening his shirt.

“I didn’t expect you to be on the floor” I laughed.

“Whatever” He rolled his eyes, sitting at the edge of my bed. Once I’d calmed myself down, I sat down next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. He moved so his arm was round my shoulder, allowing me to move closer.

“I like this.” I said softly.

“Like what?” “

This. Being with you.”

“So do I” He whispered.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the silence.

“No, you’re not falling asleep like this. Lie down” Tony said shrugging me off his shoulder. I didn’t even have the effort to argue as I slid back and pulled the covers over me.

“You’re coming to.” I stated, looking expectantly at him. He rolled his eyes before climbing in beside me. I curled into him, placing my head on his chest as I wrapped my arms around him. I felt him place his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. After the shit show I’d been through earlier, this was the exact peace I’d been craving. No matter where things went from here, Tony would always be my rock. And I couldn’t ask for anyone better.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 13

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment, oc feels like she’s gonna puke which, honestly, same

Word Count: 5.3k

a/n: we’ve only got a few chapters left!!!! *cue the screaming*

Chapter 13. You Never Walk Alone

series masterlist

I’ve never been one to follow the rules.

In fact, I’ve wondered many times if I came into existence for the sole purpose of breaking as many rules as possible within a short amount of time.

However, as I sit here staring down at my phone and listening to it ringing without someone answering on the other end, I find myself promising whoever is listening to my prayers that I’ll obey every rule to come my way for the rest of my life as long as someone just answers me.

For hours, no one does.

By the time the moon has risen, I’ve finally dozed off on the couch with my phone still in hand and a very confused Elle on my stomach. When my phone begins to ring, I jump, nearly falling off of the couch in the process.

Without even bothering to see who is calling me, I bring the phone up to my ear.

“Yah, hyung. I’m already- oh...Jolie?”

I blink, wondering for a moment if this is all some cruel dream. “...Jimin? What’s going on- what happened?”

“You’re safe- she’s safe, hyung.” There’s chatter in the background, but my ears perk up at a familiar voice. “I’m so sorry, you must have been worried sick- hey!”

“Jolie?”

I jump off the couch, eyes wide. “Chung-hei?! What’s going on? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I- I thought…”

I don’t quite know what I thought. Obviously, that the worst had transpired. Chung-hei knows exactly what path my thoughts have taken, as she’s quick to explain.

“I’m so sorry, Jolie. When we left your place Sunmi noticed that someone was tailing us,” my breath comes up short. “I think they thought you were with us, they might have been tailing the car for the past couple of days to make sure it was yours. And then they probably saw Christina…”

She doesn’t need to explain that to me. No doubt whoever was tailing them saw Christina with her severed thread and automatically assumed that she was Jimin’s estranged soulmate.

“So what happened? Is everyone ok? Is Christina alright?”

There’s some fumbling on the other side of the phone, and I swear I hear Chung-hei’s annoyed sigh but it’s quickly covered as another familiar voice breaks through the phone.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me!” Christina shouts a little unnecessarily.

“I- how did you hear me?” I ask, furrowing my brows. “Am I on speaker?”

There’s a long pause in which I know that I must be on speaker, especially as a voice that sounds mysteriously like Kim Seokjin shouts “Yeah you are we wanted to know what you sound like!” There’s a muffled grunt in which I can imagine someone giving him a firm elbow to the ribs.

“Hang on, let me step outside-” Christina’s suggestion is met with a load of whining, but she must ignore them because a second later all is silent save for the sound of wind. “There. I needed to get out of there- I’m freaking out. I’m so dying right now.”

“I’m sure you’re rattled, you were literally just tailed! How did you lose them?”

“Oh, yeah. That sucked, but I was talking about the fact that I literally just met BTS. I don’t want to spoil anything for you, but Park Jimin is so much more handsome in person. I couldn’t hardly think straight in there-”

“Yeah, yeah,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Save it for later. I was a mess over here, thinking you’d died or something. Can you please explain what went on?”

Once she subsides in her giggling - and I get over the strange butterflies that have somehow come to life in my stomach - Christina gets to the point.

“Right...well, we’d only made it a couple of blocks before Sumni noticed that someone was following us. She’s been trained to pick up on that kind of stuff, you know. She said that they’d been hiding out near your apartment earlier, and that it looked like they’d been waiting the entire time while we’d been inside.”

“So how’d you lose them?”

“She drove straight toward the Bighit building and contacted the security there. By the time the people tracking us knew that she was leading them into a trap, it was too late. They got pulled over, security took them over to the police department a little while ago.”

I shiver thinking about them lurking outside of my apartment, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

“And...why didn’t you answer my calls, then? I seriously was about to go running around Seoul looking for you.”

Christina barks a laugh. “That’d be a sight to see. We were told to power off our phones, they’re being looked at right now to make sure they weren’t able to somehow get a way to track us through there. We should get them back pretty soon.”

Taking a seat and then slinking down to sprawl out on the couch, I sight at the ceiling. My eyes well up tears of relief, but I close my eyes to stop them from escaping. “I’m happy you’re safe.”

“Me too. The boys were already at the Bighit building, you should’ve seen Jimin. He was-” Christina lowers her voice as though suddenly realizing that she’s not that far from the man in question, “You know how the boys say that he can be really scary when he’s angry?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I believe them now. I think it was a good thing security took those people away before he could see them. He probably would have killed them, he looked so pissed off.”

I snort out a laugh, throwing my hand over my mouth. “Let me guess, that only made him more attractive to you?”

“You know what, it totally did.”

It feels good to laugh after the stress of the day, so I let it out. Giggling up a storm with Christina who admits that she may be wavering in her undying devotion for Jimin simply because of the fact that Taehyung offered her a glass of lemonade.

“Oh, oh! He’s looking at me- oh. He’s telling me to come back inside.” I let out another guffaw at Christina’s massive crush on Taehyung. “Hey, I have to turn you back over to your soulmate now, but I’ll let you know when I get my phone back. Ok?”

“Ok,” I mumble, suddenly going quiet. There’s some static as the phone is exchanged, and suddenly Jimin’s speaking to me.

“Hey...you doing ok?”

I blink, taken aback by his question. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then, when he doesn’t respond, “Are you...alright?”

From the way the voices in the background are fading, Jimin must be moving away to find a more private location. Indeed, I again hear Seokjin’s teasing voice in the background however it’s too muffled to understand.

“Yeah. All good over here.” I hear a door click shut. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, though. About everything that happened today. You might not like it, but...well, it’s for your own safety.”

This has me sitting up straight, bracing for whatever it is he’s about to say. “Ok…”

“We need you to stay inside, don’t leave your house. Just for a couple of days, maximum. We don’t know if these people had more that were trying to track you, and until we can round them all up…”

I stare blankly at the wall in front of me. Stay here? No work?

Honestly, it doesn’t sound that bad.

Except for one little thing.

“...Jolie?”

“I...I’m not sure, Jimin.”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry,” it makes it so much worse, because I can hear just how sorry he is. “But please, just for a few days. We need- I need you safe.”

How can I say no to that?

“Alright.”

“You’ll do it? I’ll have groceries delivered, just text me what you need-”

“I’m pretty sure I can pay for my groceries, Jimin,” I say with a strained smile, eyeing the calendar on the wall and the circled date just a couple of days from now. Hopefully all of this will blow over by then. “Don’t worry.”

“Honestly, if you don’t send me a grocery list I’ll just end up sending random food to your apartment. So take your pick, I guess.”

Rolling my eyes fondly, I give an over exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll compile a list.”

✂

The girls get their phones back not long after I finish my conversation with Jimin. Sunmi is quick to send me a play by play of Christina’s growing crush, which helps to ease the worry growing in the pit of my stomach.

The next morning there’s a pile of groceries waiting outside on my doorstep, making me smile softly. Jimin had clearly added a few items to my small list, because I don’t remember requesting a bag of chocolates or a bag of Doritos. Either way, I’ll take it.

There isn’t a whole lot to do with my day off, other than find a new show to watch and different ways to annoy Elle. Jimin texts me throughout the day, and I find myself itching to call him.

If only to just hear his voice for a moment.

However, as my fingers hover over the call button, I find myself hesitating. It scares me just how quickly I want to interact with him. After all that I did to distance myself from him, I’ve been reduced to an insatiable fangirl after a bouquet of flowers and some slipped chocolates.

Staring at my phone, I try my best to control my breathing. Then I send off a message.

Me: Ok, help. I’m freaking out.

Christina is quick to respond.

Christina 🍯: hahahahaha

Me: what.

Me: I come to you for help and I get laughed at? 😡

Christina 🍯: no, it’s just...when are you not freaking out?

Christina 🍯: think about it

Christina 🍯: you always are lol

Me: Ok. Not helping. Remember, I came to you for help?

Christina 🍯: right right, what’s up

Me: I think this is all happening too fast

Christina 🍯: I’m assuming this is about Park Jimin?? Who, might I add, looked fiiiine in his sweats yesterday

Me: QUIT IT

Me: I’M GROWING WEAK

Christina 🍯: are you feeling things?!! 😱

Me: YES OK I AM PLS HELP

Christina 🍯: I don’t see why you need help…?

Christina 🍯: isn’t this a good thing?

Me: is it?

Christina 🍯: ...yes.

Christina 🍯: what brought this on?

Me: I want to call him.

Christina 🍯: ….

Me: We just talked last night.

Christina 🍯: ….

Me: well, isn’t it all a bit much? I mean, I literally was trying to be completely separated from him just a few weeks ago and now I’m suddenly having to remind myself that I don’t need to constantly talk to him! Isn’t that like a bit...idk, a bit sketchy??

Christina 🍯: no.

Christina 🍯: idk if you remember this, but he’s your soulmate. And sometimes when people start to meet their soulmates, they want to talk all the time.

Me: isn’t it going to annoy him? I mean, I already kinda feel like a pity case…

Christina 🍯: first off, no. you’re not a pity case, so stop thinking that. If anyone’s a pity case, it’s me because I was invited to lunch today with Chung-hei nd the boys and I’m gonna ride this out for as long as possible

Christina 🍯: if I could sneak you a picture of Tae without looking like a creep, I totally would 😰

Me: ok, I don’t know how to respond to that lolll

Me: have fun at lunch though!!! Don’t drool or anything

Christina 🍯: yeah, let’s move past that 😂

Christina 🍯: just, call him. Honestly, he’s been checking his phone constantly anyways. And, don’t you think he deserves it? Call him. You know I don’t mean this in a rude way but...he’s done everything in this weird relationship-that’s-not-a-relationship so far. Time for you to return the favor.

✂

“...Jimin?”

Jimin blinks, looking around the table until his eyes land on who was just calling his name. Chung-hei smiles at him from her spot beside Namjoon.

“Yes?”

It’s when everyone starts to giggle that he realizes he must have missed something.

“How’re you doing over there?” Chung-hei asks. Jimin frowns.

“...good. How are you?”

Namjoon places his arm on the back of Chung-hei’s chair, and Jimin notices the way her cheeks automatically redden.

“You seem a little distracted today,” Namjoon croons. “That’s all.”

Looking around at everyone’s amused faces, Jimin notices one face that isn’t looking in his direction.

Christina is smiling slightly at her phone, fingers flying across the screen as she texts out a message.

“Christina’s distracted too!” Jimin points to the girl like a kindergartener, a sly smile on his face when she looks up at him with raised brows.

“Hey, it’s for a good reason,” she says.

“Oh?” Taehyung leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “And what would that be?”

Everyone notices the way Christina looks at Taehyung before quickly looking away, as though looking at him for too long could burn her. Like a moth to a candle, though, she can’t quite stay away.

“His soulmate,” she finally says, pointing an accusing finger right back at him. “I’m helping her through an existential crisis or something.”

Jimin automatically scoots forward, concern written across his face. “What’s going on? Does she need something?”

Christina snorts as a text - a text from Jolie, apparently - comes through on her phone. “No. She’s fine. Just needs to get out of her head. I suspect that sitting cooped up in the house isn’t helping.”

Ah.

It had hurt to have to order her to stay home, he knew how much that could hurt. Sure, some people might not have a problem with it. But something told him that there were only so many distractions in Jolie’s small apartment that could keep her entertained. Hopefully it would all be over soon.

And then what?

That was the question that had been plaguing him today. How long would he be forced to run this same track over and over again? How long until they were both ready to face each other?

They were going to face each other, right?

Christina sits back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, looking quite pleased with herself.

“What are you so happy about?” Jimin asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. Christina merely looks at him and then down at his phone which sits atop the table.

Just like magic, it begins to ring.

“O-oh, uh…” Jimin scrambles to his feet, nearly tipping over his water in the process. Grabbing his phone, he looks for the quickest exit.

“Why don’t you just stay in here?” Jin asks, ever the prying one. “We can all chat.”

Jimin pays him no mind, heading straight for the door and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?” He prays he sounds nonchalant.

“Aish, he’s already so over-protective,” Hobi calls out loud enough for Jolie to hear on the other side of the phone.

“Hyung! At least wait until I’m out of the room!” Jimin shouts back, finally slipping out into the hallway. Jolie’s laugh is enough to make him smile.

“Sounds like you’re having fun,” she teases.

Jimin sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. “So much. How are you? Have you gone stir-crazy yet?”

There’s a moment’s silence. “Yes. Definitely. I think by about eight o’clock this morning, actually.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

Another moment of silence, in which Jimin scrambles for something - anything to say in order to keep her on the phone.

“Did you, uh, get the groceries?” It’s a pointless question; he was notified this morning when they were dropped off.

“Oh! I did! And I saw some chocolate…? And Doritos. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Jimin grins. “Nope. No clue.”

“Huh. Interesting. I could have sworn you’d added them in there. What are you trying to do, make me fall in love with you or something?”

Of course, the answer is yes. Can he say that, though?

Aren’t they supposed to be taking this slow? Why did nobody tell him that it would be this hard to do something so simple?

“Sorry...was that awkward?”

Jimin starts at the sound of Jolie’s voice, realizing that he never responded. “Er, no. Sorry, I was just thinking.” He chuckles awkwardly. “Is chocolate all it takes, then?”

He swears he can hear a gasp on the other side of the phone, but then again that may just be wishful thinking.

Either way, he temporarily throws caution to the wind. He knows he’s toeing the line, but he can’t find it in himself to back off. Not when he can hear Jolie’s soft laugh on the other side of the phone and wonders if she’s wearing that same smile he saw for a fraction of a second all those weeks ago.

“Well, it’s a good start. Obviously the chips were a bonus.”

“Ah, yeah. I thought those might be a nice touch.” He pauses. “Hey, are your flowers still doing good? Or are they dead?”

“I feel like I’m in danger of receiving more flowers if these ones are dead,” Jolie muses.

“Danger? Really?”

“You know you don’t have to keep me in constant supply of flowers, right? Besides, I’m planning on drying the ones I have now.”

“Consider it a present for making you stay inside for so long.”

Jolie hums on the other side, and Jimin finds himself nodding along to the sound. “About that...any updates? Do I have any more stalkers?”

Jimin shivers at the thought. He’s dealt with his fair share of stalkers over the years, he’s had quite enough of them. “Nothing yet, but we should know more by tonight at the latest. I’ll be sure to call you as soon as I know.”

It’s quiet on the other side, but Jimin allows some time for the quiet to settle. When he doesn’t get a response back for a while, he quietly speaks.

“Hey, you alright over there?”

There’s a long sigh, one that he thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear. “Mm? Oh, yeah. All good. You good?”

Jimin smiles. “All good.”

✂

House arrest doesn’t suit me. It’s going on day three, and I’ve found that the thrill of television isn’t what it used to be. Especially not as the pile of empty chocolate wrappers grow.

I told Jimin as much last night before I went to bed. I also accused him of trying to make me gain weight. He only cackled and told me he’d send over healthier foods in the morning.

I should have known it sounded too good to be true. This morning I checked my porch to see a suspicious grocery bag with bananas and apples on the top. Upon further inspection I found that the fruit was only a cover for what lay underneath.

Two more bags of assorted chocolates.

Oh, and a note that Jimin must have added for the deliverer which was left on the bag. It simply said: delivery request: please hide chocolate under the fruit.

“I can’t believe it.”

“Wow, so are we past saying hello when we call? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

I try to ignore how easy - how right - it feels to just grab my phone and call Jimin up. There are still a fair amount of nerves going into it, but over the past few days we’ve grown accustomed to it.

“You sent me more chocolate!”

“Buuut I countered it with fruit. Isn’t that good?”

I roll my eyes. “Sure, but the fact that you’re forcing me to practice self-restraint is absolutely horrible.

“Ah, I see. So next time I should just send the apples?”

“No…”

I find a comfortable spot on the couch, staring at the calendar before me. Staring at the date, with a little circle around it.

Nothing to celebrate today. But certainly something to remember.

Jimin’s rambling - he rambles, I’ve come to learn this - about his day and how they have an interview coming up this weekend, however I find that I’m struggling to listen. Especially as the calendar grows larger and larger in my eyes.

I wait until it’s dark to slip out.

With my pre-ordered train ticket shining on my phone, I keep my head down and my hood up as I rush to the station. At this time of night on a weekday, there aren’t nearly as many people about. That being said, it’s still Seoul. There are still plenty of people on the sidewalks, and I can only pray that they don’t notice my lack of a red thread amidst the sea of threads adorning the roads.

Thankfully, I make it to the station without much of an issue. It isn’t long before I’m settled and holding the dried hydrangeas close to my chest.

It isn’t a long ride to my hometown, only about twenty minutes by train. Throughout the entire time I remain on high alert, knowing that if I somehow wind up in trouble that Bighit may very well murder me in my sleep.

I watch as the train rolls to a stop at my destination, and I hurry off before anyone can notice me. Once I’m outside, I let out a sigh of relief.

It’s been too long.

One year, actually.

The cemetery isn’t far from the station, and I don’t dare risk a taxi. So, with my flowers still in hand, I begin my silent pilgrimage.

✂

Not much has changed here. I peeked the same family that runs the sweet shop I used to adore, constantly begging for just enough won for some sweets. The streets even look the same, only a few small changes here and there.

It’s the fact that this was my home but that I don’t quite belong here anymore that makes my feet all the heavier. When the cemetery finally comes into view, I take a deep breath and trudge onward.

Coming to a stop before a small tombstone, I groan and kneel before it. It was a longer walk than I remembered.

“Hey Mom,” I whisper, taking care to gently separate the bouquet in half and lay some flowers on either side. “Dad.” Once the flowers are in their proper places, I lean back on my hands.

“I’m not really supposed to be outside right now...but, I promised I’d visit every year, didn’t I?” I look expectantly at the tombstone, but receive no answer. The stone is cold and unwavering, but I find that I don’t mind. The moon is bright and full, shining down enough light to see clearly. “Well, I’m here. I would have brought you some fresh flowers but...well, things are a little complicated right now.”

Inhaling deeply, I chew on my bottom lip before exhaling. As I do, my vision blurs a bit with unshed tears. Finally, bringing my left hand forward, I look down at the severed thread.

“Mom, you wouldn’t know who he is, but I met my soulmate. Well, not officially, I guess. That’s where things get complicated. But I’m trying to fix it.” Looking heavenward, I watch the stars winking down at me. “Dad, you’ll know him. His name is Park Jimin.”

✂

“What do you mean she’s not home?”

Jimin is currently pacing in the living room, listening to Sunmi’s voice on speaker. The others sit in various spaces around the room, each mirroring a look of concern.

Sunmi had been cleared to head over to Jolie’s, which Jimin had deemed a tender mercy. He felt horrible for her, knowing that she was probably going crazy. So, Sunmi had gone over to surprise her.

Except there was one little problem.

“I’m telling you, she’s not here,” Sunmi responds, struggling to maintain her composure. “I got here about ten minutes ago and knocked, but all the lights were off and it looked like nobody was home. Nobody’s answering. She’s not here, and she won’t answer her phone.”

Jimin looks around the room in horror. Automatically his mind conjures up the worst-possible scenarios. “Where would she go? There’s no sign of a break-in, right?”

Chung-hei frowns on the other side of the room, pulling her phone out. “I’ll check her location right now,” she reassures.

“No, everything looks normal. Should I ask around? See if anyone’s seen her?”

“No, not yet. That will only raise suspicion.” Jimin says, watching with bated breath and Chung-hei tries to locate his soulmate.

When Chung-hei’s expression changes from confused worry to stunned understanding, Jimin isn’t sure how to react.

“What is it?” He asks, impatient.

“I didn’t realize,” Chung-hei mumbles. “What’s the date today?” She answers the question herself, confirming it. “She’s back home.”

“What do you mean? Sunmi just said-”

“No, not that home.” Chung-hei flips the phone around to show him. “It’s been a year. And she promised him she’d visit every year.”

It takes a moment for Jimin to process the information, already thinking about how quickly he can convince someone to tail him while he drives out to Jolie. She can get in the other car to return, obviously so she doesn’t have to see him-

“One year.” Jimin blinks, suddenly remembering what Jolie mentioned in her letter. “It’s the anniversary of her father’s passing.”

Chung-hei’s solemn nod is answer enough.

Jimin stumbles back to sit in the nearest chair, rubbing his hands over his face. “I need to go out there-”

“No, you know you can’t do that,” Namjoon immediately rejects.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

Namjoon grinds his jaw, glancing at Chung-hei as the two share a silent conversation. When Namjoon’s shoulders relax, Jimin finds himself hoping. There’s no way he can leave Jolie to go through this alone.

“Bang Sihyuk will kill us if he finds out,” Namjoon begins.

“I don’t care-”

“I do.” Namjoon sighs. “So don’t get caught.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

Namjoon shrugs, looking around the room. “Don’t get caught. Make it look like you snuck out.”

Leaping to his feet, Jimin hardly has time to grab his jacket before he’s flying out the door. “Send me the location!” He shouts out before the door closes.

He doesn’t know what possesses him as he sprints down the street, but he’s reminded of the last time he went running toward his soulmate.

This time, he knows that he’s been through the heartbreak. Surely he’s been through the worst of it. Now, all that’s on his mind is the fact that his soulmate is alone and she shouldn’t be.

He’s tired of being alone.

It’s been years since Jimin last took the train, but Chung-hei explains in her text containing Jolie’s location that it might be his best bet.

Without a second thought, Jimin boards the train and heads toward his soulmate.

✂

My eyelids are drooping, but the walk back to the train station seems daunting. “I need to get going,” I mumble.

My voice is a little hoarse from all the talking I’ve done over the past hour. Even in death, my parents can’t escape my rambling.

Not that I think they mind.

I rise to my feet, taking one last look at the flowers that my soulmate gifted me before leaving them there on the tombstone.

“Goodnight, Mom and Dad.”

Despite my exhaustion, I remember to walk briskly back toward the gas station. I keep my head down with my hands in my pocket.

My heart feels a little heavy tonight. I shoot a melancholy smile toward the stars, who act as my solitary companion tonight. I can’t shake the feeling that I would really rather not be alone tonight.

Nobody deserves to mourn alone.

My fingers itch to call Jimin or Christina or anybody, but I put it off. I had my phone on silent, and the last thing I needed was bringing attention to myself by talking loud enough for everyone to hear. If Jimin found out that I was out here…

He’d probably stop sending me chocolates. At the very least.

Yes, it would be best to wait until I’m home and in the warmth of my bed before calling him.

Like a dream, my feet carry me toward the train station. It’s downhill for the most part, making it easier than I thought it would be. A tender mercy, I suppose, for a day like today.

Thankfully, it’s late enough now that the station is empty for the most part. Only a few stragglers wander about, all of which are too tired to pay me any mind. However, as I near the ticket booth, I feel it.

Almost like something pulling on my thread. It’s a similar feeling to what I felt as the thread had been cut, but there’s no reason for it to be acting up again.

“That’ll be 26,000 won,” the person on the other side of the booth drawls, looking for all the world like they’d rather walk across hot coals then have to spend another moment here.

“Oh, right.” I pull the money from my wallet, sliding it under the little window. “Sorry about that, I got distracted-”

“Here ya go,” they interrupt, clearly not very interested in what was distracting me. All the better, I suppose.

Thanking them, I pocket the ticket and make my way to a bench before the platform. The train should be here in about fifteen minutes.

But there’s that annoying tug again, nearly pulling my hand off my lap. I frown down at the thread, too tired to put that much thought into it. I’ll have to ask Christina if she’s ever known a thread to act up.

There’s a cold draft in the station, one that only gets worse as an incoming train pulls up and comes to a stop. I keep my head down as the doors open and people begin to file out.

At least, I try to until I’m practically thrown off my seat as my thread pushes and pulls at me. It’s starting to cause a scene, so I hurry off to the side and half-hide behind a pillar. Hopefully nobody will question why I gave up my perfectly nice seat.

Burying my hand in my pocket, I look around to make sure nobody is coming my way when my eyes catch on something- or rather, a lack of something.

Someone walks off the train, however the typical red thread doesn’t accompany them.

That’s not the only thing that alarms me. It’s the fact that I know them.

Park Jimin glides off of the train and looks around, trying to deduce which exit to take. He pulls his phone out to look at something when he drops it due to a sudden jolt.

I watch, utterly paralyzed as he stumbles forward. Almost as though pulled by some invisible thread.

His eyes are wide and he’s practically buried under the large, puffy jacket he wears. It’s brown, to match his brown hair, which is ridiculously ruffled. He’s chewing on the inside of his lips as he lifts his head to look around yet again.

From across the station, our eyes meet. Slowly, so slowly it burns, I see the recognition register in his eyes as he trails from my face down to my left hand and back up to my eyes again.

Jimin freezes, and I realize that it isn’t because he’s afraid or nervous.

This is my choice to make. Even now, after all that’s happened, he still allows me to choose.

So, with a tentative step forward quickly followed by another, I choose him.

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[acreativeme]

Generational Trauma

Generational Trauma 

Clinton Skye x Reader 

Y/N snuck down onto the floor of her bathroom, positive pregnancy test sitting on the sink. They couldn’t be pregnant, she thought. They weren’t even supposed to be together. Y/N and her partner, Clinton Skye, grew up thinking that the other was an undomesticated beast or at least that is what their parents taught them. 

“Baby? Everything alright?” Clinton asked, sensing something was up with her.

Y/N coughed, quickly brushing the tears away. “Yeah, everything is fine.” She got up and opened the door. “I’m pregnant.” She blurted. 

Clinton’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

She nodded her head. “The test came back positive.” She held it up to him. “I need to meet with my doctor to confirm.”

He tossed the test onto the counter behind her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Yeah!” He picked her up, which made her laugh. “We are going to be parents!” 

Once she was back on the ground, Y/N sighed. “Speaking of parents, when are we going to tell ours about us? I mean we’ve been together for years and we are going to be parents ourselves.”

He caressed her cheek, trying to distract her. “I don’t think now is the best time to tell them, my folks are still mourning Angelyne’s death.”

Y/N froze, knowing that was not the complete truth. “Clinton, she’s been dead for over a year now. Don’t you think that learning they are going to be grandparents again will make them happy?” 

He gave her a skeptical look. “I don’t think so..” 

She nodded in understanding. “You don’t think them finding out who the mother is, is going to help.” She stepped around him, moving towards the closet. “I get it.” She threw some clothes into a suitcase. 

“That’s not what I meant…” He tried to back track.

She held up a hand to silence him. “That is exactly what you meant.” She moved around him to get some things out of their shared bathroom. “I think that I am going to visit my parents.” 

He grabbed her wrist. “That’s not necessary, baby.” he was practically begging her not to go.

She looked down at his hand, not having the mental strength to deal with this anymore. “Let go, Clinton.” She muttered, not looking up to meet his eyes.

He let her go, not saying anything as she walked away from him. His own tears began to fall as he heard the front door shut.

Y/N’S POV

Y/N sat in the driveway for a few moments, hoping that Clinton would come after her. But he didn’t. There was no movement at the windows from the living room or their bedroom, so she took that as a sign to leave. She brushed away the tears as she put her car in drive, not wanting to break down.

She wanted to get to her parents before day break, but had to stop after only three hours.  She pulled into a gas station, needing gas and a bathroom break. There was no one else at the station other than the clerk, a young edgy looking woman with headphones in. Y/N sat in the bathroom, crying into her hands. She briefly glanced at her phone, not seeing anything from Clinton. A part of her had hoped that he would come to his senses and reach out to her, but he didn’t. I guess he doesn’t care as much as I thought he did. She thought, wiping her tears away. She finished up quickly, wanting to get some snacks and go. 

She grabbed a couple bottles of water, two bags of BBQ chips, and a king size pack of Reese. The clerk didn’t say anything to her other than the price of her snacks-- didn’t even offer her a bag or anything. Y/N gave her a small smile, not wanting to come off as rude, and wished her a goodnight. Y/N tossed her items into the passenger seat, so that she could get gas. She got back on the road quickly, putting on music to distract her from the fact that the person that she loves has not attempted to make contact with her. 

She made it to her parents home by 6 am, having only stopped to reach out to her employees about opening the shop without her for a few days. 

Her father was standing on the front porch as she got out of her car. “Alskling, what are you doing here?” His baritone voice was laced with sleep. 

Y/N choked back a sob. “Pappa, I made a mistake.” She walked closer to him.

He stepped down off the porch to wrap her in his arms. “It is okay, pappa is here for you.” He slowly began ushering her into the house. “Tell pappa what has happened.” 

She stepped away from him. “I am pregnant, pappa, with Clinton Skye’s baby.” 

Clinton’s POV…

He snuck to his knees as Y/N walked out of their shared room. He didn’t know why he let her walk away from him, but he couldn’t make himself go after her. 

Or even get up from the floor. He sat there all night, just staring into space. He was startled awake from his daydream by his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

In a panic, Clinton fumbled with his phone. “Y/N?”

Jess frowned on his side of the phone. “No? It’s Jess. Is everything okay?”

Clinton sighs upset that it wasn’t Y/N. “Yeah, everything is fine. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve got a case, how quickly can you get here?” Jess asks worry, burying itself in his chest. 

“I can be there in 30 minutes.” He hung up without furthering the conversation that he knew Jess wanted to have. 

He changed out of yesterday’s clothes, not bothering to fix his hair or put on deodorant. His heart ached as he moved through the house in silence. He was so used to hearing Y/N humming in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for them. She would dance along to whatever was playing in her head, without fear of judgement.  

He didn’t linger too long in the house, knowing that he would lose all composure. He was quick about getting in his car and going, not wanting to think about their driveway without her car.

Y/N’s POV…

Y/N sat against the headboard of her childhood bed, knees pressed to her chest. Her father had spent the first two hours of her visit yelling at her about the bad choices that she was making. And how he couldn’t believe she would sleep with the enemy. Her mother had come down, still in her night clothes and rob, as he was forcing Y/N to sit on the couch. Her mother had started to chastise him, but was stopped by his raised hand. 

“What is going on, Hugo?” Astrid asked, coming to stand behind her daughter.

“Our daughter has been keeping a secret from us.” He crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed. 

Y/N sighed. “Mamma, I’ve been dating Clinton Skye for nearly ten years. We moved in together last year, that is why I haven’t invited you all to my new place.” Y/N turned around to make eye contact with her mother. “And I am pregnant with his child.”

Astrid gasped, clutching her heart and covering her mouth. “Oh, Alskling. Why did you do this to us?” She turned to her upset husband, “where did we go wrong?!” 

This continued for another hour and forty-five minutes, before her mother sent her upstairs to get some rest. They wanted to talk about everything that she shared with them, disappointment displayed clearly on their faces. Even though Y/N is in her early thirties, her parents still have a lot of control with her life. They had immigrated from Sweden right after they got married, barely 20 years old, to escape a family feud of their own-- which makes what they are doing hypocritical. Y/N never questioned her parents disdain for the Skye family, until she met Clinton Skye and he turned out to be nothing like what her parents told her.

Y/N was subconsciously rubbing her stomach when her parents walked in, both looking stern and upset. “Alskling, we’ve decided to send you to Sweden for a few months to stay with family.” Her father stated, not leaving room for discussion. 

Y/N gasped, standing up from the bed, “you can’t do that, pappa. I am an adult. And I’ve got a business to run, I can’t just leave for a few months!”

Her father puffed up his chest, “Either you go to Sweden like we have said, or you will be disowned and will never be allowed to talk to us or your siblings again.” His tone was serious and hard, which threw her off as she had never heard him talk like that.

Her mother, who had been silently standing by the door, spoke up. “You will have no help with the baby and no inheritance to be able to support you and the baby.”

Y/N laughed, brushing her tears away, “you think I care about money? I make good money on my own, if you hadn’t noticed.” She looked down, knowing her choice. “I will go to Sweden, but I need to make arrangements for my business.” She wasn’t going to be able to raise this baby without help and without Clinton, her family was all she had left. 

Clinton’s POV…

He couldn’t focus. His heart ached as the hours passed without word from Y/N. Even though they were fighting, he still hoped that she would reach out to him and let him know that she was okay. His withdrawn behavior was worrying the team. 

“Clinton, can we talk for a moment?” Jess asked, pointing to a door that led outside.  

He looked up, nodding, “yes.” 

Jess led him off to the side, trying to make sure no one else would overhear them. “I am concerned for you, Clint. It is not like you to be so unfocused, especially on a case.” 

“Nothing is wrong, Jess.” He tried to deny it, but neither believed him. 

Jess reached out and patted his shoulder. “You should call her.” 

Clinton looked up at him. “What?”

Jess sighed, “you should give Y/N a call. You haven’t been yourself for the last couple of days and it is starting to affect your work. And we can’t have that, especially not with this case.” 

After taking in what Jess was saying, Clinton nodded and went off to call her. He had tried her phone twice, but was sent straight to voicemail--which he found odd. He dialed the number for her shop, silently hoping that she was busy there and wasn’t ignoring his calls.

After three rings, a female voice answered. “Stargazing Sweets, this is Melinda. How can I help you?” The voice was cheerful and sweet.

His heart sank. “Melinda, it is Clinton. I am trying to get a hold of Y/N. Is she there?”

“Oh hello, Clinton! She didn’t tell you, weird? She is going off to Sweden for a little bit to visit a sick relative!” There was a pause and a rustling noise, “from the email that she sent me, I think that her flight should be leaving in the next couple of hours.”

His breath caught in his throat. How could she not have told him that she was leaving? “Thank you, Melinda. I am going to try and give another call.” 

“No problemo! Have a good one, Clinton!” Click. She hung up on him.

Clinton sighed, anger burning in his chest. How did their relationship go from laughter and bubble baths to her leaving the country and not telling him? In frustration, Clinton punched a tree. In hindsight, it was not a very bright move because now his hand hurt. He stalked back into the building, needing to find information on her flight.

Both Kenny and Hana were sitting at a computer, so he decided to ask them for help. “Hana, Kenny. I need your help getting information about a flight.” 

The pair shared a look, before nodding. “Sure, if it means you’ll be returning to normal.” Kenny jokes.

Uncharacteristically, Clinton glared at him. “This is not a time for your jokes, Crosby. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N and her flight is heading to Sweden.” 

The pair nodded in sync, not wanting to piss Clinton off further. Hana was the first to find anything, so without hesitation she sent it to his phone. “I found the information and have sent it to your phone. If you hurry, you might be able to catch her.” 

He smiled briefly, “Thank you.” Without any further words, Clinton walked out of the office. 

As he was opening the door to his car, he dialed his mother’s number. She picked up right away, “Hello, Mom? Is dad around, there is something I have to tell you both?” He was finally ready to share his truth.

Y/N POV…

Her parents left her at the airport, not wanting to see her off-- hell, they didn’t even say goodbye. Though she had made the decision to go to Sweden, they were still giving her the silent treatment. Clinton had called her twice as they were driving to the airport and she had to decline both of them right away, so that her parents didn’t turn around and see. As she was walking away from the luggage drop off, she received a text from Melinda that said Clinton was looking for her. She sent a thumbs up as a reply, signaling that she is aware. 

As she walked through security, she made the decision not to call him back. She knew that if she did, she’d allow herself to be talked out of leaving. And she couldn’t allow that to happen. She needs her family… but she needs him too.  She found her gate fairly easily, only stopping to buy a drink and a sandwich. Her father wouldn’t allow her to have breakfast before they left, so her and the baby were starving. 

She took a seat by a window, wanting to watch the employees work. She slipped her headphones in, wanting to keep strangers from interacting with her. She wasn’t feeling music, so she turned on the latest episode of her favorite podcast, Ladies & Tangents (which is an actual podcast that I love!). Y/N picked at her sandwich, zoning out as Jeri and Ciara joked about shitting in a closet. She was so focused on the podcast that she didn’t notice someone walk up to her, which is something that Clinton had taught her not to do. She nearly jumped out of her skin as the person bent down in front of her.

Pulling off her headphones, Y/N shook her head. “What are you doing here, Clinton?” She asked, both equally shocked and happy about him being there.

He reached forward to hold her hands. “I heard you were going to Sweden and I wanted to see if I could get you to stay.” He squeezed her hands, voice cracking. “I am so sorry. I messed up. I was so worried that my parents would hold you in the same regards as your family. I was scared and I let that fear affect our relationship, which is something I should’ve talked to you about and not kept to myself.”

A tear ran down her cheek. “Oh, Clinton. I have to go…” She trailed off, not really wanting to admit why.

He tried to brush the tears away, heart aching at how broken she looked. “Why do you have to go?” She looked away from him, which caused him to try and turn her face to look at him. “Y/N, what aren’t you telling me?” She took a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to tell him the truth. “My parents threatened to disown me and keep me away from my siblings. I told them about us and they threatened to disown me.” She blurted, not being able to hold back.

Clinton froze, feeling every ounce of pain pouring out of her. “Oh, baby.” He pulled her to his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I told my parents about us. I told them that you were nothing like your parents, that you made it your mission to learn about our heritage.” He whispered.

She pulled back, shock evident in her eyes. “You did?” 

He nodded, “and they would like to meet you, but only if you want.” 

She looked over his shoulder at her gate, trying to decide what she wanted to do. “I think..” flashes of her parents judging her and not listening to anything she tried to tell them popped up, making it an easy decision. “I think I would love to meet them.”

Clinton grinned, happy tears falling down his cheeks. “Good,” he stood up, “because I’ve already had the airport pull your luggage from baggage claim…” He stated bashfully.

She smacked his chest as he helped her up. “How could you be so confident that I would say yes to coming back with you?” 

He shrugged, throwing his arm over her shoulder, “Baby, I just know you so well.” He pecked to the side of her head.

They both laughed at that, happy to be together again.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4021 Warnings: fluff, mentions of the Holocaust

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Thank you also to Ary (formerly @johnnynunzio) for helping me with information and resources for the history of Romani people during the Holocaust

PART 14 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Walking up the steps to the hospital becomes a little difficult as you zig-zag through groups of people trying not to hit anyone with your umbrella. Under the overhang of the building you shake it out after closing it, hoping the umbrella doesn’t drip too much on the floors as you make your way to the elevator.

It’s been a really wet day but you don’t mind it so much considering all this rain is supposed to bring beautiful flowers next month and the hope of something beautiful is exactly what you needed now.

It hasn’t been the easiest going to work every day. Metro-General is where you first met Billy and now that you’ve broken up it’s all you can think about every time you have to head down to the ER.

Wanda came over that night you got back from work and broke the news that she and Sam spotted Billy with another woman. You insisted on seeing the proof, the pictures being the final push in your decision to end things with Billy.

You admitted how things weren’t the same anymore, his attitude plus lack of caring when you were sick really made you reconsider your relationship. It had been a few days since you spoke to Billy but you wanted to call him out in person, meeting at a coffee shop to discuss things.

Confronting him was easier than you thought but watching him lie to your face was not. You had proof and he still accused you and your friends of lying just to make him look bad. After a small outburst he finally fessed up to seeing the woman named Krista. Billy didn’t tell you how long he had been cheating which pissed you off but you walked away feeling good about ending things.

It didn’t mean that you felt good. You knew that it was Billy’s loss but still, it didn’t feel good to be cheated on. You questioned everything. Was he lying from the beginning? Was work the real reason he had to cancel a few times? All of these questions made you doubt your self-worth.

Your friends were great after your breakup, each one of them there for you, readily offering up a chance to kick Billy’s ass if you let them. You all went out to celebrate how you “took out the trash,” round after round dedicated to your new freedom. But being surrounded by everyone in relationships didn’t make you feel the best, everyone except Bucky.

You might have had a little too much to drink that night and in a tearful drunken cry you might have asked him what was so wrong with you to make Billy cheat.

Bucky might also have had too much as he slurred his answer, but still he was insistent.

“There ain’t nothing wrong about you Y/N. Nothin’. Assholes like Billy treat the world like it belongs to them, like everything is up for the taking, no consequences apply. But he’s wrong and he lost the best thing to ever happen to him. You hear me? You’re the best thing that could happen t’anybody.”

You replay Bucky’s words in your mind as you pass by the nurses’ desk where Billy gave you his card. It was his loss.

Since the breakup you’ve been throwing yourself into work again. Dating Billy wasn’t a mistake, he just wasn’t the right person for you and after careful consideration you decided to chalk up those feelings you might have had towards Bucky towards all the care he gave you when you were sick. 

Bucky was your friend and a great one at that and so you made sure to fill your weekends by keeping a promise. You and Bucky began your pizza quest and it has been amazing. Your pants don’t quite agree with you but it’s definitely been worth it.

In between cases you responded to a text from Wanda. The exhibit she had been working on for The Jewish Museum is opening in a few weeks and she wanted to confirm you would be there. Like she really had to ask, of course you would.

Over the last few months she’s been working so hard on this and you couldn’t wait to be there to support her. Everyone was going and Sam made sure to take the day off.

Bucky: You up for a trek to Brooklyn?

The message caught you off guard but still brought a large smile to your face. You replied quickly asking what he was talking about and by the end of your shift it was decided; you and Bucky were going to Brooklyn for pizza. 

“I haven’t been here in forever,” Bucky said, while opening the door to Spumoni Gardens for you.

“These better be worth the two transfers Bucky. I am starving!”

You may have exaggerated a little but you were pretty hungry. Bucky insisted that you must try this famous pizza, arguing that Brooklyn is technically within the boundaries as part of your pizza quest. Semantics aside, you trusted that the hour long trip to get here would be worth it.

Spumoni Gardens was famous for their Sicilian pie and Bucky ordered one the moment you were seated. Soon enough twelve thick slices were laid out in front of you in the most interesting looking square of pizza you had seen before, with the sauce on top.

With a skeptical eye you squint at Bucky who urges you to take a bite, eagerly awaiting your response. There was no denying it, as you sank your teeth into the deliciously thick crust, with sauce and cheese hitting your taste buds like a pinball setting off lights and sound as it hits the winning targets.

A proud grin settled on Bucky’s face as he held up his own slice, taking a bite as he watched you dab at the bit of sauce in the corner of your mouth with a napkin. His eyes light up, raising his brows in a silent request for your opinion.

“So good.” Every bit of enthusiasm is behind the few words you’ve said, combined with the smile that stayed plastered on your face as you quickly took another bite, needing to taste the symphony of flavors again.

Bucky paid for everything despite your protests. He insisted that since you indulged him in his craving after a long day of work it was only fair. Side by side you slowly strolled back to the train, making a promise to come back for the spumoni when you haven’t stuffed yourselves full of pizza.

Conversation was always easy with Bucky, making the ride back home a breeze. When you reached your block you saw familiar faces headed towards the building.

“Hey guys,” Bucky greeted Clint and Natasha, as they walked with their arms linked to the door.

“We just had the best pizza!” you blurted out, unable to control your enthusiasm for the amazing dinner you had.

“Oh yeah, well we just had some shitty pasta.” Natasha playfully smacked Clint in the stomach for his blunt remark. “What? It wasn’t good!” he snarked.

“We just came back from a wedding expo,” she added.

Her lips were tense as they pressed together. They had been wedding planning for a while, not getting very far. Natasha’s work had set her back, which she didn’t mind since she was excelling professionally but it did require her and Clint to push back their wedding date a few times since they couldn’t commit to the time frame required.

“It’ll come together in time,” you said, offering a hopeful smile.

“All I know is Sonny Burch is not going to cater our wedding. That food was awful. Now tell me more about this pizza.”

Clint was practically drooling throughout the elevator ride as you and Bucky described the incredible pizza you had. After saying goodnight to them you and Bucky held back your laughter hearing Clint begging Natasha to go to Spumoni Gardens tomorrow as the elevator doors were shutting.

“Thanks for dinner Bucky,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unlocking your door. “Oh wait! Hang on one second!”

As you went inside your apartment you missed the way Bucky touched his cheek, still feeling the tingle of your lips against his skin. A moment later you came out, handing him a wrapped present.

“For taking care of me last month when I was sick.”

“You didn’t have to Y/N.” He meant it, whatever it was you got him really wasn’t necessary but you insisted it was.

Your lips pressed together with excited anticipation, staring at Bucky with widened eyes as he began to tear off the wrapping. He held up the stretched white canvas rectangle with vertical lines of varied height going across it. He smiled kindly, unsure exactly what he was looking at which was fine, his gift needed a little explanation.

“It’s Herrmann’s Psycho score in soundwave form.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped open as he stared at the vertical lines that conveyed every beat, seeing the taller lines represent the higher strings, the greater tension of the score. It was so unique, so perfectly suited for him and he knew you truly understood who he was.

“I love it. Thank you so much Y/N.”

One arm wrapped around you as he held the artwork out of the way. This gift reaffirmed the feelings he felt for you, making it harder to deal with the fact that he wasn’t going to do anything about them.

After your break up with Billy you made it very clear that you were not interested in dating. This was not the time for him to open up to you. He didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t comfortable with so once again Bucky needed a distraction from his feelings. This is how he found himself back on the dating apps.

He finally went on a date with Bobbi, a few actually, only to find that the real chemistry they had was in the bedroom. The longer Bucky stared at the artwork you gave him the more he felt like calling her to help push aside you and thoughts of the amazing non-date that you had, but he knew she was out of town for the weekend.

Bucky’s too tired to get involved with calling someone else so instead he settled down in front of his keyboard. His fingers glide across the keys as he’s filled with inspiration, pouring his heart into a melody with you on his mind.

Wanda paced back and forth in her apartment, stopping each time to check her reflection in the scalloped mirror above her dresser when she passed it. The way she swept back the few loose tendrils of her now more conservative light brown hair wasn’t out of vanity but nerves, needing to do anything to stop the shakiness of her hands.

“Hey, everything’s going to be perfect. I promise you have nothing to worry about,” you said, offering open arms to Wanda.

She was so fidgety she was barely able to stay in your embrace for more than a second. Wanda couldn’t help it. Tonight was the opening of The Jewish Museum’s exhibit on The Holocaust and Wanda was extremely nervous. Knowing this day was so important to her, you took off from your internship, promising Elena you would make up the hours.

The buzzer of her doorbell rang and Wanda jumped with excitement. “Mom!” Wanda called out, running towards the door.

It had only been a few months since they saw each other but on a stressful day like this nothing comforted Wanda more than her mom.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you sweetheart.” Marya wrapped her arms around you and it felt like home, and seeing her brought back all the memories of your youth with Wanda and Pietro.

It was impossible not to think about him, especially considering he shared so many features with his mom. Piet would have been so proud of Wanda today and amidst the hug you choke back the tears you felt forming.

Wanda needed to be at the museum early so you and Marya went for a light dinner first as she headed there. Catching up was easy and Marya told you how proud she was for all the hard work you’ve been putting in to get your degree. The passion behind social work was unspoken because she already knew how deeply you felt about the circumstances of Wanda and Pietro’s upbringing.

“I think about it sometimes… what could have been.”

The twinkle in her eye suggested she knew the childhood crush you harbored for her son. It wasn’t something you ever admitted before. Even Wanda didn’t know.

“Years ago I finally had the strength to go through his things. I may have found your names in a heart, scratched on what should have been his notes on American history.”

You brushed aside a tear that trickled down along the curved cheek from your smile. Piet hated history so doodling became a common way to pass the time, and knowing he felt the same doesn’t make it any easier in losing him.

Marya brought a napkin to her face to soak up her own tears. She apologized though you told her there was no reason to. “So tell me, are you seeing anyone?”

As you retold the story of putting off relationships while you earned your degree you saw her mouth pull into a frown.

“Don’t put your life on hold, you know how quickly things can change.”

Her advice didn’t feel like a lecture, and you knew you might have jumped the gun on calling off dating again; not everyone would be like Billy.

An intricately detailed archway leads you through the main doors and into the crowded lobby of the museum. It’s past the normal operating hours, premiering the exhibit for the media and friends and family first.  

You spot your friends gathered together in the corner and happily introduce them to Marya. Sam smiles a little wider as he introduces himself. “Yes, that Sam,” he replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Bucky is wearing his long hair down, neatly tucked behind his ears and even in all black he stands out. The white printed pattern on his black button down shirt draws your eye to the velvet blazer that makes him look incredibly sophisticated.

“You look great,” Bucky said, as you both leaned in to press your cheeks against each other for a kiss.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and the shine of your beige satin shirt. The delicate gold chain you wore draped lower than the V-neck cut and he let his eyes linger down your body, from the black pants that hugged your figure to the pointed black heels.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself. Ooh fancy,” you said, running your hands along his velvet lapel.

The chatter in the lobby grew for another ten minutes until you were directed to follow the group towards the exhibit. Marya was accompanied by Sam and both their faces lit up as they spotted Wanda, standing proudly beside a curtain that was drawn across the entry of the main room. Her eyes twinkled as she spotted them, you and everyone amongst the crowd.

A man not much taller than her walked in front of the curtain with a microphone in hand. He introduced himself as the museum’s director Phillip Coulson. Wanda had always spoken highly of him and you can see why. He was soft spoken with a kind smile, welcoming everyone to the exhibit.

“On the eve of Yom HaShoah we invite you to do what is asked, remember. We remember through stories, from letters that made it out while their writers did not. We remember through pictures, of people and the faces we strive to never forget, of discarded belongings left behind deemed as irrelevant as the lives of their owners. As we remember the decimation and destruction we also remember the endurance, the survival. We remember and we will never forget.”

A round of applause breaks through the crowd with the increased flashing of camera lights as Director Coulson gestures to Wanda who proudly draws open the curtain, opening the exhibit.

The large room is painted in a somber blue, as if the life had been sucked out of a once vibrant sky. It’s fitting. This is a place of reverence, surrounded by artifacts that tell a painful history.

There were three smaller rooms connected to the main area, each showcasing smaller exhibits, one of which you knew was the one Wanda was most proud of. She stood in front of it, awaiting her friends so you could walk through it together.

“It’s called The Ghosts of Genocide and it focuses on the Romani aspect of the Holocaust.”

Unlike the main room there were few displays. One wall was dedicated to Philomena Franz, the first Romani woman to document her experiences in the concentration camps. You read the information beside her photograph, “Zwischen Liebe und Hass” (“Between Love and Hate”) was her autobiography, the dichotomy of a happy childhood against the brutality of Auschwitz.

The next photograph was of Elena Lacková, a Slovakian Romani poet and playwright. “Holocaust Romů v povídkách” (“Holocaust of Roma in short stories”). A copy of the out of print book was behind a glass enclosure.

The large wall featured the paintings of Ceija Stojka, an Austrian Romani Holocaust survivor. You chew on your bottom lip tensely as you stare at the images. Simple ink depictions of dead bodies stacked in a haphazard pile like they were nothing more than logs meant for a fire. One image burns itself into your brain, “Mama in Auschwitz” the wide-eyed look of fear immortalized by the memory of a child.

“Wanda.” You clear your voice of the thickness that built up inside, the heavy lump that weighed on your chest from reading everything. “Forgive me if this sounds disrespectful but I thought you were supposed to incorporate the history of those who were Jewish and Romani.”

She sighed heavily. “I was but there are so many factors that play into the reason why I couldn’t; loss of information being a big one but also most people didn’t specify that they were Jewish. Obviously we know that some were but it was an issue of safety. They were already dealing with being Romani and the prejudices that came with that so they couldn’t come out with it. It’s why we have this.”

She turned you around to the far wall, glossy black tile shines against striking spotlights.

“But it’s blank.”

She nodded, pointing to the dedication. “For the countless, nameless Jewish-Romani lives lost.”

You reached out to touch the wall, your palm against the cold tile; the emptiness that contrasts so starkly in a place filled with history on every wall. And you suppose the lack of information is a lesson learned in history itself.

“This is pretty powerful stuff,” Bucky’s voice called out from behind you.

“Yeah. It is.” You didn’t have any more words.

When the night was coming to a close everyone went home quietly. Wanda’s achievements would be celebrated another night. It was comfortably silent as you and Bucky left the elevator. The unexpected feeling of your arms wrapping around him for a hug was surprising but nice and he deepened the action, firmly pulling you closer to the soft fabric of his blazer.

“Sweet dreams Y/N,” he whispered before you went inside.

That night Marya’s words replayed in your mind and after the exhibit’s reminder on how precious life is you promise yourself to be open to whatever the future brings.

Golden hues begin to creep in on the blue sky ahead of you. As the day starts to wind down the city doesn’t stop. Construction is contained by go-away green walls, with orange and white barricades used to redirect traffic on the busy street. Brake lights flare as the cars begin honking incessantly at the driver going far too slow for the city’s standards.

You see it all from the observation deck of the High Line, accompanied by Bucky and a dozen other people enjoying the first weekend of warmth. You climb the stairs away from the crowd and find a bench beside a small tree.

Bucky opens the box he’s been carrying for a while, revealing two unique and delicious doughnuts that you couldn’t wait to try.

“What’s the square one again?” you asked, licking your lips in anticipation.

“Blackberry jam, and the other is rose I think?” his voice raises with uncertainty. “It looks like a rose at least.”

That it did. The dough was shaped to look like a rose in bloom, with a pink glaze over it. Both were tempting you and the decision was tough but you chose to try the jam filled doughnut first. Hands made sticky by the glaze, you tried your best to pull it apart evenly for Bucky to have an equal share.

Your head nodded in approval as you tasted the sweetness of the jam, mixed perfectly with the airy dough. “This is good,” you said, with your hand hovering over your mouth as you continued to chew through your words.

Bucky brushed his fingers down the corners of his mouth, wiping them on a napkin afterwards and you laughed to yourself. When you were ready Bucky presented the rose shaped doughnut to you as if he was handing over a bouquet.

“How sweet,” you feigned sweetness, bringing your hands together in your best impression of a Disney princess pose.

He let you rip off the first piece of the doughnut, finding it had come apart in a small crescent which was fine, you weren’t sure you could eat much more than that.

Bucky cleared his throat as the glaze melted against his fingers. “So, uh, I have something to ask you.” His nerves stilled momentarily as you hummed in response, sucking the glaze off your fingers.

“Will you be my date to my cousin’s wedding?”

You weren’t sure what he was going to ask but this was definitely not what you imagined. It surprised you especially considering the long list of available women he had to choose from and you couldn’t help but ask him that.

“Them? No. They’re not good enough to bring to a wedding,” he replied.

“Bucky that’s horrible!” you playfully scoffed.

His head dropped down, cringing at his words. “I didn’t mean it like that! I don’t really know any of ‘em that well, and it would be nice to have a friend with me and just have fun.”

Thoughts were running through your head faster than you could process them. Being asked to be Bucky’s date seemed like a dream come true. Yes, despite losing hope in dating after what you went through with Billy it didn’t stop the crush you had on Bucky from growing. But your mind stopped your heart from indulging in its fantasy, reminding you that Bucky legitimately had a long list of women to choose from and you were one of many.

His reasons for asking you made sense, you were very close and sometimes you questioned Bucky’s intentions. He’s never made you feel uncomfortable, it’s the opposite. You’re always comfortable with Bucky, no matter what you do. It feels like what a relationship should be except without the intimacy.

That was the scariest part of it all. Part of you wanted to take a risk and see if there could be something more to what you had but what if it makes you just another girl on his list. A convenient person to sleep with along with the others.

“Please, I already RSVP’d for two,” he begged, staring at you with big eyes as his plush bottom lip protruded out comically far.

The tug of war between your brain and heart wins in favor of the latter as you agreed to go with him, convincing yourself that it’s just a date to a wedding with a friend and nothing more.

PART 16

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Broken Mirror: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

“Please, come in,” Evan Davenport greeted when you finally showed up at his house. You, Gideon, Hotch, and Spencer went to his house while Elle and Derek met Cheryl at the crime scene. “I have six people on my staff. I have three bodyguards. They've all had polygraphs. Everybody's been vetted.”

“Have they all have alibis for the night of the kidnapping?” Hotch asked. Entering the house, you looked around at family pictures and little trinkets they ad at the house. Sometimes, those are the biggest clue about who a person is and what they are capable of. There were a lot of people at the house to make sure it wasn’t bugged so that Evan’s team can come in and set up their equipment.

“All accounted for by the local FBI field office. Cheryl flew in yesterday. I'm just making sure that she's not alone even for--sorry, I just feel like I'm suffocating here. I just want somebody to tell me that she's okay.”

“Dr. Reid,” Gideon called for him, waiting until he was by his side. “What do the statistics tell us?”

“If you follow their instructions and give them the money, your daughter will be returned.”

“Done. This house is bug free,” an FBI agent from the local field office announced. The head bodyguard or whatever he was called in for their equipment. His name is Vincent Shyer, but there was something off about him. You couldn't place exactly what it was, but you were going to make sure he was watched very closely by your eye.

“Alright, bring it in!”

“Gideon,” you whispered, motioning him to come over. “I’m getting a weird vibe from Vincent. Like weirder than normal. Almost as if I can feel Trish’s energy all over him.”

“Keep an eye on him. We can’t rule anyone out.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. He left your side to go back to the group to question the father some more, leaving you alone.

“So, what are your theories so far about this kidnapper?”

“That he targeted you for a reason. Every line of the letter starts with the word ‘you’. He's angry at you and probably feels like you owe him. That everything you own, you don't deserve,” Hotch answered.

“From the language in the ransom we most likely believe that he's working alone,” you added from your corner of the room. Looking at the agents, you just gave them a smile before heading over to the group. “So, your daughters are identical twins?”

“They're not entirely identical. They're mirror twins. Some of Trish's organs are on the right side that should be on the left. Doctors assured us that it wasn't life-threatening,” Evan explained, showing your team the book that explained the condition in detail. Spencer took it, opened it, and began reading it. Along with Evan’s team’s equipment, you brought some of your own to monitor the call which Hotch was getting set up right now. He was going to make sure that when this bastard called, he would track him.

“Situs inversus,” Spencer said from his spot, naming the condition that Evan just described. He ran his finger down the length of the page quickly since his mind could process that many words per minute. He was flying through the pages at an incredible speed, and Evan kept watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“They had self-defense training?” Gideon asked.

“Yeah. I insisted on it. The protective detail rankled when they hit puberty, and I was sure that they would refuse their bodyguards when they left for college,” he stuttered at the end, turning to Spencer to address his reading skills. “Excuse me. Can you actually read that fast?”

“Our conscious minds can process sixteen bits of information per second. Our unconscious, however, can process eleven million,” Spencer informed, going back to the book.

“That’s his talk of yes, he can read that fast,” you chuckled.

“If whoever took her wants me to blow cases or suppress evidence or stand down--”

“What makes you think it's someone you prosecuted?” Gideon interrupted him.

“Well, I have money, but I don't have millions. I mean, what else could it be?”

“In our experience, Mr. Davenport, every case is different,” you said.

Once the rest of the team and Cheryl was back safe in the house, it was almost eight. The call monitoring system was all ready to go, and Evan was going to be the one to answer the call. He didn’t know how to use the system, but Spencer was showing him how.

“This button answers the call,” he explained, pointing to the right ones, “this button makes everyone in the room silent. It'll flash red. You'll be able to hear his side of the conversation. He won't be able to hear us.”

“We'll be running the trace through the field office, but you're in good hands with agent Gideon and his team,” Vincent assured. There was something completely off about him, even after he and his team left to go track it through the field office where they work. There was something wrong, and it bugged the shit out of you that you couldn’t place it.

“You think Cheryl's a whack job because she claims she can feel her sister's anxiety?” Elle spoke to Derek in the kitchen which was right next to you. Leaving your post, you approached the duo.

“I never said whack job.”

“Actually there may be a physiological basis for it,” you said. “Reversed asymmetry monozygotic eggs split late between nine to twelve days.”

“Don’t tell me there’s another one of Reid,” Derek groaned.

“How do you think I got two PhDs at my age? I may not be a genius with an IQ of 187, but I do know a lot,” you grinned.

“She’s actually right,” the young genius said as he joined the group. “The DNA matches right down to the very last stranded code, and there's sporadic documentation of shared physiological pain.”

“You believe it?” Derek asked after staring at you for a good minute.

“No, I'm just saying it's possible. I don't know everything. I mean, despite the fact that you think that I do.”

“I never said that. When have I ever said that?”

“Every day since I met you.”

“This morning at breakfast,” you added.

“Yesterday when he beat you at cards,” Hotch interjected with a grin. “Um, we've got one minute.”

“Anybody ever heard of sarcasm?” Derek scoffed, following the group back into the main room where everyone was waiting. Evan was very nervous, almost to the point of sweating, but he was trying to remain calm. Cheryl, on the other hand, wasn’t doing too well visually. The emotional energy in this room was very nerve racking, it was almost getting to you.

“Remember keep your voice even and calm and agree with everything he says,” Gideon instructed.

“He's late,” Evan sighed impatiently when the clock read 8:02 pm.

“He'll call. Just try to relax. This is his strategy. He wants you on edge,” you said.

“Remember to repeat any important information he gives you to make sure you understand. You try to keep him talking to reveal something about Trish or about himself,” Gideon encouraged. The phone began ringing, and just to keep the unsub stewing a bit, Gideon let the phone ring for a few more seconds before pressing the button that answered the call.

“This is Evan Davenport.”

“Hello, Mr. Davenport,” the unsub spoke. For a split second, you got a flash of Vincent’s face. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but it left you confused as to why you got that image.

“Are you the man who has my daughter Patricia?”

“I have your daughter.”

“Can I ask you--”

“You may ask me nothing,” he interrupted. “This is not an interrogatory. You will only listen to my instructions.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“But I will not give them to you. I do not want to talk to you, Mr. Davenport. I want to talk to her. I want to talk to Cheryl,” he revealed. Gideon pressed the button that muted the call so that the unsub couldn’t hear anything the room was saying.

“What's he doing?” Evan asked.

“What most of the offenders we catch try to do is establish dominance,” Derek explained.

“How long can we keep him on hold?” Elle questioned.

“We can’t put her on,” you stated the obvious.

“Why not? I want to help. I'll talk to him,” Cheryl jumped at the chance to hear her sister’s voice.

“Cheryl doesn't have the authority that Davenport holds. He shouldn't want to talk to her.”

“I think that she should speak to him,” Elle determined.

“Do I need to repeat myself? I want to talk to Cheryl. Put her on the phone. Now,” the unsub grew impatient on the other line.

“No,” Evan shook his head.

“I think she should speak to him. He wants to talk to her. The more he speaks, the more he reveals.”

“She is right, Gideon,” Derek sighed.

“He has my sister!”

“No,” Gideon shook his head. “Y/N, you do it.”

“Okay,” you whispered, switching places with him. It was either you or Elle, and you had the more delicate voice which would best represent Cheryl’s.

“I’m waiting,” the unsub sighed. Once the room got silent, you pressed the button and began speaking.

“Okay, this is Cheryl.” No answer. “This is Cheryl.”

“I have Patricia by my side. I know her voice, so therefore, I know her sister's. Get off the phone. I want Cheryl. I'll give you 60 seconds. If you don't put her on the phone, I will hang up, and you will never hear from me or Patricia again.”

“Prep her,” Gideon said once the call was muted. Taking a seat next to Cheryl who took your spot, you had to make sure she was ready.

“Fifty seconds.”

“This guy's arrogant. Let him know that he's in control. Let him guide the conversation.”

“Forty.”

“Use your sister's name. Say my sister Trish or her name's Patricia. Talk about her.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Let him get to know her through you. Don't veer off topic.”

“Got it,” Cheryl nodded.

“I know you’re scared, okay? But this is really important that you follow what I say. Agree with him.”

“Twenty-five seconds.”

“Tell him that you understand him. I know this is going to be very difficult, but empathize with him. If you do so, he might reveal where he’s holding her.”

“Twenty.”

“Let him know that he didn't mean to hurt Trish or go this far, and that he can fix it. He has a chance to show that he's a kind and forgiving person by letting your sister go.”

“Ten seconds.”

“If you don’t know what to say, I’ll be right here to help you. I know a thing or two about empathizing.”

“Three, two, one.”

“This is Cheryl,” the young woman spoke a second after the countdown ended.

“Hello, Cheryl. How are you?”

“I'd be a lot better if I knew that my sister Patricia is okay.”

“I can tell you have a lot of empathy, Cheryl. You care about others.”

“Yes, I do, and it sounds like you understand,” she sniffled, but tried to keep her sobs silent.

“You mean that I empathize? Yes. I do. Very much. I empathize. I empathize with you, Cheryl. I know you want to be with your sister.”

“Yes, I want Trish back.”

“Good. Tell me what you want, Cheryl. I'm very interested. Tell me all about yourself. What's your favorite color?” he asked, and you were quick to press the mute button.

“Don’t answer that. Stay on the topic of Trish,” you informed, pressing the button once more to unmute it.

“If I tell you, will you let me talk to my sister?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I like blue,” she said, letting a tear roll down her cheek.

“How ordinary. Do you like chocolate, Cheryl?” he asked, but received no answer. He was growing impatient, so he repeated the question in a much slower done. “Do. You. Like. Chocolate?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I do as well,” he laughed.

“Please, let me talk to my sister. All I want to do is hear her voice. Please,” she begged. There was some skuttle on the other end, and you hoped Trish was alive enough to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Cheryl?” Trish’s voice sounded groggy like she didn’t know where she was or if she was hopped up on drugs.

“Trish!”

“Cher, is that you?”

“Trish, it's me. I'm here. Are you okay?” Cheryl asked, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Cher, I can't,” the other sister whimpered.

“Where are you? What do you see?”

“I-I see the moon,” she groaned. The same skuttle sounded, and the phone was taken from the other sister.

“Trish!”

“Have 500,000 ready,” the unsub spoke.

“Let me talk to her!”

“$500,000 is what I'm owed. The Davenports will wait by the phone. You will receive a call with precise instructions in exactly 15 minutes,” the unsub said right before hanging up. Your eyes went to Spencer since he was the one doing the tracing.

“Were your able to trace it?” Gideon asked.

“No. He's probably using a disposable cell phone. They're impossible to trace.”

“She said she could see the moon.”

“She sounded delirious.”

“She was sedated,” you concluded. “It could have been a light.”

“If he's keeping her drugged, it might mean he's not very strong. He might have to keep her weak just so he can dominate her,” Derek observed.

“Or he's keeping her quiet,” Elle added.

“Has Davenport told us everything about his staff?” Gideon wondered.

“Oh, yeah, we have detailed reports but we should probably revisit background on household staff aides and current docket.”

“Pay close attention to Vincent,” you blurted out softly.

“Why? What is it?” Hotch whispered to you.

“I don’t know. All I know is that when the unsub started talking, I got a flash of Vincent’s face. Isn’t it a bit weird that they both sounded the same?”

“Similar, yes. I’ll have Garcia check it out.”

“Thanks,” you nodded.

“He said owed,” Gideon interrupted, thinking out loud.

“$500,000. His demand sounded scripted, like he was reading it to us,” Spencer remarked.

“But the rest of the conversation wasn't. He was his most relaxed just talking to Cheryl,” you conversed.

“What does that mean?” Evan stressed.

“He might know her already.”

“How quickly can you get the money?” Gideon wondered. Deciding to let Gideon handle him, you looked to your left to see Cheryl in the kitchen with a bottle of alcohol in her hand. Sighing, you left their side to join the underaged girl and took both the glass and bottle out of her hand.

“Look, I know I shouldn't drink, but under the circumstances, do you think you could let this one slide?” she sighed.

“I know it’s hard, but we need you at your best.”

“Have you had many cases like this?”

“I’ve seen my share of abductions, yes.”

“I don't know how you do this job. How do you stomach it?”

“Sometimes I don’t. I’m not your normal FBI agent. I see more than most, and I feel it. I’m an empathic psychic. Whether you believe in that sort of thing or not is up to you, but I feel your pain and I feel your sister’s fear as if it were my own. She’s close, but I don’t know where. No matter where I go, all I see are abductions, murders, and everything else you can see. For the most part, all these criminals are just cowards. There's nothing I'd rather do more than put the bastards away.”

“I just wish you could get them before they snatch someone,” Cheryl sighed sadly.

“Trish is alive, I can feel it. I know you can too. You've trusted your feelings this far. Hold onto that.”

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[loveofshows]

A Pirate and the Prince

I might do another part of this but for now, enjoy!

---

Kara laughed as she raced through the streets. The shouts from the guards and the townspeople only fueled her laughter.

She hasn’t meant to get caught; she never really does. But they needed supplies and she was getting a little angsty on the ship. So, without so much of a word to any of her crewmates, she snuck off the ship and went to town.

She knew she was wanted; she was one of the most famous captains to sail the ocean.

She just wasn’t expecting to see so many wanted posters around town. She had gotten the last thing on her list and was nearing the castle before a guard noticed her and called for others. She was just glad she had enough time to send a message to the others.

Oh, Alex was going to be so mad.

“Halt!” a guard shouted. She looked back and gave them a bright smile.

“Don’t think I will!” she teased. She turned a corner sharply. and ran into someone. She

staggered back, blinking as she looked at the person she ran into.

He was wearing the royal colours and Kara could only assume he was part of the royal family.

Querl stumbled back and blinked at the woman in front of him. She was dressed like a pirate and there was something familiar about her that he couldn’t place. Before he had the chance to say anything to her, a voice rang out, “she’s over here!”

“Guess that’s my cue,” she said. Without thinking, Kara grabbed Querl’s hand and started running. Querl stumbled a little until he could keep pace with her.

“Quick! She has Prince Querl!” She heard the guard tell. Kara raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. The two of them kept running and it felt like they weren’t getting anywhere.

“Here, this way,” Querl said, pulling Kara to the right. She followed but pointed at the dead end.

“I know,” he said as he looked around. When he was satisfied that no one was watching, he pressed a brink.

Kara watched in surprise as part of the wall became a door. Querl pushed it open and pulled her inside before closing it.

“Great, now we cannot see,” Kara complained. Querl covered her mouth and shushed her. Kara only glared but did as he asked. When he knew she wasn’t going to make any noise, he dropped his hands and only then noticed how close he was to the pirate captain.

He could see the beauty of her blue eyes and noted she saw a lot and wondered what the stories told. He noticed the crinkles around her eyes as she smiled and found himself wondering what it would be like to make her happy.

The sounds of footsteps coming their way shook Querl out of his thoughts. They listened quietly as the guards stopped in front of the wall. “They were here!” someone yelled.

“But you have to admit, that Captain Danvers sure is something,” another guard said wistfully. Querl’s eyes widened when he finally had the name to the face in front of him. To say he was surprised was an understatement.

“Oh shut up,” another said, and judging by the clanking of the armor, they could only assume that the guard who praised Kara was pushed.

“They couldn’t have gotten far,” another said, bringing the conversation back on track. “Split up, we can’t lose them.” They began running again and soon it was quiet.

“Nice hiding place,” Kara said once she knew they were alone. “Now what do you suggest we do?” Querl didn’t answer and felt along the walls until he found a torch. He lit it and gestured for Kara to follow. With no other option, she did.

“Didn’t expect the crown prince to help a wanted criminal,” Kara noted after walking for a while in silence. Querl shrugged, looking at her from the corner of his eye. She was walking a little way behind him, the passageway too small for the two of them to walk side by side.

“When you’re already defining the Queen’s orders of staying within the castle walls. One can only add more to their defiance.”

Kara quirked an eyebrow, impressed. “So,” she started looking around the dark tunnel, “I didn’t know the town had secret tunnels around it.”

Querl hummed in thought. “Only a select few know of them,” he answered. “I stumbled into one by accident when I was ten, and I use them if I want to sneak out of the castle.”

“Do the guards know about them?”

“No, but I suspect that they will return to the castle and inform my mother about my situation,” he said as an afterthought. “She knows about the tunnels, and if she isn’t busy, she’ll come down here herself to find me. So, we have to hurry to your destination.”

“She’ll be worried about you, won’t she? I mean, they probably think I’ve kidnapped you or something.” Querl snorted and looked back to give her a look. “What?”

“You practically did kidnap me,” he answered, “you took my hand and ran forcing me to follow you.”

“Okay, yes that may be true,” she agreed, but pointed at him to emphasize her point, “but you could have let go at any time. Instead of doing that, you helped me escape and you still are. So that makes you a criminal.”

Querl shook his head but didn’t fight her on that, she did have a point. Kara beamed and celebrated her victory in silence.

“You’re wrong you know,” Querl said after a few moments of silence. Kara hummed and turned her attention on him in confusion, he sighed keeping his eyes forward. “About my mother. You’re wrong, she won’t be worried about me. Father might, but Mother wouldn’t. She’d be more worried about the heir to the throne more than my wellbeing.”

Kara stayed silent, unsure what to say to that. She couldn’t understand what he must be feeling.

She had parents who loved and cared about her and not the title she held. Even when she ran away and became a pirate, they still loved her. They made sure of that.

“I’m sorry,” was what she said instead. Querl shrugged and that was the end of that conversation.

They walked until they reached a crossroads causing Querl to stop and turned to her. “What?” she asked.

“Where is it that you wanted to exactly?”

“I thought you knew,” she said and shot him a grin when he gave her a pointed look. “The docks. That’s where my ship is.”

“You’re a wanted criminal and you still dock your ship where everyone can see it,” Querl questioned though it sounded more of a statement. Kara shrugged, studying each path wondering which would lead to the docks.

“What can I say? I love living on the edge,” she said and her smile grew. Querl raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. Instead, he turned left and started walking, Kara was quick to follow.

“So,” she started and Querl quickly learned that this certain captain doesn’t like the quiet. Which was fine with Querl, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the quiet either. “What made you decide to help me?”

“What made you decide to become a pirate?” Querl asked, making another turn.

“Those are two completely different questions!” Kara exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Your question involves a whole backstory, which I’m sure you don’t want to hear. My question shouldn’t.”

“What if it does?” Querl pressed, “what if both our questions involve a deep answer that neither of us knows?”

Kara opened her mouth to answer but quickly closed it unsure what to say. “Okay, I’ll give you that,” she said eventually. “How about I’ll tell you the short version of mine and you do the same?”

Querl thought about it for a moment before nodding. Kara grinned and stretched her arms up before locking her hands together behind her head.

“My parents had my future planned, I wasn’t into it so I ran away,” she answered, with a thoughtful look in her eyes. “It took years to become what I am, but I’m happy and I’d probably do it again.”

“And your parents? They’re okay that you're one of the most wanted captains of the sea?”

Kara hummed and dropped her arms. “Not at first, but they saw how happy I was and let me be.

Though they did try to get my sister to follow me to make sure I was okay. She refused. It wasn’t until I became captain of my ship that she joined me.”

Querl nodded, with another question ready to be asked. But he stopped himself, they did promise to answer with a shorter version.

“I’m assuming you heard stories about my mother,” Querl started and kept his gaze forward, even when he could feel her eyes on him. When Kara hummed in acknowledgment, Querl continued. “I can assure you that most stories are true.”

Kara’s eyes widened in surprise. “I heard she’s ruthless in battle and around the castle. That she wants to gain control of the surrounding kingdoms.”

“Mm, that is correct,” he said, and Kara could hear a hint of sadness as he continued. “She believes the only way to rule is with an iron fist. I don’t believe her way of thinking. It’s cruel and everyone deserves a chance to be heard. As you can guess, we don’t get along. I try to do everything I can to stop her and she tries everything she can to stop me.”

“Why don’t you just run away?” Kara asked. Querl shrugged and turned another corner.

“I wouldn’t know where to go where she couldn’t find me,” he answered, “and even if I did, she would stop at nothing to bring me back home.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence, neither of them had anything to talk about. Well, there were plenty of things they could have said, but there was a silent agreement of no talking.

Eventually, they were nearing the end of their walk, given that they saw the light at the end.

“We’re almost there!” Kara shouted happily, almost hitting Querl’s arm. He smiled and they quickened their pace.

They had almost reached the entrance before they heard someone yell behind them. “There! They’re here!”

Kara turned around and saw the Queen and a handful of men at the end of the tunnel. She turned back to Querl and he could see the panic in her eyes.

Without thinking, Querl grasped her hand, and together they took off for the entrance. “Where’s your ship?” Querl asked, squinting as the sun hit their eyes. Blinking a few times, his eyes adjusted and he looked around.

Kara did as well and broke into a smile, glad that they had gotten her note on time. “There!” she shouted, pointing at the lone ship that was sailing away from the port.

“They’re sailing away?!” Querl exclaimed, starting to panic, Kara could tell. She squeezed his hand and smiled when he turned to look at her.

There’s an unspoken question of what now? And it prompts a twinkle in Kara’s eyes that both intrigued and scared Querl.

“We get creative!” she answered, before taking off towards the cliff. Hand still clasped in hers, Querl followed without a second thought.

“Get them!” the queen yelled, surprising the townspeople around the port. The guards took off running as the queen ignored everyone, and started towards Kara and Querl.

By the time the queen and the guards caught up to the two, they were standing at the edge of the cliff. Querl looked down unsure, whereas Kara was still grinning. “What now? Querl whispered, turning to look at her.

“There’s nowhere else to run,” the queen called before Kara had the chance to answer. “Turn around, you are under arrest.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara whispered. Before Querl had a chance to ask what she meant, Kara wrapped an arm around his waist and he felt a blade against his throat. He gulped but chose not to say anything. They slowly turned around and the guards drew their weapons but didn’t advance.

“Queen Fabala,” Kara greeted. Although she was smiling, it wasn’t a pleasant greeting. “I’d say it was an honour, but I’d be lying.”

Fabala hummed, her eyes were on Querl as she spoke. “What brings Kara Danvers to the Kingdom of Coly?”

“Captain,” she corrected and shrugged. “Just some shopping, nothing more.”

“Well regardless of why you are in town. You are still under arrest,” Fabala said, taking a step forward and stopped when Kara tightened her grip on her dagger. “You are, after all, a wanted criminal.”

“They don’t call me Captain Kara Danvers for nothing,” she said, taking a step back until her heel hit nothing but air. “But I’m afraid this is where I bid you goodbye.”

As quickly as she could, she whispered something to Querl and kissed him on the cheek before she jumped.

Surprised at the sudden loss of contact, Querl turned and looked down to see Kara swimming towards her ship. He heard the guards running up behind him and peered down.

“What do you have us do, Your Majesty?” the captain of the guard asked.

“Position some men around the ports and once they finish docking, have your men arrest them.”

“Your Majesty, Prince Querl,” he said, bowing before barking out orders as they left.

“Are you alright, Querl?” Fabala asked, checking him to see if he had any cuts or bruises.

“I’m fine, Mother,” he answered, though his attention was still on Kara. Still thinking about what she had whispered to him.

“Are you sure? She didn’t do anything to cause you harm?”

“No.”

“Well then,” she said, smoothing out her dress. She turned around and started walking. “Let us be off.” Querl stayed there as she continued walking. Noticing he wasn’t following she cleared her throat. “Come on Querl, let us go.”

Your life is yours Querl, do what you want to do, Kara’s words whispered into his ears.

So, he jumped.

----

Ao3