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worstjourney · 6 months

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The Millennials' Polar Expedition

A year ago today (23 Nov 2022), I launched Worst Journey Vol.1 at the Scott Polar Research Institute. This is the text of the speech I gave to the lovely people who turned up to celebrate.

As many of you know, my interest in the Terra Nova Expedition was sparked by Radio 4’s dramatisation of The Worst Journey in the World, now 14 years ago. The story is an incredible story, and it got its claws into me, but what kept me coming back again and again were the people. I couldn’t believe anyone so wonderful had ever really existed. So when I finally succumbed to obsession and started reading all the books, it was the expedition members’ own words which I most cherished. These were not always easy to come by, though, so plenty of popular histories were consumed as well. Reading both in tandem, it soon became clear that, while there were some good books out there, there was a lot of sloppy research in the polar echo chamber as well.

I also discovered that no adaptation had attempted to get across the full scope of the expedition. There has never been a full and fair dramatic retelling, all having been limited by time, budget, or ideology from telling the whole story truthfully. I was determined that my adaptation would be both complete and accurate, and be as accountable as possible to those precious primary documents and the people who wrote them.

So the years of research began. I moved to Cambridge to be able to drop in at SPRI and make the most of the archives. Getting to Antarctica seemed impossible, but I went to New Zealand to get at least that much right, and on the way back stayed with relatives in Alberta, the most Antarctic place I could realistically visit. I gathered reference for objects wherever I could. Because Vol.1 takes place mainly on the Terra Nova, which is now a patch of sludge on the seabed off Greenland, I cobbled together a Franken-Nova in my mind, between the Discovery up in Dundee and the Star of India in San Diego. I spent a week on a Jubilee Sailing Trust ship in order to depict tall-ship sailing correctly. I’m sure I’ve still got loads of things wrong, but I did all I could, to get as much as I could, right.

But still, everyone I met who had been to Antarctica said, “you can’t understand Antarctica until you’ve been there, and you can’t tell the story without understanding Antarctica; you have to go.” So I applied to the USAP’s Antarctic Artists and Writers Program, with faint hope, as they do “Ahrt” and I draw cartoons. But I must have blagged a good grant proposal, because a year after applying, I was stepping out of a C-17 onto the Ross Ice Shelf. The whole trip would have been worth it just to stand there, turn in a circle, and see how all the familiar photographs fit together. But the USAP’s generosity didn’t stop there, and in the next month I saw Hut Point, Arrival Heights, the Beardmore Glacier (including the moraine on which the Polar Party stopped to “geologise”), and Cape Crozier, and made three visits to the Cape Evans hut. Three! On top of the visual reference I got priceless qualitative data. The hardness of the sound. The surprising warmth of the sun. The sugary texture of the snow. The keen edge on a slight breeze. The way your fingertips and toes can start to go when the rest of you is perfectly warm. The SHEER INSANITY of Cape Crozier. The veterans were right – I couldn’t have drawn it without having been there, but now I have, and can, and I am more grateful than I can ever adequately express. With all these resources laid so copiously at my feet, all I had to do was sit down and draw the darn thing. Luckily I have some very sound training to back me up on that.

Now, this is all very well for the how of making the book, and, I hope, interesting enough. But why? Why am I putting so much effort into telling this story, and why now?

Well, it means a lot to me personally. To begin to understand why, you need to know that I grew up in the 80s and 90s, at the height of individualist, goal-oriented, success-driven, dog-eat-dog, devil-take-the-hindmost neoliberalism. It was just assumed that humans, when you get right down to it, were basically self-interested jerks, and I saw plenty of them around so I had no reason to question this assumption. The idea was that if you did everything right, and worked really hard, you could retire at 45 to a yacht in the Bahamas, and if you didn’t retire to a yacht, well, you just hadn’t tried hard enough. Character, in the sense of rigorous personal virtue, was for schmucks. What mattered was success. Even as my politics evolved, I still took it as a given that this was how the world worked, and that was how people generally were – after all, there was no lack of corroborating evidence. So: I worked really hard. I single-mindedly pursued my self-interest. I made sacrifices, and put in the time, and fought my way into my dream job and all the success I could have asked for.

And then I met the Terra Nova guys.

What struck me most about them was that even when everything was going wrong, when their expectations were shattered and they had to face the cruellest reality, they were still kind. Not backbiting, recriminating, blame-throwing, defensive, or mean, as one would expect – they were lovely to each other, patient, supportive, self-sacrificing; in fact the worse things got, the better they were. They still treated each other as friends even when it wasn’t in their self-interest, was even contrary to their self-interest. I didn’t know people could be like that. But there they were, in plain writing, being thoroughly, bafflingly, decent. Not just the Polar Party – everyone had to face their own brutal realities at some point, and they all did so with a grace I never thought possible.

It presented a very important question:

When everything goes belly-up, and you’re facing the worst, what sort of person will you be?

Or perhaps more acutely: What sort of person would you rather be with?

It was so contrary to the world I lived in, to the reality I knew – it was a peek into an alternate dimension, populated entirely with lovely, lovely people, who really, genuinely believed that “it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game,” and behaved accordingly. It couldn’t be real. There had to be a deeper, unpleasant truth: that was how the world worked, after all. I kept digging, expecting to hit bottom at some point, but I only found more gold, all the way down. How could I not spend my life on this?

Mythology exists to pass on a culture’s values, moral code, and survival information – how to face challenges and prevail. Scott’s story entered the British mythology, and had staying power, because it exemplified those things so profoundly for the culture that created and received it. But the culture changed, and there were new values; Scott’s legacy was first inverted and then cast aside. The new culture needed a new epic hero. You’d think it would be Amundsen, the epitome of ruthless success, but “Make Plan – Execute Plan – Go Home” has no mythic value, so he didn’t stick. The hero needed challenges, he needed setbacks, and he needed to win, on our terms.

Shackleton! Shackleton was a winner! Shackleton told us what we knew to be true and wanted to hear at epic volume: that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard, you will succeed! (Especially if you can control the narrative.) Scott, on the other hand, tells us that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard . . . you may nevertheless die horribly in the snow. Nobody wants to hear that! What a downer! I think it’s no coincidence that Shackleton exploded into popular culture in the late 90s and has dominated it ever since: he is the mythic hero of the zeitgeist. I am always being asked if I’ll be doing Shackleton next. He has six graphic novels already! That is plenty! But people still want to tell and be told his story, because it’s a heroic myth that validates our worldview.

That’s why I am so determined to tell the Scott story, because Scott is who we don’t realise we need right now – and Wilson, and Bowers, and Cherry, and Atch, and all the rest. The Terra Nova Expedition is the Millennials’ polar expedition. We’ve worked really hard, we’ve done everything we were supposed to, we made what appeared to be the right decisions at the time, and we’re still losing. Nothing in the mythology we’ve been fed has prepared us for this. No amount of positive attitude is going to change it. We have all the aphorisms in the world, but what we need is an example of how to behave when the chips are down, when the Boss is not sailing into the tempest to rescue us, when the Yelcho is not on the horizon. When circumstances are beyond your power to change, how do you make the best of your bad situation? What does that look like? Even if you can’t fix anything, how do you make it better for the people around you – or at the very least, not worse? Scott tells us: you can be patient, supportive, and humble; see who needs help and offer it; be realistic but don’t give in to despair; and if you’re up against a wall with no hope of rescue, go out in a blaze of kindness. We learn by imitation: it’s easy to say these things, but to see them in action, in much harder circumstances than we will ever face, is a far greater help. And to see them exemplified by real, flawed, complicated people like us is better still; they are not fairy-tale ideals, they are achievable. Real people achieved them.

My upbringing in the 80s milieu of selfishness, which set me up to receive the Scott story so gratefully, is hardly unique. There are millions of us who are hungry for a counter-narrative. My generation is desperate for demonstrations of caring, whether it’s activism or social justice or government policies that don’t abandon the vulnerable. We’ve seen selfishness poison the world, and we want an alternative. The time for competition is past; we must cooperate or perish, but we don’t know how to do it because our mythology is founded on competition. The Scott story, if told properly, explodes the Just World Fallacy, and liberates us from the lie that has ruled our lives: that you make your own luck. What happens, happens: what matters is how you respond to it. My obsession with accuracy is in part to honour the men, and in part because Cherry was the ultimate stickler and he’d give me a hard time if I didn’t, but also because, if I’m telling the story to a new generation, I’m damn well going to make sure we get that much RIGHT. It’s been really interesting to see, online, how my generation and the next have glommed onto polar exploration narratives, not as thrilling feats of derring-do, but as emotional explorations of found family and cooperative resilience. We love them because they love each other, and loving each other helps get them through, and we want – we need – to see how that’s done. It’s time to give them the Terra Nova story, and to tell it fully, fairly, and honestly, in all its complexity, because that is how their example is most useful to us. Not as gods, and not as fools, but as real human beings who were excellent to each other in the face of disaster. I only hope that I, a latecomer to their ways, can do them justice.

#scott expedition #terra nova expedition #the worst journey in the world #captain scott #polar party #robert falcon scott #birdie bowers #edward adrian wilson #bill wilson #character #millennials #polar exploration #heroic age #adventure #sociology #neoliberalism

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graciegoeskrazy · 29 days

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they’re just girls

Matty Healy + Teen!Sister!reader

warnings: sad, fluffy, some language ig??

a/n: HI HERES MATTY THING

The both of you made a point to call each other a few times a week, not wanting the distance between you two get in the way of the brother-sister bond. It was usually after school. It didn’t matter if he was in the same city or on the other side of the world in a completely different time zone. He always made a point to call. You got grounded for two weeks starting yesterday. Something about coming home drunk on prom night. (You couldn’t remember all the details because you were too drunk) You didn’t want to mess with your mother so you let it be. You make sure to fill Matty in on your endeavors that night.

He took a puff from a cig as you spoke. “How come Mum is forbidding me from going to parties meanwhile you and all your friends went out everywhere all the time.”

He let out a smile. “She never let me go anywhere. Me and the lads always snuck out.”

You rolled your eyes. That made much more sense. “When will you come to visit?” You asked, voice pleading.

His smirk of a smile quickly faded. “Hard to say, my love. I’m on tour right now so things are a bit complicated.”

“You can’t even come for my birthday?” Your voice pleaded.

“I don’t think so, love. I’m afraid i’m stuck here.” He felt really bad. He really did. It didn’t matter how old you were, you were the baby of the family. His baby. He felt bad enough missing out on you growing up, practically leaving by the time you could babble. He was determined not to miss out on your life. And he didn’t. Despite the enormous age gap and expectations from others to not be the normal sibling type, he made efforts, and the payed off. “Hey.” He said. You slowly looked back at him. You could tell he was sorry. “I’ll find my way home soon. Just takes time, right?”

You looked outside the window next to your bed again. “Yeah.” His heart ached seeing you like this. It became quiet between you two. You sat still looking out, biting your nails. Until, “I gotta go. I have a test I need to study for.”

He sighed, taking another smoke. “Alright.”

“Bye.” You said, turning back to him showing a smile. One he could clearly see through.

“Goodnight, sissy.” He said.

“Night.”

…

Cut to a few days later. Your friend texts you and says that her sister has 2 extra tickets for a 1975 show in London and asks if you want to go. You were technically still grounded so you knew your mom wouldn’t love the idea of a 4-hour road trip with your friends, even if it was to his son’s concert. You recalled the conversation with your brother from a few nights ago. You have barely spoken since then, other than when he commented on a post you made and when you told him to ‘stfu’ when he posted something stupid on his story. You remembered him telling you that he snuck out, and snuck out often.

You were a good girl. As bold and ruthless as you were, you never spoke back, never got in trouble (until now), and you were a straight A student with a stellar GPA. Besides there were other thing your mother and father should be worrying about other than you sneaking out frot a night.

You thought about it for a few minutes, pondering your decision, before eventually texting back your friend and telling her you were in.

You packed your bag in a rush the next day. packing just an outfit for the concert and another comfy one for the late night ride back. As you walked out the front door, not worrying about your mother because she was still working, the realization hit you. You still hadn't told your brother.

…

Hours later, at the actually barricade, situated in the perfect spot between where you brother and Ross would be, you still didn’t. You pondered how you would do it, teasing your friend that you wouldn't tell him at all and wait for him to come out. But, there were too many people in the crowded area and you didn’t want to take that chance. You opened up his contact and texted him a picture of the blue curtain right in front of you. To no one's surprise, he called you immediately.

“Y/n Healy.” He said, as soon as the Facetime connected.

You payed dumb, your friend letting out a laugh as you spoke. “Yessss?”

“Where to fuck are you?” he said.

You played dumb, in hopes of pissing him off more, “Um…at a concert!”

“Who’s concert?” You could hear the band laughing in the background. Matty must have filled hem in.

You shrugged before looking at the camera. “This shit rock band.”

He rolled his eyes and you could hear George let out a laugh beside him. “Does Mum know you’re here?” Your demeanor changed as you tired your best to hold in giggles. “Y/n!” He said.

“What? I missed you!”

“That does not give you an excuse to lie to our parents and take a spontaneous road trip to my gig!” People around started paying attention to the man on your phone screen, realizing it was the man they had come to see.

You smiled. “Well, nice to see you too!”

“Oh my God.” He said, yet again rolling his eyes.

George took the phone from him, knowing his best friend was getting nowhere. “Hi, munchkin.”

“Hi, George!” You smiled. It had been an even longer while since you’ve seen the band.

“Snuck out, did you?” He asked.

“Maybe?” You said, smiling. Even more people started setting whispers. You didn’t care.

“Hm. You at the barricade?”

“Yep! I’m watching the show tonight whether my brother likes it or not!” You replied, smiling once more.

“Nice! I’ll give you a stick.” He smiled before your brother cut it short.

“Stop incoraging her. Give me the phone-“

He reluctantly handed the phone back. “I’m texting Mum. I’m telling her you’re here.”

“Oh, so when you snuck out and did things it was fine? Dude, It’s a 1975 concert. There are more dangerous places to be.”

“You’re 16. You can’t even drive yet, love!”

“Hey! I have my permit.” You said defending yourself.

“Your permit not a license!”

You thought for a moment then rolled your eyes. “It’s fine.”

He sighed. “I’m texting Mum.” He hung up after that.

…

Mum | Go have fun. Give him a big hug for me, alright?

y/n | I’m sorry for sneaking out and driving several hours and lying to you.

Mum | I knew you left, my love. It’s okay.

Mum| I told him to take care of you tonight and send you off in the morning. Be nice and be careful please🩷

y/n | yes maam.

…

Mum | Take care of my girl or you’re grounded.

Matty | I’m 35 mum

Mum | I mean it.

Matty | Love u too

#ty anon!#the 1975 #x daughter!reader #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x daughter!reader #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy x sister!reader #x sister reader

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mybrokenveins3000 · 9 months

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The Very First Night - College!Ross Macdonald

A/N: Me again, thank you for the love <3 I wouldn't continue this lil thing I got going on if people weren't reading, I love you all very much. Glad you're not sick of me just yet. Feel free to give me requests + prompts, doesn't even have to be in the College!Ross universe. 8 times out of 10 I'll write about anything. Hope you enjoy this one!

word count: 1k

♫ The Very First Night - Taylor Swift

"What are you thinking about?"

You snap out of your daydreaming and see Ross leaning on one of the washing machines. It's a familiar image since the pair of you have been doing your laundry together since you first met.

It's the latter half of your first semester at university and you find no greater joy than watching him being so domestic. Calm and concentrated under the glow of laundromat lighting and the distant winter sun.

You're both still in that weird stage where there is no clear word to describe what you are to each other. But, somewhere in the shared glances and silences, you both agreed that a label would reduce things - for now at least. Funny, there's talk of you visiting each others' hometowns during the month-long Christmas holiday, and yet you lack the words to describe what you mean to each other. Maybe it all transcends words.

You finally muster up an "Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

"Come on, what's going through that pretty head of yours"

"Shut up..." you laugh, playfully swinging your legs as you sit atop the machine beside him. "Actually, I'm thinking about Freshers' week."

"Go on," he smirks, head cocked and eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Nah, you wouldn't want to hear--"

"Tell me"

---

It's the Friday of Freshers' week. You and your flatmates agreed to crash a party in the neighbouring accommodation. Two hours in, and you still can't look anyone in the eye. What's wrong with me, I'm not usually this shy.

To remedy this, you decided to drink yourself into oblivion. But what was supposed to be added confidence transformed into a form of mild paralysis and wavy vision. Who knew you had to put more mixer in than liquor, not the other way around?

You find your body slummed down in the hallway, the world is fragmented, and the bass boost coming from the living area is almost headache-inducing. You're trying so hard not to throw up in your mouth.

"Is she okay?"

You hear pitying coos, but you can't see where they're coming from.

"I'M DOING FINE!" you messily interject, hoping someone got a laugh out of that at least.

You smell a waft of cigarettes and petrichor, a soothing melange of warm and cold, as a blurry figure enters your vision and crouches beside you. You relax a bit, not knowing exactly why.

"Could you get her some water?" the figure yells down the corridor, "I'm going to stay with her for a second."

Despite your state, you trust your intuition that, whoever this person is, they're here to help you.

You suddenly burst into exaggerated tears.

"Why are you crying?" they laugh.

"I- I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING," you blurt out, "I'm scared- I'm scared that no one here is going to like me and- and my coursemates will think I'm stupid AND-"

Their laughter, so genuine, like sunshine eases you into a state of calm. They gently brush the strands of your hair off your sweaty and tear-stained face, conscious not to touch you in case it'd make you uncomfortable.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, "they're going to love you."

And there it was. The rash and endearing intimacy of being known. To be in such a state and yet have someone say something like that - it almost had the power to sober you up right then and there.

The rest of the night is a blur. Next thing you know, you feel the pure rush of water down your throat and then your arms slung around your flatmates, all laughing with unabashed glee, as you hobble back to your accommodation. They would smile with you about that night time and time again, comforting you that you were taken good care of by them and the others at that party.

---

"--and then they said 'they're going to love you,'" you explain to Ross who, by this point, was resting his chin on his hand, holding onto every word you said.

"'They're going to love you...'" you repeated to yourself. "And they said that as if they knew me!? It was crazy."

He laughs quietly at the enthusiasm you recounted the story with.

"Not being funny, I have that echoing in my head all the time. That was probably the highlight of my entire Freshers' week."

"Well, we have to go out and find them, don't we?"

"Nah, it's just a nice story. I don't even know what they look like," you sigh, "anyways, why would I go look for someone else when I have you?"

Only you have the power to make him smile so hard. He casts his eyes to the floor, playing with his chain ever so slightly. The washing machines whir and shake. Oh, if I could make this moment last forever.

"When was the first time we met?" he finally says.

"Umm, that film student party?" you reply, confused.

He straightens up and walks towards you, dark yet gentle eyes staring into yours. Suddenly, you're aware of how empty the laundromat is. He reaches for you, brushing the strands out of your face, then raking a hand through your hair. His hand finally rests, fingers holding up your chin.

"They're going to love you," he whispers.

You're short of breath. You look at him, starry-eyed, basking in the elixir timbre of his voice - that goddamn familiar voice.

"It was you," you beam at him, "it was you all along."

How could you not have realised? That calm effect he has on you, you had known it before you even really knew it. The space between you two gets smaller and smaller.

But all he does is plant a quick peck on your forehead before unloading the washing. What a tease.

You jump off the machine and crouch down to his level as he did for you once before. As he shovels your clothes, his and yours all mixed together, into the basket, you grab both sides of his face and kiss him. Long, hard, appreciative, and - before you knew it - so full of love.

A/N: Hmmm, this is kinda mid, but cute nonetheless I suppose. Didn't proofread it but WHATEVER, if there are mistakes, ignore that... Funny, all of these kinda end the same MBV3000 write a different ending for once challengeeeee.

I still think Everyday Rockstar is one of my best so GO READ THAT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY because I am SO PROUD (and SO EMBARASSINGLY, TERMINALLY SINGLE).

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toomuchracket · 1 year

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i just typed out like 14 ross hcs/requests but i’m gonna take a deep breath and not annoy tf out of u so. here’s one

something a little angsty a little hurt/comfort he’s just having a rough time on tour like maybe he’s tired it’s catching up to him and he strikes me as the type of person who’s guilty that he’s sad (“i’m supposed to be the happy friend” type beat) and when he calls you hes just ugh i’m getting old it’s getting hard i just wanna come home to you point is he’s just so DOWN and you feel so bad you can’t do anything about it and then you and the guys plan a surprise visit for you to wherever in the world they currently are and you just. comfort him. maybe bring some home To him yanno

i answered quite a similar vibe here but i didn't quite go into detail on ross talking to you so i'll do that! so he's got your candle lit and he's waiting for you to finish work to call him - as soon as he picks up and says hi, you know something's up. and you're like "baby what is it?" and ross is like "... i'm just so drained, love. and not just from playing shows with not a lot of time off in between - i miss you so much. have half a mind to just get on a flight and come home tomorrow". and you're so sad for him and shocked - ross would never leave tour like that, he loves his job and he loves the boys, so you know something's definitely up. you're like "have you not told the boys how you're feeling? i'm sure they'd help you feel better" and ross says "nah, i haven't. s'usually me doing that to them, i think they'd probably freak out if i needed reassurance haha" (a mirthless laugh), and you're like "oh baby, i wish i could be there" and ross sighs like "i wish for that too, more than anything. but i'll be ok, my love - anyway, tell me about your day, distract me a bit". so you do, and ross genuinely does cheer up a bit, but after you hang up to go to sleep he just sits on his bed and cries a little when the boys find him. and they know something's up - when matty sends you the cute pic of the boys the next day he also says "hey, don't wanna upset you but ross is proper struggling with being away. had your candle burning the whole day yesterday" and you reply like "ah fuck he told me he was down but i didn't think it was this bad. i hate it", and matty's like "look i know you guys agreed it wouldn't make sense for you to come on tour, but i think it's the best thing for him. up for that?" and you agree. you fly out the next week and jamie meets you at the airport and drives you to the venue so you're there to surprise ross when he gets there; you sit in the green room with a coffee, grinning as you hear the boys' voices increase in volume as they near the door, and wave as they all enter like "surprise!". and ross genuinely tears up when he sees you and just runs to grab you and hug you tightly - you're like "sorry if i stink i literally just got off a plane" and ross laughs and he's like "i'm lowkey sick of your perfume anyway i've been burning it in candle form for weeks", and you're jokingly like "oi!" and ross giggles like "never gonna be sick of the taste of your lips though. may i?" and you nod and he just kisses you so deeply (george is in the back oohing like a 12 year old but everyone else is cheering). and you just kinda sit with ross as he preps for the show, and stand at his side of the stage as he performs - he's so much more relaxed and happier with you there cheering him on and blowing kisses, and i think he doesn't let go of you at all from the minute the show ends <3

#mads answers asks #mads muses #ross asks #fluff asks

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theyovngveins · 2 years

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ahaha just normal people things (ryan ross livejournal entries that reminded me of dnf when i read them):

“put me in parenthesis and make me implied so my name can slip from your lips when mentioned. replace the letters change your sheets (but compare me with all the new boys you meet).” - undated

“i still hope you’d haunt the passenger seat. if that was the only way i could keep your company. no matter how veiled or murderous your intent. those scarlet lines in your hair will mark every scar that spoils my appearance. keeping this cavalier is possible: possible like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound and not bleeding to” - undated

“trying to stay happy when its so cold and depressing outside. summertime got me thinking back to when you were mine” - nov 7 2004

“If i could bottle my hopes in a store bought scent they’d be nutmeg peach and they’d pay rent.” - dec 20 2004

“your mouth is like a magazine.” - jan 23 2005

“give me envy give me malice give me closure.” - feb 4 2005

“i’ll be missing someone special.perfectly horrible timing.” - jun 7 2005

“i miss you.you know who you are.” - jun 27 2005

“a year ago i was dreaming of where i am now. now i dream of where i was then.” - sep 13 2005

“can you still feel the butterflies?” - nov 2 2005

“so everyone knows everything about me, I get it.everything you ever hear, is also true all the time.okay? eatitup. Love-ry” - nov 6 2005

“if you’re ever lucky enough to have dreams about someone, and wake up right next to them then you’ll know how i’ve felt the past week or so.with you i don’t have to be anybody.my name is just “yours” i am stuck in a song.we are just sharks and butterflies.vicious and fragile.my neck isn’t the same without you gnawing at it.” - dec 22 2005

“i see only black and white.pictures, i feel like i’m a ghost in all of them.I may never get used to this.and i speak to you like the chorus to the verse. drop another line like a coda with a curse. baby, i want something else, to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life.” feb 23 2006

“starcrossedlovers.” - mar 9 2006

“you come swimming into view.. I may be a great gambler but i can’t win.i roll six when i need seven.i’m good. but no where near great. I need to get away from the snow..it’s pretty but i need some heat.it’s not coming soon. the sun’s gone down in my eyes.i’ve never been so alone,and i’ve never been so alive. magazine covers are ruining my face.i draw all over them.i knowiknowiknow i know i know i know i can’t keep it all…together. i’d like to believe my horoscope but it’s laughing.when i came to visit you, that’s when i knew. that i could never have you. living my life a thousand times faster than normal.i’m missing home or am i missing you.or am i missing me.” - mar 13 2006

“sorry i missed you..i’ve never wanted home so bad.i miss my dog, i want my bed.it’s me and you.i just want to drivedrivedrive.i want to be somewhere i know with someone i want to know.finally, i’ve got nowhere to go.don’t move so slow. don’t move so slow..” - apr 4 2006

“I’m the ghost in the bed.you can touch because i can’t rest. and the lights are always off so I can mold you in the dark.i can shape and pretend.”i just want to have a good time, just like everybody else, but i don’t want to fall apart”” - jun 24 2006

The moon bred new Atlantic life tonight.the salt burned you right out of my eyes.and secrets we’re not proud of were taken with the tide. We were all newborns with blurred vision and no sense of direction. Today I saw cancer, cigarettes and shortness of breath. this is why I walk to the ocean.swim with jellyfish.I may never get this chance again. this is why if you want to kiss you should kiss. If you want to cry you should cry, and if you want to live you should live. You don’t have to love me. You already did. At least enough to keep me smiling from South Carolina to Virginia.it’s for lovers (orjustfriends) This is why I do it.” - jun 25 2006

um anyways i blacked out a demon took over my body and made this. I bolded the ones that really felt dnf core and made me want to shake cry throw up. i hadnt read any of these in literal years ohhhh teenage ryogie i want to hug you so bad :(( heres the link to the masterpost i was using to get these. also to the gc shaming you KYSSSS WE ARE HAVING FUN AND BEING COMPLETELY NORMAL ON THIS SATURDAY NIGHT

ANON YOU ARE MY HERROOOOOOOOOO

#im super tired rn cause its like 12:30 but im fr gonna make this post in the morning #tysm for this btw shfhwhdhshs #ask

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ebooklords · 2 years

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10 Questions You Will Ask Yourself Before You Die

10 Questions You Will Ask Yourself Before You Die - https://ebooklords.com/10-questions-you-will-ask-yourself-before-you-die/ - What questions will you ask yourself before you die?I used to visit a man named Ross at the nursing home. To be honest, I was not always sure that it mattered. He was only semi-conscious, and I never actually heard his voice.Once a week, I would read to him, talk a bit about the most recent news, pray for him and then leave. I knew nothing about his life.Questions you will ask yourself before you dieOne afternoon I received a call from the nursing home telling me that Ross had died. I asked some questions about funeral services and family. The nurse reported that they had orders to bury him with a simple headstone.She also told me that his family wanted nothing to do with him and would not even be notified. She only called me so I would not waste my time coming to see him. Suddenly, I understood why I visited Ross.It was for this moment.After some investigation, I discovered that before Ross had become sick, he was mean and abusive. He had lived a regrettable life with little to show that he had ever been here except a simple headstone in a cemetery out of the way in small-town America.It was at that moment that I decided I was going to live a life that was worth more than a stone. Routinely ask these questions to live a life that matters.Did I love well?At the Gospel Rescue Mission where I work, I see many who have burned every possible bridge with family and friends. Some have stolen from children or done other abuses. They feel utterly alone and afraid. Love and connection are a need, not a want. We need love.When we cannot find love in people, we find it at the bottom of a bottle or in a baggie. Love and connection with people bring life. All other searches for love end in the death of heart and soul. I envision a funeral for myself one day that matters. Surrounded by friends and family, they support one another in grief and love.I do not want to end up alone in a nursing home with no one caring. I desire someone to be called and informed that I have passed away, and to them, it matters. If I want that to be true, I need to love well every day. I must seek to talk and play and care about others more than myself. At the end of the day, I ask myself, “Did I love well?”Did I live well?How did I live? Was I a villain or a hero? How did I interact with strangers? Did I live well? Did I give more than I took, or will they remember me as a giver? These are questions I ponder.It is my greatest desire to be remembered as a force for incredible good in this world. Each day I examine my choices and actions. How did I live today? How can I do it better tomorrow? I hate regrets. I choose to ask myself routinely, “Did I live well?”What is my legacy?All men die, but not all men truly live. What will you leave behind that has value? Our stuff will be disseminated. Some will be tossed in the trash, and others will be fought over. However, all that really matters is the impact of your life.Are there people in the world that are still alive and living inspiring lives because of you? If not, examine your surroundings. Who can I impact today? Consistently look around and determine who might carry on your legacy.Where do I want to live?I now live in the home where I intend to spend my last days. Those days are most likely still a long way off. Yet the woods and fields bring me peace and joy. I long to have a home, not just a house.I love to hear the voices of my family and the clucking of the chickens. Over the next several years, I will improve and be filled with joy more and more. But this is my place, my castle, and my life. Where do you want to live?What do I still want to accomplish?I have felt this way many times before, a deep dissatisfaction. I want more and want to accomplish more with my life. I believe that it is possible to eliminate poverty in America. Will I pull that off? I am going to give it my all. What do you want to accomplish before your life is done? Have you made it real by taking action?What is my life’s purpose?For the past twenty years, this one has haunted me and motivated me. Today I will run a 10K so I am healthy enough to someday play with grandchildren and have the energy to give my family my whole being.Purpose means that there is more to you than just borrowing oxygen for a season. Everyone, yes, you too, has a purpose. Seek it and find it. There is no greater quest. When you find it, you will find reasons to get out of bed and a reason to overcome difficulty. Ask yourself what your life’s purpose is.What have I added to humanity?As a Boy Scout growing up, I routinely heard, “Let’s leave it better than we found it.” We would clean up the campsite and throw out the trash that may have been left by previous tenants. We would be instructed to pick up trash we would see as we walked to a museum or anyplace else our adventures would take us.This was a great character-building exercise. This is also true for those who want to finish our lives well. What are you adding to humanity before you die? Let us determine to leave it better than we found it.Who do I need to forgive?No doubt many have let you down and disappointed you. Some might have deliberately abused you and lied about it or stolen from you and gloated.Regardless holding on to that angst and frustration will not help you today nor in the future. The choices of others might shape the amount that you can trust them, but do not hold a grudge. Do what you can to be a forgiving person.What adventures do I need to have?There is always time for one last adventure. In 1952 my grandfather returned from the Korean conflict by plane. He did not get on a plane again until he was in his 70s. He hated flying.But he wanted to feel fully alive, so not only did he fly to the east coast, he went parasailing with my cousin. That is a great life. Adventures show us we are alive. We need more of them before we die.How will I be remembered?Those closest to me know me. I have been told that I am a good man. But is that how I will be remembered? Is that even how I want to be remembered? Most days that is good enough.But what I really want to be remembered as is a hero and a daring adventurer who spoke to thousands and lived a life that helped others live successfully. If I want to be remembered that way, I still have some work to do.Today you have a choice. Rather than wait until the last moment, start asking yourself these questions today before you die. In those last moments, you might be focused on other less important things like breathing and blood flow. In life, what is important is important. Live well.What questions do you ask yourself? Let us know in the comment section below. - 2547 - August 28, 2022

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kjacksonportfolio · 2 years

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ELEGANT EXIT

The corner of Fourth and Pierre streets will lose a little style at the end of this month.

Darlene Ross, owner of Supreme Elegance, 221 S. Fourth St., will retire and close her doors July 26. After 30 years at the shop, Ross, 65, has been saying goodbye to customers and looking forward to the next chapter. She said she knows it is time to retire, but the memories and relationships made at her salon have made the last few weeks bittersweet.

Both former and current customers have been reaching out to let her know how much they will miss her. She’s received notes and calls wishing her well, including one client who said “I know you have changed my life for the better.” Some told her she should have a party to mark her retirement, but Ross said she didn’t want to do that because it would be too emotional.

“I boo-hooed enough,” Ross said. “I’m trying to have no more tears. But they’re all happy for me. Sad and happy at the same time.”

She began her career in Atlanta. Ross and her husband, Stan, had moved there with their baby son from Manhattan after working at McCall Pattern Company. (The couple recently celebrated their 42nd anniversary.) One weekend, Ross suggested they go and look at some beauty schools.

They visited one that was offering scholarships, and when Ross asked how to qualify, a man from the school put a mannequin head in front of her.

“He says, ‘I want pin curls, hair rollers and finger waves,’” Ross said. “I said, ‘What’s a finger wave?’ I didn’t know what a finger wave was.”

He showed her, she was accepted into the school on scholarship and went to East Point Beauty for $50. Ross said it was realizing a dream she had had since she was 16.

She had always been interested in a career doing hair. Ross was one of 10 children, and she said she was always styling her siblings’ hair and her mother’s, as well as her own.

“I always had a different hairdo every day,” she said.

Ross and her family moved back to Manhattan in 1987, and she worked as a stylist at a couple places before the shop that would become Supreme Elegance came up for sale. She decided it was time to go into business for herself.

“I remember a lady saying, ‘Don’t bite off more than you can chew,’” she said. “When people tell me I can’t do something, I’m going to do it 10 times better.

Ross said that she has been proud to own her own business for three decades, especially as a black woman.

“I can say I’ve been a successful black woman with a business,” she said.

Stan, who does the salon’s books, said it was slow in the beginning but grew as they got to know more people in the community.

“She’s good at what she does,” he said.

Ross’s son BJ said his mother accomplished no small feat by owning her own small business for so long, and he took some lessons from her into his own career, like building relationships and being willing to serve others.

“She’s been a tremendous role model for our family,” he said. “Nothing was given to her. She made a positive impact on people’s lives and that’s cool to see.”

Ross said one of her priorities is making sure she is on time, and that her customers know they should be too. She said she works fast because she doesn’t want to infringe on her customer’s time, and also wants to respect the next customer’s time.

“You cannot get time back,” she said. “If a person’s five minutes late, that’s five minutes I can’t get back. They know I’m gonna get them in and get them out.”

Ross said she loves seeing the final results of her work when someone walks out of the salon. If someone comes in with damaged hair, she said she enjoys identifying what is wrong with it and how to help fix the problem.

“To see that result, they walk out of here looking like ‘Supreme Elegance,’” she said. “I still get that excitement.”

But Ross said the most important thing she has gained from the job, and what she will miss most, is the relationships she has made with longtime customers. Ross said there are people who have been coming to Supreme Elegance for 20 years, and she will miss seeing them.

“They’ve truly stuck with me,” she said. “You’ve got to be thankful, which I am.”

Ross’s daughter Amber worked at the salon with her mother after finishing cosmetology school. Amber, who now lives in Kansas City, said she grew up in the shop copying her mom’s work on her dolls, inspired to make her own career in the industry. She said she will cherish the time she got to watch her mother.

“I learned a lot there,” she said. “It was always a good time, and it was a chance to see a different side of her.”

Stan said he could tell the clients trusted Ross with their hair and could see how she enjoyed the conversations she had with them.

“She cuts my hair and she says I’m her worst customer because I don’t talk,” he said.

BJ said that growing up at the salon, he saw his mother build those connections and tried to do the same in his own work.

“Her customers became lifelong friends, and I saw that,” he said.

Ross said she had been thinking about retirement for a few years, and even though it will be hard to leave her clients, she said she finally felt like it was the right decision. Her hands have started to hurt, but she said she still feels good, so she wanted to retire while she could still enjoy her newfound free time. She and Stan like to golf, travel and watch K-State sports. She’s also looking forward to seeing her two grandchildren more often.

Ross’s family all said that while it is sad to see the end of this chapter, they are excited to see her move on to the next one. Ross said she’s excited to have time for herself.

“I’ve served everybody else for 30 years, so I think it’s time to serve Darlene,” Ross said.

Published in the Manhattan Mercury July 9, 2018

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mediocre-writerr · 3 years

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who do you love [lexi howard]

lexi howard x reader

requested: Hiii! I just discovered your page while looking for Euphoria fics. I saw that you don’t have any Lexi Howard fics. Could I request a fic where Reader is partnered up with Cassie for a project or something and they meet Lexi and develops a crush on her, but Lexi is clueless and thinks reader has a thing for Cassie? Fluff please. Also your works are absolutely amazing!

a/n: italicized are rue's voiceover

*not my gif*

Lexi has always lived in the shadows of her sister. Every guy or girl she liked just never fell for her. They always fell for her sister. Cassie was the one in the spotlight and Lexi was just the background character.

You sat there with your earbuds in as your teacher went on and on about some project you guys had to do. But again, you weren't exactly listening.

Until he came over and ripped your earbuds out of your ear. You looked up at him with innocent eyes, "Ms. Y/L/N, you're partnered with Ms. Howard. Hopefully, she'll be able to fill you in since you weren't paying attention,"

You sent him a small smile before trudging your way over to Cassie. You heard a lot of things about her, but you didn't really care what everyone thought around here. Most of them were assholes anyway.

"So were you paying attention to anything he was saying?" you asked as you plopped down into the seat next to her.

"Not a word, but my friend Kat heard all of it. If you want you can come over tonight, we can start working on it, getting it over with," she offered and you nodded.

“Sounds great,”

You see this was the start of a beautiful friendship for Y/N and Cassie. They became as thick as thieves. Everyone thought that Y/N and Cassie would eventually get together, but the entire time Cassie was just trying to get her newly found best friend to admit feelings for her sister.

And those feelings started, cheesy to say, but at first sight.

You knocked on the Howard’s door, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You didn’t really know how to feel, Cassie was popular and well you? Not so much.

The door swung open and you swore your jaw dropped all the way to the floor. You were met with the younger Howard sister. She was beautiful. Her beautiful brown hair fit perfectly with her fair skin.

“You must be Y/N?” she says, snapping you out of your daze.

“Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Lexi, right?” you asked, stepping into the house as she held the door open.

“Yeah. Cassie went out with Maddy, but she texted me and said she’s on her way back. You can come in, you don’t have to wait outside like a dog,” she joked and you laughed together softly.

The two of you sat together on the couch. Your eyes gazed to the TV to see her watching Crazy Rich Asians. One of your favorite movies of all time. The screen was showing the montage of Rachel trying on all the different dresses for the wedding.

“This movie is a masterpiece,” you tell her.

She nods, “This is my first time watching it and I’m completely sold,”

“Oh, you haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. The wedding scene is-” you put your fingers to your lips and kiss them, “Chef’s kiss!”

“Hmm, I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said.

You continued watching as the wedding scene started. Lexi’s eyes were glued to the TV, but yours kept drifting towards Lexi. The way she watched intently as Kina Grannis started singing “Can’t Help Falling In Love”.

The scene ends and she looks at you, tears boarded at her eyes, “Why am I going to cry?” she laughed.

“Because it’s one of the most beautiful scenes in history,” you told her.

The two of you just stared at each other. Her doe brown eyes were captivating and you couldn’t help your eyes from drifting down to her lips. There was a moment where you thought she did the same thing.

The door bust open filled with laughter and Cassie and Maddy’s eyes landed on the two of you, “Hey Y/N, sorry I’m late. I see my sister was able to keep you company,”

“Oh yeah, Lexi was great. It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you around,” you told her.

You see, my best friend Lexi developed a crush on Y/N right after that. But despite me and Jules telling her constantly that she felt the same way, Lexi still thought that you fell for her blonde sister and not her.

“Cassie! I am not telling your sister that I like her. She does not feel the same way that I do. I am not going to risk my friendship that I’ve built with her and you,” you told her as the two of you laid on the bed in her bedroom.

She looked at you with her blue eyes like you were on drugs, “Are you kidding me right now? You sound like you just bought something from Fez. I’ve never seen my sister look at anyone the way she looks at you. You need to stop being a fucking coward and just tell her how you feel,”

“Okay, what if she does want to be my girlfriend? What if something bad happens? I lose the both of you and I can’t do that. I don’t want you to choose between me and your own sister,” you whispered.

Your heads were slightly tilted towards each other as you just stared at her, “I think you need to take advice from your favorite movie: you’re not playing to win, you’re playing to not lose. So play to win. Don’t think about the what if’s and even if things go south with my sister, I found a sister in you. You’re not gonna lose me either,” she said, “You’re one of my favorite people in the entire world, possibly my favorite, don’t tell Maddy that though. I love you so much Y/N,”

Little did the two of you know that Lexi was at the door way. She didn’t hear anything besides that you’re Cassie’s favorite person and that she loves you.

“Awww someone loves me,” you nudge her shoulder, “But I’m for sure going to tell Maddy that I’m your favorite person. She’ll have a field day with that one,”

She pushed your face away from her, “You will not! I’ll just tell Lexi myself then,”

You gasped, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Then you do it!” she exclaimed.

Lexi avoided Y/N after that day. She also avoided Cassie. The two girls didn’t know why the brunette Howard was avoiding them. All they knew was that she avoided them every chance that she got.

It broke Y/N’s heart. She was finally ready to tell Lexi how she felt. And now, she wants nothing to do with her. No more movie nights. No more random ice cream days. But rather, Y/N going over to visit Cassie and being disappointed when their mom would answer the door and not Lexi.

You finally caught up to her as she was trying to sprint past you in the hallway. You grabbed her wrist and she looked back at you. The first time actually seeing those beautiful eyes of hers in weeks.

“What did I do? I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. I understand if you don’t want to be my friend, but please just tell me what I did. That’s the least I deserve,” you whispered, your voice breaking at the thought of losing one of your best friends.

She shook her head, “Nothing, you didn’t do anything,”

“I obviously did something, you’re not talking to me!” you exclaimed.

Lexi broke free of your grasp, “You don’t need me Y/N. You have my sister. Cassie always wins. She’s always been in the spotlight. She always gets the guys and girls. Everyone I’ve ever liked, she went for them. And she always wins. I just thought for once that I mattered. That for once, the person I fell in love with chose me, but I guess I was wrong,”

She stormed away and you were left with your mouth agape. Everything she said twirling in your brain. You immediately told Cassie all of it and your brain worked together to try and figure out a way to win her back. Until it all finally clicked.

You stood outside in the backyard of the Howard’s house. A slip n slide was in the path leading to you, switch on candles. You sat on the opposite side with a guitar in your hand. Luckily, you can play.

Singing on the other hand, well let’s just hope it goes well.

“Cassie, I already said I don’t want to talk to you! You can’t bribe me with Bob Ross tutorials!” Lexi’s voice echoed as she closed the backyard door.

She spotted you sitting there and she was immediately about to go inside when you yelled out to her, “Lexi please! Just let me explain, it’ll take maybe three or four minutes of your time,”

Lexi walked down the slip n slide, but not before falling on her butt and sliding towards you. You let out a roar of a laugh as she finally reached down to you. She tried hard to fight off a laugh and a smile, but you could see it faintly.

When you finally came down from your high she looked at you with raised eyebrows, “Well, I’m waiting,”

You started playing the guitar. The melody you learned just hours before playing from the guitar. You took in a deep breath as you started singing the infamous song that got you to fall in love with her in the first place.

“So, take my hand, take my whole life too. For, I can’t help falling in love with you. For, I can’t help falling in love with you,” you finish the song.

The two of you look at each other as you place your guitar down next to you, “You do matter to me, Lexi. More than you know. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you, but ever since the first night I met you I’ve always been in love with you,”

“Cassie actually told me that I need to play to win. And if I had to slip on my ass a thousands times trying to set up this low budget recreation of the wedding scene in Crazy Rich Asians, I would. I did it because I need to win your heart, because Lexi, you already have mine,”

A small smile breaks out onto her face as she closes the distance between the two of you. She kissed you ever so softly as you tasted the sweet taste of her lips.

“And you have mine,”

#lexi howard #lexi howard x reader #lexi howard imagines #euphoria #euphoria imagines

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mountswhore · 3 years

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𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 — mason mount

summary: chelsea’s massage therapist, and mason’s long term crush, had moved to a different club. but after reuniting at nationals, you realise just how much you missed him.

notes: requests are open, just ask! this is so fucking long, please read when you have time.

“I will take care of you.” + “I could never get tired of you.”

for @masterclassbaby

“she’s pretty,” mason hummed, chin in the palm of his hands and eyes gazing at you. chelsea’s newest sports massage therapist. he watched as you conversed with a few of the injured teammates, the boys on either side of him laughing at his blushed cheeks.

“mounty’s in love.” chilly sang, pushing mason gently. the three of them were laying on the turf, waiting for their trainer to arrive and being introduced to the pretty lady who would be massaging their injured limbs from now on. “go on, make a move before kai does. you know he will.”

“i’m not making any moves,” mason huffed and pushed himself to his feet, ben following suit and pulling a ball towards him with his foot, “can i appreciate her beauty without wanting to make a move?” ben rolled his eyes at his friend, eyes now focused on the ball for the first time in twenty minutes.

“so you’re just going to stare at her, like a creep.” ben stated, stopping the ball with the side of his foot and kicked it back to mason. “noted.” mason was barely focused, looking over to you every time you laughed or your voice echoed. he’d laugh with you, crinkling his nose when you did, it was sickening.

ben had kicked the ball to mason’s feet, where is stilled and hadn’t even broken his stare. he had ‘regained control of the ball’ by kicking mason’s ankles, which had definitely caught his attention and caused him to hiss in pain. “you fucker, what did you do that for?”

“i just gave you a reason to talk to her, you clown.” ben revealed sarcastically, mason limping over to you as you held a look of concern.

“everything okay, mount?” you politely asked, the slight touch on his back as well as hearing his name fall from your mouth was sending him into a frenzy. he just nodded, and followed you inside to where your new office resided. “what the hell happened? last time i looked, you were kicking a ball about with chilly.”

your voice was as silky as he’d imagined. “yeah, he’s a bit slow. so he thought kicking me in the ankles would be a wise idea.” you couldn’t help but giggle at the man’s joke, avoiding his gaze as you were sure to blush. this man was attractive, but it was your first day, you had to remain professional.

“i better get to work,” you huffed, rubbing some hand sanitiser onto your hands and pulling his socks down. “we can’t have chelsea’s best player injured a few days before the game,” you’d finally met eyes and stared at each other for a brief second, before bashful looking away.

“you think that?” mason almost sounded unsure of himself.

“of course,” you grinned and applied some pressure to the side of his ankle, “i’d say you’re one of the best.” mason hummed almost silently, resting his head back on the table. it didn’t hurt, and if anything, he’d have to thank chilly for kicking his ankles, as it got you two talking.

weeks had passed, mason visiting your office most days with random excuses.

“my legs are fine. but maybe a shoulder rub for good luck?”

“i bought you a smoothie.”

“it’s cold outside, and i told the boys my thighs were sore.”

“now i’m just bored.”

every time he’d appear, you’d just pull up a chair instead of prepping the table. he’d talk to you about the most random of things, the pair of you having an intense debate on whether or not ross and rachel were on a break. he’d quickly become your favourite visitor.

“mr. mount, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you questioned, knowing it was him just by the way he fiddled with the handle before opening the door. he grinned at the nickname, sitting in the desk chair beside you.

“i actually came to ask if you wanted to go for a drink tonight. the boys were meant to, but now it looks like i’m all alone.” mason explained, a white lie thrown into the mix. he wasn’t being left by the boys, he asked them to cancel, so he could spend some with you. “so, you fancy it?”

“sure.” you smiled, accepting his invitation before you could overthink your way into cancelling. “i’ll text you my address.” he nodded his head, resting his head on his hands as you got on with paperwork. you could see out of the corner of your eye, he was staring at you as you worked. he had no training to be getting on with, and saw a better pastime in watching you work.

when you’d finally finished work and gotten yourself dressed up, mason was even more in awe of you. you looked adorable at work, and now he’d seen you in a new light. it’s like seeing your crush outside of school, it’s weird not seeing them in uniform, but seeing a new layer of them was good. he’d picked you up and taken you to the nicest pub he could find, it was a quiet one. it was a pub you had to pay extra for to sit on the terrace with a table to yourself. but he was willing to go the distance.

“it’s weird not seeing you in your kit.” you mentioned, staring at his impeccable sense of fashion. like he’d been ripped from the front page of asos. mason chuckled loudly and sipped on his beer, after doing a brief ‘cheers’ with you. it was british tradition, after all.

“i know. i’m used to seeing you in leggings and a chelsea top.” mason observed, his cheeks blushing at the way you looked at him. he felt the butterflies begin to swarm in his stomach, like they did on the way here. “now you’re in a dress, i can see your legs.” his eyes widened at the weird statement that just fell from his lips, face burning with embarrassment. “sorry, that sounded so creepy.”

you burst into laughter, feeling anything but disturbed. in fact, you felt more comfortable with him. “don’t worry about it, you’re easy to feel comfortable with.” mason took this chance to hide his rosy cheeks by sipping on his beer. the pair of you conversed for well over an hour, your conversations from work spilling into the mix too. and soon enough you were laughing on the walk back to your home.

“that’s hilarious. i can’t believe we could’ve almost met years ago.” you exclaimed, mason proud of recalling that memory. the pair of you remembered an awful christmas concert that happened in a town near central london, and were almost inches apart unknowingly covering your ears at the screeches made by the backup singers.

you’d ended up at your door, mason standing just centimetres away from your face. you knew what he wanted, and you wanted it to. so, with the confidence given to you by the mixer you’d just downed a while ago, you closed the gap between you and engaged in a sweet kiss with him. it was well overdue, mason’s teammates would say as he told them the following day.

you’d settled in really nicely with the team, enjoying every day you spent at the training grounds. you’d only been on that one drink date with mason, always planning to reschedule another but you’d both be too busy to do so. it didn’t stop you from texting nonstop and have some late night facetime calls. you were really beginning to like each other. it was as if nothing could ruin your happiness you felt with your life at this moment.

until you’d been pulled aside and told by chelsea’s own manager that a man united massage therapist had quit, offering you the job. it would mean your whole life would shift, you’d have to move, you’d have to make friends with a team all over again, and leave mason. you couldn’t bear telling him, which you’d also been told to do. you’d have to break the news to your beloved team, who would come and cheer with you after a win, and always pester you with random requests. you were each of their’s personal assistant almost, loving your relationship with them all. and mason, you knew he’d be crushed, the girl he was so deeply falling for, being told to move to another club.

you were on edge since that very morning, not being your usual joking self with your boys as they came in for their sessions. you’d weakly smile at them and make small talk whilst tending to their stiff joints, then let them leave. all the boys carried on with their day, assuming you were just having a bad day. but mason could see through you, he could tell something was playing on your mind.

as you were putting pressure on mason’s ankle, which he’d been take off the pitch for last week, he grabbed your arm gently. sitting up, he pulled you close to him and held you how he usually did. his hands grazing your sides and his eyes almost burning holes into your own. “talk to me, pretty. what’s on your mind?”

you shook your head. “i’d go easy on the foot today, mount. i don’t want to see you benched next game.” would you even be able to see their next game? it brought you close to tears throughout the day, but being trapped in a room with mason, you were bound to cry and tell him everything.

his grip didn’t leave your arm, instead he pulled you closer to him and held you close to his chest, now standing and towering over you. you felt a sob erupt through your chest, opening the flood gates as you cried into him. he’d never seen you like this, you were always his smiling ball of sunshine. “talk to me, y/n.”

“they’re moving me.” you simply stated, hoping not to say another word and him just understand completely. but it didn’t work like that, none of the team knew. mason would be the first to know, and you had to tell the rest of the team before the day was up. as this weekend you’d be arranging accommodation in manchester whilst you looked for permanent residence, as well as meeting the team and staff you’d be working for.

“what?”

“they’re moving me to united, mase. a therapist quit over there and they asked for me, your manager signed me over a few days ago. and i’m gonna be leaving you boys.” you explained, mason’s grip on you loosening as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying. he’d had his fair share of bad news in his life, but this was the biggest blow he’d felt in a while.

“they can’t do that,” mason stuttered over his tears, a frown cast upon his face, “they can’t just expect you to pack up and leave.” you placed your hands over his cheeks, forcing him to look down at you. that’s when his tears began to fall, looking so vulnerably at each other in this time of sadness.

“they can, mason. and they have, i need to go this weekend to meet the team and look to move up there.” you admitted, your hands refused to leave his face. you were soaking up every bit of mason you could before you left. long-distance didn’t work for either of you, especially with how busy you both were. the only time you’d see each other would be if chelsea were to play united.

“i can’t lose you, y/n.” he confessed, pulling you into him and resting his head above yours. it wasn’t just losing a girl he was seeing, it was losing someone he loved. he’d fallen deeply in love with you — but telling you would just hinder your movement. he couldn’t make it any harder than it was, it would ruin you. he just had to let you go.

that afternoon, you’d thought about what you were going to say and met the boys on the pitch. the second mason saw you, it took everything in him to not cry into his hands. but he managed to stay strong. you stood weakly beside the team manager, avoiding everyone’s eyes and fiddling with your jumper sleeves.

“afternoon boys,” you greeted them, hearing a few cheers and whistles, they loved you, “i have some news. today will be my last day working with you. i’ve been transferred to united, which will take full effect this weekend. you guys have my number if you just want to talk rubbish, or have any questions for me.” it was a long while of hugging them all, laughing with them and repeating little inside jokes with them.

“what are you going to do without me, huh?” you asked reece, who just chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “i’ll miss you all, you know who i’ll be cheering on if you ever go against united.”

you’d settled in at united perfectly, but something was missing. it was always going to feel this way, nothing would ever break the bond you shared with the chelsea boys. even when they went head to head, and you’d catch mason’s eyes on the pitch, you’d have to hide your smile when they scored, and try even harder if mason was the one putting it in the back of the net. you got on well with the boys here, but you found yourself missing the boys back at chelsea, and most of all, mason.

months had passed since your move to manchester, and you were heading out of your office on a particular tiring friday afternoon, walking past united’s manager, who always seemed to be on his way to something.

“ah, y/n, just who i needed to see.” he commented, stopping you as you were headed out to find a late rashford for his session. “keep an eye on your emails tonight, please. you’ve been included in an international offer.” you nodded, not hearing anything past the word ‘email’. and when you’d gotten home that evening, waiting for your takeaway to arrive, you mindlessly scrolled your emails.

something about the upcoming world cup, saying you’d been selected as the teams massage therapist. it burned your eyes as you danced around your tiny living room; so happy to have a chance at seeing any of the chelsea boys again. you’d thought that after all these months of just seeing mason’s face in his instagram posts, he’d have forgotten about you and moved on. but it was the furthest from the truth.

mason watched over your socials for months, seeing your various pictures with the likes of rashford, shaw, and lingard. he made sure you had friends and was having a good time up north. but every night he’d go to bed, yearning for you and the time you both spent together. missing your first kiss, missing hearing the sound of your laugh in real life, not just through another footballers videos. he missed spending hours on the phone. and although he had a chance to reconnect with you, it would be too much for the both of you to handle. he’d miss you so much more, knowing you were simply unobtainable.

after signing all of the correct documents to show you could in fact work for the national team, you were on your way to the training grounds and coping with living in the camp alongside the boys and other members of staff. it was better than your tiny manchester apartment, that was for sure. you weren’t really needed outside for training, so you set up your office and began on your paperwork. time passed a lot quicker here than it did when you worked at united, it was nearing your lunch break already. a knock was placed at your door, bringing your out of your work daze.

“hello, stranger.” you heard from behind you, heart overjoyed that it was actually him. it was your mason. you turned round to greet him, standing up and immediately pulling him into a hug. it felt familiar, the only bit of familiarity you had in this place. “god, i missed you.” he even smelt the same, as creepy as it was to say.

“i knew you’d be called up,” you admitted to him, looking up at his red face. it was just like the first time, he was so nervous to talk to you, “you’re still my best player.” his hands found your cheeks, taking advantage of the affection not feeling awkward. it was as if you never left.

“you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you all these months, y/n,” he whispered, face centimetres away from yours. “how much i’ve wanted to kiss you again.” you wanted it too, you finally felt like you found your missing piece. but you had to remain professional, this was national level now, not just club level.

“trust me,” you whispered back at him, holding your hands above his own, “i’ve wanted to kiss this pretty face, too. but we have to be professional.” he nodded, understanding that if they were caught, you’d be the one facing repercussions, not him. so he respected your choice and stood back.

“what about when the day’s over, and we go back to the camp,” he suggested, a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning around, “what would you say to me then?” you just shrugged, sitting back down in your chair and continuing your work. the remainder of your day was quiet, just talking about a few people tomorrow that have stiff joints that need loosening. you’d made your way back to camp, opening your door and sighing as you took your shoes off.

what room are you in? mason texted, waiting outside his door.

you’re eager, i just finished work. but i’m on the floor above you, room 39. you texted him back, speedily changing your attire for something more comfortable and freshening up. mason would be up here within seconds. and whilst there were no rules stating that the squad shouldn’t be in staff members rooms, it felt wrong.

“you’re gonna have to leave when nobody can see you.” you sighed, opening your door to an eager mason. he wormed past you and sat on your bed, semi annoyed that your bed was comfortable than his.

“so not only do you get a room to yourself, you get a bed that doesn’t feel like a plank of wood.” mason stated, clearly getting comfortable on your bed. “i just might have to stay here.” you rolled your eyes and sat beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “you tired?”

instead of saying anything, you nodded and inched closer to him. his right hand was drawing delicate patterns on your exposed arm, whilst the other was wrapped around you. this was the moment he wanted with you, even when you were working at chelsea. but it’s happening now and that’s all he cared about. holding the girl he still deeply loved in his arms.

“i’ll go down to dinner soon,” he mentioned, even if you could hear him or not, “maybe i’ll bring you something up.” a small kiss was placed on your temple, mason snuggling into you a bit more.

the next day, you knew you had some sessions. so you were up early, a text from mason on your phone.

i left late last night, i fell asleep once i came back from dinner. i hope you had a good night.

you blushed at his text, getting yourself prepared for the day. the boys had a match coming up soon and you wanted to be on top of your game, making sure they were all stretched and ready. you sat in your office, prepping your table and your paper work for the first person to enter.

you’d worked with grealish, bellingham, and lingard today. and they only had a few more hours training until they were done for the day. you sighed in your seat and rested your head against your desk, arms and hands sore. your handle was violently shoved down, your door opening in the process. startled, you watched declan carry his best mate in.

“he rolled his ankle taking a kick,” declan explained, helping his friend onto the table. you quickly sanitised your hands and pulled his sock down to observe his ankle. “will he be okay for the game in a few days?”

“yes, dec. he’ll be out in no time.” you reassured his friend, mason smiling through the sharp pain shooting through his ankle. declan had left shortly afterwards, leaving you to giggle at mason.

“what you giggling at, hm?” mason questioned, a finger tickling your side. you squirmed and brushed a hand over his head, his features relaxing under your touch.

“it’s always the ankles, hm?” you retorted, mason rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh of his own. “let’s get you back on your feet in time for this game.” you had taken his boot and sock off, applying gentle pressure to the sides of his ankle and seeing how badly he reacted to the pain.

after the next few days of training, it was finally time for the match. you stood nervously on the side of the pitch, watching the ball being passed around. you watched as it had gone to mason, someone from the opposing team sliding into mason, and knocking his ankles together. he fell and began to yell in pain, the medics rushing over to him and assessing the pain. after realising it was not too serious, but he still had to be taken off, they’d given the job to you.

mason sat on one of the chairs beside you, head leaned back as you pulled his socks down. he winced as your small, cold fingers had pressed different parts of his ankle, but it didn’t feel bad. in fact, it was quite relieving. “it really is always the ankles,” mason finally agreed, making you chuckle and sit on the floor opposite him, “god, it fucking hurts.”

“i will take care of you,” you mentioned, your hand sliding into his. he smiled at the contact, his free hands gently tickling your side. this small amount of public affection felt scary, but good. you knew someone would pick up on it, but you didn’t care in the slightest. you had been away from mason for far too long. months and months apart, yearning for each other every second you were awake.

when the match was over, england scoring a whopping 4-0, mason was by your side for the rest of the evening. even getting onto the coach to go home, he sat beside you the whole way; his hand in yours and his head gently resting against your shoulders. when heading back to camp, knowing you had a day’s break before the boys were back on for training again in time for the next match, mason followed you to your room. you didn’t mind, neither did anybody else really.

you’d gotten into bed beside him that night, eyes heavy from the amount of work you’d both put in today, and the buzzed feeling from declaring victory had awoken something in him. he had the urge to kiss you, like he has every moment he’s spent with you recently, but more than that. he wanted to tell you he loved you, but decided to keep quiet. he wanted to save it for another day, maybe someday more special, when you weren’t trying to catch up on sleep between games.

“are you tired of me?” mason asked, releasing his voice into the darkness. he had no idea whether you were awake or asleep, as half an hour had passed of you both enjoying each other’s presence. you were wide awake, although your eyes told a different story.

“i’m tired in general,” you admitted, rolling over to face him, barely catching his pearly whites in the dark, “but i could never get tired of you.” mason’s heart was beating through his chest, reaching out for your hand to place onto it. it was a special moment — feeling his heart rapidly paced from your words, you’d barely noticed mason’s arm around you as he pulled you into him.

“good, because i’m not letting you go again,” he spoke quietly, your hand now replaced with your head, feeling his pulses on your cheekbone. you smiled for the millionth time that day, happy you had your mason back.

#money mase #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount

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lol-im-done · 3 years

Text

The Avenger & Baron of Sokovia

Thank you so much to @sagyunaro for coming up with this idea! I wrote too much to fit into a one shot so I’m splitting this into two parts!

Part One:

Part Two:

You can find this on my A03 as well: Anti_Social_Teen

Word Count: 2,818

What happened that horrible day in Sokovia affected you more than any other mission you had been on in your time with the Avengers. You had seen death, had seen destruction, narrowly avoided it every second of your life but as you lay on the ground of Novi Grad that day, trying so hard to keep the chunk of Sokovia close to the ground with your telekinetic abilities it became too much. You vividly remembered placing yourself close to the middle of the rising piece of Earth that Ultron was going to use like an atomic bomb to wipe out billions of innocent lives.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, running over to you.

“I’m going to try and put it back down!” you replied, standing your ground. Wanda had come over with her brother Pietro, watching you with interest.

“Isn’t that what FRIDAY explained to us. The higher it goes the bigger the blast radius,” you said. Steve nodded, worry filling his face but you gave him a brave smile. Closing your eyes in concentration, your hands filled with dark green energy, tendrils beginning to snake down into the ground as it continued to rise. “I got this! Go!” you instructed them. It had felt like hours, you had never pushed yourself to these limits before and couldn't stop yourself from falling to your knees before you knew it your body collapsed completely but you persisted, your whole body and the area around you glowing green. Vaguely you could hear the others try to reach you but you shook your head silently, tears streaming down your face in pain and frustration, blood seeping out of your nose as you remained glued to the ground.

The guilt of your weakness spread like a poison in your body, you weren't strong enough and by the end it didn't help when Novi Grad fell. They had told you that you had kept it at half the height it was supposed to be at, that your telekinetic energy had kept most of the big debris from falling but you ignored their voices of reason. It was Thor who had found you floating in the sea, passed out but cocooned by your powers. Numbness engulfed your body the instant you had awakened and you watched silently for the next few days as decisions were made on how the cleanup and relief would proceed. The answer became clear to you for what you needed to do next.

“You don’t have to stay,” Steve murmured, placing his hand on your shoulder in a reassuring manner.

“Who will I be if I don’t,” you replied sadly. Steve could see how much this meant to you, so he gave you a warm strong hug before walking off to the Quinjet to return to the Compound leaving you in Sokovia. The terms of your stay were strictly humanitarian, to help cleanup the destruction, your identity kept a secret. Only around official Stark Relief Foundation workers did you use your telekinetic powers in the worst part of the devastation. With a solemn look in your eyes you waved your hands, slowly lifting chunks of peoples homes, their belongings falling into the ash and rubble. After a few hours of this you would walk around, picking up trinkets, photos, anything you could recover. You’d return to your small apartment Tony had gotten you, and cleaned them as best you could with your kit of brushes before returning them to the main headquarters where refugees and survivors could seek help. It was only supposed to be a week but you stayed longer. It was mainly your guilt that kept you tied to Sokovia but soon you felt yourself growing connected to the suffering country. It was another day at the Stark Relief Foundation building, you were slowly picking up Sokovian, Wanda had even facetimed you for a few hours each night trying to teach you some phrases. It was mostly silent, somber in this wing of the building where survivors would arrive, where recovered bodies were documented. Slowly your eyes caught sight of a distraught man a few feet away.

“He just found his family in the rubble,” Lana murmured to you, eyes glancing at the man who sat a few chairs away. She brought out a clipboard but you took it gently from her hands.

“I got this,” you replied and she gave you a grateful smile before walking off. With a sigh you walked over to the man, who was covered in dust.

“Hi. Ahoj,” your soft voice broke through the wall of silence the man had created around himself. It took him a few seconds to lift his head finally and the look of heartbreak on his face made a lump form in your throat.

“My name is (Y/N). I’m a volunteer and I’m going to help you fill out some forms,” you said, taking a seat next to him. “English or Sokovian?” you asked. “English is fine,” he finally spoke, coughing to clear his throat. Giving him a sympathetic look, you passed him a handkerchief from your pocket which he took gratefully.

“I know this is a difficult time but I’m here to help with whatever you need. We will help you find shelter, get food and financial assistance and help with the death certificates of your family,” you explained. The way you spoke to him was unusual, straightforward but kind. It was the custom to speak formally almost coldly to strangers, but there was a softness in your eyes. “So what is your name?” you asked.

“Zemo. Helmut Zemo,” he replied. Giving him a small smile you brought out your pen and got to work. In the next few days you came to realize that Helmut Zemo was not just any ordinary citizen, he was a Baron. Even as Sokovia continued to crumble at the institutional level, Helmut played an active part in donating funds to the local organizations. He became a familiar face, always an active presence during the day and after a few weeks of working together you could comfortably call him a friend. You still didn’t reveal your true identity, there was a growing sentiment from some in Sokovia against the Avengers but overall most people were grateful you all had saved the world. You still struggled with guilt of course but things were becoming easier. Spending time with Helmut was peaceful, he would often read aloud to you when you spent time at each other's apartments after a long day of work. Even with his wealth he chose a modest apartment a few blocks from yours. Things always remained strictly friendly, both of you keeping conversations light and rarely bringing up your origins or past life. It became a comfort to listen to his Sokovian accent, look into those captivating brown eyes. Helmut often felt the start of a warm feeling in his chest when he heard your airy laugh after his terrible jokes but he forced himself to suppress the feeling. Just when you thought it would be a good idea to open up to him, to begin to reveal your true identity that was all shattered the moment you entered his apartment one evening.

It was dark, only the crackling fire from the fireplace providing a light source. He stood back turned to you, hunched over the fire a glass of whiskey clenched in his hand.

“Helmut?” you whispered, closing the door softly behind you so as to not startle him.

“You’re an Avenger,” Helmut whispered, and when he turned around you saw something in his eyes you had never seen before. Anger and hatred, it was amplified by the reflection of flames in his eyes.

“Who told you?” you asked, trying to stay calm but your heart pounded beneath your shirt.

“I heard the Stark Relief Foundation workers talking about you. How Stark was coming to visit you soon,” he sneered. “Is it true?” Helmut asked. Wordlessly you lifted your hand twisting it summoning your telekinetic energy. That was all he needed, he began shaking his head a dark laugh coming from his mouth. “What is this then? Why are you here?” Zemo snapped, pacing close to the fireplace.

“I stayed to help,” you began but he threw his glass against the wall, shattering the glass cup. It stunned you, making you jump in place.

“Help,” he said coldly.

“Helmut please let me explain-,” you tried to say, your voice wavering with emotion.

“No! You played a part in it! You’re the reason why my family is dead!” Helmut screamed. Those last words hit you like a slap in the face, face falling as your heart seemed to crack right down the middle. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room and before you knew it all the guilt and shame and memories hit you like a ton of bricks. There was no use in trying to say something, when you opened your mouth no words came out. Helmut made no attempt to move towards you, no attempt to take back his words as you turned away and stumbled out of the door. Heavy sobs began to slip out of your mouth, as memories flashed in your head, the screams of the innocent civilians, the bodies of the dead. Through tears you made your way back to your apartment, packed and left Sokovia that same night.

You didn’t return to the Compound after that, choosing to stay in Switzerland in a home that Tony owned and had let you stay in. He felt for you, as did the others on the team as much as they wanted you to return to them. This is where you stayed in solitude and when the Accords were announced you had made no attempt to be a part of the rift between Steve and Tony. You thought it was ridiculous and when you were summoned by Ross you ignored the summons and remained secluded. It wasn’t until it was all over that you were granted a loose term of conditions to keep your freedom even though you hadn’t done anything. It shocked you, when you found out what Helmut had done, the plan he orchestrated. How could the kind man from Sokovia become so full of hatred and vengeance? You knew his wife, son and father had died. You had been the one to fill out their death certificates but never could you imagine it would end like this. He was often on your mind as best as you tried to shake him off but he had made an impact on your life. It wasn’t until one sunny morning that you received an unexpected call.

“Hello?” you answered the phone as you stirred the sugar into your tea.

“Is this (Y/N) (L/N)?,” the German voice asked.

“Yes. Who are you?” you asked a bit suspiciously.

“I’m Warden of the Berlin Detention Center where Helmut Zemo is being kept. He’s asked to meet with you and we would normally deny this request but seeing as you are an Avenger-,” the Warden began but you cut him off.

“I was an Avenger,” you corrected but he continued.

“It is up to you if you would like to see him. If not I can tell him his request was denied,” he finished. A strange feeling filled you, why bother seeing him? He hated you, tore your family apart in revenge. But then you thought about the hurt and pain you both faced in Sokovia.

“I’ll be there in 48 hours,” you finally said into the phone. Even after he had hung up you stayed there by the kitchen counter, tears silently flowing down your cheeks.

Following the armed guards you clutched your purse tightly, the nerves finally hitting you at what you were about to do. It felt like you were in a dream as the door slid open, revealing a dark cell with a glass wall and a chair in front of it. There was no movement from the cell as you sat down on the chair they provided you, you actively avoided Helmut’s gaze, setting your bag down. You kept your eyes trained on the piece of lint on your jeans until he finally spoke up breaking the silence, but there was tension.

“Will you not look at me (Y/N)?” that rich Sokovian voice that haunted your dreams asked.

“I didn’t think you’d want to look into the face of your family’s killer,” you said, the words sounded harsher than you intended. By the time you looked up to meet his eyes, Helmut’s face was a vision of regret.

“I should have never said those things to you,” Helmut said, coming closer to the wall that separated him from you. He looked differently from the last time you had seen him, he looked defeated. His chestnut hair was tousled, stubble beginning to grow on his jawline.

“Yet you did and never gave me a chance to explain,” you snapped crossing your arms.

“My anger was misplaced. I see that now,” Helmut began. “I saw the footage, what they had recovered. The way you tried to save Novi Grad,” Helmut said, emotion filling his voice.

“We tried to save Novi Grad,” you interrupted, even if you could see how the Avengers held responsibility, you weren’t going to allow him to slander your family. Helmut grimaced at your words. “Why did you ask me here?” you snapped, eyes hardening. Helmut inched closer to the glass, nervously running his hands through his hair.

“I’ve been contemplating what I’ve done. I realized that even if you had not been involved I hurt you and you didn’t deserve that especially after what I did to you in Sokovia,” Helmut said. Lifting your brow you allowed him to continue.“If you let me I would like to explain myself, not excuse myself. I want to tell you everything,” Helmut said. It felt like torture for Helmut, every second waiting for your response.

“Alright. I’ll listen,” you finally said, leaning back into your chair. The faintest smile filled Helmut’s face as he began his story. In the weeks and months that passed by, it became a weekly occurrence to meet him. Berlin wasn’t too far from where you resided in Switzerland, the train ride was a part of your weekly routine now. When Tony had called you, expressing his concern at your visitations you explained that this was purely rehabilitation, for both you and Helmut. He wasn’t entirely convinced but he couldn’t stop you, not even Steve when he tracked you down to talk to you.

“(Y/N),” Steve greeted, surprising you in the alleyway by your apartment. “Steve! Christ you scared me,” you snapped, holding a hand to your heart. Giving him a stern look he chuckled.

“Are you going to see Zemo?” Steve asked.

“Yes. Are you here to try and stop me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I just want to make sure he’s not using you, manipulating you,” Steve sighed. “Don’t you trust me Steve?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“I don’t trust him,” Steve replied.

“He was in the wrong. I know that Steve but everyone deserves a chance to explain themselves, a second chance. You of all people should understand that,” you said. Steve stared down at you with those intense blue eyes but he knew you were right. Giving you a strong hug he retreated back into the shadows.

“What are you thinking of miláčik?” Helmut whispered one day as you listened to him read a book on Russian history. History was something you both enjoyed so you would bring books every week for him. Heat rose in your cheeks at the way he called you darling but you shrugged.

“How much I enjoy spending time with you. Even in this prison,” you murmured. Helmut smiled, feeling a joy he seldom felt since his family had perished.

“I wish there wasn’t this glass between us,” Helmut said, but his tone surprised you. It was almost sad, and when you met his eyes there was something new in them. This was your chance, to admit your growing feelings for Helmut. Helmut watched you lean forward, giving him a closer view of your face. It was constantly in his dreams, your eyes his new favorite color.

“Helmut I-,” you began to say, eyes full of adoration and sincerity but the words became stuck in your throat. Helmut’s confusion at your loss of words turned into horror as you slowly became dust, eyes wide with fear. The last thing he saw was your glowing green hand outstretched trying to reach him as he slammed his body against the glass, voice screaming your name until you were nothing. He was stuck in his cell of helplessness and loss, and that is how he stayed for five more years.

#helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #imagine #fatws #zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagine

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maximons · 3 years

Text

Without You

Summary: Everything seems to be going alright for Wanda Maximoff, but a mission gone horribly awry makes everything crash and burn.

Word Count: 3,101

Genre: Angst

Requested?: Yes

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, burns, scarring

A/N: Alright kids, you ready for angst time? My first full out angst fic, oh boy. This ones got no happy ending guys, so do with that what you will. This takes place during Civil War, so spoilers...? I guess? I’d say Happy Reading, but I don’t think you guys will be that happy by the end of this sooo good luck!

Lagos.

That’s the place where everything in Wanda’s life fell apart. Or at least fell apart even further than it had before.

Some of the team were out on a mission. You guys finally managed to track down Rumlow and his gang after about a year of searching. Everything was going fairly well, yes there was some collateral damage, and things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but overall, it looked like you guys would come out of this with a win.

And then, it happened.

Wanda and you had begun to jog up to Steve’s location, where you saw him stare Rumlow down. Something in you just told you that this wasn’t going to go well. You looked at the scene in front of you, and then your gaze fell onto the building behind it. It was too close for comfort.

“Babe, I’m gonna go check that building.” You turned to your girlfriend. “Looks like there could be a lot of people in there, I’m gonna try to get them out.” She looked at you, and then to the building briefly. Part of her wanted to question why when the fight was happening out here, but she knew in your line of work things can be unpredictable.

She nodded. “Okay, be safe.” You nodded back with a small smile, and pecked her on the cheek.

“Always am.” With that, you ran off.

It was only about two or three minutes after you ran in when things went to hell.

Rumlow pulled a pin on his vest, and Wanda reacted as quickly as she could, capturing him mid explosion in her magic. She lifted him up, trying to get him as far away from the people below as possible, but she couldn’t hold it anymore. The explosion went off.

Blowing a huge hole into that building.

Wanda stood there, shocked for a moment over what just happened. Her hand came and slowly covered her mouth, mind going over all the damage she just caused. She vaguely heard Steve calling for fire and rescue, and then it hit her.

You were in there.

“Y/n...” She whispered, still in a state of shock, but she quickly snapped out of it and sprang into action. “Y/n!” She heard Steve yell for her to wait, but she didn’t care. She took off, flying up and landed in one of the building’s destroyed floors.

She did her best to ignore the carnage around her, carnage she caused. She pushed down the bile that was rising in her throat, and continued her search for you.

And then she found you.

You were a super soldier, so luckily you didn’t die from the blast, she could still feel your pulse. But you didn’t look good.

You were lying on the charred floor, unconscious. Half of your suit was burned off, leaving nasty burns all on your arm and torso, some even creeping up your neck and face. Blood also dripped down from an open wound on your temple.

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care about your appearance, though. You were still alive, and that’s the main thing she cared about right now.

“Don’t worry.” She sobbed out, hand gently caressing your unburned cheek. “You’re okay...you’re gonna be okay...” She tore her gaze away from you for a minute, and looked around. Tears falling at the sight of multiple bodies, people who weren’t as lucky as you.

People who were dead because of her.

“...I’m so sorry...”

The next week was chaos.

You were brought to the compound’s medical facility immediately, doctors working fast to try and save your life. They managed to stabilize you, now it was just a waiting game as to when you would wake up. Wanda would visit you everyday, barely being able to leave your side. Steve managed to convince her that she needed to rest, saying that you wouldn’t want to see her neglecting her needs. She hesitantly complied, and finally went to her room to sleep for the night.

The next morning, the news started reporting the incident.

And of course they blamed her.

Logically, Wanda knew this wasn’t entirely her fault. Rumlow was the one who turned himself into a bomb. She was just trying to save the lives below. That thought brought her little comfort though.

She was still responsible for the lives lost in that building. She was still responsible for you, the love of her life, being severely injured and in a coma.

Maybe they were right.

Steve didn’t let her wallow in that thought for too long though, because he shut the TV off. He sat down and gave her one of his hope speeches, and she appreciated the effort, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s my fault.” She whispered. “All of those people, dead because of me...and Y/n...” She trailed off, tears forming in her eyes. Steve placed a hand on her leg, trying to comfort her.

“You know...she doesn’t blame you, I know she doesn’t.”

“Maybe she should...they all should.”

Steve couldn’t get anything else out, as Vision phased in the room and told them of the arrival of Secretary Ross.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, he had told them about the Sokovia Accords. Wanda hated the idea, forcing heroes to register with the government, essentially making them puppets for them. She knew you would hate it too, you never were one to trust the government.

“Look, we understand where you’re coming from, but if it weren’t for us, there’d be a lot more blood spilled.” Sam argued.

“Tell that to the innocent civilians in that Lagos hospital building.” Ross argued back. “Oh wait, you can’t.”

“If it weren’t for Wanda, hundreds of people in the streets below would have been killed.” Steve cut in. “If it weren’t for Y/n, hundreds of more people would have been in that building.”

“And look where that landed her.”

Wanda had enough. She shot up from her chair, and stormed out of the room.

She went straight to your hospital room, your still unconscious body covered in bandages. She pulled up a chair beside your bed, hand going to grip yours. She tried to speak, but couldn’t bring herself to form the words. So she just rested her head on your joined hands and cried.

The next few weeks saw the Avengers falling apart, divided over the accords. Wanda was especially disappointed in Natasha’s decision, given that you two were best friends.

Wanda hasn’t left the compound. Most of her time was spent visiting you and sleeping as best she could. Your burns had begun healing, but barely. They still left pretty nasty scars. Your breathing had improved, which satisfied the doctors. They had said you could wake up any moment now, Wanda just hoped it was soon.

The next day, Wanda walked into the kitchen to find Vision cooking. She found that odd, since she knew he didn’t eat, but he explained that he was making it for her. You used to cook for her a lot, and after a few disasters, you finally got the recipe down. Vision’s was no where near as good as yours, but she appreciates the effort.

After a conversation about their powers and their fear of them, Wanda volunteered to go to the store to pick up some paprika that would greatly help the dish. Vision stopped her.

“Vision...are you not letting me leave?”

“It’s a matter of safety.”

“I can handle myself.”

Vision stopped her again. “Not yours. Mr. Stark would like to avoid the possibility of another public incident.”

Wanda looked at the synthezoid in disbelief. “I’m not an out of control time bomb. It was an accident.”

“I know. I do, but...you powers are very unpredictable. You are also...vulnerable. My scanners have indicated you are, how you say, ‘on edge’. You have been ever since Miss L/n was admitted in the medical wing.”

Wanda’s gaze turned into a harsh glare. “I know that human emotion is a foreign concept to you Vision, but trust me, if your girlfriend was ever put in a coma because of you...being ‘on edge’ is the least you would be.”

Without waiting for a response, Wanda turned around and stormed off. She headed to the one place that her feet often dragged her to the last weeks. Your bedside.

She sat and took a hold of your hand. She stared at you for a moment before she spoke. “Hey, baby. Things have been...hard without you to say the least. Not that this wouldn’t be hard anyway, but everything is falling apart. These stupid accords are ruining everything. Tony has become a government pet, Nat joining him, Steve is off doing who knows what, and now...I’m locked in.” She paused. “You know, as much as I wish more than anything that you were awake and by my side right now...part of me is glad that you wouldn’t have to see your family fall apart like this. It’d break your heart...” She stayed for a few more moments, staring at your face and taking in your features once again. She then leaned down to kiss your hand. “I love you.” With that, she left.

Later that night, Wanda was back in the main room of the compound. You still haven’t woken up, she just learned she was essentially on house arrest, so she was trying to find ways to find ways to distract herself. She was reading a book, when she heard a loud explosion go off outside. She walked over to the window to take a look, Vision joining her a few moments later.

“What is it?”

“Stay here please.”

Wanda was left alone for a moment, before she felt a presence behind her. She quickly grabbed hold of the knife on the table, and flinging it towards the new presence. She halted it when she saw who it was.

Clint.

The next few minutes passed by like a blur. Clint was convincing her to come help Steve, Vision came back in but was trapped, Wanda hesitated and Clint gave her one of those hope speeches. She was about to decline, before he said one last thing.

“You know, if Y/n was awake...I know she’d side with Steve, and she’d only hope you’d do the same.”

Was it manipulative? Possibly, but he was also right. You would have sided with Steve, no question. Doing what you could to help. She thought on it for a few more moments, before she nodded. They were about to leave before Vision broke free. The two men fought, and before she knew it, she was sending the synthezoid several floors down and into the ground.

She went to her room, quickly packing her suit and anything else she thought she would need. She went back out to meet Clint, about to leave, but she stopped.

“Wait! I gotta see Y/n first.”

Clint sighed, but knew he couldn’t deny her of this. “Alright, make it quick.”

She booked it to your hospital room. You were lying there, same as you have been for a while. She quickly surged forward grabbed your hand, not bothering to sit. She knew they didn’t have time.

“Alright, baby. I’m gonna go out for a bit, okay? I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but...I’m going to do what’s right. I’m going to fight. I finally ‘got off my ass’ as you would say.” She chuckled, but it held no real joy behind it. “I just hope you’d be proud of me...and I just hope that I can come back to see you-”

Wanda cut herself off when she felt you begin to move. All of a sudden your face shifted, and you began to turn your head.

“Y/n?...”

You began to open your eyes slowly, head slowly lifting off your pillow. Your eyes looked around, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room. Before you could even look at Wanda though, you began coughing.

Wanda rushed to poor you a glass of water, knowing your mouth would be dry from not using it for a while. She handed it to you, quickly, and you slowly raised your hand to take it. As you began to drink, Wanda couldn’t help but smile. You were finally awake. She was beyond relieved. She was put in a rough spot now, she knew she had to meet Clint so they could go, but...you were finally awake. She couldn’t leave you.

“Wanda, we gotta go!” She heard Clint yell, and without tearing her eyes away from you, she yelled back.

“In a minute! Y/n just woke up!”

She didn’t hear a response from the man, but she heard footsteps quickly making its way towards your room.

You finished drinking your water and placed the cup on the bedside table. You began to try to sit up, but Wanda rushed to your side to help.

“Here you go, easy.”

When you fully sat up, you took in the appearance of the woman next to you. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She breathed out. You looked her in the eyes, smile still on both your faces. But, Wanda’s smile dropped instantly at the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Sorry, hi, I’m Y/n. You probably already knew that though.” You chuckled nervously. “Are you one of the nurses?”

Wanda froze. No. This couldn’t be happening. The doctors told her that Amnesia was a possibility since you hit your head on impact from the blast, but it never seemed like a real threat. She stared at you, jaw slacked for a few more moments.

“Um, hello?...Oh! Are you my doctor? Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

Wanda snapped out of it when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see it was Clint. You spoke up again before she could say anything though.

“Oh, hey, are you a nurse? Or doctor?”

Realization filled Clint’s face, but he held it together. He simply shook his head.

“Oh...so, is someone supposed to help me or...?” You trailed off.

Clint looked to Wanda, who was still in shock, tears beginning to form in her eyes. He knew he had to take over, get them out as soon as possible. “Sorry, Y/n. We’ll get your nurse to come and check on you. Glad to see you’re awake.” Before you could respond, he quickly rushed out of the room, pulling Wanda with him.

Wanda finally let herself break down, and cried in the van. She barely had time to process everything before they picked up a man name Scott and flew to the airport to meet Steve.

Steve broke down the plan and the team went separate ways to suit up and get in position. Except Wanda. Steve was about to go get himself ready, but paused when he saw the witch frozen in place.

“Wanda? You okay?” Wanda simply shook her head and looked up at him, he could see the tears in her eyes. “What happened?”

“Y/n woke up.”

Steve raised his eyebrows in shock. “She did? That’s great-” He was cut off when Wanda let out a sob. He then put two and two together, something was wrong. “...What was it?”

“She...doesn’t remember anything...doesn’t remember me...”

Steve sighed. He was saddened by the news as well, you and him were very close, both being super soldiers and all. He couldn’t even imagine what Wanda was going through in this moment though, so he put on a brave face. He went over to the witch and wrapped an arm around her. “Y/n is strong...when this is over, we’ll go see her and start-” Steve was cut off again when Wanda shook her head.

“Steve...you and I both know this isn’t gonna end with us just being able to go back...” She looked up at him. He was about to speak up again, when he heard Sam in his ear.

“Cap, Tony and Rhodey are flying in now. You good to go?”

Steve looked to Wanda, knowing she heard him too since they all had coms. She nodded. “On my way.” He turned to leave, before giving Wanda one last look. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t.

The fight at the airport was beyond tiresome, and they lost. Steve and Bucky got away to handle the other Winter Soldiers, but the rest of the team was captured.

So now here she was, sitting in a cell in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean...with a straight jacket and shock collar on. Wanda couldn’t even be upset about it. She was numb. She’s already lost everything she possibly could. Her parents, her brother, her country, and now...you. She couldn’t bring herself to care whether or not she wasted away in this cell. Maybe she deserved to.

But of course, she couldn’t even have that for long, as Steve broke them out a few days later.

Up on the quinjet with Steve and the rest of the team, she sat alone, staring out the window watching the dark clouds pass by. After a few moments, she felt a presence next to her. She looked over to see who it was. Natasha.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda asked, looking back out the window.

“It’s a long story.” She answered. “Steve told me what happened, I...I’m not even sure what to say. I am so sorry Wanda.” Wanda merely nodded, not trusting her voice right now. Natasha took a deep breath and continued. “Y’know...I can pull some strings, the ones I have left anyway. Get Y/n relocated to be with us. I know she doesn’t remember anything right now, but-”

“No.” Wanda cut her off, surprising the redhead.

“Wha...what do you mean ‘no’?”

Wanda had thought about it, she’s thought about it the entire time she was in the Raft. She would love nothing more than to see you again, to hold you and help you on your recovery, but...she couldn’t. She was a wanted fugitive now, and you were only in this predicament because of her...she had to be selfless here. She couldn’t bring you into this life, not when you were missing chunks of your own.

“I mean no.” She said, looking up into Natasha’s eyes, tears pooling in her own. “She’s better off.”

And with that, Wanda got up, walking towards the back of the jet to be alone. She took a deep breath, and prepared herself. Preparing herself for a new life as a fugitive on the run. And most importantly...

Preparing for a life without you.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you

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queenofspades20 · 3 years

Text

Birthday Boy

Happy birthday to my favorite fictional boyfriend. Just some fluff in honor of Bucky’s birthday.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: this is just fluff, maybe a few curse words. Enjoy!!

_____________________________________________________

Bucky and Y/n were sitting on the couch watching Hot Tub Time Machine.

“I’m telling you, Buck. The douchey ski patrol guy looks just like you!” Y/n insisted. Every time the actor popped up on the screen, Bucky just shook his head.

“I don’t see it, Doll.”

“Then you need glasses, old man!”

“Old man?” Bucky’s head snapped in Y/n’s direction. He had an incredulous look on his face. “You weren’t calling me old man last night.”

“Not my fault you’re going blind, Babe. Sebastian Stan is clearly your doppelganger. Your younger doppelganger,” Y/n said with a smirk, putting emphasis on younger. She knew she was picking a battle with Bucky but she wanted to see how far he would let her go before putting an end to it.

Bucky knew what she was up to. He loved seeing her smile, even if it was at his expense, but he was only going to let her go so far.

“I see how it is.” He leaned over and pushed her to lay down, climbing on top of her. Bucky grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head with his metal hand, his flesh hand moving down her sides, tickling her.

“Bucky, NO!” Y/n yelled out. “I was just teasing. With your birthday tomorrow, I gotta get my shots in while I can! You know I can’t help myself.” She squirmed her body, trying to move away.

Bucky shifted so his legs were on either side of Y/n’s, effectively trapping her. He started tickling her sides.

“NO! BUCKY!!” Y/n tried to pull her body away, but he was too heavy on top of her.

“I’ll show you old man.” While tickling her, he started kissing her face and neck. They were laughing, Y/n trying to desperately get away from Bucky’s hand, when Bucky felt cold water hitting his back.

“HEY!” Bucky yelled, turning around. He saw Sam and Steve standing there, laughing.

“I had to cool you off,” Sam said. He held up an empty glass and shook it. “No sex on the couch.”

Bucky let go of Y/n and got up to run after Sam. “Get over here, Birdbrain.”

Sam took off running to his room with Bucky close behind him.

Y/n looked at Steve. “He was tickling me because I called him old man. But he refuses to acknowledge he looks like the actor in Hot Tub Time Machine!”

The movie was at a scene with Blaine, the character Y/n was referring to. She pointed to the screen and Steve looked.

“I don’t see it.” Steve shrugged and walked off.

“Argh! Thor save me from old men who need glasses!”

The next morning, Y/n got up before Bucky to cook him breakfast. She had a day planned of doing activities Bucky loved. She made pancakes, bacon, and eggs with some coffee and loaded up a tray with the food. She made her way back to their shared room. Bucky was not in bed, but she could hear him in the bathroom.

“Doll?” Bucky called out.

“I have breakfast. I was hoping you’d still be in bed, or did I not tire you out?” Y/n cheekily answered.

Bucky stuck his head through the doorway. “I thought I had tired you out.”

Y/n just rolled her eyes. “Get out here, birthday boy, so I can give you your first present.”

Bucky quickly made his way over to the bed. “Breakfast with you is a good present.”

He settled onto the bed and Y/n placed the tray over his lap. “A hearty breakfast to get through the morning, because we’re going on a little trip.”

Bucky looked intrigued. “Are you going to tell me where?”

“Nope. I did think we could take your bike, since it’s a gorgeous day out.”

“You know how to drive a motorcycle? And who said I would be okay with you driving my bike?”

“One, rude. Two, I got lessons from Steve. I can get us to where we are going no problem. I even did a test drive with Steve a few days ago.”

Bucky looked impressed. “I still don’t know.”

Y/n looked at Bucky with a pout. “Please, Baby? I promise I know what I’m doing and I really want this to be a surprise.”

Bucky hesitated. He had a hard time saying no to her but he also loved his bike. “Fine, but if you seem hesitant at all, we pull over and switch.”

“Deal!” Y/n smiled widely. “Now dig in, Baby.”

They ate their breakfast and then got dressed for the day. As they made their way to the garage, Y/n held up a blindfold.

“You’re not wearing that while driving,” Bucky joked.

Y/n gave him an unimpressed look. “You’re wearing it first. I want this to be a surprise. I’ll wear it later if you’re a good boy, though. Let you do whatever you want.”

Bucky felt his pants get tighter. “Careful, Doll. Keep talking like that and we won’t make it out of the compound. But I’m going to hold you to that later,” he said as he took the blindfold.

They settled on the motorcycle and Bucky put the blindfold on. “Can you see anything, Bucky?”

“Nope.”

“Okay then. Hold on.” Y/n started the motorcycle and Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist.

They took off. It was a weird feeling for Bucky to not know where they were going, but he trusted Y/n. After a while, Bucky felt the bike slow down. He could hear crowds and screams of joy in the background. After the bike was stopped, Y/n looked over her shoulder.

“You can take off the blindfold now.”

Bucky slipped of the blindfold and smiled when he saw they were at Coney Island.

“Good surprise?” Y/n asked and bit her lip.

“Best surprise.” Bucky hugged her close.

“Good. I wanted you to have fun and not worry about the world and this seemed to fit what I wanted.”

“It’s perfect.” Bucky got off the bike and helped Y/n off.

They spent their morning at Coney Island, riding everything they could and playing several games. Y/n made sure to win a stuffed bear for Bucky. Bucky really enjoyed the Cyclone and regaling Y/n with the story of how he made Steve ride it back in the day. They had lunch and then decided to finish their visit with the Wonder Wheel. At the top of the ride, they shared a kiss.

“Good birthday so far?”

“Best I think I’ve ever had.” Bucky looked at Y/n like she hung the moon.

“Ready to head back to the compound? The team has a small party planned for you.”

Bucky had a hesitant look on his face.

Y/n rushed to assure him. “Nothing like Tony’s usual parties. It’s just the team and significant others. We want to celebrate you turning 104.”

Bucky looked relieved. “That’s fine. As long as you promise to not leave my side all night.”

“Like I would leave you anyways.”

Bucky and Y/n made their way back to the bike. Bucky immediately got on and looked at Y/n. “I’m driving back. You did a good job but I wanna drive.”

Y/n laughed and climbed behind Bucky, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I figured you’d want to drive back. I only cared about surprising you here. And maybe after the party.”

Bucky reached down and squeezed her hands. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Bucky.”

They made their way back to the compound and got ready for the party. Y/n put on a deep red knee-length dress that fit her body in a way that showcased all her favorite assets. She kept her hair and makeup simple, since the party wasn’t going to be crazy. She made her way out of the bathroom and saw Bucky buttoning up his shirt. He looked up as she walked in to grab her shoes. As she passed him, he grabbed at her hand and pulled her close.

“You look delectable,” Bucky murmured. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. His arms slid around her waist, his hands moving down until they cupped her ass. Y/n smiled at Bucky and put her arms around his neck.

“Glad you like. I bought the dress just for tonight.”

“So, another present for me? I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you.”

“Well, that is a perk of it being your party. We go for a while and then leave early and you can unwrap me and put that blindfold to use.”

Bucky groaned. “Can’t we just skip the party?”

Y/n threw her head back and laughed. “No. You know they’ll just barge in here. If we make an appearance, then we won’t be interrupted later.”

“Fine.” Bucky grumbled. He pouted as they left their room and made their way to the common area where the party was set up. Bucky was hoping if he pouted enough, Y/n would let him leave extra early.

“Your pouting isn’t going to work, Baby.” Y/n said over her shoulder, smiling.

Bucky gave up the pout and smiled back. “Worth a shot.”

When they entered the room, it was filled with the team and their partners. Steve had brought Sharon, who was happy to have made it in time, having been on a mission for the past few weeks. Clint and Natasha stood together, Clint’s arm around Natasha’s shoulder. Wanda and Vision were holding hands. Bruce had excitedly brought Betty Ross, who had recently come back into his life. Sam and Peter stood with their girlfriends and Tony and Pepper were happily hugging.

“Happy birthday, Bucky!” everyone yelled as Bucky and Y/n entered the room. Bucky felt so happy to be surround by his friends. Tony and Steve had hung up a banner that said “happy 104th birthday” and there were streamers all around the room. On the coffee table was a cake with a pile of presents for Bucky. Tony had set up a bar to the side, fully stocked with a bartender there to make everyone’s night easier. Though Thor couldn’t stay, he had dropped off some Asgardian mead for the super soldiers earlier that week. There was also a buffet table with various foods that Bucky loved, both from back in the 40s and from now.

The party had been going for a few hours and everyone was having a good time. Bucky and Steve had gotten into the mead and were feeling its effects. Bucky had opened his presents, loving everything he got, especially his new knife from Y/n.

“Doll, you already did breakfast and Coney Island. This is too much,” Bucky said as he admired the tactical knife. It had a black and blue carved handle with a steel blade that had a blue sheen.

“I saw it and thought of you,” Y/n said with a shrug. “The blade reminds me of your eye color.”

Bucky leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I can’t wait to use it on my next mission.”

“Only you would be that excited for a knife,” Sam said with a laugh.

“Shut it, Pigeon.”

Sam just rolled his eyes with a smile. After presents were done and the cake was eaten, Bucky decided he was ready to finish his night in the bedroom with Y/n, wanting to make use of the blindfold. He looked over at Y/n and caught her eye. Bucky gave her a smirk that signaled he was ready to go.

“Well, thank you everyone for a truly great birthday. I can’t thank you enough for everything.”

“You deserve it, Punk,” Steve said, Sharon cuddled into his side.

“Definitely my best birthday yet.” Bucky pulled Y/n close and kissed her temple.

Y/n smiled, ready to start trouble. “I think that’s my cue to get this old man to bed.”

Everyone laughed while Bucky looked down at her in faux shock. “Old man??”

Y/n laughed as she stood up. “I mean, you are 104. I’m surprised you lasted this long.” She slowly made her way over towards the door. “Do we need to get you a cane or maybe a walker?”

Bucky jumped up and moved quickly towards Y/n. She let out a yell and ran towards their room. “I’ll show you old man, Doll,” Bucky yelled out as he chased her.

Everyone heard Y/n yell, “bring it on, senior citizen!”

Sam looked at Tony. “Thank you for soundproofing their room.”

“That was a present for all of us.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #Happy birthday Bucky Barnes #birthday boy #just wanted some fluff

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nervousladytraveler · 3 years

Text

From Duty (Ch. 10?)

“Prudie? Is someone at the door?” Demelza called from the kitchen. It was the only room in the house that didn’t feel oppressively damp when it rained, compliments of the stove that remained lit most hours of the day.

She'd been waiting for the ancient oven to heat just a bit more before she put the newly formed loaves in to bake. After a few attempts--with mixed results--she felt she’d finally gotten the knack of the thing. How to time the fire so that it would be hot enough for the bread to rise and crisp but not so hot that the crust would burn. Perhaps there was a complex mathematical equation she could have used but instead she relied on trial and error. And on the days when she’d found mostly error, she solemnly chewed the dense slices of disappointment, resolved to do better the next time. She hoped the boys in Weapons Development were more methodical in their research than she was. Trial and error doesn’t cut it when you are trying to get a 5200 pound fighter plane off the ground.

Boys. Demelza always thought of the men in the armed forces as ‘boys’. Was it their merry outlooks, like lads about to go out on the football pitch against a rival school, or was it their immature aggression and unbridled recklessness?

“Prudie?” Demelza called again but when she turned around she saw the woman filling the doorway to the kitchen with such a grim expression that Demelza threw her well-floured hands in the air.

“Christ! What is it?” she gasped. Please not a telegram.

Since she’d arrived in Cornwall she’d received three telegrams--all from Ross--but those had been informational. Not coded exactly, just cryptically phrased.

Beehive is moving locations. Details to follow soon, signaling the office that had no name now had a new location, and presumably Ross did as well. Then there was Will send builders to fix roof first week in March, meaning his leave had been granted and he could finally visit her at Nampara. The most recent one was At old garden allotment. Many new vegetables. So Ross was back in London but had a new assignment.

Still for most folks, telegrams rarely brought good news.

“It’s...we’ve a caller...and…” Prudie stammered.

“Yes?”

“It’s her. The other one. Mrs. Elizabeth Poldark,” Prudie huffed. The shuffle from hallway to kitchen apparently had been enough to exhaust her oxygen supply.

“Oh?” Demelza said coolly but felt her face grow as hot as the coals in the stove. “To see me?”

Prudie swallowed hard and nodded.

“Well then. Please attend to her while I freshen myself up,” Demelza replied.

“How ‘xactly should I do that?”

“Offer her some tea, Prudie. Show her into the parlour...oh, but make sure she doesn’t sit on the green chair.” An old spring had poked its way through the upholstery and if one’s bottom wasn’t settled with precise care, an unpleasant pinch would surely follow.

“We haven’t got much left. Tea, that is,” Prudie said.

“Enough for a pot now?” Demelza questioned. This was news to her. She sensed Prudie was stalling for some other reason.

“Yes but then mebbe not for tomorrow or the day after that,” Prudie replied and looked to her feet so Demelza knew she was exaggerating the seriousness of the situation.

“Oh? Well I can try to get more,” Demelza sighed. It would mean begging for yet another ride in Sir Hugh’s automobile but might be worth it.

Perhaps she could forage for greens and herbs and make something of her own instead. She suspected Mrs. Zacky Martin might be able to teach her more about such country ways, perfected through centuries of economy. On more than one occasion the woman had mentioned her home remedies to Demelza.

“Well surely she has plenty over at her place. So why don’t you leave it for you--and me--and she can just…” Prudie huffed.

Demelza did wonder if Elizabeth Poldark even knew how to make her own cup of tea.

“Prudie, put the kettle on the stove,” Demelza said firmly and went to go look in the glass.

Her hair had been tied up in an old rust coloured scarf. She considered taking it down and tidying the whole affair but doubted she’d have time enough to do anything that would actually make a difference, so she tucked one errant curl under the band wound round her head.

Best to leave her apron on as well. It signaled--it telegraphed--benign domesticity and wasn’t that how Demelza wanted to come across? Just a simple housewife, trying her best to make do. Not as scheming--and pregnant--hussy who was actively trying to steal her visitor’s husband.

“Mrs. Carne, how do you do?” Elizabeth asked and rose to her feet. Her eyes darted up and down Demelza’s expanding frame then she demurely looked at the floor.

Demelza looked at her own swollen feet and tried not to laugh.

“Well, Mrs. Poldark, such a surprise. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Demelza said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster, then remembered she was supposed to be a war widow. She was sure her facial muscles twitched in confusion but perhaps it would pass as grief. “Prudie is making us some tea. I’m sorry it's so damp in here,” she said without offering to light the fire.

“Yes, this cottage has always been damp," Elizabeth said asserting her connection with the place. “And you are getting on well, Mrs. Carne?”

“Yes, yes I am. I have your family’s kindness to thank for that…”

“Oh? My family?”

“For letting the house?”

“Yes, the house,” Elizabeth laughed, barely disguising her disdain for the place. “It’s not mine. It’s been in my husband’s family for years. He was born here.”

I know, Demelza thought. I saw the marks on the wall measuring his growth and I found the cupboard full of his old clothes. I see the place as a monument to his family, she sees it as a nuisance and reminder of people she never loved.

“Was my husband, Mr. Poldark--was he solicitous when he visited last month?” Elizabeth asked.

“Erm…” Demelza tried not to choke.

“About any repairs that need doing. There’s a shortage of materials and good labour but if there is an urgent need I’m sure he can see that it is attended to,” Elizabeth said.

She knows.

“Yes, Mr. Poldark has been very helpful.”

“He fixed the roof!” Prudie chimed in and this time, Demelza was grateful for her assistance.

Demelza wished she could climb inside her teacup, far away from Elizabeth Poldark’s probing gaze.

So Elizabeth knew that Ross had visited Nampara--he probably told her that himself. Did she know how long he’d stayed or in whose bed? Did she guess that Ross was the father of the child Demelza carried?

She hated to admit she was jealous of Elizabeth Poldark. A woman who had all the claims to Ross--legally, socially--that she did not. And Elizabeth was a woman whose physical love he had enjoyed, presumably she'd his heart too at one point, even if it was long ago.

But mostly Demelza was jealous because she feared that, despite all she herself had shared with Ross these last four months, Elizabeth still knew him better.

#wip wednesday #poldark fanfic #ross poldark #demelza carne #elizabeth poldark #lucretiassister

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unchartedthelostlegacy · 3 years

Text

Second Legacy postgame

Chloe answered the door despite Nadine’s sharp intake of breath from the couch, the sudden silence of the guitar strings.

“Chloe wait--”

Worries about everything, still, Chloe had been thinking. It took her a moment to recognize the man she opened the door to, and by then, Loyiso Ross had walked past her.

What did he see, looking at his daughter? Covered in bandages on the couch, holding her Fender, a pale ten-year-old with stuck-out ears perched beside her?

“You have been avoiding my calls,” he said quietly, jabbing a finger at her.

Nadine’s gaze swept to Chloe in annoyance, and then back to her father. “Haven’t much to say.”

“Ja?” Loyiso folded his arms, jerking his head at Fyodor. “Who’s he?”

“He’s our family now.”

Chloe had said it brightly as she shut the door, her heart pounding. Nadine hadn’t stood up, hadn’t even set her guitar to lean beside the armrest. She was still holding the pick.

Looking absolute daggers at her father.

“Go on, introduce yourself, Fyodor,” Chloe said, acting as natural as possible as she sank back to her spot on his other side. “We’ve been practicing, yeah?”

“Ja,” the boy enunciated carefully. “My...eema..”

“Name,” Nadine said.

“...Name is Fyodor.”

“You’re Russian,” Loyiso muttered. He held out his hand, to Chloe’s surprise, and shook the boy’s.

“Da--yes.”

“Good job, Fyodor! Told you it’ll get easier,” Chloe said, putting an arm around him in both celebration and protectiveness. “We were just working on his English now. He’s a quick study. Takes after his big sister.”

“I...love my sistra,” Fyodor said.

“I know,” Nadine said. The pick slid over a string, letting out a single note. “I love you, too.”

A scoff-laugh escaped Loyiso, and Chloe looked up in some alarm. The man had crouched down so he was at their height, and she wished she could have convinced Nadine to start looking for bigger apartments, more space for seating. Her father laughed like she did.

“You have many things to tell me, Nadi.”

Nadine mirrored the scoff right back at him. “I’ve been busy.”

“Ja? Where have you been? When did you get back? Why did you go to Gaborone but not come to me?”

Yes, he was asking why they’d visited Nadine’s mother. Chloe wondered how he’d even found out, but then, it wasn’t like Keletso had been sworn to secrecy. It was just that they’d told her everything.

Maybe one of the birds she’d again rescued from the side of the road and made a nest of old shirts for in a plastic tub had overheard, healed itself, flown back to Johannesburg in record time and told her husband all about their daughter almost dying near the Arctic circle. About Nadine falling off the glacier and rolling unconscious into a snowbank where Fyodor had found her, dragged her back to his fire, and tended to her frostbite. Chloe wasn’t even sure Nadine’s mother had believed them.

Keletso had glanced, with something of Nadine’s skeptism in her eyes, at the boy as he wolfed down his phaphatha, and then back at her daughter. But Nadine’s Tswana had become more and more impassioned as she continued. Her mother had eventually put her hand on top of Nadine’s and announced, “That is very fine, Nadi. I didn’t expect you to bring me a grandchild this way, but all the same, it is very fine.”

Chloe had exchanged a look with Nadine and let out a nervous laugh, as Keletso came around the table and ruffled Fyodor’s hair. “You...did tell her he calls you his sister, right?”

“I don’t think my parents understand adopting a brother.”

“Oh you’re going to tell him?”

Nadine looked up from her dikgobe. “I...you mean--”

“Yeah I thought you just implied--”

“I implied jack shit, Frazer.”

“For crying out loud, he lives in the next neighborhood, doesn’t he? How is he not going to find out?”

“I do not think he would be interested.”

Chloe had said, carefully, reaching over the boy and squeezing Nadine’s bicep, “You want to keep him away from Fyodor, don’t you.”

“I just don’t think he wants to ever be near a soldier again.”

And now Chloe, watching Nadine’s eyes nearly burn a hole in her father, interrupted in teaching her new brother the lyrics to K’NAAN’s “Wavin’ Flag”, wondered if she felt the same way.

“Your mother was happy you visited her,” Loyiso said.

“I’m glad.”

“Nadi, please. She said you are smiling more. That she is happy you are happy. But you never even told me anything.”

“I’m done with Shoreline.”

Chloe swallowed hard, feeling the room’s temperature drop a few degrees. Nadine would never have said that to her father a few weeks ago. She’d had trouble looking him in the eye.

Why did Nadine’s sensibilities always swing between the extremes of being too careful and not giving a fuck?

“I did not come here,” Loyiso said, “to talk about Shoreline. And for that matter, Shoreline was done with you a long time ago.”

The soft thunk and twang of the guitar as Nadine slipped it behind her couch, standing up. Chloe put a hand on her arm, knowing Nadine would shrug it off. To her surprise, not only did it stay there, but Fyodor’s little hand joined it.

“We saved him from a mercenary unit. Their commander knew you,” Nadine said, getting into her unmoving father’s face, gritting her teeth as she motioned at Fyodor with a shoulder. “He said you helped him, you supplied each other’s units. Artem Laskin. He was a real--”

“You think I agree with everyone I work with?” Loyiso motioned at Chloe. “Your business partner. You agree with her on everything?”

Chloe saw Fyodor’s arms closing around her partner’s waist as he made to hide behind her, Nadine’s fists tightening, and frowned.

“Mr. Ross, I’m the one who agrees with her.”

Both Nadine and her father looked at her, blinking, and she stepped over to him.

“And,” Chloe took a deep breath and let it out, “Fyodor’s your new son, so you may as well get to know him.”

Nadine was shaking her head in Chloe’s peripheral vision, glaring at her, but Chloe didn’t break contact with Loyiso’s eyes.

“He’s not much for fighting, soldiers, anything like that. It’s a nice break, isn’t it? Having a kid you don’t put all that on.”

This is where he calls Fyodor weak, Chloe thought. And Nadine breaks something. This is where he says she should be grateful for what he’s done for her, for how he’s made her strong. And I’ll say she is--

“Does he know how to play chess?”

Loyiso crouched down again, looking at Fyodor, who was half-hidden behind his daughter.

“Shahkmati,” the boy said.

“Da,” Loyiso said. “Moishem igrat shahkmati,” he looked up at Nadine with a wry smile. “Nadi, you always thought it was a stupid game.”

“It is,” Nadine said, as Fyodor stepped out from behind her. “Soccer, that was my game. Still is.”

But there was a softness to her words.

Chloe almost fainted from letting out the breath she was holding, and felt Nadine’s hand on her lower back as she passed her. She turned to see Nadine taking a big, flat box from a high shelf.

“Improvising,” Chloe murmured as Nadine handed the checkered, hinged box to her.

“No,” Nadine said. “You’ve had it planned for weeks.”

“I’ve had it planned for weeks.”

“Selfish dickhead.”

“Love you too.”

#second legacy #nadine ross #chloe frazer #fyodor #loyiso ross #chlodine #fanfic #uncharted: the lost legacy #uncharted #lost legacy

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janeykath318 · 2 years

Text

Prison Proposal 13

The next couple of weeks were very busy for Steve and Darcy as she dove back into her next project and he lobbied for the freedom of Wanda. Going over Ross’s head proved to be the key and Pepper’s reasoning proved very persuasive to the powers that be and the wheels were set in motion for her imminent release.

This made Secretary Ross very unhappy and he paid Tony an angry visit, which Steve heard plenty about the next time he was at Stark Tower.

“He did plenty of blustering and threatening, which never works on me, but then he had the audacity to threaten Darcy! Darcy! How would he even know our connection?”

Tony was pacing back and forth in great agitation and Steve felt his blood run cold at his words.

“Probably from the prison records,” he sighed. “I’m guessing he was not thrilled to find out I’m free.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Tony huffed. “But the point is, how are we going to keep her safe? She’s not going to go along with my first instinct which is to lock her away in the tower under heavy security.”

“Very true,” Steve sighed with a smile. “We’ll just have to be cautious and frequently check in and make sure she has an escort to and from the labs.”

Darcy was annoyed by this new routine, but Steve was so nice about it she couldn’t find herself able to complain too much. She was still able to go to work, so that would at least keep her sane until the threats blew over. Keeping her promise to Tony, she kept her trusty taser on her at all times and wore her super secret spy earrings that he’d given her for Christmas last year.

She was listening to her sci-fi playlist and making some notes when the power suddenly went out just before Steve was due to arrive to pick her up.

“Jimmy? Tina?” She called out. There was no answer from either of her colleagues. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with the sensation that something was wildly amiss and she carefully locked down the machines and checked her taser, listening for sounds of intruders.

When Steve reached the lab and saw the lights off, and an eerily empty room, he instantly called Darcy, only to hear her phone lying on the floor by her desk.

“Shit.” He whispered, scanning the area. “Darcy? Where are you, sweetheart?” he called.

A whimpering noise that did not sound like his wife was the only response to this but he followed the sound to a small control room where two people were bound and gagged.

“Are you okay?” He asked Tina as he freed her from her restraints. The young scientist looked terrified and very rumpled, but didn’t seem to be hurt.

“Yes,” she gasped. “They’re going after Darcy, Captain!”

“Who’s going after Darcy?” Steve pressed, helping her to her feet and turning to Jimmy. Luckily, he too seemed to be fairly unscathed.

“Hydra,” Jimmy responded. “I heard them talking while I faked being unconscious. There’s someone big backing them up. They’re gonna use her as bait for you and Stark.”

“Did either of you hear them leave? Did they have Darcy?” Steve questioned urgently.

“I’m afraid they did,” Tina fretted. “I think they had to knock her out, because she kept tasing them and kicking them.”

“That’s my wife, alright,” Steve sighed. “Will never go down without a fight. I’m going to call someone to come pick you two up and get you home. Sit tight, okay?”

Tina and Jimmy nodded and Steve called Tony to tell him the bad news while attempting to trace the path the kidnappers had taken. He found three unconscious bodies and Darcy’s spent taser in the hallway, which confirmed what Jimmy had heard.

“They got to her, Stark,” he said grimly.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah.” Steve confirmed. “I found her taser and three unconscious hydra thugs. Looks like they took her out the back.”

“Do you know if she was wearing any jewelry?” Tony asked.

“Pearl earrings,” Steve sighed. “Let me guess: Tracking device?”

“You can thank me later. I’ll be there in five.”

After securing the thugs, Steve called Natasha.

“Perfect timing, Steve. I was just about to call you,” she answered.

“Darcy’s been kidnapped,” he informed her. “How soon can you two get here?”

“Ahh, ten minutes, give or take. We’ve found out some very interesting intel on a certain person that should be enough to put him away for a long time.”

“Good.” Steve said shortly. “Tony’s on his way as well. We’ll see you soon.”

Steve paced back and forth, trying not to imagine the worst. He was straight up terrified for her right now. Darcy was strong, but if this was really hydra, they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted.

He heard Tony enter the building, suit making a clumping noise as he walked.

“Sheesh. Looks like she gave as good as she got,” he commented, eying the goons on the ground and the taser. “Go, Darce.”

“Natasha and Bucky are on their way,” Steve told him. “They’ve been gathering intel against Ross for weeks. Looks like he’s made good on his threats.”

“Did you say they’re on their way?” Tony asked suspiciously, squinting at Steve.

“Natasha and Bucky right now, Sam and Sharon later.” Steve explained. “I’m sorry about this, but Bucky is extremely motivated to kick Hydra’s ass and has more knowledge about them than any of us. We need him.”

“I’d raise a fuss about this, but my daughter’s life is at stake,” Tony sighed, after pacing around in agitation, scrutinizing the scene carefully.

#shieldshock #prison proposal #darcy lewis #steve rogers

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