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bxcketbarnes · 3 years

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Grandmaster’s Daughter

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Words: 3900+

Author’s Note: Back at it again with some more Loki fiiiiics. This is the most motivation I’ve had to write for a long while. I’m really happy right now. Anyway, I hope you guys like this! Let me know what you thought xox

You walk into the room your father sits in while watching the arena fights. You can see the excitement on his face as you move around the couch, sitting down beside him.

"Hi, sweetheart," your father greets and you smile at him.

"Hi, Dad," you chuckle and lean against the back of the couch, crossing your legs. "Who's fighting your champion today?"

The Grandmaster shrugs his shoulders and mumbles a random name. You glance around the room and see the usual crowd until your eyes find a new face. You tilt your head to the side, analyzing the new guy.

Raven-colored hair, green eyes, shoulder-length black hair, pink lips. Cute. You think to yourself as the man sits at the other end of the long couch.

His eyes suddenly meet yours and you give him a small smile. "I've never seen you here before," you mention, and the man nods his head once, fingers tapping against his legs.

"I got here a few days ago. My name's Loki," he introduces, crossing one of his legs over the other.

"Hi, Loki," you greet and hold out your hand for him to take. Loki shakes it gently as you continue to speak, "I'm Y/N. The Grandmaster's daughter… in case you didn't know."

The two of you chuckle as the raven-haired man scratches the back of his neck. "Actually, I had no idea the Grandmaster had children," he confesses and you giggle while nodding your head.

"Yeah, he doesn't talk about me to others much. Most likely because I'm usually with him all the time, so he assumes people know," you tell him and Loki lets out a quiet ah.

Your father shushes the two of you and you chuckle softly and turn your attention back to the fight. Loki glances towards you once more, feeling a smile come to his lips as you lean back against the couch.

This place doesn't seem all that bad… Loki thinks while turning his gaze back towards the arena.

"You've gotten pretty close to my daughter the past few weeks haven't you, Loki?" The Grandmaster says and Loki snaps his head in your father's direction.

"I- Yeah, she's a lovely lady," he tells the older man and he grins in response while nodding his head in agreement.

"That she is. She's just like her mother," the man states before walking away from him. Loki lets out a sigh of relief before sitting down in the chair.

One of the servers hands Loki a glass of champagne and he downs three-quarters of the bubbly liquid in one gulp. "Thirsty, are we?" Your voice asks while sitting beside him.

Loki jumps slightly and looks towards you, a playful smile on your lips. "Yeah, something like that," Loki mumbles with a chuckle while wiping his hands on his pants. "Your dad was just questioning me about our friendship."

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your drink. "Typical dad for ya," you mention with a giggle, and Loki hums.

"I don't have that experience," he mentions and your eyes drift back towards the man, seeing his green eyes staring down at his hands. "My dad isn't my dad. I'm- well, it's complicated."

"I'm sorry, Loki. I didn't mean to bring up a touchy subject," you say with a frown and Loki leans back in his chair, shaking his head.

"You're fine, darling. I didn't mean to damper the mood," the raven-haired man gives you a reassuring smile.

You let out a breath and return his smile and pats his leg. "I'm glad you're here, Loki. You're very interesting," you grin and feel your heart flutter in your chest.

"Me too. I'm starting to like being on this planet," Loki confesses and both of your cheeks blush at his words. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and take another sip of your drink, ignoring the way your heart beats quicker around this man.

Your father walks into the room as Loki begins to tell everyone a story. Your eyes look at the blonde man sitting in the chair, seeing him look around the place as the Grandmaster tells him all about what he does here.

"People come far and wide to unwillingly participate in it. And you, my friend, might just be part of the new cast. What do you say to that?"

"We're not friends and I don't give a shit about your games. I'm going back to Asgard," the man says and your father chuckles.

"Ass-guard."

You roll your eyes at the Grandmaster and his inability to hear things properly. Your father goes back to making music with his keyboard as the new contender continues to look around the room.

His eyes meet yours at first and you give him a sympathetic smile as you feel bad about the man being in this position. "Loki?" The man mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows and glance towards the raven-haired man. "Loki! Loki!"

Loki looks in the direction where his name is being called, green eyes widening a bit, and stands up. He clears his throat and excuses himself, his eyes meeting yours quickly. "Excuse me," Loki mumbles and walks towards the buff man.

You watch the two interact with one another and you'd be lying if you said you weren't intrigued by what's happening. You slowly stand up and walk towards the two of them, seeing your father creeping towards them as well.

“What are we whispering about?” Your father whispers besides the two men and the blonde lets out a yelp, causing you to chuckle. “Time works real different around these parts. On any other world, I’d be, like, millions of years old. But here on Sakaar...”

The Grandmaster makes a face and you can’t help but laugh, covering your mouth as you run a hand through your hair. There’s an awkward silence between all of you as both Loki and the blonde stare at your father.

“In any case, you know this, uh… You call yourself Lord of Thunder?” Grandmaster asks the raven-haired man.

“God of Thunder,” the blonde corrects and chuckles, motioning his head towards your father. “Tell him.”

“I’ve never met this man in my life,” Loki states, and you hum to yourself, seeing the large smile on his face.

“He’s my brother,” Lord of Thunder angrily says and you raise an eyebrow, intrigued by this whole situation.

Loki shakes his head and looks towards the Grandmaster, “adopted.”

Your father looks down at his hands, asking the raven-haired man if he’s any sort of fighter. If you had to guess by the way he’s dressed, he’s been in a few fights in his lifetime. “Take this think out of my neck and I’ll show you,” the blonde laughs and your father joins in while fixing his collar.

“Now, listen to that. He’s threatening me. Hey, Sparkles, here’s the deal,” Grandmaster starts and you walk away from the three men, having enough of the conversation they’re having.

You find it interesting that Loki would lie about not knowing this Lord of Thunder and you definitely want to question him about it later.

You step out of the shower when there’s a knock on your door. You glance towards the metal structure, furrowing your eyebrows as you wonder who it could be. You wrap a towel around your body, tightly securing it before heading towards the door. You open it to reveal Loki standing on the other side of it.

“O-Oh, sorry I didn’t know you were-” he cuts himself off and looks away from you, feeling his cheeks blush. A chuckle leaves your lips as you invite him into your room, telling him that it’s completely fine.

Loki hesitantly walks into your room before you close the door. The man sits down on the edge of your bed, playing with his fingers as you head towards your closet. “What can I help you with, Loki?” You ask him and shut the closet door most of the way so you can change into something more presentable.

“Uhm, I wanted to talk to you about my brother,” he states as his green eyes look around your room. He’s never been inside your room before, only making it to your door when he walks you home after the two of you hang out. “There’s a reason I never told you about him.”

Once you finish getting dressed you walk out of the closet, drying your hair with the towel that was wrapped around your body. “I understand that you have reasons to be reserved, Loki, and you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I’m just curious as to why you would lie to Grandmaster,” you explain to him and Loki presses his lips together before standing up.

“My brother can be a bit of an idiot and I didn’t want to jeopardize Grandmaster’s trust,” he confesses. You look up at him as he stands a few inches in front of you, his eyes gazing into yours. “I also didn’t want you to think that I’ve been keeping secrets or anything.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at Loki’s words and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before looking away from him. “Loki, my dad likes you. He truly does. He’s mentioned it to me quite a few times since we’ve become friends. And, don’t tell him I said this, but he can be a bit oblivious,” you start off and the raven-haired man lets out a breath of relief, “all he cares about is his precious champion. He’s not going to care about Lord of Thunder being your brother.”

“Thor,” Loki corrects and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Lord of Thunder? His name is Thor.”

“Oh! Well, that’s a pretty neat name,” you chuckle and Loki joins in while scratching the back of his neck. “And, don’t worry about ruining anything with me. I like you. You’re fun to be around and you definitely make watching these fights more bearable.”

He smiles down at you and you take a step towards him before wrapping your arms around his waist. Loki runs his hand through your wet hair as the two of you stand in each other’s embrace for a few moments. Loki can feel his heart pounding against his chest, one of his hands slowly running up and down your back.

“We should probably get going. The match is going to start in any minute,” Loki mumbles and you let out a sigh, nodding your head in agreement.

The two of you head towards the viewing room, hands brushing against each other during the walk there. “Do you think your brother has a chance against the champion?” You ask Loki and look over at him.

He shrugs his shoulders in response while motioning for you to head into the room first. You chuckle and thank him quietly, grabbing a drink from the server as Loki follows closely behind. “It’s possible, but if this champion has beaten every single other contender that’s come through here, it’s a low possibility,” Loki explains as the two of you get closer to the glass.

You and Loki stand close together as your father introduces the first contestant.

"Making his first appearance, though he looks quite promising… got a couple of tricks up his sleeve. I’ll say no more, see what you think. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… Lord of Thunder!”

You cringe slightly as everyone in the arena begins to boo at Loki’s brother.

“Let’s get ready to welcome this guy. Here he comes.”

Fireworks begin to go off along with green smoke bombs. You take another sip of your drink as you can feel the rumbling of the champion beneath your feet.

“He is a creature. What can we say about him? Well, he’s unique. There’s none like him. I feel a special connection with him. He’s undefeated. He’s the reigning. He’s the defending. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… your incredible…”

A large green man bursts his way through the doors as they were opening and a gasp leaves your lips. You’ve seen plenty of matches and you’ve never stuck around for the big event, and you had no idea the champion was this large. The monster lets out a roar before yelling “hulk” to the crowd, holding both a large blunt weapon and ax.

“Yes!” Thor screams and the cheering in the area dies down. Is this man insane? You think to yourself as you notice Loki backing away from you through your peripheral vision.

“I have to get off this planet,” he breathes out, fear in his green eyes, and starts to leave before you can say anything.

The Grandmaster stops him from leaving, pushing the raven-haired man back towards you. “Hey, hey, hey. Where are you going?” He asks with a smile before your father’s eyes meet yours. “Hi, sweetheart. Glad you could make this one.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile as Loki slowly moves to stand beside you. You give him a curious look and rest a hand on his forearm. “You okay?” You ask quietly and Loki nods his head slightly.

“I-I’m fine, yeah,” he stutters and you frown, having an inkling that he’s keeping something from you. “I’ll tell you later. I promise.”

The Grandmaster sits down on the couch as you and Loki join him. You sit pretty close to Loki as your father sits on the complete opposite side of the elongated couch. Just like when you first met. You nod your head at his promise, making sure he’ll keep his word as you bring your gaze back down towards the arena.

“Hey! Hey!” Thor yells while waving the weapon in his arm, gaining your father’s attention. “We know each other. He’s a friend from work!”

The Grandmaster looks towards the two of you with wide eyes and Loki clears his throat, deciding not to say anything. You chew on your nails as the fight begins, letting out a breath every time Thor manages to doge Hulk’s attacks.

After Hulk punches Thor into the wall, Thor grabs the giant hammer that’s embedded into it as Hulk runs towards the man. The blonde strikes at the right moment, sending the Hulk halfway across the arena. Your lips part in surprise and everyone goes quiet, hearing your father mumble a confused what?

There’s a quiet moment between the two competitors before Hulk grabs a hold of Thor’s leg and thrashes him around a bit. The big guy throws Thor towards the middle of the arena and Loki jumps up from his spot. “Yes! Yes! That’s how it feels!” Loki yells before chuckling, earning a confused look from yourself and the Grandmaster. “I’m just a huge fan of the sport.”

Your father laughs in response as you stay quiet, not knowing how much more you can watch. You push yourself up from the couch, excusing yourself from the room.

"Sweetheart the fight-" your father starts but you cut him off.

"I can't watch this, dad. I'm sorry. I know you want me to be a part of this and all, but I can't," you mumble and Grandmaster sighs before nodding his head.

Your eyes move to Loki as he looks over his shoulder at you. "I'll see you later?" He asks and you give him a light smile while nodding your head in response.

You run your fingers through your hair as you look out the window in your room. You heard from people that Thor lost the fight and was brought up to the Champions room. You're confused as to why your father would do that, but you don't know half the reasons why he does anything.

The past few hours you've debated going to talk to him, see how he's doing. It's no secret that you've never agreed with your father's game. You felt bad for the people who have died. They could've had families for all you know. It's a reason you hardly attend any of the fights. Until you met Loki. Your father took a liking to him pretty quickly and he's the only reason you even tolerated the matches, to be near him.

You push yourself up from the floor as you begin to make your way towards the Champion's room when the Grandmaster's voice comes through the intercom of the building.

"Sakaar, hear ye. Attention, please. I have some bad news. My beloved exalted champion has turned up missing. Take to the streets! Celebrate my champion. It seems that that criminally seductive, Lord of Thunder, has stolen him away."

"Shit," you mumble and throw on a jacket before making your way to where your father does most of his punishments.

"You just missed him, love," a woman who works with your dad mentions as you head towards the large door. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering how she knew who you're looking for. "You're looking for Loki, right?"

You nod your head in answer and point in the other direction, telling you that he and Valkyrie went down that hall. "Thank you," you tell her, and she smiles at you.

"Just be careful! I don't know the reason but Valkyrie had Loki in chains," she informs you, and your stomach drops before rushing in the direction she pointed you in.

You find Valkyrie's room and look around before hacking into the system, something you learned from an old friend years ago.

The door opens and you let out a breathy laugh, proud that you were able to succeed.

"Y/N?" Loki's voice calls out and your eyes meet him, a short gasp leaving your lips. "How'd you get in here?"

You run into the room and kneel beside him, looking for a way to take the chains off as Valkyrie's door shuts. "I hacked into the keypad," you inform him and Loki laughs in response.

"Well, aren't you devious," he grins and you look up at him. "But, maybe it's for the best that you don't release me."

You furrow your eyebrows together in confusion, lowering your hands from the chain he's wrapped in. "How come?" You ask and before Loki could answer Valkyrie's door opens.

"How'd you get in here?!" She asks while stepping towards you.

A gasp leaves your lips as the tip of her sword rests against your throat. "I-I hacked the system," you mumble quietly and take a glance towards Loki. "I heard you locked him up so I came to free him."

Thor takes a step forward and makes Valkyrie drop her weapon. "She means no harm," he tells her and the woman scoffs in response.

"Means no harm?! She would've let him go if we didn't come in when we did!" She argues and Loki clears his throat, gaining everyone's attention.

"To be fair, I told her not to let me go," he informs the group and you're nodding your head in agreement.

"It's true. He told me just before you guys came in," you mumble and slowly get up from the floor.

Valkyrie narrows her eyes at you before pressing you against the wall, her hands wrapping around your throat. "Betray us and I'll kill you slowly," she growls and you gulp, nodding your head in response.

She walks back towards Thor and the shorter man as you slide down against the wall, your chest heaving. Loki glances towards you and you give him a small smile.

"You okay?" He asks quietly and you nod your head again. Thor notices the softness in his brother's eyes as the raven-haired looks down at you.

"So, what's the plan?" Valkyrie asks Thor.

You couldn't believe your ears. You'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt to hear Loki ask for safe passage off of the planet. You didn't want Loki to leave, not after falling for the man. You're left alone in Valkyrie's room as everyone began working on the plan. You push yourself off of the floor before walking out of the woman’s apartment, deciding to make your way down to where your father’s ship is stored.

“Maybe, I can convince him to stay,” you mumble to yourself as you stand in the elevator, slowly waiting for it to drop you off. A deep sigh leaves your lips as so many thoughts play through your head.

You reach the lower level of the tower where all the ships are stored and look around the large area to see if the group is still here. You glance towards where your father’s ship is normally parked, your stomach dropping to see that it’s not there anymore. Your ears perk up as you can hear someone grunting and you furrow your eyebrows together as you walk towards the noise.

A gasp leaves your lips as you see Loki laying on the floor, getting electrocuted by an obedience disc that everyone uses. “Loki,” you call out before rushing towards the man. You grab the remote to it before kneeling beside him, turning it off. Loki pants heavily as his green eyes meet yours for a few moments before slowly shutting them.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathes out and you giggle softly while resting a hand on his chest.

“I thought you left with everyone else?” You ask immediately and the man shakes his head. Footsteps can be heard behind you and you glance over your shoulder to see all of your father’s contenders standing behind you.

“Hey, guys. We’re about to jump on that ginormous spaceship. You wanna come?” The man you know as Korg asks the two of you.

Loki slowly sits up, his hand resting against the ground as he lets out a breathy laugh. “Well, you do seem like you’re in desperate need of leadership,” Loki points out before glancing towards you, seeing the saddened look on your face.

“Why, thank you,” Korg mentions as the group begins to walk towards the ship.

You push yourself up from the floor, clearing your throat as Loki’s eyes move to you once more. “So, you’re really leaving?” You ask and the man sighs before nodding his head.

“I need to help my brother stop our sister,” he says and you nod your head in understanding, your hands moving to grab a hold of his wrists. Loki’s hands find yours before lacing your fingers together.

The raven-haired man brings your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Come with me,” he mumbles and your heart skips a beat, eyes widening at his request. “You could be so much more than the Grandmaster’s daughter. You won’t have to deal with the malicious fights that he puts on. You can live a somewhat normal life.”

Your hand squeezes his as a smile comes to your lips. “Any other reason you’d want me to come with?” You question in hope that the man has some sort of feelings for you.

Loki chuckles as one of his hands leaves yours to wrap around your waist, pulling your body closer to his. Your cheeks blush as your hands now rest on his chest, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. “There might be,” he whispers and you shudder a bit in his arms.

Your hands slide up his chest before wrapping them around his neck, your fingers gliding through his black hair. Your heart beats quickly in your chest as Loki moves his free hand to your face, stroking your cheekbone.

"So, what will it be, darling?" Loki asks and you smile brightly.

You lean on your toes and place a light kiss on the man's lips, earning a short groan from him. "We better get going," you giggle and Loki's grip on your waist tighten before the two of you run towards the ship.

Goodbye, Sakaar. Goodbye, Father.

Taglist: @poweredbyghostadventures @valentine5sos @deephideoutmilkshake @noisynightmarefest @albinoclifford @jessalyn-jpeg @suchalonelysunflower @maddz-world @queen-of-mischief

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choiwrites · 3 years

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kth | wolfgirl (m.)

Words: 10k Genre: twlight!au, it’s new moon but taetae as jacob, ur bella but you have a personality :o, oh also smut and a little angst Warnings: no protection and no fcks given, language ig?, descriptive seggs lol, vampires and all that bs if that triggers sum of yall, oral (f receiving), tae is younger than u and kind of a sub (dom tae is overdone we need change in this country) i cant think no more no thots hed mt Rating: 18+ Song: Iron & Wine - Flightless Bird, American Mouth Summary: During your stay at your Aunt's house in the wet town of Forks, you never thought the boys next door will change your perspective in how you see the world.

The weather in Washington was something you’re not used to. You can never go places without getting mud on your shoes and it takes more than your patience to clean them every time before going out. Sure, it was great to experience a different weather other than the blazing sun in Los Angeles, but it was hard to adjust. You weren’t ready for it with all the sleeveless and loose tops you brought from Los Angeles.

After months of debating with your mom, you decided it would be a great way to spend your summer vacation turning your camera focus into something more dark and cloudy. Your professor had also suggested that it would look good in your portfolio if you try different moods in photos other than the hot weather in Angeles. So, you thought about it for months before asking your mom to buy you tickets to see your Aunt Sylvia who you're currently living with for the meantime.

She was in her mid-thirties, but she looked younger than her real age. She knew how to groom and with the way she looks, she probably had that life during her high school days. You rarely see her though, you can remember all the conversations you both had. She leaves home early for her duty at the police station as an attending desk officer. Her place wasn't big, an average suburban house painted in cold tones of white and gray with dark furniture inside. It's not your typical definition of cozy. Good thing you brought your two sweaters — one with a Christmas tree embroidered on it and one with the phrase "'tis the season!" Wearing a sweater in Los Angeles only means one thing, and that is the season of giving. But who cares, it's not like anyone was going to notice, right?

About to finish the second cup of black tea, an idea pops into your mind about what Sylvia had said about the landscapes nearby the house. However, she had warned you about the risks of a few wild coyote appearances, but one could call you a junkie. There’s no fun in danger, but dangerous does rhyme with adventurous.

A cool whip of breeze enters the thin fabric of your sweater, immediately regretting stepping out of the doorstep after locking the door. As you are approaching the back of the house to enter the woods, young laughters echo through the area, lessening your fear for a bit. It must be safe if a group of teenagers are hanging out in such a secluded forest.

Unbothered by the noises, whether they were from teenagers or not, you make your way further into the woods of coppery branches on the endless verdant ground with subtle eau de nils. It’s like walking into a surreal three-dimensional render of a forest, too perfect to be right in front of your eyes.

It was quiet and serene in the woods. Aside from birds chirping, it felt like out of this world. It was an alien planet. Everything was green — the moss surrounding the place, every tree had some sort of fungi beneath it, the soil dark brown as if staring right into the earth’s eyes. The very healthy kind of earthy, and it was easier to breathe in the forest than it was in the city of Los Angeles. No wonder why they're both on the opposite sides of the country. They're literally poles apart. Being at Forks, it's as if you were able to be in a different country. It was secluded, unlike in Angeles, there are people in every place you go.

While changing the film of the camera, a strong gust of wind on your left side. So strong that your body stumbled onto the ground. You were on your knees, camera shattered as it hits a hard medium-sized rock. You break a couple of curses to the wind.

The camera looked hopeless with lenses separated from it, lying in pieces against a rock.

"What the hell was that?"

There had to be some kind of a fast animal that ran from your side, which quickens your pulse, but the devastation you felt for the camera overthrew that fear. When you caught a glimpse of the 'wind,' it was human-like. It ran around in every direction surrounding you, freezing you into place. The only thing you were able to do was to keep watching the human-like creature run in circles like lightning. You tried standing up, but it approached you in a rapid current that you fell into place again. But you couldn't see it, you weren't able to look into its eyes.

"You shouldn't be out here alone,” behind you says.

You whimper, embarrassed when the deep voice sends hums into your nerves..

"Why didn't you run?" He looks at you with knitted brows as he approaches to help you get on your feet. He’s far too attractive to be a wild coyote, you slap that stupid thought away.

"I... I didn't know what to do,” you force out, still affected by the broken camera and creeping fear.

He was around four inches taller than you. He looked about your age. Dark thick hair, with light brown irides inside his almond-shaped eyes. His skin was of a rich walnut tan, and his dark green hoodie complements that.

"You must be Sylvia's niece. I'm Taehyung,” he said in a sultry manner as he offered a hand for a handshake.

"How do you kno-"

"She told us. My family's close with Sylvia. Our mothers used to be best friends, y/n." He puts his hand back in the pocket of his hoodie.

A tinge of embarrassment brushes through your cheeks, feeling guilty that you didn't give him a handshake. But all of that is ignored when he smiles.

"Did I creep you out?"

You chuckle softly. "No, of course not. I'm just still in the moment... of processing." You ease him, as if you were able to read the tension in his undecipherable eyes.

There was a few seconds of silence before Taehyung spoke again when he noticed your camera on the ground.

"Hey, we have a technician at home, maybe he has some tools he could help you with."

He was absolutely gorgeous. You find yourself lost in his face, studying his features and every little action he does. He would look so good as a muse. If only you could capture him right now, he'd be perfect under the clouds that create shadows that contour his cheeks and makes his eyes even more mysterious.

"Don't worry, you can trust me. Sylvia knows where I live,” he adds.

Though that doesn't really solve the problem, you find yourself walking with Taehyung in the woods, drifting away from the devastation and fear from earlier.

The laughters were from them. The laughs you heard earlier before entering the woods were from Taehyung's friends. They confirmed that they were walking around the woods earlier and that they passed by your house. All looking friendly with similar doe eyes, almost like they were relatives. They were all in a circle, all of them sitting on a chunk of thick logs, dressed in a similar way. The men were younger than you, but there is a girl who's older than you. She didn't seem as friendly as the others as you notice the judging glances towards your way. She had shoulder length of hair and she was just as tan as Taehyung. Taehyung discussed each of them one by one to you, all of them introducing themselves in an endearing manner except for her. Only saying her name was Leah and that was it, which made you feel an ounce of intimidation.

"So, y/n, how long do you plan to stay?" Embry, the one with the shortest hair, asks as he plays with the two twigs he'd been digging up dirt with the moment you arrived. His color was a tad bit darker than the others. He had a grin that could steal every girl's heart. He was gorgeous. They were all just as gorgeous as Taehyung.

"Oh, one month. I have a college application to fix back home,” you answered surely. You were only here to take photos for your college portfolio, and making friends was out of the picture until today.

"Sucks for Tae, I had a feeling you could be more than a willing candidate to be his girlfriend." Everybody laughed except for you and Tae who exchanged awkward glances at each other.

"Stop it, Bry." Taehyung wanted to laugh along but embarrassment got the best of him.

"She looks so out of place. You probably party a lot in Los Angeles, don't you?" Leah gives you a stern look, seriously waiting for your response. She only wants to get a reaction from you and you weren’t the only one to get the feeling as the group feels the rising tension between the both of you.

"No, I don't go to parties. Mom is very strict." You tell her. You didn't want the group to feel that you were intimidated, after all, you wanted to befriend everyone.

"She'd be perfect for our overnight tomorrow then." She prickly grins.

"Right! Want to join us in La Push? It's the nearest beach out here. We'll have bonfires and such," Seth, the youngest one with the tiniest body (still bigger than yours), expresses in excitement. Out of all of them, Seth was the friendliest.

"I'll go talk to Sylvia for you, if you want." Taehyung raises his brows. He had been laughing quietly ever since he had brought you to meet his friends - which seems like he regrets, additionally. He was more mysterious than you thought. He didn't share much of his life during the discussion, only three things: his last name was Kim, he’s 20 years old, and he lives at the rez along with the rest of the team.

"Sure. I'll just bring my other camera." You smiled.

Taehyung said that he'll get Chase, a friend of his who wasn’t part of the circle, to fix the broken film camera. He assured that it will only be a matter of three days before the camera is all yours again. After a few more useless fun discussions, you had forgotten that the sun had settled for a while. When Taehyung realizes your face of worry, he offers to give you a ride home. Great, a ride with the wild coyote who had immediately earned your trust by rising a brow. You wouldn’t be so shocked if you end up ‘missing’ in the news in the next hours.

He owned a Chevy pick up truck. It was red, but faded, making it seem vermillion in color. It had a few dents and you were sure that it wasn't one of the smoothest rides you've ever had. But Taehyung made a few jokes about how he feels uneasy with the truck as well, only to reveal that it has been with him ever since his birth.

"It's great. Very retro." You gave him a smile to let him know that he doesn't need to feel embarrassed with his truck.

"Shut up, Y/N. I know it sucks, okay. I can't even play a single song here without a static." He laughs and you admit it.

He gave a charming wave to your window and had a small chat with Sylvia, who’s been home for hours, before leaving, probably about the La Push trip for tomorrow. Once you've changed into your pyjamas, Sylvia knocks on your door as you are about to settle in bed.

"Tae told me about the La Push camping tomorrow,” she began.

"Are you gonna let me?"

She smiles in an assuring way. You can't deny how lovely she looked with her hair down, her waves framing her heart-shaped face. "Of course, honey. You better wake up early tomorrow. Tae told me that he'll pick you up by seven." She winks and rubs your shoulder before heading downstairs.

A beach trip in a cloudy town without bringing any hoodies with you? Sounds about perfect, if you’re looking for a hypothermia attack. And you were never a morning person either so it’s a big mystery why you even agreed to go in the first place. The waking time in Los Angeles was ten in the morning. In Forks, it was seven.

When Taehyung arrived, he was wearing a black shirt and a black leather jacket, pairing it with slightly oversized pants. He looked bigger than yesterday, maybe it was the jacket that made him look buff. He waved softly before you even stepped out of the doorway. He was carrying a medium-sized paper bag with small wet stains.

"My sister made us breakfast. Just in case you didn't have enough time to prepare," he opens the car door for you and waved to Sylvia goodbye, "thought you'd take more time because you probably wake up late in the city."

“I’m somehow a little offended with that assumption,” you cooed and he replied with a stammering laugh, unsure whether to take it as a joke or not.

He fumbled with the stereo and it played better than yesterday, giving you a sloppy smile as the first chords of Creep by Radiohead plays.

"You fixed it?" You take a bite from the sandwich his sister prepared. You thank God his sister prepared it for you, your stomach would be growling by now.

"Yeah. I just didn't want us to have that awkward silence along the way." He breathily laughs.

Everything Taehyung has is beautiful. He had an amazing laugh, a deep sultry voice, and doe eyes. He's simply astonishing. You were sure that everyone he has met so far had fallen in love with him. You weren't one to deny that either.

It took around fifteen songs before the both of you arrived at the beach — thanks to Taehyung's amazing playlist. It was quiet, the weather didn't change much in the place. Still cold and dark, untouched by a glimpse of sunrise. It was windier than the rest of Forks, and you wore your Christmas sweater to at least help with the cold a bit.

It was weird to say, but Taehyung radiated heat whenever you were near him. It's like when you're not around Taehyung, you feel the coldness of Forks. His truck didn't even feel cold though his air conditioning was on, you just felt a sense of unfamiliar comfortable heat you found yourself curling in your seat minutes ago. The group welcomed the both of you except for Leah of course. Sooner or later, you knew you'd start to hate her.

"You guys are early,” you tell Embry and Paul as they greet you with warm hugs.

"Of course, we are. It's La Push, baby." Embry gives you a wink and you blush.

"Okay, Bry, I haven't had my breakfast and you're already winking." Paul fake puked and the rest of the group laughs.

They started setting up tents as Taehyung offered to take your bag when he noticed how it's weighing you down. Before he could put it in the tent, you took your digital camera and started roaming around by yourself to take pictures of the view. Astounding as you had expected. It's like you were in the middle of nowhere. Only Taehyung's friends were at the beach which was a lucky shot for you and the group.

"Set up the fire, Tae! We're having breakfast." Leah yells across the place as she places the logs in the middle of the circle the tents are built in.

Taehyung sighs loudly. "Get ready for the Quileute Tribe stories."

"You seem tired of it, you joked.

While Taehyung builds a fire with the rest of the boys, you secretly take pictures of him busy as the both of you keep talking.

"It's always the story every camping day. The Quileute Legends, you know? The scary stuff."

You knit your brows when the word ‘scary’ comes into play, bringing your camera down to take a better look at the almost sweaty Taehyung.

"Scary stuff? How scary? Thrill me." You weren't aware as to how much Taehyung also studies your features. He wanted to know you better, but he was afraid of scaring you away by asking too many questions. It had always been his issue, scaring people away from him. And this time, he didn't want to let you in like the others, he just wanted to be acquaintances. But the more he spends time with you, the more he wants to be near you as if there were magnets pulling you together.

"I don't know what would thrill you, y/n. But the world is darker than you think, it's not always safe." He gives you a look. It was impossible. You were five feet away from him, but you could almost see your reflection in his eyes. It was too comforting. You were devoured by his eyes, falling steadily into his charms.

"I know. It's just as scary in L.A., I mean," you gulped, "crime is everywhere. Can't really stop it." You explained.

"It's not always crime that's scary, y/n. I'm talking unexplainable things." He smirks.

"Like paranormal?" You gaze away from him, starting to take pictures of the beach. But no matter how hard you try to distract yourself from Taehyung, your eyes keep falling on him.

"More than paranormal. Ghosts are easier to believe in."

You inhaled sharply. "I mean those are just legends, right? What's with the obsession in the Qui-Quileute Tribe?" You struggled pronouncing the word.

"It's not me. It's a tradition." There was a moment of silence before you could think of what to say again.

"Delete my pictures by the way." He scoffed.

"I thought you didn't notice."

"I was posing."

You laugh at his joke, still certain you're never deleting any of his pictures, most definitely the one when he accidentally looked at the camera.

"You look sort of beautiful in the camera." Your lids flutter like a high school girl. “Not just in the camera, I mean… haha.”

He stares at you in confusion, and somehow you always find yourself frozen and embarrassed whenever he looks at you. "Sort of beautiful? You're more naive than I thought." He removes his jacket and throws it on the log nearby, revealing his buff body. You look away in discomfort, you didn't want to find yourself checking him out. "I'm not what you think I am. And I don't think you want to know."

"Maybe I do." You point the camera towards him and take a shot of his reaction. You wink.

The clouds hovering above the clamorous sea tell that there's probably rain coming, but it seems like the group wasn't bothered by it at all. You were sitting next to Taehyung two feet away from you on the logs nearby the fire that Seth had given up trying to help making after a couple of failed attempts. His heat never failed to linger around you though.

Sam was discussing the Quileute Legends and the group was very fascinated with the story, even though Taehyung had confirmed earlier that they've already heard the story too many times from their own families. Sam was good. He had a way in telling stories. You find yourself actually believing the legends. Werewolves and vampires? Shapeshifters and Children of the Moon? You weren't one to believe in such fantasies. You liked to watch historical movies more than fairytales, but with the way Sam elaborated every part of the legend, you can't deny the shiver that you felt when he discussed the cold ones.

Fast like lightning. Beautiful and alluring. Undead without a soul.

You thought it was ridiculous for Sam to even give out a warning about the cold ones. You were suppressing your laugh a little bit, and you were sure Leah already had her eyes on you. Why would Sam give out a warning about the cold ones? It's not like they were actually real. He also mentioned a treaty. And he sounded pretty serious about it too, even Taehyung was carefully listening. All of their eyes were on Sam, except for Leah.

Sam talked about a specific family of the cold ones, that they proposed a treaty. These cold ones are not allowed to hurt anybody from Forks, or else the mentioned werewolves are allowed to pose a fight with them. He talked about it like it was a plan.

It was afternoon and the clouds were still as thick as it was in the morning, but rays of sunlight shone through the gaps between the dark clouds. It looked ethereal, an aesthetic you'd only see in paintings. You thought those paintings are only manifestations of amplified emotions of the painter, but here you are, smiling to your camera as you take hundreds of shots.

"Save some memory for the other landscapes," Taehyung says beside you, throwing pebbles to the water, each bouncing impressively for three times.

"I know, I just can't get enough of this. You don't see that in L.A." You pointed your index finger towards the horizon of the sea.

"Yeah, but at least you can swim in LA. It's too cold out here to even go for a swim,” he emphasized.

"Not when you're around. It's weird, but I feel like you have a fever. You're too hot."

He raises his brows . "I know I'm hot," he chuckles.

"I didn't mean it like that,” you protest, though you know for a fact, Taehyung right. If he were to live in L.A., he'd be escorted many times by a modeling agency.

"So, I'm not hot?" You knew he was teasing and your embarrassment was obvious enough because of the blood rushing through your cheeks.

"You're attractive. I'm sure you know that." You roll your eyes, trying to keep everything casual — which is getting harder and harder every time he's around.

"No, I don't,” he teased. He was obviously getting pay back on you for taking candid shots of him earlier.

Your eyes landed on Sam and Emily play-fighting in the sea, just the sight of them being happy made you feel a bit of a heartache. You were a sucker for romance. The boys told you earlier that they were engaged for three months now. Leah was Sam's ex-girlfriend and Emily was Leah's ex-best friend. Finally putting the pieces together why Leah was one of the hardest to be with. She was extremely hurt and broken. She would rather shut the world out rather than let anybody in. She would rather be alone, than find anyone again who could possibly hurt her.

"Look," you poked Taehyung who was too busy throwing pebbles, "Sam and Emily are swimming. We should too!"

Though you were shivering, you bravely took off the mustard jacket that Taehyung had let you borrow. You were left with your thin brown tank top and denim shorts. He's still in his black shirt, unbothered to even take it off nor his jeans.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You tell him as you walk towards the sea.

This was a bad idea. It felt like ice was draping all over your body. How can Emily look like she's having fun when you're over here freezing just by stepping into the water? Half of your body was shivering from the wind, the lower half was for sure numb. You wanted to slap Taehyung for taking so long to get in with you, and you weren't even sure why you were so desperate for him to get in with you. It's not like he had a heater with him.

It took Taehyung a few more seconds before he started taking his shirt off, revealing his caramel skin, but it wasn't his color that caught your eyes, it was how built he is. His body looks like it was sculpted by the most talented and precise sculptor. It was defined, and shadows are doing magic in giving it silhouettes in the right areas. The best part about it was how shy he was taking off his clothes, like a teenager getting ready for his first swimming lesson.

He was for sure planning to swim today, revealing the gray trunks he’s wearing underneath his jeans. He needs a bigger one that fits him better, because the trunks he's wearing isn't doing him any justice.

Okay, no. Maybe it was justified by a subtle outline of his —

Don't even look down there, y/n, you tell yourself.

You didn't know where to focus. His thighs were just as eye-catching as his abs. Just as toned and thick. It would be such a material for thigh riding, you thought and you quickly shake your head at the idea. It has to be the waters that did this to you. Time has never been more relevant when he was walking towards your way, as he scoops water with his hands to wet his hair, while biting his bottom lip and giving you a small smile after.

"Freezing?" He smiles, eyes pierced on your small body. You were hugging yourself, embracing yourself from the fact that if you let go of your hands, you might touch something else.

"You were taking so long."

He chuckles before holding your arm, taking it off your body. "Come on, dip your whole body." He pulls you softly towards the ocean, the sound of walking through water comforting your ears.

He was a foot away from you, the water level was on his chest and so was yours, but slightly higher. He looked even more godly. His hair pushed back, and to see his face in its entirety was a blessing, a gift.

None of you dared to talk, and you thought it was better that way. You just get to stare at him, as the sunlight lands itself upon his bronze eyes with specks of gold if you would close enough, majestic indeed to see something like that once in your life. You'd wish to wake up to that every morning.

There was this comfortable silence between the two of you. Drops of water fall under his eyelashes, fluttering them as he struggles to stare back at you. The moment was ruined when he suddenly smiled and looked towards Embry and Paul. Embry was sitting next to Paul, staring at the both of you while laughing. You shrug, feeling invaded.

"Why? What is it?" you asked Taehyung.

"They're thinking ridiculously."

You furrow your forehead. "How do you know?" He tightens his hold around your arm as he keeps you steady near him, aware of you struggling to touch the floor.

"I just know," he softly plants circles on your arm with his thumb, "trust me."

"Maybe we shouldn't stand too close to each other then. I think they're making a big deal out of it." You didn't want to come off feisty, but you guessed it went that way for Taehyung as he moved away from you without letting you go.

"No, they're not. They're just teasing." When he said that, it was like he only said it to get near you, to assure you that it was okay to be close to him like that.

"Still cold?" he asked.

"Not so much anymore." You muttered. There were so many questions you wanted to ask Taehyung, but your voice isn't very trustworthy at the moment. You know it will betray you the moment you open your mouth.

"Penny for your thoughts? Why did you want to swim?" His voice was soft, calming as the ocean.

"I wanted to test how warm you can make me, even in freezing water."

He laughs breathily. "Seriously?"

You nod. He wanted to tell you a lot about himself, but like you, he was just as scared. Skinny dipping wasn't really your thing, especially in cold water, so after a few more moments of swimming and small talks with Taehyung, you let yourself dry by sitting next to the tent, keeping yourself busy by viewing all the pictures you took.

It was four in the afternoon, and the sun looked like it was already setting. Time was almost irrelevant at Forks, you wake up and the next thing you know, you're already getting ready for bed. Even though today was quite eventful, the clock still ticked quickly.

Feeling dry enough, you walked to the other side of the beach, Embry had mentioned that there was a cliff nearby along the woods. Though Taehyung was busy drying himself and laughing with the others, he glanced your way as you were heading towards the woods. You lifted your camera so he knew what your motive was, and he flashed a sly smile.

Trees. Cliffs. Birds.

The place could be a haven for the National Geographic Channel.

"I thought the pack wouldn't ever leave you alone like this." A deep voice spoke behind you, his english accent was thick and strong. You were sure that if you turn around, he’ll be ten feet away from you. You regret blinking your eyes, because the next thing you knew, he was right in front of you. His expression with so much thirst, so much hunger. For what?

You only inhaled sharply, first thing coming into your mind, confusion overpowering your nerves. You examined the man before you quickly. Olive skin, dark ruby eyes. His skin was inhumanly shiny, he almost looked dead, but in a mesmerizing type of way. He had dark purple circles, but his eyes were beautiful enough to distract you from it. He mirrored a cement under sunlight, he had fragments of diamonds and glitters on his skin. It wasn't your brain consuming you but his visual, his aura.

"Didn't bring your dog with you?" You weren't sure what he meant. He takes a step forward to lean into your ear, and your feet beg to stay, your eyes staring deeply in his beauty. You were too engaged, everything about him had you in place.

"You smell different from the others. Are you aware of that?" His breath touched your skin and there the exact opposite of heat seeping in your skin. “La tua cantante. I can hear your blood flowing through your veins. I can hear your heart. It's beautiful." He sniffs your neck as he hisses.

He wasn't human, and this time you were sure. He had danger lingering in his eyes, but it dressed so captivatingly beautiful, you found yourself lost.

"It won't hurt, I promise. It will be just a tiny bite, you won't even feel it."

There were words coming out of your mouth, you swore that. But nothing, your mouth still and close. It's sort of like he had power upon you, controlling and manipulating your body to be a mannequin.

"Shh, don't fight it. You won't win over me." His teeth were grazing on your neck, seeking for a soft spot. You were unsure of his nature, what could he be?

An alien from this alien planet? An experiment gone wrong that escaped from a lab, perhaps? Maybe a demon, or an angel. A greek god of some kind?

They were all terrifying.

At the corner of your eye appeared a shirtless Taehyung, but he didn't look like himself. He was red, smoke flaring around his body. His chest expanded by time, and when you felt a small sensation of sharpness on your neck, Taehyung jumped towards the man.

No, it can't be.

This isn't Taehyung. Taehyung was gone. Maybe you were imagining things, but you felt all of them happening in front of you. As the man got distracted, your senses came back, falling on your side from losing balance. You pushed yourself away from the two monsters, as you would describe it. This wolf was huge, enormous. Any man who would try to fight it will easily lose. It stands almost seven foot, three bears wide.

Without trying, the creature had already decapitated the man. You weren't sure how to feel — safe or worried — but you were sure that you are mortified, and your face clearly expresses that.

You were only moving away from this huge thing in front of you, maybe that'll help you escape. But you don't even know if you wanted to escape. A part of you believes that Taehyung is inside that wolf, maybe eaten alive, or a spirit.

So much for the wild coyotes, thanks for the heads up Sylvia.

Your eyes met his. Dark bronze eyes with specks of gold if you look close enough. You could almost see yourself in them, they were that kind. His eyes had a message for you, to approach him, to pet him, that it was okay and he will never hurt you. Before your hand could land on his lowered head, Sam and the others came running to help you, obviously seeing the wolf, but not even being bothered like you were.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Sam helps you stand on your feet.

Sam and the wolf had some kind of connection. Sam stared at it and the wolf left.

"So, wolves are normal here?" you spoke with a weak voice.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, thinking of how he can explain what just happened. You know that he knows something, and he was struggling to tell it.

"Where's Taehyung?" You scan their faces with no sign of Taehyung.

Holy shit! The wolf ate him! you thought. All you want to see right now is Taehyung. To prove himself. He can't be that wolf. The wolf must have eaten him. It is far too impossible for Quileute Legends to be real.

"We should get going before the other cold ones get here." Sam assists you to get back in the tents, completely ignoring your state of bewilderment.

Maybe it's a Forks thing to be mysterious and quiet. It irks you so much that none of them are even acknowledging what happened. This would be a great story for your mom.

Hey, Mom. Just wanted to call to tell you about how great my day was. So Taehyung, right? Aunt's neighbor, really hot guy I'd totally fuck, got eaten by a werewolf. But that's not too crazy, an incredibly beautiful medieval British man held me hostage, telling me he wanted to suck my blood. What a Forks thing! And everybody saw this huge tall wolf, I'm talking as big as a shelf kind of wolf, but they all acted like it was some puppy leaving the scene. Anyways, Mom, I'm traumatized. Going home in a week.

There is no way you can paraphrase that. No way you can make everything happening right now to sound normal at least one bit. This must be normal in Forks, but this is some Hollywood work in LA already. Things like these don't happen unless there was a shoot next door.

"Hey, you okay?" Leah approaches you. Her concern is seemingly genuine.

"I'm alive, guess I am okay. Where's Taehyung?" You don't bother to look at anyone at all, you drive your attention to the waves landing on the beach, hoping you could synchronize your breathing with them.

"Taehyung's fine. You don't have to worry about him."

"I saw him there. He was... he was red! Like he was burning! And... and there was smoke. Then I blinked, then there's a wolf. I swear it ate him!" Leah looked at you with wide eyes, but her lips were shaking trying to hide a smile.

"You're not taking me seriously! That wolf killed that guy! I don't know. He sounded British!" Leah bit her lip. "That was horrifying. I saw its head removed, there was no blood! What was that?" Leah inhaled sharply before looking at you with assurance.

"Can you calm down? The wolf you saw, don't you think it was described like the one in the legends?" Leah almost shouted, yet still controlling her laugh.

"Shapeshifters? Those are legends, Leah! The wolf ate Taehyung!"

She chuckled. "No, they are real," she protested.

"The British man there was a cold one, a literal vampire. Taehyung didn't kill him, he was already dead."

No.

"Shut up, Leah. I know you hate me, but this is no time for jokes."

She laughs harder. "You're right about me not liking you, but I'm not joking. That dark brown werewolf is Taehyung. One and only Taehyung. 20 year-old Taehyung who lives at the rez. That Taehyung."

'The world is darker than you think. It's not always safe.'

Taehyung had already given you clues from the start. But a word from Leah wouldn't be enough to stop your mind from going everywhere. You needed to hear this from Taehyung.

It was twilight already and the group had decided to spend the night in their cabin, instead of the beach. Sam explained that it was for your safety which until now he hasn't elaborated yet. Emily offered newly baked muffins, but it was too late before you could grab one when all the boys devoured around them. You gave Emily a smile.

"You can have the next batch." She shied away.

Emily looks like an average girl next door. She had fringes and medium length hair, they were very flat. Her skin was like the others, tan and healthy-looking. One thing you haven't examined deeply about her were her eyes. Embry had told you once that staring at Emily would bother Sam, and when you first saw her, you knew immediately why. She had a scar on one of her eyes, they looked painful. It looks like a cat scratch, only if that cat was a lion. It covered half of her face, but that didn't stop her from being lovely. She was still pretty in every way.

Taehyung arrives at the cabin, looking at everybody except you, his body resting on the door frame. He was heavy-breathing like he just finished a race. Sam came after him, giving him a small pat then walking towards Emily. Taehyung's eyes remain on the floor. His actions were complicated. You haven't figured him out yet.

"Y/N, Tae, maybe you can talk outside alone." Sam smirks at Taehyung, and Taehyung smiles back.

'This is no time to be smiling!'

Taehyung finally looks at you before leaving the door and you follow. But he still hasn't talked. And your rage is piling up inside you, you finally take a step forward.

"Care to explain what the hell happened there? I thought you were swallowed by that — that thing!" He gulps, stopping his tracks and turning around to see your face.

"I was scared," you muttered.

He totally understood why you were scared. Because he was just as scared and confused as you when he first discovered who he was, and just like you, he chose to deny it in every way he can, and he hoped that denial can make a change.

"You're not supposed to know about this. I didn't want to put you in this position — of knowing what truly there is." His eyes are sad, like he was a missing child.

The same day Taehyung figured out what he was, his eyes looked exactly the same; with fear, agony, and deprecation.

"So, you're a werewolf?" You felt his pupils dilate.

He looked at you in disbelief as if he hadn't given enough clues yet.

"Werewolf. Shapeshifter. Monster. Dog. Whatever you call it, it wasn’t my choice." His voice was weak, almost ashamed of what he had just said.

"And you kill —"

"Vampires." He finishes your sentence before you could assume. "Just vampires. The cold ones? Those that violate the treaty? They’re real." And so the legends were correct and real, and the evidence stands right in front of you, breathing and staring at you.

But no matter what angle you look at him, he wasn't a monster. He is not what he is described in the fairytales. He wasn't a merciless creature, not even harmful. He was just this young boy who lived near you.

"I get that you're afraid of me. Trust me, so am I."

"I'm not scared of you. If it weren't for you I would be bloodless by now." You bit your lip. "But I'm still a little overwhelmed." You gulped.

He had no words, but he was relieved. And you knew that when his eyes twinkled, the kind he gave you when you were jamming to the songs he had in his truck.

"If it's okay for you, I'm inviting you and Sylvia to my birthday tomorrow. It's just a small gathering."

"Will there be drinks?" you kid.

"Sam doesn't really want me taking any drinks for the meantime." He chuckles.

"Why not?"

"He said that I can't be on alcohol during my first six months of phasing. Why? Do you drink?" he innocently asks.

"Was just teasing." You playfully pushed him before proceeding to walk back in the cabin.

Before you even knew it, Taehyung was irrevocably infatuated with you. He wouldn't have thought that a college girl would give a small attention to someone younger than her, or even finding out about who he truly is and still staying by his side. He had spent so much time denying who he was, but maybe being a werewolf isn't so bad after all, if phasing is what it takes to protect you or anyone at all.

You were just like what he thought you would be — kindred spirits.

The party isn’t filled with loud chats and crowds, it is a gathering. Taehyung tried his best to always stand by your side to give you ease in enjoying such an unfamiliar place as Sylvia gets indulged in conversations with the others, completely forgetting you. Every minute though, he'd have to leave you alone on the couch but he'd return as soon as he can.

There weren't much talks between you and him either, only a couple of smiles exchanged whenever Embry and Quil do something embarrassing in front of the both of you.

It seemed as if the night was the longest night of your life, only occupied with listening to others’ stories and Taehyung sipping a punch from his red cup. He had asked a few questions to keep things interesting, but it was hard to keep the mood flowing. You had asked about his hobbies and all the boring stuff you could think of, and surprisingly he would reply with enthusiasm like he have always wanted to be asked those questions. This makes you more curious how his daily life goes, how many people does he actually talk to.

When the hand of the clock drops at ten, you were just patiently waiting for Sylvia to get on her feet and cut the conversation with the others but she seemed to have consumed more alcohol than she could tolerate and the next thing you knew she was laughing like a maniac. You were stuck in a loop circle of smiling so thinly to everyone you get eye contact with.

You distract yourself with admiring the intricate designs of Taehyung's small home, and the thought of a young Taehyung growing up in where you're sitting currently makes your heart jolt. It's uplifting seeing his pictures on the wall, but there was a difference between his smile before and his smile now. One can easily tell which was more true. You had no clue what it's like to be his kind, hell even now you still can't believe what he is. But it sure shows in the way he had changed judging from the innocent photos that hang on the wooden walls. You've never known him since then, yet you wanted to restore this angel-being beaming at the sight of a camera who now hates being in photos because he thinks he's some sort of a monster.

You wanted to ask him about the pictures, the one where he was wearing a towel with a headband, the one where he was framing his face. All of them speak some kind of connection with you, maybe it's your love for photography that makes you feel this way, but innocence is one of the hardest thing to lay your lenses on.

Then you finally got it. What your professor was talking about, drawing something intangible to your camera. This is what he meant. Your gallery is only filled with landscapes, mostly the aesthetic of architecture and nature. Taehyung is what you needed to change the mood of your photos, not the weather, not the dark ambience of Forks, but his story. If only there's a chance for you to grasp his mystery in a single picture, his adventurous smile in one flash.

A pang of pain in your forehead pulls you back into reality, and the lights that stood above you only made it worse. You needed to leave immediately before the pain has you grunting. Welcomed with a wrapping breeze, you brace yourself and regret wearing the dress Sylvia begged you to wear. She said it was her favorite when she was your age, a Prussian blue dress that stops before your knees with tulle around the hem and a lighter blue ribbon on the chest.

Of course Taehyung who sits beside you would notice your leaving, and before you can inhale the fresh air from the porch, he was already asking what's wrong.

"I don't feel so good. I think I'm gonna have to go home alone since Sylvia's still occupied," you said, pushing on your temples with your thumb and middle finger.

"I can drive you home. I don't think they'd notice that we left, they're all pretty wasted." He chuckles, complementing the high tones of the strong wind that travels past your bodies.

"I'm really sorry. I'm being rude, I mean this is your party... your birthday party and you're going to drive me home."

He places the sippy cup on a coffee table near the entrance, and he was palming his pocket to reach for his keys.

"It's fine, y/n. The party's been dead four hours ago and I can't send you home alone. Do you have the house key or should I go back inside and ask Sylvia for it?"

"She gave me a duplicate. I think it's best we go now. My head's really killing me."

It was unusual, headaches. They rarely come to you since you monitor your phone usage and water intake. You hate getting them because you hated taking meds for it, and you just hoped Sylvia would have a stock of it. Your fingers have been roaming your forehead for a while yet you can't seem to navigate where the pain is, where it's beating. It would be better if you could massage it along the ride but you were struggling to even keep your fingers raised.

Taehyung stops the car in the middle of somewhere as you are hitting your head continuously on the head rest. It was quiet, a deafening silence that rang your ears that brought you to open your eyes. Taehyung wasn't in his seat anymore, only fog filling for his place crawling under your skin.

There was your breathing, crickets, and rustles of trees that travel the air. You weren't sure how to react but one was definite, you were scared. The hand resting on your thigh turning white and wet, breathing faster and heavier as the air seems to be corrupted with toxic poison that does nothing but suffocate you.

Don't get out of the car, don't get out of the car, you chant internally hoping it will help your situation.

"Hello, dear," a slinky voice says through the window, almost similar to the man— vampire from yesterday. Could it be? Could there be more? "Don't make me wait, dear. Open the door and make this easy for the both of us, hm?"

It sounds the exact same as the accent the man had with an alluring tone that draws you to open the door. However, it wasn't just her tempting attempt into convincing you to endanger yourself, the pain in your head inflates as you try to control yourself.

"You want it hard, my dear?" She smirks, you weren't sure but you hear the spread of the corner of her lips.

Then she was in front of the headlights, filled with rage, her eyes dark and dangerous as she showed her predacious teeth. From here, you can feel the vibration of her anger as if she had the ability to let you feel all the harnessed emotions inside her. You can count them one by one: anger, vengeance, and the feeling you get before success. None of them were positive emotions, none of them was mercy. She came here to accomplish one thing.

Your death.

Finally understanding it, inside her browbeating eyes were agony and mourning. She was here to avenge the death of the vampire that Taehyung had killed. She was as beautiful, as seductive with her pale skin and ruby lips, curly strawberry blonde hair that flows until her shoulders.

You discovered that there was a split second of slow agonizing memory of your life before it's taken, and you wished there was none. She runs towards you, careless whether she bashes her head into the glass. She takes your neck, her fingers poking specifically at the sides and right before you can regain your breath your eyes open.

Gasping and catching air, awakening in the seat with Taehyung by your side who drives in silence as Midnight Rambler by The Rolling Stones plays from his rusty stereo.

So if you ever meet the midnight rambler

I'm coming down your marble hall

Well, he's pouncing like a proud black panther

Well, you can say I, I told you so

He sits there, unaware of the chaos that repeats in your head. It all felt so real, the grasp on your neck that locks your throat, you could've sworn you've given your last breath. The pain had stopped, replaced by dizziness that you knew would pass as minutes go by.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is there something on my face?"

You shake your head. "I didn't know I was staring."

That's right. You didn't know you were staring. There was so much comfort in knowing he never left, the heat of his presence brings you a feeling of security. It's okay now. Taehyung's still here. By your side.

Once reaching home, Taehyung does his best to assist you as though you were ill. It's cute how he acts that way, so careful, so gentle. Upon reaching your room, Taehyung stops before your bedroom door, almost waiting for an invitation.

"I should get going now. I'll tell Sylvia you felt sick." And before he could say good bye, you're already wrapping yourself in the blankets as he passively makes a step away from your door.

"Taehyung," you said, reaching out. "Thank you for today."

He doesn't turn back. "You're welcome. Also, thank you for coming."

A shiver spreads across your back when your lids start to fall, and your body jolts upwards. The beautiful woman from the early nightmare visits your mind again, her face inches from yours close to ripping it apart.

"Taehyung," you whispered, but he heard you within the thin walls of the lonely house. "Can you... stay for a sec? I... I had a nightmare earlier... felt so real. C-can you?"

He walks back, eyes landing everywhere except your body that waits for him on the bed. Is she serious? he thought as you opened the blankets for a space behind you.

"Until you fall asleep?"

You nod. He kicks off his shoes and he positions himself behind you, both of your breaths synchronizing as he lies down softly. You bury your cheek into the pillow when you feel his warmth wrap the room, the security coming back. You turn your head to see him watching you inches away, his hand keeping his head up as he rests his cheek against it. You take his free hand that lies on his right side, pulling it to your stomach requesting for him to scoot closer until his body brushes your back.

You can stay like this, for longer than you can imagine. Just the sounds of your breaths and the hums of his loud thumping heart that makes its way to your upper back, the release of breath from his nostrils that flies over your hair. Peaceful. Safe and sound.

In his embrace, you forget everything: the packing for Los Angeles, the fear of not getting into any university, the supernatural that you had discovered that you still cannot comprehend, the clouding fear that something is coming to get you. In his arm, it's like they never existed. The worries are nothing but disappearing sea foams, a water in heat that evaporates into thin air.

You enclose the hold in Taehyung's hand above your stomach, intertwining them for ease. Falling back into his embrace, he subtly moves away hoping you wouldn't notice. His warmth turning into heat, breathing ragged, hold on you tighter and stronger. Then you feel it, a gentle thrust behind you and he pretends to adjust position. He pulls you closer with the hand on your stomach and you sigh which caused a poking at your butt.

You may not be the smartest person on earth, but it doesn't take a book to know what it was. Taehyung murmurs an apology, his words passing by your neck which sends your stomach into a spiral. You rub your thighs together hoping to dissipate the throbbing in your core, not now.

Not now that Taehyung's beside you. Or maybe it should be now that Taehyung's beside you, you were open for a helping hand. His hand over your head tucks a strand of your hair, the finger brushing on your temple made your aching much harder to ignore. There would be no distraction, no having to worry about who will hear the both of you, for God's sake the house was built in the middle of nowhere, so you thought 'Fuck it.'

You tug his hand to the middle of your chest, to rest them between your breasts as your head turns to face him. He gulps, looking at you intently with lust hovering over his hooded eyes. You lean towards him, your lips reaching his and he pulls away for a second before diving back in. He had pillowy lips, and if it weren't for your hot need at the moment you would let your lips sleep on them for a longer while, but as of right now there are a lot of tensions that need handling.

You leave his hand on your chest while he's still shy to grope one of your breasts. Your hand then wrapping the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, he sighs. That sigh caused the aching to grow, shaking your behind to feel how needy he was and he sighs again. His hand that was on your chest now pushes below the curves of your breasts to pull you closer, to have more friction, to thrust into you.

Until he couldn't take it anymore, he wants you below him as much as you want him on top of you. He hovers above you, his knee swift in spreading your thighs open and he is bucking in a steady pace on your clothed entrance.

"Take me, Taehyung," you breathe the second he leaves your lips.

He takes it slow, burning your insides, as his fingers pull the bow on your chest, untying the effortless knot you had made in the mirror. Too slow to keep up with your throbbing heat, you trail his hand to open the loose front, exposing

your nude bra. His eyes are pinned on yours, and you would make quick glances at his moderate hand you're directing. You unclasp the front of your bra, and when he hears it setting on the bed, he kisses you as if asking if you were really sure. Beneath the feverish endless kiss were words of fear from him, what if he wasn't truly ready.

The last time he had experienced this was long ago, a time before he knew how dangerous he could be. Careless of what his hands could bring, when he hadn't given a single thought for any of his actions. Well, it was one time, only once with the first girl he had ever loved. And the first was always the quickest, but it was unforgettable, he had kept every detail of her daisy fresh skin remembered under his fingertips. The laughs they had shared in between, a significance of the innocence they were about to lose. His head loses in doubts, questions that can only be answered if he risks hurting you tonight.

Then you whisper, "It's okay, you're not going to hurt me." Because in your mind, that was the last thing in his abilities. You smile, "It's okay." Rubbing circles at the back of his trembling hand, his jaw clenches.

Once he had started kissing you again, you parted his lips with your tongue in which he had replied with a tender bite causing you to moan within your throat. This motivates him to grope your breast, aggressing as seconds pass by, pulling a nipple in between his fingers and you arch your back. You rest your feet on his back, synchronizing with the movement of his hips. You admire the way his head moves downward, stopping after every inch of your skin to place a soft kiss until he reaches your breasts to which he places a long stripe lick moving from one bud to another while his eyes remain on yours. He's going to be the death of you.

You pant, trying to reach his hips that came to a halt. His hands pushing the hem of your dress higher, stopping at the middle of your waist. And his evil slow hands, still taking his time, move behind your thighs to pull them away from his back and placing them on his shoulders as he gets comfortable right between them. With gaze pierced on yours, he flats his lips on your clothed slit, tracing the wet spot visible in your white underwear. The thought of you being almost naked underneath the dress ever since earlier brought Taehyung into insanity, he could've fucked you with his fingers on the couch, he could've removed them and left your pussy out in the open as he keeps it in his pocket, he could've done so many things if only he knew earlier how much you'd wanted him just the same.

You look at the empty ceiling, too affected by the darkness in his stare, you were scared you would cum too quickly if you remain watching. He pulls your garment upward to put his bare thumb against your clit, until you couldn't take it and you look down again to see him putting the said thumb in his mouth. Sweeter than the cranberry juice he'd been tolerating to drink, adding that to the list he could've done earlier while your panties were in his pocket; enjoying the sweet fervor of your cunt on his tongue. He plays at your clit, tongue curling to lap up the wetness that increases as his spit mixes in. He knows so well what he's doing, the fragile scoop of his bottom lip from your opening to your clit where he stops.

Everywhere around his lips glistens as the bright light from the hallway outside your room shines upon them. His hands still holding your thighs steady, he slips his tongue inside you which has you shaking and he had to adjust the control in his grip. Once they've settled, he puts his touch above your breasts, flicking both buds in each hand.

You were crumbling under him, desperate for release, grunting in a throaty voice as you tried to keep yourself together. Tears huddle in your eyes, blurring your vision until he stops, now smiling above you while he pulls your underwear away from your body. It doesn't take long for him to get naked and you take time to admire his build. His skin was made of honey, toned and reflective of the warmth he emits. His cock slapping his tummy before he could fully get out of his tight boxers, his tip reaching his button.

He returns to his position between your thighs but this time around he was the one to wrap your legs around his waist. His shaft falls between your slit and he makes subtle movements in burying himself between them.

"I just want to say," he began, "how amazing you are." A gravelly moan of your name escapes his lips as you take matters in your own hand, thumb going over the head of his cock while the rest of your fingers rest wraps his cock.

He thrusts into your hand. His face forming wrinkles, frustration painted across his face. Until he falls on both arms caging your head, bucking for more friction, enjoying the suppleness of your touch. He was groaning, panting, and making a mess of himself to which all echoes from one wall to another. You put a hand on his abdomen to break his movement. He obeys, feeling you part yourself for his cock, torturously slow in entering you.

You pull your hands to your sides, getting a hold of Taehyung's biceps. Opening your lids to watch his pupils dilate as he rams the rest of his length inside your beating entrance.

"Y/n," he groans, brow knotting together when you clench around him. He's going to fall apart, he thought. You wrap him tighter, letting go of yourself in ecstasy, careless whether you melt into the bed or break it, all is well as long as you're looking into his eyes.

He chants your name again and again in a symphony of continuous moaning, and all you could say is how good he sounds. A compilation of ah's and oh's whenever he reaches your spot, his head brushing against it and it felt like nothing but heaven. More, he wants more, if only he could fuck you endlessly he would. The bed hits the wall in coordination of his sharp thrusts, and he's losing himself in you he couldn't care less if he breaks the walls. In sync with the sounds he makes were your gasps and high-pitched whispers of his name that he can see himself in the near future thinking of them and fucking himself alone in his room as he recalls them.

"Tae— oh fuck, Taehyung," you cried out causing his cock to twitch inside you, you call out for more. His name and a couple of curses were the only words you could spew out. Trembling, you feel an explosion of euphoria inside you, letting go of the tight grip around Taehyung's arm.

With one last fluid thrust, he pulls himself out and spills himself on top of your stomach. Both of your breathing slows until they were no longer audible. He rolls to his back beside you waiting to cool down and you take care of yourself by wiping his cum away with the tissue from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry, I made a mess," he says, breaking silence.

You didn't reply, instead you lie on your side to face him and wrap his cock in your warm hand. His cock still hard and wet under your touch, he breathes out a long sigh. "I made a mess of you too."

He chuckles before placing one last kiss on your forehead, and you watch him fall into his dreams. You shut the door, thankful Sylvia didn't come home during the circumstances earlier. You make a note not to leave it open next time.

Next time? Were you actually hoping for a next time? It's not long until you're leaving. Forks is not your home. Your home is on the other side of the country, and everything you grew up with awaits there. Forks is not your home, you tell yourself. The night grows along with your need for sleep, falling onto Taehyung's chest and getting lost in a slumber. You wake to Sylvia opening the door, an indication of her coming home, and you fall asleep again.

The next time you wake up, the sun shining alight from the windows to your eyes, Taehyung was sitting at the end of the bed fully clothed. His head turns slightly, feeling the sense of your waking.

"Y/n, there's not just one who wants to kill you," he says but you couldn't make out a single word, "there's a whole coven of them."

a/n: happy new year! pls dont take the bella comment seriously. also team jacob ftw!!! also appreciate my banner work owo.this is my first descriptive smut like i actually write them having sex idk i hope yall like it tho :* i love y’all!

#taehyung #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #kth smut #smut #bts smut #bangtan #bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts reactions #bts #jungkook #jimin #rm #jin #hoseok #yoongi #angst

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millers-planet · 3 years

Text

The Vice and the Virtue - Part Two

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x GN!Reader (later established as F following more parts)

A/N: this isn’t my best work. i don’t entirely know where to take this series, ngl.

POV: Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Use of “Y/N”. Angst. Brief desc of gore.

Words: 2.1k

Description: How does one live a life of virtue when past vices begin arising after a successful jailbreak with untied ends?

part one

“Are you serious?” I can’t believe he’s doing this. The second he gets back, too. It makes me question the real value of me to him, if my presence is of any substantial worth. I know that he thinks higher of me, but right now I’m having a hard time believing that.

He sighed and looks back to me, away from him new buddies, “you know why I have to go. I already explained this.” By this point, he’s talking to me as if I am a child, and I am having none of it.

“I know why you’re going and I get that, it’s not what I have a problem with. You aren’t letting me come with you.” I tried to take a step to him, but he backed away, really emphasizing my doubt. “Fine. You left once and didn’t come back for 5 plus years, I’m sorry I don’t want to sit here and wonder when you’re gonna be back again or wonder if I’m going to have to finally move on.” I really didn’t want to have to pull this card, especially in front of his friends, but I will be damned before he walks out that door without me.

Zemo dropped his bags and closed the gap between us, putting his hands on cheeks, knowing it comforts me. “You’re right,” his voice got softer and more warm, “I didn’t think of it that way when I probably should of. I was only wrapped up in the possibility of you getting hurt.” He placed a small kiss on my forehead and nodded towards out bedroom, “you should go pack, and quickly.”

With a furrow of my eyebrows and pushing my lips into a frown, I snarkily replied, “you do realize I was listening to your conversations last night? I already have a bag packed.” With a quick rush, I grabbed my bag that was resting on the edge of the bed.

As everyone was checking their rooms to make sure they grabbed everything, or clarifying one thing or another, Bucky walked up to me. “If you want, I can carry your bag for you, you keep adjusting your shoulder strap.”

With a small smile, I handed him my bag. “Thank you, I really appreciate that.” For some reason, I was thinking previously that Bucky was a middle ground of Zemo and Sam, sarcastic and a little cold, but he seems really sweet. It makes me think that chivalry isn’t completely dead.

Taking a seat next to Zemo on the plane, with Bucky and Sam sitting across from us, the deafening engines began, only muffled as the door sealed itself shut. I don’t remember the last time I was on a plane, let alone on one with him. We used to go quite often on little vacations, dates, or getaways, but stopped once he got busy with ‘work’. Either way, it was nice to be back on one with him, despite the circumstances.

Sam and Bucky looked very uncomfortable, taken aback when people came and served us nearly whatever we wanted. Bucky gave me worried glances when people came up to him and asked him strange questions, to which I helped him out. Zemo and I, on the complete opposite spectrum, got right at home.

A watched him pull out a small book inside another, one that I didn’t recognize. “I’m fascinated by this, I don’t know what to call it but this part seems to be important. Who is... Nakajima?” Before I could question anything, everything switched around. Sam was reaching out, Bucky was lashing forward, and Zemo had a hand around his throat.

With a small mumble, Bucky spoke, “if you touch that again I’ll kill you,” and returned swiftly to his seat. Everything fell quiet and tense, with Zemo glaring at Bucky and him staring at the window, plus Sam just eyeing the two of them. I pulled my knees up to my chest and tried to ignore the rest of the conversation.

All I heard were conversations about Steve, ice, and writing stuff down in the notebook.

“I like 40′s music.” Bucky’s voice was irritated and drained of emotion.

That was, until, I chimed in with “what do you think about Sinatra?”

Bucky shrugged, “A little past my time. I was too busy being brainwashed to really get into him. Have you listened to anything by Nat King Cole?”

I instantly lit up, it was so nice being able to talk to someone about something light-hearted. “Only a few songs, but they were really good.”

“So, you didn’t like Marvin Gaye?”

“I liked it, Sam.” Bucky just responded emptily back to him

“It’s a masterpiece, James-” Zemo began shortly, until I interrupted

“-It’s complete, comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.”

Same looked a the two of us. “He’s out of line, and she’s just smart, but they’re both right. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

Bucky kept the dead tone, “I already said I liked Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

From there, the three of them went on about Steve. I knew brief things about him but I was never caught up in the superhero world. All I understood was that his name was Steve Rogers and that he is Captain America, a super soldier, who was besties with Sam and Bucky. Other than that, I didn’t really care about this Steve guy or the Avengers in general, it doesn’t sit right with me knowing the conflicts Zemo has had with them.

It was slightly cool out with the rain just about to pass through, along with the open bridge and river allowing for more cool air to travel. Changing out of a t-shirt and jeans into a thin-ass top with matching black thin-ass leggings made the air seem ten times as cold.

I walked in between Sam and Zemo, wrapped up in his heavy coat and arm loosely wrapped around my waist. “Only an American would think a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp, you’re fitting in nicely with your alias,” Zemo’s hand dropped from me and handed his phone to Sam. “A sophisticated man nicknamed the Smiling Tiger.”

Sam just sighed. “He even has a bad nickname. But,” he looked closer at the phone, “he sure does look like me.” Zemo took the phone back and returned his arm around me. “Is that acid?”

“Madripoor.” His voice became clearer and dropped. “Whatever you do, we must stay in character, there is no margin for error, our lives depend on it. Over there is High Town, not a bad place if you want to visit. Low Town is the other way.”

“Let me guess, we don’t have any friends in High Town?”

I stopped dead in my track as the car came forward. “Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Everyone turned to stare at me. “Look at that car, who the hell is sitting in the middle of the backseat, I know for damn sure it isn’t me.” I walked forward and sat in one of the window seats in the back as Zemo chuckled and got in the front.

Sam and Bucky exchanged nervous glances, until they began shoving each other like from the other day. As the back door opened, I raised my voice to them, “HEY! If you guys want to fight over middle seat, play rock, paper, scissors. I’m not gonna deal with the two of you bickering the whole time. Best out of three, on ‘shoot’.”

They mumbled the saying each time. First, Sam won. Second, Bucky. Third, Bucky again.

Sam groaned like a child, “Man! I hate this.”

I was hyper-aware of everything going on. Specifically, how many people were staring at me. It was just me with three other men going into a bar full of other men and few women. It’s suffice to say I was uncomfortable, especially since Zemo took his jacket back, so I couldn’t hide away into it. But the quiet mumbles of “is that the Winter Soldier?” put my mind slightly at ease.

The bartender looked taken aback by Sam’s approach. “I wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

Zemo entered quickly, “his plans changed. We have business to do... with Selby.”

“The usual?” Sam replied with a small nod, only to regret it--in his eyes--once everyone saw the eel come out. I had to cover my hands with my mouth to not gag as he took the shot, only for a disapproving look to follow from the bartender.

A hand was place on my shoulder and I instinctively turned around, Zemo following quickly. It was some strange man, “got word from on high, you ain’t welcome here.

“I have no business with the Power Broker. But, if he insists, he can come talk to me or...” he motion to Bucky, “bring Selby for a chat.” The man then took that as his cue to leave.

I turned around, back to the bar, and pushed myself closer to Zemo. “When can we get out of here? When can we meet Selby?”

“Soon,” he muttered, until a hand was placed on his shoulder this time, leading to a glance back to Bucky and a command in Russian.

Buckys metal hand met the stranger, throwing him into the ground. Other followed to him quickly, but the ‘Winter Soldier’ took them out without drop of sweat. Following a broken table and someone being kicked into it, another guy walked up next to us, which seemed like a problem until Zemo pushed him to Bucky, who took care of him. His metal arm wrapped around the throat of another, pushing him into the bar, the sound of guns cocking filling the silence.

“Selby will see you now.”

“You’re taller than I heard, Smiling Tiger,” Selby slowly raised her eyes up to Sam, who kept his face stiff and only spared her a look for a second. She rolled her tongue and focused herself onto me, as I stood behind Zemo’s chair. “You, I don’t think I’ve seen or heard of you. Come here! Take a seat,” she patted the oddly patterned couch as smiled crookedly up at me. As soon as I sat down she pulled me close and let my hair fall into her hand, “I don’t know how he got you to on his hip, what does he pay you?” Her voice was just a loud enough whisper to let everyone interpret, intentionally.

Zemo cleared his throat and stood up, “perhaps we should get back to the deal. I will give you the Winter Soldier,” he motioned to Bucky who kept his face straight, “along with the words to operate him, of course. Only, if you give me information I desire.”

She laughed and let me go, “that’s the Zemo I remember, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right.” Selby shifted more to him and let her head fall into her hand. “The serum is in Madripoor, with Doctor Nagel you can thank or condemn. He was making it for the Power Broker until things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Aww,” she stood up and slowly inched her way toward Zemo. “The bread crumbs you can have for free but the bakery is going to cost you, Baron. And don’t think you can find Nagel without me, either.” Selby opened her mouth to speak, until a phone buzzing interrupted her.

Everyone’s face dropped, except for Selby, who’s lit up with excitement. “Go on, answer it... on speaker.” Zemo’s eyes met mine, when he carefully mouthed, “it’ll be fine.”

“Hello?” Sam forced himself cool, maintaining a flat voice.

“Hey so this situation has got me thinking, about the boat and the bank.” It was a feminine voice on the other end of the phone.

“Ah, the bank.. we laundered so much money.” He glanced around and was clearly anxious by this point. “Yeah, they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out Big Time?” Sam’s face dropped to the cool look again, realizing the other person caught onto the gig, until the phone erupted with, “hey! What did I say about those Cheerios? Sam, I’ll call you back.”

Selby furrowed her eyebrows together and glanced around the room. “Who is Sam? Kill them-” her sentence ended as a bullet puncture through her and body collapsed on the floor. The two standing men were taken out by Bucky and Sam, as Zemo ran to me.

My hand flew over my mouth as I stared at the body. “Is she? She was just-” I quickly started hyperventilating, it was so sudden and I’ve never watched someone die before. “Zemo, she’s dead, oh my god.”

He pulled me into his chest and stood me up, hold me tightly and leading us toward the door. “It will be alright, just focus on me.” He stopped and looked around the room, trying to figure out the plan. “Leave your weapons and follow my lead, we have a real problem now.”

get tagged - masterlist

tags: @mochminnie @multiyfandomgirl40 @darlinloves @mydeathcause @spookycereal-s @hollmarch @tkachuk-dubois @ntlmundy @jillianheidii @blondekel77 @mysticdeerpolice @dexthtoyounglings @anthrogothic @bearbear158

#zemo #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo x you #baron zemo angst #baron zemo fluff #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo angst #marvel #tfatws #tfaws #fatws #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

we are our family, even if we don’t want to be.

Titans 3.07

a bit over halfway through the season, and we still don’t have all of our main characters on the board! i love this show.

as always, typing this up as i watch. live reaction, baby! *shadowboxes*

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. i don’t think i’ve mentioned this before, but i kinda miss the old ‘dc universe’ intro. it was cool! the whole idea of it was wild and waaaaay over-ambitious, but also very very on-brand because of it.

2. this is... the third time we’ve seen dick sleeping this season? that’s a record! checking another thing off my s3 wishlist...

2.5. i guess i rag on titans all the time for its wafer-thin plotting and bad pacing, but i have to admit that this season has been a step-up from the last one in this regard. titans has very reactive rather than proactive protagonists, and a lot of the last season seemed to be: x happened, the team reacted badly, then y happened, they reacted badly, etc. this time around, it’s not a huge leap up by any means, but at least they’re doing something about it.

i do appreciate the focus on character arcs over everything else. and when i say everything else, i mean it: arcs that started two seasons ago with no big cathartic moments, intermittent payoff and multiple relapses. big bads have ranged from interdimensional demons to superpowered assassins to whatever in the world scarecrow is, but trigon’s big weapon against the titans was to... use their worst fears against them. slade’s was to... use their fears to break them up. crane’s is to... use red hood to use their fears to break them up. even the threat of gotham’s citizens being in danger doesn’t feel real: gotham is mythologised into an entity of its own, infecting our heroes like a parasite. like. this is not to say that most other superhero media aren’t big character arcs intertwined with the main plot, but titans doesn’t even make pretend that it’s anything but.

anyway. that’s my entry #2345 to ‘give a grand unifying theory for titans’. thanks. i’ll be back with more.

3. “anger is just fear in a little black dress.” god I HATE HIM

(what’s he doing with barbara’s likeness? oh... oh god. a terrible thought just occurred to me. what if they introduce hush at the very last minute for plastic surgery shenanigans? would you put it past this show?)

3.5. jason, nooooooooo

3.75. i mean, they’re making it very clear here that scarecrow is the one in control--the one who’s always been in control--and is manipulating jason and literally poisoning him, but i hope it doesn’t end up erasing nuance or jason’s autonomy. if jason’s to reckon with the issues that brought him here, then the lines of responsibility will need to be set somewhere.

(this applies to dick as well but more on that later, i guess.)

4. just--the phrase “40% loss of income” is so funny to me. like, gotham is full of these larger-than-life characters who are idiosyncratic beyond belief, colourful and dramatic and creating chaos just for the sake of chaos, and then there’s the regular criminals and their henchmen who just want to make a quick buck sitting down with pie charts and graphs, griping about the joker reducing their returns or debating high risk investments in, i don’t know, two-face’s next scheme.

“yyyyeeeeeaaah, my financial advisor is telling me that going all-in with a guy who literally makes decisions on the flip of a coin is probably not the greatest idea.”

4.5. god i hate smug!smarmy!scarecrow so much

4.85. as big plans to “control” gotham go, it’s pretty bog-standard. clearly scarecrow has some bigger plan in mind but it really feels like we’ve got no clear insight into him and he’s this generic creepy mystery-man who knows more than he lets on and springs a twist/cliffhanger every now and then. i liked the scenes with him and dick in 3.04 where it seemed like he was genuinely on the backfoot and things weren’t going as he predicted. for all of his faults, dick is at least familiar with scarecrow’s bullshit and knows not to give what he wants.

5. i mean... i see where dick is coming from with the “he’s not jason anymore; he’s red hood” because his immediate glaring concern is scarecrow’s drug and the damage it could potentially cause gotham? i do not doubt that it’s something batman drilled into him, too, but when you’re expected to take point on a situation where the lives of an entire city weigh down on your shoulders, it’s better to simplify things and prioritise. i’m not saying it’s great or healthy! gar is absolutely right to consider this facet of the situation. it’s just dick can’t.

6. hmmmmmmm. HMMMMMMMMMMM.

i don’t know that i’m super fond of this iteration of oracle???? it looks like a cross between cerebro from x-men and jarvis from iron man. it’s giving me second-hand embarrassment. somebody help me.

(at least they remembered dick’s middle name is actually “john”. i like to think bruce printed D in that contract because for a while he genuinely thought richard “dick” grayson was his full name. duck duck goose, dick dick grayson, i don’t know alfred, the kid was in a circus, maybe they thought it was funny. or maybe it was a test in anger control, who knows.)

6.5 “maybe you two would like some time alone?” even AI can’t help hitting on dick grayson in this universe.

“oh mr grayson, if i only had another eye to see you better...”

6.8. on one hand, it’s a bit disconcerting that the title of ‘oracle’ has gone from barbara herself to this gigantic machine; from my impression of the comics-verse, barbara had an extensive computing and surveillance system, true, but she was very clearly the brains behind the operation. on the other hand, i’m kind of glad that the ethical boundaries that this kind of surveillance violates is a sticking point for barbara. (tho let’s be real, the nsa would kill to have this in their arsenal).

6.9. also it’s now obvious that scarecrow’s big plan is to take control of oracle itself. it’s why he had lady vic take that picture of her eyes, or why he’s meddling around with it on his computer.

6.95. if only i could ‘command sleep’ anybody overstepping their boundaries re: personal information...

7. “you can just sit back and watch as the titans destroy themselves.” i mean... he’s not wrong

8. “dick’s parents were killed by a criminal mob; he won’t work with them.” it’s wonderful that you have this insight into dick, kory, i just wish we could’ve watched some of these conversations actually happen on-screen.

8.5. i’m glad that kom’s being treated with such nuance and understanding, though it’s obvious that she definitely has a Plan of her own. (and did i entirely imagine her ability to mimic other people flawlessly at the end of s2? or is that going to come into play at some point?) i think her story has the potential to be genuinely poignant, and in a universe where being Different, either because of mental health or physical differences or whatever else, leads a straight line to Evil, it’s important to acknowledge and then emphasise that the mere fact of your existence as a Different Person doesn’t predispose you to evil. maybe your act of destroying a system that has destroyed you and not scrambling to “fit in” is only evil as defined by that system.

8.8. “you’re trespassing, i should call the authorities, i feel unsafe.” now this is a villain lady who’s definitely aware of her privilege.

8.85. kom smirking knowingly at her sister is everything.

“oooh that’s the kory i remember”

9. conner and dick working together woo!

9.25. god i hate a villain who’s always just a step ahead, no matter what. so crane anticipated dick using oracle to track his personal communications and set him up? how did he know when exactly dick would get to do this? how long did he have that poor man tied up in that van?

(the “save me, grayson” is a nice touch, tho. send dick spiralling even further! because if there’s one thing dick will do, it’s take responsibility for every goddamn thing that goes wrong.)

9.5. ahem. i’m going to need a million gifs of conner yeeting dick across that yard, fandom, thankyouverymuch.

(i understand conner is invulnerable to explosions, but how do his clothes survive??)

9.8. oooh crane is already in oracle! i’m just sitting here laughing helplessly because they’re overpowering this goddamned guy so much. he can build a lab in arkham’s basement! he has access to lazarus puddles! he has minions working across gotham, including a fully functional chemical laboratory staffed by chemists who only answer to him! he has the crime families of gotham quailing in his very presence! he has assassins at his beck and call! he’s enough of a manipulative bastard to have red hood under his thumb! and now he has enough of a tech know-how to not only be aware of oracle, but know how to hack into it! i’m sick of exclamation marks! i’ll shut up now!

9.95. dick leaving behind that smouldering grave for a person he failed to save without taking a second to process how he feels about it and running towards his next plan to corner scarecrow: a microcosm of where his head’s at right now.

10. really hammering in the themes of this season, aren’t we.

10.25. the interesting thing is the titans repeatedly call themselves a family this season (none more so than dick) and while that found family has helped encapsulate and put away their traumatic experiences with their ‘original’ families, it’s meant that they’ve not really dealt with those issues. and dick and gar and jason come from ‘found families’ of their own: they are twice removed, traumatised two times over. they still cling to this identity however, and because of it they’re losing each other. a family isn’t static. it’s an ever-evolving dynamic and you have to put in work constantly to keep it healthy.

10.5. anyway, that’s entry #2346. i’m here aaaalll night.

11. lookit gar the detective! half-transforming and using his powers to deduce things! what a hero! i’ve said this for a long time, but gar is the bedrock of this team, and an unsung one at that.

11.25. i’m confused about him calling this room jason’s though. it seems to me that this is dick’s room that jason later used, and one that dick’s using now. so the unmade bed isn’t really jason’s fault; dick was woken by barbara that morning, and in his hurry, he left without making his bed.

(it still confounds me that bruce didn’t find jason another bedroom in that gigantic mansion of his. you really didn’t give this kid a chance, did you?)

12. oh well. so much for the oracle.

13. ... sorry, wait. you didn’t think i wasn’t going to address the bit with dick right now, did you?

12.5. i honestly don’t think it’s very complicated: dick’s been reeling from one traumatic thing to the next, and just when it seemed like at the beginning of the season, he felt happy and secure with his team and his place in the world, bruce ups and leaves gotham to him, specifically naming him a successor and calling him a ‘better batman’. he’s lost garth and jericho and donna and jason and now hank and dawn. he’s not even sure where rachel is or what she’s doing. after being told that batman was a psychopath for moulding him into a weapon, he’s also been told that his failure to be a ‘better batman’ lead to further disaster. of course he’s going to get batman-goggles. of course he’s going to be a prick.

12.8. i don’t know what to say. i feel his frustration acutely. i don’t think he should’ve said what he said to barbara (can people stop pushing her around this season????) but that pressure to step in where your parent fails? to clean up their messes and try to think like them? to fall into habits drilled into you when you developed them as coping mechanisms growing up? I FEEL THAT.

every step he’s taking he’s putting 110% of himself in it and scarecrow’s still playing mindgames with all of them: i absolutely feel his desperation to take control of that game and turn it on scarecrow, no matter what it takes.

and he did apologise almost immediately, and finally--finally--actually works with barbara.

12.9. again, not excusing him! but i get it. and i think that’s a sign of great character writing.

“did you know i just reminded emmram of all of her daddy issues? what the fuck????”

12.95. i love that dick&barbara, kory&kom, and gar are all approaching solving this mystery from different angles, each as valid as the other. also, conner is there as... emergency bomb defuser man?

13. it’s like all fancy rich people in fancy rich houses do is pour fancy rich alcohol into fancy rich glasses on pristine, untouched tabletops. i wonder what it’s like to live like that.

13.25. I KNEW IT! poor michael. it was nice knowing you.

13.5. man, kory is contending with a lot of issues that she’s successfully bottled up and compartmentalised until now. the cold reality that a child can seek out their parents as refuge and they can view the child as a piece to be moved in a greater game (never out of cruelty, though, never, and somehow that makes it worse), that truth of blackfire’s treatment on tamaran because she’s different, and her own culpability in what happened. she exchanged one family for another, after all, and left that family to die and her sister to suffer. like dick, like gar, kory’s being forced to reckon with what the titans are meant to be, the larger implications of creating their found family in their own space.

14. it’s probably because it’s one in the morning and i’ve had two glasses of wine but i did not follow that bit of exposition at all and victor freeze??? what?

anyway. look at them solving things! together! go team!

“you made a deal with the mob?” oh the sense of betrayal on his face! fuck off, dick, your issues aren’t kory’s.

15. conner is really sweet and a bit of an awestruck crush on kom is to be expected. especially after that power rangers-esque transformation (i say this as a former huge power rangers fangirl. i’ve seen every series until 2007 including the original japanese versions and written fanfic for all of them. so i love a cool costume transformation, is what i’m saying.)

also?

FUCK YEAH

16. i love the gotham crime families just chillin’ around eating ice cream. I LOVE THEM

16.5. that was a fun fight sequence, if marred slightly by that bit of awkward flirting between conner and kom. i wonder if she’s really planning to use him in a larger scheme to get kory back to tamaran, or maybe something else.

16.75. so i’m assuming that scarecrow has jason either so paralysed by fear that he can barely move, or jason’s withdrawing from the drug that he’s been sucking in every few minutes.

17. it’s nice to see them chill after a successful mission! and it can be awkward, but conner’s crush on kom and him striving to impress her is also, well, uh... cute.

17.5. i guess the dick/barbara scene was inevitable, especially given the... unresolved nature of their relationship in the flashbacks? and they’ve been through a rollercoaster together this episode, discovering and then destroying an incredible tool within a matter of hours, re-discovering just how well they work together as a team. dick’s swimming in the nostalgia. i don’t expect it to last as a long-term relationship, but i totally get why this is happening now. and hey, they’re cute!

i have a weeeirrrrd feeling that kory is going to leave to tamaran at the end of the season and that dick and kory will rekindle--or rather realise--their relationship just before that. it’s going to be devastating and beautiful and painful and i will be writing essays about it which would be me just wailing into the screen.

18. gar found molly!!!!!!! MOLLY’S BACK! \o/ gar is the BEST

19. that was a fun episode! i love this silly show, even if it does destroy me sometimes <3

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #barbara gordon #koriand'r #komand'r #garfield logan #jonathan crane #conner kent #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

Running to a Standstill - 12

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2104

Rating: E

Warnings: Sex talk and post sex stuff

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers. While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 12

You had been dreaming when the press of Steve’s lips woke you. For a moment you were trapped in this weird in-between state, stuck between sleep and awake where you were simultaneously being chased by faceless beings that seemed to keep spawning more and more every time you got free of one, and snug and warm with a pleasant post-coital ache in your body.

“Honey,” Steve said gently.

You stretched and opened your eyes, looking up at the two large men looking down at you.

“We have to go into work,” Steve whispered. “Didn’t want you to wake up to the bed empty and worry.”

“Oh,” you said, sitting up. “Is it late?”

“Fuckin’ wish it was,” Bucky grumbled.

“No. We need to hit the gym and then there’s a meeting about going forward with the investigation on Madripoor. Plus a few other missions,” Steve explained. “You’ve still got a couple of hours before Pepper said she’d bring Geo down.”

“And there’s breakfast in the oven,” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll see you tonight.”

They headed up to work and you dozed for a little longer. Your life kept changing in major ways ever since you left home. It was like every three to five years the universe decided that things had gotten too predictable and you needed everything shaken up. Sometimes it was good, like starting college. Getting married. The look in your husband’s eyes when you told him you were pregnant. Geo’s birth. Lately, it had been a lot of shit and now that it seemed to have swung back into something good again, you had put on the countdown for when the other shoe dropped and wondered how fucking bad it would be considering how good you felt the potential for this could be.

Because it had the potential to be amazing. Steve and Bucky were actively trying to free you from the terror you’d been living for the past three and a half years. They were fun to be with. They were kind and beautiful and it felt good being with them. You felt safe with them and for the first time in years, you felt like you had room to breathe and open your heart again. Not that there weren’t things you were worried about. You had started to feel a little too comfortable when you’d been living in BedStuy. Looking back at all the people you’d trusted to babysit Geo you couldn’t help but worry. What if one of them had been -them-? What if you’d trusted the very people trying to get him to take care of him?

Of course, that hadn’t happened, but now all you could think was that now you were so close to being that real ‘happily ever after’ kind of happy, you’d trust Geo with a babysitter and they’d kidnap him. Or you’d enroll him in childcare and he’d be kidnapped by someone pretending to be his dad. You didn’t want to just be the stay at home mom, reliant on your new boyfriends to take care of everything, but you knew from experience how hard it was to find jobs that didn’t mind you having a kid with you and there were very few that you could do while in such a high-security building.

You sighed and got up. You’d figure something out, you always did, and lying in bed dwelling on it when your very new boyfriends were trying to be nice and give you some time to sleep in was not going to help.

After a long hot shower, you went into the kitchen to eat. The room smelled of freshly brewed coffee and you found a Monte Cristo sandwich warming in the oven. You poured yourself a coffee and sat down to eat your sandwich. There was a blissful ten minutes where it was just you, your food, and silence when there was a knock at the door.

You got up and answered the door, to find Pepper, as flawlessly put together as she always was holding Geo’s hand.

“Mommy!” He squealed and slammed into your legs.

You laughed and picked him up, cuddling him to you as you let Pepper in. “Hey buddy,” you said. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, mommy,” he replied.

“Hey, Pepper,” you said as she put his backpack by the couch. “Thank you again for having him over. How did you go?”

“Really well,” she said. “There was a little stress at bedtime. He kept asking for you. FRIDAY was the one that calmed him down.”

“I'm so sorry,” you said. “That was his first sleepover. So I guess it was weird for him.”

“It was no problem, really,” Pepper assured you. “He was an angel otherwise. And I knew if he didn't calm down we could call you. He and Tony had a lot of fun building robots and playing with computers. He’s all clucky now. Went to bed asking if we could think about having kids now.”

“Did you and Tony make robots?” You asked Geo.

“Yeah, mommy!” He said excitedly. “Dey’re so cool. I maded fwiends wif dem.”

“That's so great, buddy,” you said, kissing his cheek. You put him down and he went back over to Pepper and took her hand.

“Come. Come. Come see my wegos,” he said, tugging on her hand.

“Just for a little bit, okay?” She conceded, letting the little boy pull her along.

“Can I get you a coffee?” You asked as Pepper took a seat on the couch and Geo began pulling out all his favorite lego creations.

“That would be great, thank you,” she accepted. “Just black.”

You went into the kitchen and poured the last of the coffee into one of Steve’s grey mugs. “So are you on board with the whole having kids thing?” You called out to Pepper.

“Oh, god,” Pepper called back. “I don't know. It's never even come up before and I was always career above everything. This might just be a passing phase so I’m not going to give it serious thought unless he hyper focuses on it.”

You brought out her cup and handed it to her, handle side first. “Thank you,” she said. “Enough about me, anyway. Tell me; how was last night?”

You smiled and sat down to the breakfast Bucky - your new boyfriend Bucky - had made you. “Good. A little emotional, but good. We had a nice time.”

“So you think it’s going to work? The three of you like that?” Pepper asked as she helped Geo build something.

You shrugged. “I know I like them. I know they’re good people. But if we’re going to get into talking about my belief that anything will work out for me, it’ll probably end up being a very dark conversation.”

Pepper frowned and looked over at you. “Well you are right,” she said. “They are good people. If you’d ever told me Steve would try out -” she waved her hands around her head “- I wouldn’t have believed it. But the fact he has… is… means he’s serious about it.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, he doesn’t go into things half-heartedly.”

Pepper laughed. “You can say that again,” she drained the last of her cup and stood up. “Alright, Geo, I have to go to work. Fortune 500s don’t run themselves.”

Geo stuck out his bottom lip. “Aww…” he whined.

“I know, little one,” she said. “I had fun too. You’ll have to come to have a sleepover again sometime.”

“Yeah,” he said, bouncing in his seat.

She chuckled and ruffled his hair as you stood up to walk her out. “Thank you again,” you said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, any time,” she said. “It was really fun, and I did like seeing Tony go full dad. If you’d like to have another night off let us know.”

You smiled and opened the door for her. “Thank you.”

Pepper stepped out and paused, turning back to you. “I know you haven’t been getting out on your own since you moved in. If you want to borrow some security, let me know. I can send Happy down. You can trust him, he’s basically family.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Pepper. That would actually be amazing,” you said, though your heart felt heavy. This whole Avengers thing was getting too good and that sword hanging over your head was beginning to look extra sharp.

Happy had come down just after lunch and he’d escorted you and Geo out. He took the job seriously, which you appreciated. It made you feel safer. Not to mention he was even jumpier than you. So when you went into the library after spending some time playing in the park with Geo and you became acutely aware that someone was following you, Happy was quick to believe you.

“You see them right?” You said as you pushed Geo down the hall in his stroller toward the children’s section.

The guy who you had originally noticed hanging around the carousel had been trying not to be noticed as he kept his distance and followed you into the library. He was now browsing a rack of fliers for local exhibitions and tours of the city and he was doing his absolute best to not make it look like he was watching you. Happy guided you around the corner. “Alright. So… we won’t make any sudden moves. You go get books like you wanted. I’ll call the boss. I don’t want to try and chase him off and then have someone else come from another angle and grab you or the kid.”

You nodded. “Stay close.”

Happy put his hand on your back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled out his phone and started tapping out a message as you wheeled Geo over to the open area where they kept the picture books. He started wiggling in the chair and fumbling to get the straps that held him down off.

“Hang on, buddy,” you said, crouching down. “What’s the rule.”

“Stay cwose, where I can see you,” he said.

“Okay, good,” you said, kissing his forehead. He ran over to the rack of large picture books and pulled the biggest one he could find down before sitting down and opening it up. You stayed close to him and Happy stayed close to you, still tapping away on his phone. You could see the guy on the other side of the children’s section, but the library security was already eyeing him as he was alone in the children’s section.

“Alright,” Happy said, speaking quietly and slipping his phone back in his pocket. “We’re going to check some books out and go out the lion entrance. Tony will be waiting.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Happy.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Happy said. “I’m a professional.”

“Alright, Geo,” you said. “Pick your books, buddy.”

Geo began to load books at random into the stroller making Happy laugh as the pile got bigger and bigger. “Okay, sweetie. I think you have enough,” you said.

You checked the books out and Happy led you back outside. “See the car stopped over there?” Happy asked. You nodded without breaking your stride. “That’s for us.”

You approached the car with Happy and Tony stepped out of the back of the car. The bright blue polygon that indicated that he was wearing the bleeding edge armor sat in the middle of his chest. “Mommy,” Geo said excitedly. “Fwiday’s here.”

“I know, baby,” you said as you approached Tony.

“Hello, dear,” Tony said, kissing your cheek. “Into the car.”

You nodded and started loading Geo into the back. “Where is he?”

Happy looked around, but the guy who was tailing you hadn’t exited the building yet. You got Geo safely into the back and went and put the stroller and books into the trunk. The guy came out the front door, spotted Tony, and quickly turned and ran back in.

“There!” Happy yelled, pointing to where the guy had just disappeared. “He saw you.”

“Right,” Tony said tapping the casing on his chest. “Get her home. I’ll see if I can find him.”

The armor bled out over his body and Happy hustled you into the back of the car. You buckled up as Happy jumped in the driver's seat and Tony took off in the direction of the library.

“Don’t worry,” Happy said. “We’ll get you home, safe and sound.”

You nodded again, but as you held Geo close to you in the back of the town car, you doubted that you were ever really going to be safe again.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x steve rogers #bucky barnes x steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #captain america #the winter soldier #captain america fanfic #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #stucky #stucky x reader #running to a standstill

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im-the-punk-who · 4 years

Note

Hi! I’m new to the fandom and I’m simply curious (not trying to start a feud or anything), why don’t you like Steinberg?

Hello dear anon! And welcome to the fandom!

Oof. That’s a question. xD

I’m going to try and stay as uh. neutral as possible. Because I’ve already written the post I know I failed but, the intent in answering this is also not to start a feud or hurt anyone’s feelings.

Okay, so I got fairly negative in this chilis tonight, so I want to start by saying that even in light of the opinions I’m about to express, Black Sails is one of, if not my number one, favorite TV shows of all time. Certainly in recent memory - I’ve been hyperfixating on this show for 18 months with no sign of stopping, and I have a tremendous amount of respect for everyone who worked on the show - even Steinberg. (The one exclusion is Michael Bay, he can go twist.)

AND I think Stienberg is an incredibly talented writer. Black Sails is one of my favorite shows because it does such a wonderful job of weaving stories, creating characters, and melding things in a way that is both unexpected and makes sense narratively. I have changed as a person because of the show, and they will have to pry James McGraw and Thomas Hamilton from my cold dead knives-attached-to-them hands. None of what I’m going to say is meant to detract from that.

I will also say that a lot of these issues are not particular to Steinberg and are in fact a systemic problem with American TV + Film. And I’m not leaving Robert Levine out of my criticism, it’s just that Steinberg had the biggest hand in the pot(he wrote a full half the episodes) and a lot of what I’ve heard as far as talking about the show comes from Steinberg. So, he gets the brunt. But it isn’t that I think Steinberg was the only problematic element of the show.

Also, these are all my opinions and are colored by how I interact with my fandoms. I am not only a fandom veteran, but I work and pretty much live in the entertainment industry. I work in indie film and theatre and am surrounded by artists and creators of all walks of life, like, constantly. I know what is possible, and when I see something that can be improved, I want to note it because it is important to me to always be striving forward. Like Miranda says about Thomas, this isn’t out of malice, or out of hate. It’s because I genuinely love this show, and I love entertainment as a whole, and I think in order to get to a better, more inclusive industry we have to have hard conversations and look critically at the media we consume, and it is frustrating to me to time and again see the same faces in the room.

But if that isn’t your cuppa, that’s fine! Fandom isn’t meant to be stressful and if all you want to do is watch a show about gay pirates that is your tomato and I applaud you. Have at it you funky motherfucker.

OH! One more. At some point I’m going to talk about Silverflint. When I do, it is NOT meant as a ‘you shouldn’t/cant ship this’ or ‘this pairing is bad’ or any negative attack on the people who ship that pairing. My criticisms in this post are exclusively about what it means for Steinberg as a writer and Black Sails’ representation of gay and mlm men. While it’s not my cuppa, this is a sail your own ship blog.

OKAY! SO!

My main criticisms of Steinberg & Co boil down to:

The homozygosity of the writers and directors shows a complete lack of desire to include marginalized people in the writing of a show that is about them. Which leads to:

The centering of white men while choosing a historical setting and time period that was in fact dominated by people of color and specifically a black woman,

The gratuitous inclusion of violence against women, particularly sexual violence, and again, that the female characters are often sidelined for the central male characters.

SO.

Black Sails is a show centered around queer, female, and black leads, and yet there were only two non white-male directors (one bi-racial man and one white woman) and only 7 female writers - one of whom was Latina. The entire rest of the major creative staff was white men. I’m not going to comment on sexualities but none of the writers or directors are out as queer according to a quick google search.

Let me reiterate the important bit there.

In Black Sails, where the last two seasons specifically feature around a real, actually-happened-in-history event that shaped black history in the Caribbean, there was not a single black writer on the entire show.

This is the main difference between inclusion for inclusion’s sake, and actually centering marginalized voices. Black Sails has a ton of gay, POC, and female rep in front of the camera but practically zero representation behind it, which leads to storylines and implications that Steinberg and his writers, as white men, simply would never realize.

It’s like why Silver and Miranda never realized the true reasons James was waging war on England. They just did not have the life experiences to realize they were missing a piece of the puzzle, and so they filled in their own without even realizing they’d done so.

Because no one in the room of Black Sails was a part of these marginalized identities, nuances get lost or mistranslated, motivations get muddled through a white man’s gaze(or a straight person’s) and implications that someone within those communities might think is obvious won’t even come up.

And again, because there were no writers or directors of color in the last two seasons (the biracial man directed episodes 2x02 and 2x04 - WHICH MAKES SENSE IMO) the entirety of the historical lore that the show bases itself on in its latter half is filtered through a white man’s lens. And so there is no discussion of how changing something changes the meaning, how leaving someone out or changing their role to be more minor might affect people for whom that is their heritage. How the entire story they’re telling might change with one simple exclusion or addition.

So, how does this relate directly to Steinberg, you ask? Well, simply, because it was his show.

Steinberg(and Levine) were involved in every major decision about the show, from its conception, to the script, to choosing the writers and directors. They chose how they wanted the show to look, to think, what stories to tell and how they wanted to tell them. Their decisions(and the biases that formed those decisions) are woven into the show.

And look. I don’t for a second believe any of this was willful or malicious. I don’t think that John Steinberg and Robert Levine sat down one day and said ‘you know what would make the gays really angry? If we locked the only two canonically gay men up in a prison camp.’

But the decisions that were made in the show were based in ignorance in a way that shows more than just simple negligence or laziness(especially given the attention to detail in everything else). The things they leave out or change in the Maroon War plotline for instance are not small details easily missed. They are big, giant waving flags. They are things that are irreplaceable to still have the same events and stories and tell them respectfully.

It shows an insane amount of privilege to, for instance, write a show airing during a time when the Black Lives Matter movement was at the forefront of the American conscience, include black characters and black storylines, and yet not include a single black voice on their creative team.

In a show that centers a gay man’s love and his journey in attempting to process the horrible things done to him and his lover because of it, we are given just forty minutes of the entire show dedicated to their relationship - and just fifteen of those minutes actually feature the lover!

(Relatedly, the entirety of the gay romantic rep is two kisses, and a forehead touch. That’s the entirety of your gay intimacy representation. And yet there are in the first two seasons alone - because that’s all I’ve clocked so far - something like twenty seven minutes of scenes involving a naked or half naked woman. Five minutes of that is explicitly wlw sex.

Again, I just want to reiterate this because it’s important in recognizing bias.

There is fully twice as much female nudity in the first two seasons, as the entirety of the time the two gay characters have together on screen. )

Steinberg is a perfect example of how a lack of understanding why the diversity you are representing is important, matters. I dislike Steinberg because he, just like every other straight white cis man I have known, profited off of marginalized voices without including them or creating with them in mind.

Art does not exist in a vacuum. You cannot create something - especially something as back breakingly, intensely a labor of love as Black Sails - without putting several pieces of yourself into it. But those pieces color your narrative. They will expose things about you that you don’t even realize. And it’s in these places we are weakest, and why a diverse group of writers with a diverse group of experiences can help a piece be stronger. But for whatever reason, John Steinberg thought that he could make art with only people who looked and thought and experienced like him.

The lack of representation behind the camera in Black Sails was evident in front of it and yet Steinberg is out here getting to pretend like he created the most inclusive groundbreaking show that ever existed. It is important to me, personally, to acknowledge that. And that it kind of makes my skin crawl in the way all media made by straight white (cis)men makes my skin crawl. I wish I didn’t have to feel that way about my favorite tv show just because it was created by a man of privilege, but here we are.

SO. I hope that helped? Feel free to take what you want and leave what you don’t!

Below the cut is a more in depth look at things that I think show what I’m talking about, but that up there ^^ is the gist. <3 |D

SURPRISE!

The Maroons and the Maroon War

So the first thing I want to point out is that the Maroon War was a real thing that happened. It lasted ten years, and resulted in the most substantial victory the Maroons ever achieved against the British. Not only that, there was in fact a KICKIN’ badass female leader of the maroons named Queen Nanny, who is to this day honored as a national hero in Jamaica. While they weren’t able to drive the British out, the outcome of this war led to a mostly self-governing Maroon population in Jamaica from the mid 1700s on. This was a long term fight that had a very tangible and real outcome, even if it didn’t end in the destruction of colonialism.

And what is this war turned into in Black Sails? A white ‘madman’s revenge’ that is doomed to failure after six months.

That, my dear pirates, is a problem for me. (And those familiar with my brand of spiceyness know that I do not ascribe to the ‘Flint is a Madman’ trope, but that IS what Steinberg ascribes to, what he seems to have written the show thinking.)

There was no narrative reason to include the Maroon War in the narrative of Black Sails. The Maroon War didn’t happen until a decade after the Golden Age of Piracy, and aside from Silver’s wife being a black woman there is no mention of Silver ever having contact with them. To me, this feels like the choice of a showrunner who found a cool historical event and saw a chance to up the stakes of their white male heroes while getting in some sweet sweet POC rep.

Except that they then took the major events of the Maroon War and gave them to their white characters, Flint and Silver.

Here’s the thing. If you’re going to take a piece of culturally important history and use it for your show, you NEED to have sensitivity writers. You need to have people who are at least familiar with those events and who care about them to do them justice. Have an expert come in and read your script or go over your ideas. Or just like. Hire a black writer. Hire ONE black writer. As a treat.

The important Maroon figures, Nanny, Cudjoe, and Quao, all get sidelined or ‘sexified’ and then used as plot points for the white characters. Nanny gets split into two women - the older mother queen and Madi, the young naive warbent visionary. Quao(Mr. Scott is the closest, or Kofi possibly) gets killed off because the writers realized they didn’t exactly have a place for him in their writing. Cudjoe(Julius) gets a few scenes and one good speech but his entire role in the war gets given to Silver. And THEN. That sexy Queen Madi figure gets used as emotional bait for Silver and then has to learn he has betrayed her and destroyed the hope and freedom she had wanted to bring to her people.

Gross, pirates. Gross.

Anne Bonny/Max/Mary Read - a heads up, this section includes a semi in-depth discussion of both Max and Anne’s sexual assaults. If that bothers you, the paragraphs talking about that begin with a ***

COOL NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT LESBIANS. Words my 20 year old self would never have imagined coming out of my mouth.

Specifically, I want to talk about Max, and Anne, and their backstories both involving extreme sexual trauma at the hands of men. And then Mary Read and the once again sexification of female characters.

(Actually while I’m here another criticism I have of Steinberg is that his writing does not seem to recognize how queer people existed in the past - again, likely because he didn’t have any gay historians to be like ‘actually buddy that doesn’t make sense also why is Anne not dressing as a man? If you want to fuck with anything and insert modern day terminology and ideas into this show, make her non binary and REALLY piss off the hetties.’)

(This same ficitonal gay dramaturg who is definitely not me has also questioned John Steinberg repeatedly about where Mary Read is, unsatisfied with the answer ‘well we wanted her to be hot so we made her a sex worker and then had Anne have to rescue her but then we realized it would be weird not to include her actual character so we gave her a five second cameo at the very end of the series and also made her like 13.’)

Anyway! So my main point in bringing up Anne and Max is the sexual trauma they are exposed to in the show, particularly being that they are the two primary wlw in the show, who Steinberg has said he views as being completely gay, and what THAT whole unexamined idea looks like.

***Max. My dear Max. There was literally no reason to have her be repeatedly r*ped(and for the love of god there was even less reason to make it that gratuitous and graphic). Max being assaulted like that did not add anything to the gravity of Eleanor’s betrayal. The traumatic event was being tossed aside by Eleanor, and that could have been just as emotionally damaging without the sexual assault. And the only reason for her to be continually assaulted was to bring her and Anne together.

***The reason imo that Max’s r*pe plot was added was because it was the only thing these white straight men could come up with that felt emotionally damaging enough to them. The act of betrayal itself wasn’t enough, the act of being thrown away, of having a lover put your life in danger because of her own ambitions wasn’t enough, they needed her to be r*ped to really drive home the point.

***Anne, on the other hand, is never shown being sexually abused, but we are given an explicit account of her own traumatic history and how Jack saved her from this vile beast who was passing her around to his friends.

But here’s the thing pirates - that never happened. According to every account we have of Anne Bonny, she chose her husband, and married him against her father’s wishes. They were probably relatively happy until her husband started being a pirate spy and Anne started cheating on him with Jack.

And yes, when they were found out. Her husband had her beat. That’s not fucking cool, and if they really wanted to go the damsel in distress route they still could have had Jack ‘save’ her from that. But at no point was she sexually abused by her husband(at least not in any accounts I’ve read.)

You know who did likely sexually abuse her or at least manipulate her and Mary for his own benefit? If you guessed our Rat man Jack Rackham, you would be correct, because when he found out about Mary and Anne’s (supposed, but probably real) relationship, it’s implied he extorted both of them into fucking him to keep their secret from the crew.

The addition of sexual abuse to Anne’s past isn’t done to be true to her character and was in fact explicitly untrue. Now of course I don’t know the reasons why they chose to do this, but I can guess. Just as with Max, the most traumatic thing a male writer can think of for a female character is for them to be sexually abused.

And the most disturbing part of this to me? The parallels it has to the real world of why straight men think lesbians exist. These characters who would be called man haters in present day are given these incredibly traumatic man-centered histories. It brings up something very uncomfortable in me about particularly wlw sexuality being viewed as a reaction to trauma at the hands of men. It’s just gross, I dont like it, and honestly there is no fucking excuse for it besides a room full of white straight men writing this bullshit. A room that Steinberg chose, because they fit his ideas.

In Fact heck, the women of Black Sails in general

***I honestly struggle to think of a single female character who I think was treated fairly in Black Sails. Miranda and Eleanor are killed for taking sides and not understanding their partners, Madi is betrayed in the worst way possible, Max is given a pseudo empowering ending but has that fucking terrible start. Idelle ends off fairly well, but tied to a man she may or may not have any actual feelings for, in what is essentially a political marriage. And Anne has her entire identity tied to a man who will be dead in two years as she is robbed of any agency whatsoever without him. (Oh, and the whole r*pe thing. And also her support for Max’s r*pe or death until she started having fee-fees. Who wrote this stuff. >_>)

Even though the characterization of each and every one of these women is PHENOMENAL - and again I will repeat that I absolutely LOVE these characters as they exist in a vacuum. I think they are well rounded, real, feeling people given motivations and drives and FEELINGS and they SHOW THEIR ANGER and i LOVE THEM.

But the show punishes them for it. Miranda is essentially fridged to move Flint’s storyline along, and to make room for Silver. Eleanor is killed for the emotional damage it will cause Rogers. Madi is placed at the center of a conflict she explicitly says she is willing to die for and then not only is her entire cause taken from her, but when she tells Silver to fuck off he - in possibly the most predictable white man move ever - says ‘no i will stay until you change your mind. I will never leave you. I don’t care about your choice in this matter, I will wait forever for you. I’m your biggest fan. I’ll follow you until you love me. papa, - paparazzi.’

And I touched on this before, but I want to talk in more detail about what is possibly my hottest take to date, the sexification of Mary Read and Queen Nanny, as they are presented in the show.

Max is to Anne what Mary Read is, historically. She is the lover that Jack Rackham discovers with Anne, and then he joins them in their bed. They form a triumvirate that upholds Jack at the expense of the women. But for some reason, Steinberg didn’t want to just include Mary Read as an actual character. For some reason he needed to make Anne’s love interest a sex worker who was in need of saving (and who, coincidentally, we never see working the brothel after she becomes lovers with Anne, because she is now a madam. :) Gross.)

And Madi. My dear sweet fucking Madi who didn’t fucking deserve any of this bullshit send tweet.

So, historically, Queen Nanny was the Queen, spiritual advisor, and the military tactician of the Windward Maroons. She would have filled both Madi and the Queen’s character roles(and Flint’s, but who’s counting. A BLACK GAY LEAD? Inconceivable. I digress.) But, I guess, because they were wishy-washing with Silver’s sexuality or felt they needed to give him a female love interest because of Treasure Island, or because they were leaning a bit too hard into the gay shit and needed to backpedal, they took Queen Nanny and split her into a character who is for all intents and purposes powerless in the war and Madi, who is young and naive and does not have any real world experience outside of the Maroon camp.

Because that’s sexy, or something. They could have had the Maroon Queen be a fucking badass lady who works and fights alongside Flint and Silver and one ups them and teaches them shit and has her own ideas about where the British can stick it, but instead they made her into the perfect caricature of a female monarch, letting the big strong men handle the dirty work or something. Because white male power fantasies.

Just let women be powerful and not nubile and let them have character arcs over fucking thirty and let them be CENTERED in their own. fucking. narratives.

God damnit Steinberg.

James Flint, mlm extraordinaire

Oh, my love. My most amazing child. The light of my life. My purest cinnamon roll.

~~And now we’ve come to the dreaded Silverflint criticism part of our programming. Please please know and remember this isn’t a criticism of people who ship Silverflint. As I said up top, Your Tomato Is Not My Tomato and that’s cool. Please don’t take this next part as an attack on Silverflint as a fandom ship.~~

My criticism of Steinberg as it relates to Flint is related to:

What a romantic/sexual relationship with Silver being the basis of the tension and plot means for Flint in particular as a gay or mostly mlm man.

Refusing to confirm Thomas and James being alive at the end and honestly the whole finale in general but like I’ll try and focus.

The major problem I have with Silver and Flint being coded as in love with each other is the implications there in terms of gay men’s relationships to other men.

From every corner, men are inundated with the idea that any close relationship between them must be gay. That intimacy cannot exist unless there are sexual feelings involved. That a relationship cannot be close, deep and soul shattering and life altering, unless one guy secretly(or not so secretly) wants to bone the other dude. That two men cannot value each other as partners or friends or truly know each other unless they are gay.

Seeing both of the meaningful relationships Flint forms with other men be sexually coded feels a bit the same way as Anne and Max’s sexual assault plotlines does vis-a-vis being wlw. (Even with Gates, Flint never spoke about Thomas or his plans - Silver is absolutely the closest person to Flint besides Thomas and Miranda.) And this is just as true for Silver. Having both Flint and Madi - the two people he trusts - both be people he’s in love with also just feels. I don’t know.

It feels like a confusion between male intimacy and male love that is so so familiar to me as a gay man I could choke on it. Where they wanted these men to have a deep and really lasting connection, but could only figure out how to do it if they were in love. Friendship wouldn’t have been enough - only romantic and sexual love is enough for the gay man(or men, at all).

Just because it isn’t queerbaiting doesn’t mean it’s good rep, and I would have liked to see truly deep male friendships that did not center on sexual attraction - particularly for Flint as a confirmed mlm(and Silver too, if you’re counting him. The same arguments for why I dislike Flint being paired with Silver are also true in the reverse.)

Even if both Flint and Silver were confirmed mlm I still would have LOVED to see a platonic relationship between them. In fact I would have loved that EVEN MORE. Men! Who fuck men! Not needing to fuck each other to be important to one another! Who made this. Very delicious.

But because there weren’t any queer writers on the show, writers who understand this kind of struggle that gay and mlm men face, they thought ‘oh, let’s also have them be in love with each other. More gay rep is better gay rep, right?’ False. THOUGHTFUL gay rep is better gay rep.

Okay and here’s my last thing. The fact that Steinberg refuses to say whether or not the explicitly mlm men are alive at the end of the show - that the words he specifically uses are ‘up for interpretation’ is. Fuck, it’s gross, okay? It’s fucking gross.

I have been around enough men, enough people in power, enough people with leverage who also know how to play the field, to know that when someone wants a group’s support but does not agree with them, their go to phrasing is that it is ‘up for debate’ or ‘up for interpretation.’

Say the gays are alive. Steinberg refusing to acknowledge the reality of the ending of his show to maintain his own sense of artistic integrity is what, honestly, really sets me off about him and I don’t care if this is a nuanced take.

Like yes, death of the author. I honestly don’t care if he thinks they’re dead or alive. What I care about is that he thinks he can get away with being clever and leaning hard into a story is true/untrue’ - doesn’t realize what the implications of that are, and didn’t when he was writing, and didn’t have anyone else in the room who would think about it either.

ANYWAY. So this is....my long drawn out explanation for why I do not like Steinberg. Uhhhhh tune in next week for more of my totally unpopular opinions!

#good....fucking lord #i am so sorry #how many opinions can milo fit in one post #i mean i have more but yknow lmao #black sails #behind the black sails #milos black sails meta #long posts #my increasingly devoted attempts to find tumblrs word limit #Anonymous #john steinberg #js critical but the js is jon steinberg

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fanaticfangirl001 · 3 years

Text

Like Real People Do Ch 5: An Assassin, A Terrorist, A thief, and A Bird Walk Into Madripoor

Taglist:

@p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922

Ch 5:

Author’s note:

“I’m going to go in alone.” Bucky turns to Winnie and Sam.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Bucky does have a better chance of getting answers.” Winnie adds.

“Also you’re an Avenger. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky says.

“It’s not like you two are known for frolicking in the sun together.”

“Zemo would be a good informant though, Sam.”

“He was obsessed with HYDRA. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.” Bucky walks off to speak with Zemo.

Sam turns to Winnie “ Why aren’t you volunteering to go in with him?”

“I can’t, I doubt Zemo likes me much.” Winnie scoffs.

“Right, SHIELD.”

“Yeah.” Winnie nods hoping Sam drops it.

“So.” Sam changes the subject, “ You were kind of out of it when I mentioned Sharon.”

“I said then that I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“How about now?”

“Look, right before Shield fell I found some documents connecting the dots.I saved them to a flash drive and drove my ass home to the apartment Sharon and I shared. I tried to tell her, she got defensive, we got in a fight. She claimed I was a part of Hydra. I called her a bitch and left.” Winnie explains.

“That’s rough.”

“Yeah, I don’t see us working it out. “

“There’s always couple’s therapy.” Sam suggests with a laugh.

“Oh right, how’d that session go?”

“Got to stare into his baby blues.”

“Did that help?”

“No.”

“I could do better than that.”

“Oh I bet he’d like that.” Sam smirks.

“Not what I meant.” Winnie rolls her eyes.

“What are you talking about breaking Zemo out of jail? Where the hell are we Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam asks.

“That’s a fantastic idea, Buck.” Winnie says sarcastically.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.”

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars.”

“That Bucky wants to let out of those bars.” Winnie sidesteps by Sam to avoid tripping.

“We also have eight super soldiers on the loose.”

“Shit, he’s gotta point, Sam.”

“Zemo is gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours.”

“He also probably doesn’t like me either.” Winnie adds rubbing the back of her neck.

“Offense, super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy but he still has a code.”

“How crazy?” Winnie asks.

“Bag of cats.” Sam answers.

“He blew up the UN, killed King T’chaka and framed you for it.” Sam continues.

“We don’t know how they’re getting the serum.”

Bucky says.

“We don’t even know how much serum is out there.” Winnie replies then adds “ Or who put it out there in the first place.”

“What did you do?” Sam asks.

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky says calmly.

Winnie takes a deep breath and puts her hands on her guns. If Bucky did what she thinks he did, then it’s only a matter of time before shit gets real.

“The weakest point in any system is not the software, the hardware, it's the meatware.The human element…” Bucky continues.

Three seconds to draw, two seconds to fire, three seconds to draw two seconds to fire, Winnie thinks over and over.

“I don’t like how natural, you’re being about this, and where are we, man?”

More lights fill the area and a door opens.

“Woah Woah Woah, What are you doing here!”

“I didn’t want to tell you cause I knew you’d never let this happen.”

Winnie follows the two with a gun in hand.

“What did you do?”

“We need him, Sam.”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may..” Zemo starts.

“No!” Both shout.

Winnie stands besides them with her gun pointed at Zemo.

“Apologies.”Zemo says softly then looks at Winnie.

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you back him.” Bucky continues.

“I really think I’m invaluable.”

“Shut up.” Sam turns to Zemo.

“If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.” Sam says to Zemo.

“Fair.”

Zemo turns to Winnie and says “You’ve been very quiet. Penny for your thoughts.”

“Don’t let him mess with you.” Sam says as Winnie puts her gun back in the holster. “Okay, Zemo, where do we start.”

“So our first move is grand theft auto?”

“These are mine, collected by family over the generations.” Zemo starts collecting his things out of the cars.

“Nice wheels.” Winnie gestures to a vintage cadillac.

“So she speaks.”

“Leave her alone.” Bucky says.

“I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention of leaving my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started.”

“First stop is a woman named Selby.” Zemo says carrying his bags away. “Mid level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.”

Walking up to the private jet, “ So all this time you’ve been rich.” Sam asks.

“I’m a Baron, Sam.” Zemo says as the four climb on the jet, “ My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.”

Zemo drinks the champagne his butler serves him.

“It seems like you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name, and if I had known such a treasure would be with those two idiots, I’d escape sooner.” He says to Winnie.

“She’s Winnie, she’s a hacker. That’s your introduction.” Bucky says gruffly.

“ A hacker...interesting.” Zemo sips at his champagne.

“Not really.”

“Oh no, it is. You’re not with an agency, I guess.”

“No.”

“No health insurance or dental, no pay check.”

“None of that.”

“Do you live in a house?”

“Yes.”

“With no income?”

“Yes.”

“Must have a wealthy family?

“No, I’m an orphan.”

“Then pray tell how you get paid.”

“Easy, like Buck said, I’m a hacker, To make money I hack into bank accounts of the rich and take very little in the grand scheme of things. One percent of the richest men in the world’s wealth.”

“Winnie.” Sam nudges her.

“It’s the truth.” Winnie adds. “Besides not like he needed it in prison.”

The conversation lulls to a deafening silence.

“Why don’t you tell us where we’re going?” Sam asks.

“Sorry I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”

Bucky jerks across and grabs Zemo by the throat.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.”

Zemo nods understanding and Bucky sits back down.

“You okay, Buck.” Winnie asks.

Bucky nods.

“I’m sorry. I understand the list of names.People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ve seen that book.” Sam adds. “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?”

“I like ‘40s music, so...” Bucky answers.

“You didn’t like it.”

“I liked it.”

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience”

“He’s out of line, but he’s right.”

“Extremely right.” Winnie adds.

“Everyone likes Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

“You must have really looked up to Steve.But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s super soldiers is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.”

Winnie watches Bucky, and nudges his leg with her foot. He nudges her foot back with a small smile.

“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought.”

“There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others.” Winnie quotes Machiavelli.

“Clever.” Zemo says then adds “ Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we go to Madripoor.”

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary in the 1800s.”

“It’s kept it’s lawless ways.”

“Well let’s get the show on the road.” Winnie picks up her bag.

“We can’t exactly walk in as ourselves. James you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

“We have to fix this.” I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming, African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“Who am I?” Winnie asks. She dressed in a glittering short golden dress with black thigh high boots.

“A sugar baby.”

“Why am I the sugar baby?”

“It’s a role I thought you would be the most comfortable with.”

“Is this payback for stealing money from you.”

“No.”

“Oh well then Sam and I will be constantly vigilant. I have extra guns strapped to my thighs just in case.”

“The Smiling Tiger doesn’t have a sugar baby.”

“Then who am I..” Winnie’s face falls as she realizes who she’s paired up with on this mission.

“That.” Zemo points to her face,” is payback enough.”

“I don’t like you at all, but good play.” Winnie admits holding out her hand.

Zemo takes her hand and kisses it.

“Oh you don’t have to do that.” Winnie adds.

“No matter what happens we have to stay in character.”

The four of them climb into the car headed for Low Town.

Winnie stays close to Zemo looking around.

Zemo wraps an arm around her and whispers “Relax and fake like you’re meant to be here.”

“Right.” Winnie straightens her postures and twirls her hair between her fingers.

“We’re here.” Zemo then speaks to Bucky in russian: Ready to comply, Winter Soldier.

Once at the bar the bartender welcomes them “ Hello Gentleman, and lady, Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed, we have to do business with Selby.”

“The usual?” The bartender suggests.

“Ah, Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” Zemo says.

Winnie puts a hand on Zemo’s shoulder and lightly squeezes it.

“I love these.” Sam takes the glass

“Cheers, Conrad.”

Sam takes the drink and swallows the snake organ.

A man comes up to Zemo and Winnie lets go of his arm. Zemo wraps his arm around her.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…”

“New haircut.” The man nods towards Bucky.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.”

“Power broker, really.”

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?”

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.” Zemo begins walking to the middle of the room speaking Russian to Bucky.

‘ Oh no, Winnie thinks, it’s showtime.’

Bucky attacks the man standing beside Zemo. People begin recording. Multiple men are attacked until a gun is cocked.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”

“You’re undoing so much therapy.” Winnie adds softly.

“Keep in character or the whole bar turns against us.” Zemo adds softly before ending Bucky’s commands.

“Selby will see you now.” The bartender says.

“You good?” Sam asks.

Bucky doesn’t answer, just walks off.

The four go up the stairs.

“You should know, Baron.” Selby says “ People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand, an offer.”

“A lot has changed since you were here last.By the way I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we. I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.”She purs, “ What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum. And I give you him.” Zemo touches Bucky’s face. “Along with the code words to control him, of course.He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember.”

“I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. It’d be a bad date for the pretty thing on your arm. You were right to come to me. Arrogant but right. The super soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you want to thank. Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum but things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh the bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute. Don’t think you can find Nagel without me.”

Sam’s cell phone buzzes.

“Answer it.”

Winnie stands with her hands by her side ready to grab her guns.

“On speaker.”

“Hello.”

“Hey, um we need to talk about this situation. It’s been driving me, nuts.”

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?”

“Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.”

“What situation, Sarah? Say it.”

“The damn boat. And watch your tone. Okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

“The bank, yeah.” Sam scoffs. “Laundered so much… Yeah they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big time.”

“Yeah you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see when I have that banker killed.”

“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios! I don’t have time for this! Sam I’m sorry let me call you back.”

“Sam? Who’s Sam? Kill them.”

The window breaks and Selby falls shot in the chest.

Bucky and Sam fight the two guards with Bucky grabbing the gun. Winnie follows Zemo to the door.

“They’re going to pin this on us.”

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.”

As they walk out, phone’s all over the island begin buzzing with a bounty on the four of them.

“This is not good.”

“Obviously not good.” Winnie says

A man with a large gun begins shooting at the four, Sam and Bucky go in one direction, Zemo and Winnie in the other.

Winnie begins to notice the pattern of the sniper killing all those who want us dead. It reminds her of the cover she had on missions with Sharon. Winnie and Zemo keep going until they meet up with Sam and Bucky.

“We seem to have a guardian angel.”

“Well this is too perfect.” A woman says walking out of the shadows. “ Drop it Zemo.” She has him at gunpoint.

“Sharon.” Bucky says

“You cost me everything.” Sharon takes a step towards Zemo.

“Sharon wait, someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam explains.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass to save his ass, from his ass. I didn’t have the avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

Winnie clears her throat,” Sharon.”

“Winnie.”

“Don’t blow smoke, I was on the run too.”

“Was, is, big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t.”

“Listen Sharon we need your help.” Bucky asks.

“No we don’t.” Winnie argues.

Sharon laughs.

“Please.” Bucky tries again.

“Bucky.” Winnie interjects.

“Winnie, we need her help. You two can get over it.” Bucky turns to Winnie.

“I have a place in High Town, You’ll be safe there.”

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.”

“I thought if I had to hustle, I might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I can get for a real Monet.”

“You never liked art before.” Winnie mentions crossing her arms.

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets.”

“No, she means real. This gallery specializes in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.”

Winnie stops by one painting, and Sharon stands beside her.

“The Beach in Pourville, it was your favorite, right.” Sharon points out.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were listening, when I spoke about it while experimenting.”

“You said that if you could jump into any painting like Mary Poppins, you’d choose this one. So you could lay on the beach after jumping in the waves and watch the sun set.”

“I know what I said.”

“Have you?”

“Do I look like I’ve been to any beaches?”

“There’s a beach on High Town. You could stay.”

“I can’t leave Buck and Sam.”

“You call him Buck.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice,” Sharon turns to the group away from Winnie “ You guys need to change I’m hosting clients in an hour.”

Winnie changes into the gown that Sharon picked for her. Albeit not as sparkly as the one Zemo picked out. It was nice and understated. A short lilac halter dress with a black belt paired with her same thigh high black boots, Zemo had picked out.

Sharon opens the door.

“Sure, Sharon, you can come right in.” Winnie puts on the pearl earrings Sharon picked out.

“You look great.”

“Thanks.”

“You were right.”

“About.”

“Everything, shield, the government, being pessimistic. I didn’t believe you, and then I stole the shield and after being on the run I realized I was wrong the whole time. I shouldn’t have called you a hydra agent, especially after everything you did for Shield and the inventions.”

“The rocket boots work.”

“Course, they did, you made them.”

“You think apologizing after more than seven years is going to fix everything.”

“No, because I know you, and you hold grudges like no one else I know. But it’s a start to not hating me.”

Winnie sighs, “I don’t hate you, that’s too strong of a word but another start would be helping us a little more.”

“I thought you didn’t need my help.”

“Buck was right. Any other information you have is going to help us.”

“ Speaking of Bucky, what is your deal?”

“Deal?”

“Yeah are you two friends or more, because I…” Sharon starts but gets interrupted.

“Don’t.” Winnie says sharply.

“Oh.” Sharon smiles.

“Not like that. It’s just, you remember when we’d go out together, and I’d flirt with a guy and then they’d ask me for your number.”

“You don’t want that to happen to Bucky.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Noted. Just uh he might have heart palpitations when he sees you in this dress.”

“Sharon, go check on the guys.”

Sharon walks in the room as Sam’s changing shirts.

“Much better.”

“What’s going on Sharon? You don’t ever wanna come back home?”

“They’ll lock me up if I step foot back in the States.”

“Madripoor doesn’t allow extradition.”

“Look I’m sorry I didn’t call. But after the blip and the chaos. I just..”

“Look you know the hero thing is a joke, right. The way you gave up that shield.deep down, you must know it's all hypocrisy.”

“He knows. And not so deep down.”

“By the way how is the new Cap?” Sharon asks.

“Don’t get me started.” Bucky answers.

“I punched him in the face.” Winnie enters the room in her new dress.

“You look nice.” Bucky looks away from Winnie.

“Thanks.” Winnie sits on the other couch by Zemo.

“Please you buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr.America! Cap’s best friend.” Sharon sits down by Bucky.

“Wow, she’s kind of awful now.”

“Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum.” Sam starts.

Winnie looks down at her phone tracking the shield and John just to see that they are still in Germany.

“You guys really should steer clear of all this for your own safety. Winnie, seriously, you can and should stay here with me. You know all about art and I can get you drawing again, or inventing. Plenty of people would pay big money for rocket boots, or taser whips, boomerang daggers.”

“I can’t.”

“We know it’s a risk, but we won’t leave until we find the person that cracked the code.”

“We got a name, Wilfred Nagel.”

“Nagel works for the Power Broker.”

“We need your help Sharon, I can get your name cleared.”

“You haggling with my life?”

“Not like that.”

“I don’t buy that.”

“You pretending like you can clear my name.”

“Okay maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.”

Sharon looks at Bucky, he’s glaring at Zemo, who’s talking to Winnie about art.

“You draw and paint?” Zemo asks.

“I did, when I had the stuff or the time.” Winnie shrugs and pulls out her tattered sketchbook with pages falling out. She opens it flipping through a few landscapes and portraits of people she saw at coffee shops.

“You stole money from a billionaire and you didn’t steal enough for art supplies.” Zemo questions.

“I only stole money from you for rent, groceries and to sponsor a few Sokovian families.” Winnie explains. “ I make a tight budget and stick to it.”

“You.. what?” Zemo looks surprised.

“I sponsored a few Sokovian families to emigrate to the United States. It was anonymous so I don’t know where they ended up.”

“I heard that.” Bucky adds to Sharon.

“I don’t trust charity.”

“All right, a deal then.”

“You help us out, and I get your name cleared.”

Sharon shakes his hand.

“Well I sell to some well connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay out of trouble. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Trouble.”

Loud electronic music plays. People are everywhere, dancing with everyone. Winnie feels a little out of place.

“A part to play,again.” Zemo says from behind her. “Relax, your friend said to have fun.”

“Ex-friend, and secondly parties like this aren’t fun for me. I’d rather be..” She’s interrupted by Zemo.

“You’d rather be in some greasy spoon hole in the wall diner with James, sharing a milkshake.”

“Malts, and second why do you think this?”

“On the plane when after James choked me, you asked if he was okay.”

“Friends do that.”

“Again on the plane when I made James uncomfortable, you kicked his leg.”

“Yeah, checking up on him without asking if he’s okay. “

“ He stares at you when you aren’t looking.”

“He stares at everyone.”

“When he stares at you though, his features soften.”

“And.”

“Also when we were talking about art, he was glaring at me.”

“He doesn’t like you much anyway. He has reason to glare at you that doesn’t have to do with me.”

“I’m just saying if you two both feel the same way, why wait? No one is guaranteed time on this earth.”

“You’re ridiculous. Also you might want to change your pin code. Your dead wife’s birthday isn’t a secure code.” Winnie walks off from Zemo.

Winnie finds Bucky by himself on the outskirts of the dance floor.

“Need a breather.”

“Yeah.”

“Winnie, stay away from Zemo. He plays mind games”

“I can handle myself. We were talking about you.”

“That’s another reason why you should stay away from him.”

“He said you like me cause you stare at me, but..”

“I gotta find Sam.” Bucky walks off to find Sam.

The moment Bucky is out of sight Zemo walks back to her.

“Did you get the answer?” He asks.

“Yeah, I did. Not the one I wanted” Winnie nods then says “ Let’s dance, Zem.”

Bucky looks around and finds Sam.

“Winnie knows.” Bucky says nervously to Sam.

“She’s a genius and a hacker. What specifically does she know?”

“She knows that I..” Bucky trails off when Sharon arrives.

“Don’t let me interrupt this.” She says. “ Winnie knows that you..”

“I’m fond of her being around.” Bucky finishes.

“That was a secret?” Sam asks.

“Yes, did you know?”

“Of course I knew. The real question is does she like you?” Sam looks towards Sharon.

“I’m not violating Winnie’s trust. She just stopped hating me. I also found him.”

“Okay Bucky, let’s put in a pin in your love life problem for now, and let’s get this guy. Here we go.”

Sharon signals Winnie and Zemo and they follow the three out of the party.

“Madripoor can give New York a run for its money.”

“They know how to party.”

“You’re not a bad dancer, Zem.”

“Neither are you Win.”

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving. All right. He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel.”

“Need help out here.” Winnie offers.

“No I got it.” Sharon insists.

Winnie follows the three guys inside putting in her ear piece.

“Completely empty.”

“I’m positive it has to be.”

Walking around on the inside with a flashlight Zemo pushes in the false wall. Music is playing softly.

“Mel Torme, good taste.” Winnie whispers.

“Agreed.” Zemo motions for Bucky and Sam to go forward with the guns.

Winnie pulls out her guns, ready for anything and follows walking through the makeshift lab.She listens out for any signs of struggle from Sharon outside.

Zemo stops the record.

“Dr.Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab.”

“Hey. You know who he is right.This is Baron Zemo.I know you've heard of him too. You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.”

“How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I’ll talk.”

Winnie looks around at the chemicals and the serum making process. It would take years to make sense of this.

“Guys we have company.” Sharon says from the ear pieces. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here we gotta go.”

Bucky grabs the doctor and puts him in a chair with a gun in his face. He fires the gun near him.

“Okay.I was brought into Hydra’s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When Hydra fell I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject, with semi-stable traces of serum in his system.After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary components in his blood. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized. Perfect.”

“How have we never heard about this?”

“Because before I was able to complete my work. I turned to dust.Then when I returned, it was five years later,the program had been abandoned, so I came here. THe Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.”

“How many vials did you make?”

“Twenty.”

“Karli Morgenthau stole those, so I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.”

“Where’s Karli now?”

“I don’t know where she is. But a couple of days ago she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis. Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.”

“Well, what happened to her?”

“Not my pig, not my farm.”

“Is there any serum in this lab?”

“No.”

“Now what?”

“Guys we’re seriously outta time here.”

Zemo shots the doctor.

“No!”

A large explosion throws the five on the other side of the lab.

Bucky, Sam, Winnie, and Sharon on one side with Zemo on the other.

“Anybody see Zemo?” Sam asks.

“Let’s go.” Bucky pulls Winnie and Sharon up.

“Alright wait for my signal.”

Gunfire breaks out.

Sam goes early.

“Damnit.” Bucky says running after providing cover for Sam.

“You know the drill, right Winnie.” Sharon says.

“Yeah yeah, go.”

Sharon and Winnie run and fall into their old routine, as though it’s been no time since they were partners. The four find cover and keep shooting.

“And you like living here?”

“It’s not terrible.”

“It’s pretty terrible, Sharon.”

“I thought you were going left.”

“You went the wrong way.”

“I was clearing the way.”

“Do they always fight like this?” Sharon asks.

“Pretty much.” Winnie answers.

“I came out first. You had to follow me.”

“And where are we now!”

“Guys, Not the time!”

“I’m out.”

“This is a barricade.”

“It’s in every action movie.”

“Might have some more in my backpack.” Winnie tells Sharon.

“You carry ammunition in a Jansport.”

“I didn’t judge you in your home with the off season prada purse you were carrying.”

The four look up and see Zemo with a purple mask sniping the way clear.

“Go.” Bucky taps Winnie and Sharon

They grab each other and run.

Bucky and Sam follow into a shipping container.

A car screeches to halt with Zemo in it,

“Supercharged.”

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?”

“He’s right, we need him.”

“There’s three of us and at least twenty of them.”

“Fine but if you try that shit again…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Well that was one hell of a reunion.”

The four get in the car.

“Come back to the states with us.”

“I can’t. Just get me the pardon you promised me. And here.” Sharon gives Winnie back the flash drive with all the hydra information on it.

“Thanks.”

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you.”

“No.”

On board the private jet Sam calls Joaquin about Donya Madani.

“Oh ask him about the secret Winnie project.”

“Sure.”

“Do you have information on some secret Winnie project?”

“Yeah yeah it’s a bad name, she’ll work on it. Nothing, yet, okay more importantly is Donya Madani.”

Winnie looks down at her phone tracking John with earbuds in listening to his conversations.

“You okay?” Bucky asks seeing Sam flop down into a chair.

“Yeah. Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through, and Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

“Well it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.”

“Yeah I get that. All right. Maybe I made a mistake.”

“You did.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. I should have destroyed it. “

“Look that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me. The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap. and it aint gonna be Walker. So before you destroy it, I’ll take it from him myself.”

Joaquin calls Sam back and Zemo comes back with plates of food.

He gestures towards Winnie and says to Bucky“ Can she hear us?”

“No, she’s in survelliance mode. Put a tracker on the new Cap.”

“Smart.”

“Surprised she hasn’t put one on you.”

“Winnie is quite special, isn’t she?”

“Whatever you're thinking about saying or doing, don’t.”

“Oh I have no interest in her. Besides a financial one.”

“You want her to hack on your behalf, not gonna happen.”

“No, she’s an artist.”

“You want to pay her to draw and paint.”

“Yes, she’s very talented. She showed me her sketchbook, you’ve seen it haven’t you?”

“No.”

“Hm, interesting.”

“Stop.”

“They found Madani. Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go.” Zemo says. “I for one am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli. Oeznik we’re changing course.”

“Walker knows you two broke out Zemo.” Winnie says taking out her earbuds. “ He’s also not too concerned with his rules of engagement.”

Walking down the streets of Riga, Latvia, Zemo begins talking. Winnie looks at the small buildings lining the street, it looks like painting by the sea.

“I don’t suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial, at least the thief donated.” Zemo gestures to Winnie.

Zemo stops at a large building, “We are here.”

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky says.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful.” Winnie adds.

“Always am.” Bucky nods.

Once Zemo and Sam are inside Winnie follows them.

Sam turns towards Winnie with a smile.

“What?”

“Be careful.” Sam mimics her.

“Not you too.”

“No it’s cute. It’s adorable actually. That you have no clue.” Sam says.

#bucky x oc #bucky barnes imagines #plus size oc #falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #marvel imagines #bucky x winnie

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 11: The Rush]

Chapter summary: Queen and Y/N attend a party and experiment with hallucinogens.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, drugs, partying, injuries, sexual references, angst, some baby stuff.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“You’re trying to make us late, aren’t you?”

Roger looms in the doorway of the hotel bathroom, arms crossed, a baiting ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes—blue like a summer sky, like blooming delphiniums, like veins beneath skin—trace you from your black heels to your dangling diamond earrings, feasting, craving.

You smile back at him as you rearrange your hair for the fourth time. “The later we are, the drunker everyone else will be and the less agonizing small talk I’ll be forced to make with random music industry people.”

“I can assure you, they’re already drunk.”

“I don’t want to get there before the boys.” Freddie and Brian had left the hotel earlier to pregame in the bars of the French Quarter, and John is...actually, you don’t know where John is at the moment, which is unusual.

Roger chuckles, lights a cigarette, takes a deep drag as he gazes at you. “Come on, baby. You’re not getting any more stunning. It’s not possible. And you don’t want Deaks to be the first one to get there, do you? Can you imagine? He’ll end up telling his life story to the golden retriever or locking himself in a closet or something. We can’t abandon him.”

“No, of course not.” You give your reflection one final appraising glance. It’s not bad: sleek black dress, black Prada bag with a thin diamond-studded shoulder strap, smokey eyes, spritzes of Chanel No. 5. It’s pretty freaking great, actually.

Roger nods to your purse. “You got your kit, Nurse Nightingale?”

“Naturally. You think I trust eccentric and impaired musicians not to do gymnastics down a staircase or punch out misbehaving fellow guests? Oh no. Not a chance. I come well prepared.”

“Good.” Reflexively, unconsciously, he shakes his right arm a few times, stretches the hand, winces. It hurts him all the time, and you know that even if he’ll never say it. He drinks more or less constantly when Queen is on tour, and pops pills on top of that. You can’t ask him to stop; he can’t play without the booze and pills, and he can’t live without the band. He wouldn’t even want to try.

“Roger, is it—”

“I’m fine.” His eyes are on you again, everywhere, soaking up every curve and crevice like rain seeping through parched earth. Dusty ashes trickle from his cigarette onto the white tile floor.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, meditative in a way that is quiet and still and very unlike Roger. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “How much I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

New Orleans is cool and humid and the streetlights shine beneath the constellations of the night sky: Auriga, Cassiopeia, Ursa Minor, Orion, Perseus. The salt-tinged dampness in the air sticks to your bare forearms, your ankles, your collarbones, your cheeks; the chaotic ocean wind rolls in off the Gulf of Mexico. It’s February 14th of 1977, Valentine’s Day, a day you’ve always thought of as a sort of anniversary for you and Roger; not the day you told him yes, but the day you surrendered to the eventuality, the day you agreed to fall in love with the world he promised you.

Is surrender the right word? you wonder, because part of you doesn’t like it, part of you flinches like you’ve been hit. Yes, it is. Whether I like it or not.

You’ve never spoken of anniversaries to Roger. He’s never asked.

The mansion, a Southern-style manor with columns and fountains in the front yard, is raucous with music and trimmed with twinkling white lights; there are dozens of people—men in suits, women in gowns, strippers, drag queens, mistresses, wives, acrobats, magicians, drug dealers—mingling on the wrap-around porch, sipping drinks, shouting at each other over the music, snatching appetizers off platters that waiters balance on their shoulders as they weave from one end of the house to the other. You and Roger swim through the crowd towards Brian’s mass of dark curls and Freddie’s brash laughter that carries through the night air like smoke signals.

Some man in a lavender suit—a producer or manager or record company executive—is talking to Freddie and Brian with a cigar smoldering between his fingers. “...And it’s extraordinary, really, this new album, everyone’s talking about what a success the tour has been so far. What’s it called again?”

“A Day At The Races,” Brian offers matter-of-factly, as if he’s in a business meeting.

“Ah, that’s it!”

“What’s so interesting,” Bri continues, “is that this time around the audience has started really getting into it, singing along to almost every song, sometimes we can’t even hear ourselves! And at first we were a bit annoyed by it—”

Freddie adds: “We were thinking, ‘shut up, bitches, you paid to hear us sing!’”

“—But then we realized that we should be appreciating that enthusiasm, that maybe we could even figure out a way to harness that energy and write songs with the audience’s participation in mind.”

“Fascinating!” Lavender Suit Guy replies.

“Good evening, everyone!” Roger announces as he sails into the middle of the conversation. “Hey man, how are you? Enjoying yourself? Have you met Y/N? Yes, she’s a Yankee just like you, from Boston originally, and she can cure hangovers like nobody’s business so she’s incredibly handy to have around. Have you heard the new Eagles record yet? Jesus christ, it’s bloody brilliant...”

As they chatter, you scan the pulsing throng of strangers for John. After a moment—as Freddie is recounting the band’s escapades in Miami last week—he appears wearing a black leather jacket and hair that barely covers his ears.

“Deaky!” Fred gasps.

“John!” you squeal in delight, and he grins enormously as he wraps you in a hug. He smells like cigarettes and Manhattans and that verdant, ancient mystery of the American South.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly.

“Your hair...?!” You reach up to run your hands through it, to flip his bangs one way and then the other, to tug gently on the ends. “I’m in shock. Good shock, but definitely shock.”

“Yeah, some American girl told me once that I had good bone structure and should chop my hair off someday so people could appreciate it.”

“Hmm, who could that be?” Roger teases, turning to you.

“I believe I described the aforementioned bone structure as fantastic, not good, but close enough.” You can’t stop staring at John. You blink a few times, waiting for it to sink in. Instead, something feels unnerving in a way you can’t pin down: new, different, anomalous, inviting.

“You’ve all gone shorter, haven’t you?” Lavender Suit Guy remarks. “Well...except Brian, of course.”

“He had much shorter hair once, if you can believe it,” Freddie says. “Back in the very early days. Before John joined us. Bri would straighten it too, it was horrid, the poor man looked like a Lhasa Apso.”

“You have a new baby at home, don’t you?” Lavender Suit Guy asks John.

“I do, yes, my second. A wonderful little girl named Anna.”

“Congratulations! And Brian, you’ve got one on the way as well?”

Brian smiles proudly. “Two, actually.” Chrissie has curbed her comments concerning Veronica’s dreadfully banal, domestic, decidedly unposh existence now that Chris is bedridden with morning sickness and carrying twins. ‘I feel like the fucking Hindenburg,’ she’d told you over the phone. ‘If the Hindenburg had sore tits and smelled like vomit.’

“We’re drowning in babies,” Roger quips in a tone you can’t quite read. Annoyance? Curiosity? Disapproval? Envy?

“Well, since the wives are away and you’re free to play...” Lavender Suit Guy flags down a waiter holding a small tray of sugar cubes. “Ever dropped acid? There’s blow floating around somewhere too, if that’s more your scene.”

Brian smirks uneasily and stirs his Vesper. You look to John. John looks to Roger.

Freddie laughs and lifts a sugar cube daintily off the tray with his thumb and index finger. “Marvelous, darling! Will it make me hallucinate all my wildest dreams? Will an imaginary cheerleading squad of Farrah Fawcetts suck my cock all night?”

Lavender Suit Guy chuckles. “I make no guarantees.”

“Nothing in life ever does. Isn’t that tragic?” Freddie pops the sugar cube into his mouth and grins. “Beam me up, Scotty.”

Roger asks you: “You want to? It could be an adventure.”

LSD wasn’t exactly the adventure you’d had in mind when you agreed to follow Queen across the globe all those years ago in Boston; still, an adventure is an adventure. And if I don’t keep things interesting, he’ll find someone who will.

Oh, that’s not a thought you knew you had.

And I would like to return it to that repressed, dimly-lit, cobwebbed corner of my subconscious where I’d buried it, thank you very much.

“Is it safe?” John asks Lavender Suit Guy.

“Do you think I’d give you something that wasn’t safe? It’s perfectly safe. It can’t kill you. It’s not heroin. Worst case scenario you get a bad trip. And I’ve never gotten a bad trip from this stuff.”

You conjure up a smile for Roger. “Let’s do it.”

“Excellent,” he says, his face lighting up; and you realize that that’s what he’d wanted. He picks up a sugar cube, lays it on his tongue, and then slips it between your lips as he kisses you. Freddie whistles and claps. The cube dissolves with a pleasant, innocent, nostalgic sweetness. Then Roger turns to John. “You in, Deaks?”

John hesitates, then nods. “Alright.”

Roger passes John a sugar cube (with his hand this time), picks up one for himself, and toasts them like champagne glasses. “Cheers!” The sugar cubes disappear behind their teeth.

Freddie stares at Brian. Brian gnaws his lip and stares back. Freddie wiggles his eyebrows impishly. Finally, Bri sighs, exasperated. “Fine, okay, what the hell, I’ll do it.”

“I’m so proud!” Freddie cries, pressing his palm to his heart. “I am a proud mama.” Brian grimaces as Fred stuffs a sugar cube into his mouth.

“How long does it take to work?” you ask Lavender Suit Guy, feeling no different at all.

“It varies. Not too long, usually.” He whirls, spies someone else he recognizes, waves, and rushes off to greet whoever it is and presumably offer them illegal drugs.

After fifteen disappointingly uneventful minutes of trailing behind the band as they chat with various rich and famous party guests you don’t recognize, you depart to find a restroom.

“Don’t be gone long,” Rog calls after you. John watches with a Manhattan in his right hand. “I don’t want you to be alone if things get...you know...weird.”

“Sure thing.”

You find a small restroom just off the downstairs hallway of the mansion. The clock above the doorframe reads 9:47 p.m. You duck inside, muttering about your first acid experience being a total dud, about defective LSD and Valentine’s Days spent with strangers. As you scrub your hands with rose-scented soap, you glance up to check your makeup in the mirror. Your face isn’t there. Instead, Dominique Beyrand stares back at you.

You gasp, and Dom does too, in that delicate and prodigiously feminine way that she has. You peer penetratingly into the mirror as you gingerly tap your fingertips against your face, which is Dominique’s face now: her olive skin, her high pump cheeks, her large dark eyes like a doe’s, her pink lips. You experiment with a smile, and then a frown; you even emote the same way she does, with a charming candidness, with a rare sort of grace.

Why am I thinking about Dominique?

You’d seen her a few times since Queen’s Hyde Park concert, following Richard Branson around at industry parties and dodging mindless gossip and tedious networking, the same as you. She always greeted Freddie warmly and mostly ignored Roger. He always asked her a few questions anyway, questions you thought he already knew the answers to.

I guess the acid wasn’t a dud after all.

You titter uncertainly. You knot your fingers through your hair—Dominique’s hair—which is thick and glossy and onyx. Her eyes gaze unflinchingly back at you. They blink when you blink.

I have to find Roger, you think suddenly. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know who he’s with.

You spin, wrench open the restroom door, and stagger out into the hallway, your hands pressed against the floral wallpaper to steady yourself. The yellowed, antebellum walls breathe as you do, subtly, sighing as they exhale cool air into the soft clammy skin of your palms. The boards of the hardwood floor clang like piano keys when you step on them. You check the clock hanging above the bathroom door. It reads: 11:09 p.m.

“Uh oh.”

I have to find Roger.

You creep through the hallway as other guests pass you—some zooming by, others moving in slow motion as if they’re treading water, none apparently noticing the breathing walls or musical floor—peeking into each room to see if Roger is there. He’s not in the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, the parlor. Instead there are strangers in all of these places, laughing in each other’s arms, drinking, dancing, touching each other beneath suits and skirts and dresses, smoking cigarettes and blunts, rolling up hundred-dollar bills to snort white powder off silver trays like mirrors.

I have to find Roger. I have to find Roger. I have to find Roger.

In the backyard of the mansion is a cobblestone patio, a garden, a swimming pool which must be freezing but nevertheless has several naked guests thrashing around splashing each other in it, and a bubbling hot tub. You recognize one of the two people in the cloud of mist with their arms resting above the roiling water on the concrete rim. They’re giggling and pointing up at the stars, telling the stories of the constellations, their faces flushed and glistening with steam.

“Hi, Brian!” you cry, relieved.

He turns, sees you, summons a smile; but it’s not a true smile. It’s cagey, it’s dissatisfied, it’s nervous somehow. “Ah, there you are, love.” The girl sitting next to him in the sweltering water is very much his type and entirely unlike Chrissie: tall, slim, blonde, curly-haired. She has a tattoo of a lush, pristine peach on one tanned shoulder blade.

“Have you seen Roger?”

Brian’s brow furrows. “He didn’t find you?”

“Evidently, he did not.”

“Huh. Well, I’m sure he’s around.” Brian waits for you to leave. The blonde girl shoots you a polite but anxious smile. Peaches, you think hazily. Peaches from New Orleans. Just like the girl he told me about when I first arrived in London. Just like the girl in Now I’m Here.

“Bri, come inside with me.”

“I’m fine here,” he replies curtly.

“Bri, please. It’s late. It’s cold. We’re so far from home. There could be sharks.”

Peaches gawps at me, confounded. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Brian snorts. “Sharks can only live in cool water. Everybody knows that. We’re perfectly safe. Stay out of the pool though.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“Good luck locating Roger.” That’s your cue to go.

“Come with me. I’m freaked out. The floor sounds like Somebody To Love.”

“That’s nothing. The bubbles in here play Beatles songs when they pop.”

“Brian...”

“Y/N,” he says harshly, darkly. “Go find Roger.” What he means is: Y/N, get lost.

What about your wife? you almost shriek at him. What about your children? What about those vows that you made three days before Christmas in 1975, the specter of global fame beckoning from the doorway of the Anglican church that Chrissie grew up attending, Roger’s arm tight around my waist and sprigs of holly in my hair?

But Brian already knows about all that, and he doesn’t care.

I have to find Roger.

You leave Brian and Peaches and slip back into the mansion. You search each room as the floorboards shift and chime beneath your feet; now they’re playing the intro to Seven Seas Of Rhye. You realize that you’ve lost your heels somewhere along the way. You aren’t terribly concerned; you have more pressing matters to attend to.

Behind the fourth door you open is a library with books and menacing portraits lining the walls. Everything inside is blue and wibbly and palpably sad. Freddie is slumped on the floor next to a grand piano, his hair in his face, each hand clutching a full champagne flute.

“Darling,” he slurs, thrusting a glass towards you. Fizzy champagne lurches over the edge and trickles down the side of the glass. “Come join me!”

“Is it the LSD or is the room actually that color? I feel like I’m trapped in Picasso’s Blue Period.”

“Do you? It’s all black and white to me. But blue fits. Welcome to my melancholy room.”

“Your melancholy blues,” you pitch with a grin.

Freddie chuckles. “Drink this champagne before I’m forced to pour it down your throat.”

You take the flute and sit on the floor beside him. “Have you seen Roger?”

“I have not.”

“Oh.”

“Darling,” Freddie asks drowsily. “Do you think one goes to hell for being gay?”

“I don’t think you’d go to hell for anything, Fred. You’re too good a person.”

“Ahhhh,” he sighs, dreamily, peacefully. “You are a delight, my dear. Truly. I adore having you around. I do hope you stay with us, even when Roger makes you want to kill yourself.”

“How would he do that, Fred?” you ask softly.

Freddie doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts your hair away from your face, tucks it behind your ear, smiles patiently at you. “I tried to warn you, you know. We all did. I know you thought we were all being insufferable pricks. But we did it out of love.”

“John never tried to warn me.”

Freddie smirks. “Well. He’s got his own demons, doesn’t he?”

You aren’t sure what Freddie means. You down the champagne and climb unsteadily to your feet. “I have to go find Roger now.”

“Of course you do.” Freddie’s umber eyes flick to the ceiling. “Good god, there are birds up there. That is not sanitary. Leave the door open when you go so they can fly away, would you dear?”

“Okay. I’ll love you no matter who you are, Freddie. We all will. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Will you come with me? Will you help me? I’m worried about Roger.”

“You should be more worried about you.” Freddie waves goodbye. “I have to stay. I’m writing songs.”

“You don’t have a paper and pen, Fred. Do you need them?”

He grins and pokes his temple with a black fingernail. “It’s all up here.”

“Okay. See you around.”

“Au revoir,” Freddie replies, and closes his eyes as he leans back against a breathing wall.

You step out into the hallway and journey towards the main staircase. Someone has put on the new Eagles record; Hotel California rocks deafeningly through the mansion. The air quivers with slow, ghostly notes strummed on an acoustic guitar. The floorboards have abandoned their piano keys and now jolt with each drumbeat. The house has taken on a shadowy, violet hue.

“There she stood in the doorway

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself

This could be heaven or this could be hell...”

You clutch the banister as you ascend, studying each guest that passes you for a familiar face. There are none. They’re all blushing and glassy-eyed and cackling as they paw at each other, ignoring you, not seeing you at all. Emerald snakes dart between their rushing feet, forked tongues tasting the lust and impending amnesia in the air. What happens in the darkness tonight will be forgotten tomorrow. It has to be. All the world’s rules and obligations depend upon it.

“Her mind is Tiffany-twisted

She got the Mercedes Benz

She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys

That she calls friends

How they dance in the courtyard

Sweet summer sweat

Some dance to remember

Some dance to forget...”

You catch your reflection in the night-draped window halfway up the staircase. You’re you again, not Dominique. Part of you is comforted by that; part of you feels more alone than ever. You stare at yourself, beautiful, extravagant, dusted with jewels and luck. You have everything. You have nothing. You continue up the staircase.

“Mirrors on the ceiling

The pink champagne on ice

And she said, ‘We are all just prisoners here of our own device’

And in the master's chambers

They gathered for the feast

They stab it with their steely knives

But they just can't kill the beast...”

A woman in a shimmering scarlet dress is sitting on the top step and taking a drag off a cigarette excruciatingly slowly. She exhales, the smoke curling out of her red lips like tentacles, her pale eyes tracking you.

“Last thing I remember

I was running for the door

I had to find the passage back

To the place I was before

‘Relax,’ said the night man

‘We are programmed to receive

You can check out any time you like

But you can never leave.’”

You summit the staircase and peer down the hallway to your right. At the end of it is a vast, broken picture window. Cold night wind pours in through the jagged hole in the glass; you can see stars outside. A man is lying on the floor next to the window. You know him.

“John!” you shout, and sprint to his side.

“Hi.” He’s cradling his right arm to his chest. His knuckles are shredded and drenched in crimson blood. Incandescent shards of glass protrude from his hand and glint under the lights. There’s a heavy, coppery, sick-sweet scent in the air.

“John, honey, why would you attack an innocent window...?”

“It wasn’t so innocent. You should have heard what the bastard said to me.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up—”

“Stop,” he hisses when you try to touch him.

“John—”

“No!” he screams, pushing your hands away. “Stop it, just leave me, just fucking leave me!”

You step back, cross your arms over your chest, raise your eyebrows impatiently. “You want to tell me who you’re really so mad at?”

He frowns down at the rug, which is streaked with his blood. “Me, I guess.”

“Well you can be mad at yourself at the hospital.”

“No, no hospital,” he insists.

“Your hand is positively mangled. Your playing hand. You need to get it cleaned out.”

“You can fix it. No one else.”

“Since I’m tripping on acid, I probably shouldn’t be the one to fish glass shards out of your skin.”

“You can fix it,” he repeats, confidently now.

“Fine. Have it your way.” You help John to his feet, lead him downstairs, and sit him down at the kitchen table. You open your purse, unpack your supplies and position them in a neat row, shake out your hands to get them limber, give John a glass of water. “Are you going to have to write whoever owns this place a check for the window?”

“No one knows I’m the one who did it. No one even knows who I am.”

“I know who you are, John. Here comes the lidocaine.” You land a series of injections into the flesh surrounding his wrist, his knuckles, the back of his hand. You pause each time you get distracted by the murmurings of the table, which apparently speaks German. Okay table, this is important, kindly shut the hell up. Danke.

“Ow,” John says lethargically.

“And so what if these people don’t know who you are? Who the fuck needs them? You don’t need anyone who doesn’t know you’re the backbone of this band. Who made the Deaky Amp? Who wrote You’re My Best Friend? Who stays focused and calmly waits for the others to stop bludgeoning each other on a nearly daily basis? John fucking Deacon, that’s who.”

“Yeah. Alright,” John agrees, smiling. “Who needs them.”

“You’re gonna get your moment in the sun, don’t you worry.” You pick up your tweezers and begin plucking slivers of glass out of John’s bloody hand, plinking each into a white ceramic bowl. “Everyone is going to know you one day. You’re gonna spread your wings and write a ton of hits and unforgettable basslines and show the world what a genius you are.”

“Sounds thrilling. I’ll see what I can do.” He gazes down at his hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all now, that’s incredible.”

“That’s the magic of modern medicine.” You drop another shard of glass into the bowl. “How’s your first-ever LSD experience going so far?”

“Aside from the window business, quite well. Better now that you showed up.”

“Sorry. I spent an hour being confused by my own reflection and then tried to find Roger. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“I have not.”

After a while you set your tweezers down on the table and inspect John’s hand closely. “Does this look glass-free to you? My eyes aren’t super trustworthy at the moment. I just saw a fish swim by outside.”

“It looks perfect, in my layperson’s opinion.”

“Okay. Let’s wash and sanitize, then we’ll wrap...”

John follows you placidly to the sink, lets you scrub and towel off his hand, returns to the table so you can bandage it with gauze. It’s quieter in the house now, the guests slowly dispersing, the music turned down and something mellow by the Stones; Gimme Shelter, you think.

“What made you so angry?” you ask him. “You know. Angry enough to assault a window.”

For a long time, John doesn’t answer. He looks up at the ceiling, his gentle greyish eyes chasing something you can’t see; birds, maybe, like Freddie. Maybe he’s looking for the sun. Maybe he’s looking for himself. Finally, he says, very quietly: “I’m just so fucking tired of lying all the time.”

“You never have to lie to me, John.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I do.”

Then you hear a laugh, an untamed one, a familiar one. You turn to John. “Was that just me or...?”

“I heard it too.”

You both leap from the table and hurry after the sound. You burst outside onto the cobblestone patio. Roger is doing backstroke laps in the pool, howling up at the moon. There’s no sign of Brian or Peaches.

“Roger!” you yell.

“Hey, baby! I’m winning! I’m in the Olympics! I made the team! Do you see me winning?”

“You’re totally winning. Please come out before you get pneumonia or attacked by a shark.”

“Shark...?” John inquires.

“I’ve discovered something amazing,” Roger declares, still swimming. He flails his right arm in the air for you to see; the serrated mark that mars the underside appears to be slithering, a snake made of scar tissue and interrupted plans. “When you’re on drugs, nothing hurts!”

“Baby, please come out now.”

Roger obliges, hauling himself up the ladder and out of the pool. He’s still in his black suit; it’s ruined and clings to him and is dripping buckets of chlorine-smelling water. John yanks a towel off a chair and tosses it to Roger, who drapes it over his shoulders like a cape.

“Jesus christ, where have you been?!” you demand. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Roger grins toothily. “A sheer one?”

Despite yourself, you smile back. “Oh yeah. A sheer heart attack. Real cardiac.”

“I had the best idea. Baby, you gotta hear my great idea. It’s so great.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

He lunges to wrap you in a cold, sopping hug. “Everyone’s having babies, right?”

“Uh, well, not everyone...”

“We should have a baby.”

John’s eyes go wide. You swallow noisily. “Roger, love, I don’t think right now is the ideal time to make a decision like that.”

“Why...? Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“If I still feel this way in forty-eight hours, can we have a baby?”

“Roger, I...” You glance to John for help. He raises his hands in surrender, one bare, one clumsily bandaged. You’re on your own, kid, that look says. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. That’s a lot of responsibility. I’d have to stay home with them. I wouldn’t be the tour nurse anymore.” I would never know where you were, who you were with.

“I’ll fly you out to visit all the time. I’ll have to. I can’t do this without you.” His eyes—blue like frigid pool water, like bruises, like dreams—are euphoric, effervescent.

I can’t say no to him, you realize, and it sends a biting shudder up the rungs of your spine. I didn’t just fall in love. I took a fucking nosedive.

Oh, this SO did not go according to plan.

You remember when you first met Queen, how independent and fearless and guarded you had been, how forcefully you had resolved not to put your happiness in a pair of wild, reckless hands like Roger’s.

What happened to that girl? How do I get her back?

And there’s something else, too: a thought you barely recognize as your own. A child would make us permanent.

John is watching you, edgy, apprehensive; but he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay,” you tell Roger. “We can try. If you still feel this way in forty-eight hours.”

“And I will.” Roger’s teeth skate up your neck and he whispers, his breath hot against the goosebumps rising on your skin: “Let me know when you’re late.”

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mstrumpeter · 3 years

Text

And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,655

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Sophia & Lisa are two OCs created by two lovely people within the fandom.

Warnings: none

Chapter IV

A few days past and Sophia and Lisa had a hard time to get a hold of Charlotte. She barely was home and spent a lot of time in classes or in the College’s own library. Her plan was to keep herself distracted from thinking about Alan and also putting more effort into her studies had settled her parents in some way. At least they were asking less questions and leaving her alone for most of the time.

One day the two friends went by Charlotte’s home again, hoping she’d be there. And as she opened the front door, her friends were purely delighted to see her again. “Hey hun, we’ve been trying to reach out to you.” “Yeah I’m sorry, I was pretty busy studying. Please come in.” “You’re parents home?” “Nope, fortunately they’re not.” “We really have been worried about you.”, Sophia said and took a seat on the couch. “I know and I’m really sorry, I had some trouble with my dad and you know how I prefer to isolate when things become though.” “We’re always there for you.”, Lisa reassured Charlotte and they both sat down beside Sophia. “We are meeting the boys Friday night for a casual get together and thought it’d be lovely if you joined us.” “Just Lou and Jake?” “Yes exactly.”, Lisa replied to her. But Sophia shot the girl with the red hair a commanding eye. “A-and Alan.” “Well, to put things straight he said he’d be there if there was a chance of you being present.”, Sophia explained. “What? Girls this ain’t funny.”, Charlotte said and wanted to get up but her friends hold her in place. “The last times we met the boys he asked about you, wanted to know why you wasn’t with us.” “Alright don’t toy with me. The last time I saw him, he had some blonde woman in his arms.” “Look I don’t know who that woman was, perhaps we was unhappy with the situation between you two and was simply trying to distract himself.” “You know what men are like.”, Sophia also trying to comfort Charlotte. “He really asked about me?” “Yes, yes, he did! A few times actually!” And just the day before yesterday. I told you the very first night he’s crazy about you.” Charlotte needed a moment to think about it. “Well, okay, yeah, why not!” “Great, I can’t wait for the three of us back together, we really missed you.” Sophia gave her friend a tight hug. “If anything’s wrong, call us. Please.” She gave her friends a warm smile. “I will. Oh, Sophia before it forget… I hope you gave Jake an appropriate welcome the other night.”, Charlotte said with a whimsically grin. “Oh you bet I did. We didn’t even made it home without, you know. So finally my car’s inaugurated.”, Sophia boasted with a big laugh. “Woah remind me to never ride along in your car ever again.” “Well in that case you shouldn’t use my apartment’s door anymore either! Or sit on my sofa, my kitchen table-“ “Damn girl, I got you!”, causing the three girls to scream with laughter. “No seriously Jake’s a wild boy, couldn’t wait for him being back but there’s no better feeling than falling asleep in his arms, cuddling into his chest.” “Well, we certainly are happy you got him back for now.” “Truth to be told you were pretty narky without him.”, Lisa rolled her eyes joking.

Until Friday there were going so many thoughts through Charlotte’s head and she constantly told herself not to get her hopes up again. Yes, he asked about her. But that didn’t mean anything necessarily. He still could be interested in a casual hook, especially after what Lou had told her. But tonight would give her a harmless opportunity to learn more about him and that “issue" without making a fool out of her by asking him out directly.

Charlotte picked out a nice dress and did her make up in front of the mirror, while dancing and singing along to one of the boy’s albums. When she was satisfied with her look, she grabbed her coat and jumped on to the next bus heading city centre.

They agreed to meet at this little bar with live music, which especially gave young, newcomers of the rhythm and blues scene a chance to gain experience.

Sophia and Lisa waited for Charlotte in front of the bar. “Hiya girls, am I running late?” “No, not at all, the guys are already inside but we didn’t want you to walk in on your own.” They gave each other a hug before Charlotte went inside first. She let her gaze wander through the room and found Jake sitting at a table near the small stage where a young girl with a guitar was performing. Lou was walking towards the bar, where no less than Alan was sitting on one of the barstools, a lady leaning into him. She was tugging and fiddling with his shirt, his hands grabbing hers and the upper part of his black, silk shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his chest hair. Her face only inches away from his. And that was all Charlotte needed and wanted to see. She turned on her heel, squeezed past her friends and straight through the door. “Wait, Charlotte where’re you going?” Hearing her name, Alan looked to the door and saw a baffled Lisa and Sophia, who quickly noticed the woman that was almost on his lap by now and they gave each other a concerning look.

Lou carefully grabbed the woman, trying to pull her away from Alan. “Miss you’re drunk. You’re surely doing better if you go home.” “No, get your hands off of me. I’m in the middle of a conversation with this very handsome man, can’t you see?”, the woman slurred. “We’re not!”, Alan claimed. “I’m sorry but I already told you, I’m not interested.” “No, no, you gave me those eyes, I can always tell.”, the woman persisted. Luckily the bartender chipped in “Listen, Ma’am, we called you a taxi, it’s waiting outside and will bring you home. You are way to drunk to be in my bar and I won’t approve of you molesting other guest.” Jake started up from his chair and he and Lou both grabbed on arm of the lady, dragging her outside, placing her carefully in the car waiting outside. “Thanks guys.”, Alan thanked the two as soon as they got back in. He greeted Lisa and Sophia and they all took a seat at the table next to Elwood. Alan looked at the girls, “Charlotte, she…?” “Is probably home by now.”, Sophia finished for him. “There was nothing going on, SHE approached me, I wasn’t even interested.” , he tried to explain himself. “We know that, Charlie’s just… overreacting sometimes, when it comes to things like these.”, Sophia told him and Lisa felt the need to correct her, “she’s overcautious, that’s all.” The three musicians gave the girls a curious look. “Her ex cheated on her for quite some time. Problem was he was an employee of her dad, he introduced the two.” “Some young and rich wanna-be.”, Sophia added. “Everyone knew he wasn’t good for Charlotte but her dad thought so much of him it was hard for Charlotte to convince him otherwise. So she had a hard time when she was trying to break up with that guy. Her father simply didn’t let her and she had so stay with him.” “That’s shit, man.”, Lou mumbled. Alan looked taken aback. “She knows not every man is like him but if a guy she likes is surrounded by women every time, it scares her off.” “No chances for you then, Mr. Fabulous, huh?”, Jake joked and gave him a bump with his elbow and Alan said nothing but lowered his eyes. “I’m sure she will understand that she was wrong to judge the situation from what she saw only.”, Lisa said with a smile and laid her hand on Alan’s arm. Lou though quickly grabbed Lisa’s other hand and she understood that little hint by removing her hand from Alan’s arm causing him to chuckle about the cute couple next to him.

For the rest of the night the four tried to cheer up the trumpet player but didn’t success. He had been looking forward to this evening so much. He understood that Charlotte was being cautious after what had happened with her ex but was as disappointed he didn’t even had proper chance yet to show her how much he liked her.

The next Monday afternoon Charlotte’s father got home excitedly. “Sylvia darling! We won the case against ‘Jones & Johnson’! They finally decided the verdict, what a triumph.”, he praised and gave his wife a big kiss. “We’re all going out for dinner, tonight. This calls for a celebration. Tell the girls to get ready and dress up!”

On schedule for their reservation the family got into their car. “You know I still think you and mum should enjoy this night on your own, you deserve some quality alone home.”, Charlotte tried to bluff it out. “Nonsense, you two are joining us.”, her dad told her. “What was that restaurant called again….?”, the youngest sister enquired. “Ugh, don’t even bother to tell us, I bet it’s just another snobby French place”, Charlotte snapped and laid her head against the window.

As they reached the posh restaurant, the bored girl ambled behind her parents, checking out the place. “Chez Paul.”, she mumbled the name of the place and scoffed. “Good evening, Sir, we have a reservation at 8, for Ellington.”. She heard her father say. “Of course, welcome at the Chez Paul, Mr. Ellington. Please this way.” And at the first word Charlotte had already recognised that voice. His voice. So soothing and sexy, like the melody of her favourite song.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III

#Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #Alan Rubin x Reader #blues brothers #blues brothers fanfiction #blues brothers fandom #Mr. Fabulous

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lastsonlost · 4 years

Text

Crossing the divide

Do men really have it easier? These transgender guys found the truth was more complex.

In the 1990s, the late Stanford neuroscientist Ben Barres transitioned from female to male. He was in his 40s, mid-career, and afterward he marveled at the stark changes in his professional life. Now that society saw him as male, his ideas were taken more seriously. He was able to complete a whole sentence without being interrupted by a man. A colleague who didn’t know he was transgender even praised his work as “much better than his sister’s.”

Clinics have reported an increase in people seeking medical gender transitions in recent years, and research suggests the number of people identifying as transgender has risen in the past decade. Touchstones such as Caitlyn Jenner’s transition, the bathroom controversy, and the Amazon series “Transparent” have also made the topic a bigger part of the political and cultural conversation.

But it is not always evident when someone has undergone a transition — especially if they have gone from female to male.

“The transgender guys have a relatively straightforward process — we just simply add testosterone and watch their bodies shift,” said Joshua Safer, executive director at the Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery at Mount Sinai Health System and Icahn School of Medicine in New York. “Within six months to a year they start to virilize — getting facial hair, a ruddier complexion, a change in body odor and a deepening of the voice.”

Transgender women have more difficulty “passing”; they tend to be bigger-boned and more masculine-looking, and these things are hard to reverse with hormone treatments, Safer said. “But the transgender men will go get jobs and the new boss doesn’t even know they’re trans.”

We spoke with four men who transitioned as adults to the bodies in which they feel more comfortable. Their experiences reveal that the gulf between how society treats women and men is in many ways as wide now as it was when Barres transitioned. But their diverse backgrounds provide further insight into how race and ethnicity inform the gender divide in subtle and sometimes surprising ways.

(Their words have been lightly edited for space and clarity.)

‘I’ll never call the police again’

Trystan Cotten, 50, Berkeley, Calif.

Professor of gender studies at California State University Stanislaus and editor of Transgress Press, which publishes books related to the transgender experience. Transitioned in 2008.

Life doesn’t get easier as an African American male. The way that police officers deal with me, the way that racism undermines my ability to feel safe in the world, affects my mobility, affects where I go. Other African American and Latino Americans grew up as boys and were taught to deal with that at an earlier age. I had to learn from my black and brown brothers about how to stay alive in my new body and retain some dignity while being demeaned by the cops.

One night somebody crashed a car into my neighbor’s house, and I called 911. I walk out to talk to the police officer, and he pulls a gun on me and says, “Stop! Stop! Get on the ground!” I turn around to see if there’s someone behind me, and he goes, “You! You! Get on the ground!” I’m in pajamas and barefoot. I get on the ground and he checks me, and afterward I said, “What was that all about?” He said, “You were moving kind of funny.” Later, people told me, “Man, you’re crazy. You never call the police.”

I get pulled over a lot more now. I GOT PULLED OVER MORE IN THE FIRST TWO YEARS AFTER MY TRANSITION THAN I DID THE ENTIRE 20 YEARS I WAS DRIVING BEFORE THAT.

Before, when I’d been stopped, even for real violations like driving 100 miles an hour, I got off. In fact, when it happened in Atlanta the officer and I got into a great conversation about the Braves. Now the first two questions they ask are: Do I have any weapons in the car, and am I on parole or probation?

Being a black man has changed the way I move in the world.

I used to walk quickly or run to catch a bus. Now I walk at a slower pace, and if I’m late I don’t dare rush. I am hyper-aware of making sudden or abrupt movements, especially in airports, train stations and other public places. I avoid engaging with unfamiliar white folks, especially white women. If they catch my eye, white women usually clutch their purses and cross the street. While I love urban aesthetics, I stopped wearing hoodies and traded my baggy jeans, oversized jerseys and colorful skullcaps for closefitting jeans, khakis and sweaters. These changes blunt assumptions that I’m going to snatch purses or merchandise, or jump the subway turnstile. The less visible I am, the better my chances of surviving.

But it’s not foolproof. I’m an academic sitting at a desk so I exercise where I can. I walked to the post office to mail some books and I put on this 40-pound weight vest that I walk around in. It was about 3 or 4 in the afternoon and I’m walking back and all of a sudden police officers drove up, got out of their car, and stopped. I had my earphones on so I didn’t know they were talking to me. I looked up and there’s a helicopter above. And now I can kind of see why people run, because you might live if you run, even if you haven’t done anything. This was in Emeryville, one of the wealthiest enclaves in Northern California, where there’s security galore. Someone had seen me walking to the post office and called in and said they saw a Muslim with an explosives vest. One cop, a white guy, picked it up and laughed and said, “Oh, I think I know what this is. This is a weight belt.”

It’s not only humiliating, but it creates anxiety on a daily basis. Before, I used to feel safe going up to a police officer if I was lost or needed directions. But I don’t do that anymore. I hike a lot, and if I’m out hiking and I see a dead body, I’ll keep on walking. I’ll never call the police again.

‘It now feels as though I am on my own’

Zander Keig, 52, San Diego

Coast Guard veteran. Works at Naval Medical Center San Diego as a clinical social work case manager. Editor of anthologies about transgender men. Started transition in 2005.

Prior to my transition, I was an outspoken radical feminist. I spoke up often, loudly and with confidence.

I was encouraged to speak up. I was given awards for my efforts, literally — it was like, “Oh, yeah, speak up, speak out.” When I speak up now, I am often given the direct or indirect message that I am “mansplaining,” “taking up too much space” or “asserting my white male heterosexual privilege.” Never mind that I am a first-generation Mexican American, a transsexual man, and married to the same woman I was with prior to my transition.

I find the assertion that I am now unable to speak out on issues I find important offensive and I refuse to allow anyone to silence me. My ability to empathize has grown exponentially, because I now factor men into my thinking and feeling about situations.

Prior to my transition, I rarely considered how men experienced life or what they thought, wanted or liked about their lives.

I have learned so much about the lives of men through my friendships with men, reading books and articles by and for men and through the men I serve as a licensed clinical social worker.

Social work is generally considered to be “female dominated,” with women making up about 80 percent of the profession in the United States. Currently I work exclusively with clinical nurse case managers, but in my previous position, as a medical social worker working with chronically homeless military veterans — mostly male — who were grappling with substance use disorder and severe mental illness, I was one of a few men among dozens of women.

Plenty of research shows that life events, medical conditions and family circumstances impact men and women differently. But when I would suggest that patient behavioral issues like anger or violence may be a symptom of trauma or depression, it would often get dismissed or outright challenged. The overarching theme was “men are violent” and there was “no excuse” for their actions.

I do notice that some women do expect me to acquiesce or concede to them more now: Let them speak first, let them board the bus first, let them sit down first, and so on. I also notice that in public spaces men are more collegial with me, which they express through verbal and nonverbal messages: head lifting when passing me on the sidewalk and using terms like “brother” and “boss man” to acknowledge me. As a former lesbian feminist, I was put off by the way that some women want to be treated by me, now that I am a man, because it violates a foundational belief I carry, which is that women are fully capable human beings who do not need men to acquiesce or concede to them.

What continues to strike me is the significant reduction in friendliness and kindness now extended to me in public spaces. It now feels as though I am on my own: No one, outside of family and close friends, is paying any attention to my well-being.

I can recall a moment where this difference hit home. A couple of years into my medical gender transition, I was traveling on a public bus early one weekend morning. There were six people on the bus, including me. One was a woman. She was talking on a mobile phone very loudly and remarked that “men are such a–holes.” I immediately looked up at her and then around at the other men. Not one had lifted his head to look at the woman or anyone else. The woman saw me look at her and then commented to the person she was speaking with about “some a–hole on the bus right now looking at me.” I was stunned, because I recall being in similar situations, but in the reverse, many times: A man would say or do something deemed obnoxious or offensive, and I would find solidarity with the women around me as we made eye contact, rolled our eyes and maybe even commented out loud on the situation. I’m not sure I understand why the men did not respond, but it made a lasting impression on me.

‘I took control of my career’

Chris Edwards, 49, Boston

Advertising creative director, public speaker and author of the memoir “Balls: It Takes Some to Get Some.” Transitioned in his mid-20s.

When I began my transition at age 26, a lot of my socialization came from the guys at work. For example, as a woman, I’d walk down the hall and bump into some of my female co-workers, and they’d say, “Hey, what’s up?” and I’d say, “Oh, I just got out of this client meeting. They killed all my scripts and now I have to go back and rewrite everything, blah blah blah. What’s up with you?” and then they’d tell me their stories. As a guy, I bump into a guy in the hall and he says, “What’s up?” and I launch into a story about my day and he’s already down the hall. And I’m thinking, well, that’s rude. So, I think, okay, well, I guess guys don’t really share, so next time I’ll keep it brief. By the third time, I realized you just nod.

The creative department is largely male, and the guys accepted me into the club. I learned by example and modeled my professional behavior accordingly. For example, I kept noticing that if guys wanted an assignment they’d just ask for it. If they wanted a raise or a promotion they’d ask for it. This was a foreign concept to me. As a woman, I never felt that it was polite to do that or that I had the power to do that. But after seeing it happen all around me I decided that if I felt I deserved something I was going to ask for it too. By doing that, I took control of my career. It was very empowering.

Apparently, people were only holding the door for me because I was a woman rather than out of common courtesy as I had assumed. Not just men, women too. I learned this the first time I left the house presenting as male, when a woman entered a department store in front of me and just let the door swing shut behind her. I was so caught off guard I walked into it face first.

When you’re socially transitioning, you want to blend in, not stand out, so it’s uncomfortable when little reminders pop up that you’re not like everybody else. I’m expected to know everything about sports. I like sports but I’m not in deep like a lot of guys. For example, I love watching football, but I never played the sport (wasn’t an option for girls back in my day) so there is a lot I don’t know. I remember the first time I was in a wedding as a groomsman. I was maybe three years into my transition and I was lined up for photos with all the other guys. And one of them shouted, “High school football pose!” and on cue everybody dropped down and squatted like the offensive line, and I was like, what the hell is going on? It was not instinctive to me since I never played. I tried to mirror what everyone was doing, but when you see the picture I’m kind of “offsides,” so to speak.

The hormones made me more impatient. I had lots of female friends and one of the qualities they loved about me was that I was a great listener. After being on testosterone, they informed me that my listening skills weren’t what they used to be. Here’s an example: I’m driving with one of my best friends, Beth, and I ask her “Is your sister meeting us for dinner?” Ten minutes later she’s still talking and I still have no idea if her sister is coming. So finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I snapped and said, “IS SHE COMING OR NOT?” And Beth was like, “You know, you used to like hearing all the backstory and how I’d get around to the answer. A lot of us have noticed you’ve become very impatient lately and we think it’s that damn testosterone!” It’s definitely true that some male behavior is governed by hormones. Instead of listening to a woman’s problem and being empathetic and nodding along, I would do the stereotypical guy thing — interrupt and provide a solution to cut the conversation short and move on. I’m trying to be better about this.

People ask if being a man made me more successful in my career. My answer is yes — but not for the reason you might think. As a man, I was finally comfortable in my own skin and that made me more confident. At work I noticed I was more direct: getting to the point, not apologizing before I said anything or tiptoeing around and trying to be delicate like I used to do. In meetings, I was more outspoken. I stopped posing my thoughts as questions. I’d say what I meant and what I wanted to happen instead of dropping hints and hoping people would read between the lines and pick up on what I really wanted. I was no longer shy about stating my opinions or defending my work. When I gave presentations I was brighter, funnier, more engaging. Not because I was a man. Because I was happy.

‘People assume I know the answer’

Alex Poon, 26, Boston

Project manager for Wayfair, an online home goods company. Alex is in the process of his physical transition; he did the chest surgery after college and started taking testosterone this spring.

Traditional Chinese culture is about conforming to your elders’ wishes and staying within gender boundaries. However, I grew up in the U.S., where I could explore my individuality and my own gender identity. When I was 15 I was attending an all-girls high school where we had to wear skirts, but I felt different from my peers. Around that point we began living with my Chinese grandfather towards the end of his life. He was so traditional and deeply set in his ways. I felt like I couldn’t cut my hair or dress how I wanted because I was afraid to upset him and have our last memories of each other be ruined.

Genetics are not in my favor for growing a lumberjack-style beard. Sometimes, Chinese faces are seen as “soft” with less defined jaw lines and a lack of facial fair. I worry that some of my feminine features like my “soft face” will make it hard to present as a masculine man, which is how I see myself. Instead, when people meet me for the first time, I’m often read as an effeminate man.

My voice has started cracking and becoming lower. Recently, I’ve been noticing the difference between being perceived as a woman versus being perceived as a man. I’ve been wondering how I can strike the right balance between remembering how it feels to be silenced and talked over with the privileges that come along with being perceived as a man. Now, when I lead meetings, I purposefully create pauses and moments where I try to draw others into the conversation and make space for everyone to contribute and ask questions.

People now assume I have logic, advice and seniority. They look at me and assume I know the answer, even when I don’t. I’ve been in meetings where everyone else in the room was a woman and more senior, yet I still got asked, “Alex, what do you think? We thought you would know.” I was at an all-team meeting with 40 people, and I was recognized by name for my team’s accomplishments. Whereas next to me, there was another successful team led by a woman, but she was never mentioned by name. I went up to her afterward and said, “Wow, that was not cool; your team actually did more than my team.” The stark difference made me feel uncomfortable and brought back feelings of when I had been in the same boat and not been given credit for my work.

When people thought I was a woman, they often gave me vague or roundabout answers when I asked a question. I’ve even had someone tell me, “If you just Googled it, you would know.” But now that I’m read as a man, I’ve found people give me direct and clear answers, even if it means they have to do some research on their own before getting back to me.

A part of me regrets not sharing with my grandfather who I truly am before he passed away. I wonder how our relationship might have been different if he had known this one piece about me and had still accepted me as his grandson. Traditionally, Chinese culture sees men as more valuable than women. Before, I was the youngest granddaughter, so the least important. Now, I’m the oldest grandson. I think about how he might have had different expectations or tried to instill certain traditional Chinese principles upon me more deeply, such as caring more about my grades or taking care of my siblings and elders. Though he never viewed me as a man, I ended up doing these things anyway.

Zander Keig contributed to this article in his personal capacity. The opinions expressed in this are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of the Department of Defense.

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Old story worth a repost SOURCE

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carrigerpigeon · 4 years

Text

On THE ENFORCER ENIGMA

Okay, y’all.

We need to talk about The Enforcer Enigma because I have many, many problems with it.

I’ve been sitting on my feelings for this book for a month or so, after I got my ARC of it and I read it. It’s been hard to decide what I was going to say, how I was going to approach this. Like I’ve said before, my relationship with Gail exists in a liminal space between fan and friend, and is even more complicated than that.

I’ve decided, as both a fan AND friend, that I can’t ignore the problems in this book.

Which is where this post comes from.

When I first I heard it was dealing with the Selkie mob I was excited, because I loved how ridiculous they were in the short story and I think the concept is gloriously ludicrous. But this book overall felt very contrived, very basic, and very tone deaf in a racist way. The gay boys felt objectified and cookie cutter, and the racist treatment of Judd made me very, very upset.

I’m going to get to my issues with the treatment of Judd, as best as I can as a white person with a lot to learn, but I want to start with something I am able to speak better on, and that’s the gay characters in this book.

So let’s get into it. Spoilers, obviously, and lots of talk about systematic racism and homophobia, antiblackness, stereotypes, etc.

(Also, Gail, since you follow me on this blog and I know you’ll probably see this—READ THE WHOLE THING. Think about it. And then if you’d like to talk about it, you know how to contact me.)

This is going behind a cut, not because of the content but because it’s almost 6 pages long.

The Gay Boys

Okay. Look.

I love a catty, fabulous gay boy as much as the next queer. They have a space and a place in our community. But not EVERY gay man is like this IRL. Meanwhile, in SAS, it feels like every gay male character (or close to) in this series is a waspy, catty, faaaabulous gay. Isaac, Marvin, Max, Trick, even to some extent Alec and Bryan…they’re just all the exhausting waspy, catty, fabulous gay boy that we see exhibited heavily on Drag Race and other mainstream platforms.

And like. I get it. Colin is repressed and gay and wants to be a fabulous twink. That’s fine. But it just felt like he was slipping into the stereotype all the other gay male characters inhabit in these books, and that’s really, really exhausting.

Also, I am from the East Coast, where according to my West Coast friends we apparently grow gay boys differently. I can’t say with any accuracy how much of this is true. BUT MOST OF THESE GAY BOYS ARE FROM THE EAST COAST. They lived in Boston before moving to California. So why are they like this?

It feeds into this larger trend I’ve seen in Gail’s word with fabulous, savage gay boys—from Akeldama and all his drones, to Biffy, and even Lyall. Seen over the spread, it’s harder to sweep it away as just a “modern storyline” thing or a “California storyline” thing. It’s a trend, one which I find very uncomfortable as a queer person.

There is a place and space for Queer people to take back the tropes and stereotypes that have been used against us and write them our own way. But what I’ve seen as a longtime reader isn’t that. What I seem is lazy stereotyping and an overarching stereotype and characterization that feed into the larger the ways I feel gay men are objectified by female authors (no matter how queer the author is).

Many more people have covered this topic better than I, but it explains why I’ve felt so uneasy about this series from the get go. The sex and the relationships in these books don’t feel real—it feels objectifying. There’s lots of talk about big and strong sexy, muscle-y men but very little else. And while there is something to say about having a partner who thinks you’re sexy—that’s important, and I want everyone to have that…. this isn’t that.

These are muscle-y, strong, sassy gay men for cis white women to coo over on Facebook and feel good about. But to me, a real life nonbinary queer person, I feel uneasy and frankly uncomfortable with the objectification of them.

And since we’re talking about queer representation, after having a decent wlw spread in the Parasolverse there are two WLW (specifically lesbians) in SAS (Trickle and Pepper) and they (a) barely get any screen time and (b) feel stereotypical to me. And they are side characters, so I get it, but seriously?

And also while we’re on queer representation, there’s Mana, aka Manifest Destiny. Mana is the drag queen and arguable trans woman* who started off alright BUT was named after the colonization and violent taking of Native and Indigenous people’s lands and wrapped up in patriotism. Gail has said she made a mistake, that she meant her name to be Mana From Heaven, and that this would be addressed in the upcoming book (aka The Enforcer Engima).

It was not.

There is talk, from what I understand, this issue will be addresses in the upcoming short story about Mana and Lovejoy. But there are several throwaway lines about Mana in this book, her work in LA and her becoming a drag queen superstar (I guess akin to RuPaul?). So why wasn’t her name change discussed or even mentioned there?

[*Sidebar: Mana has been quoted as saying, “I suppose I should be transgender, under modern parlance. But I like drag queen. It suits me. I like the fabric roughness of drag, and the royalty of queen. It's a nice change to have the luxury of choosing one's own semantics, if not one's own situation." But whenever she appears, it seems she’s always in face/wearing false eyelashes/wearing women’s clothing.

I’m not going to police Mana’s trans experience because gender is a spectrum, and I as someone under the trans umbrella know that. But it feels…weird and off to me.]

Regardless of my sidebar, the name she was supposed to have, Manna from Heaven is…also sort of problematic? If I understand the reference correctly, it refers to the Biblical story of the food that God miraculously provided to the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness. It means as a phrase the coming of unexpected benefit or assistance, especially when that benefit/assistance comes at the time when it is needed most. Which is what Mana is for the pack—she lets them live in her apartment in Book 1, she swoops in to save the day in Book 2. But it feels…very white and more than a little gross to name a character with Chinese and Japanese ancestry after something from the Bible.

And then there’s Judd.

Oh, Judd.

I really wanted to like Judd. The premise of his character was interesting, a Black, Pre-Saturation werewolf shifter, and I liked his cameos in the other books. But then we got a book about him, and it all fell apart.

Judd is a gay Black character, pre-Saturation, meaning he’s old as hell (from the Parasolverse time). He is objectified like the other gay boys, and there’s a lot of talk about how hard and strong his muscles and how sexy he is. He’s depicted on the cover this way.

And that’s…fine I guess, but gay Black men frequently have their bodies objectified as Black and muscley and strong. He’s also a pack Enforcer, so he’s depicted as not very smart and very violent. All of those are racist stereotypes that Black men deal with constantly, and they are racist stereotypes and tropes that are constantly hurled at Black men by the system and by society.

Additionly, Judd, the only Black member of the pack, is the only werewolf in the series to carry a gun.

A Black man. Is the only member. To carry a gun.

Yeah.

It gets worse.

There is mention of Judd’s backstory—very heavy inferences to Phineas/Soap (whose problematic naming convention and descriptors have been talked about especially by jhenne-bean ) being his mentor until he gets kicked out of Sidheag’s pack—but it falls very flat. I understand not wanting to write too much history of a Black character as a white writer, especially after tenuously connecting that history to the traditionally published series you’re Not Connected SAS To Not At All….

But.

Judd is over 150 years old.

He lived through some of America and Canada's worst racial discrimination, discrimination which would have affected him and his habitus and the way he moves through the world. He’s a gay Black man, and his gayness and his Blackness does not appear to affect how he interacts with the world at all. The police are called at the beginning and he’s OKAY ABOUT IT? AS A BLACK MAN? He basically says, “Thank God, the cops are here.”

You had a BLACK MALE CHARACTER SAY THAT when we’ve had a nationwide conversation since 2013, a conversation that has been reignited in the past three months?

Like????

And I was willing—perhaps whitely and naively—to give Gail the benefit of the doubt with Soap/Phineas. E&E was written in 2011, before Black Lives Matter was founded, before we began to have this nationwide reckoning with how Black and brown folks are treated systematically and especially by police violence. These conversations were definitely being had in 2011, but they were seen as fringe discussions and not necessarily part of the mainstream narrative as it is today.

However. It’s not 2011. It’s 2020.

It’s been 7 years since BLM was founded, and there have been countless discussions happening about racism and systematic issues in publishing and with white writers writing Black characters since that point.

Soap/Phineas has been mentioned or has cameo’d in The Custard Protocol and in Meat Cute. There’s been no conversation about his name or the way he has been described And both he and Judd fall into the Caring-POC-Partner trope which has been discussed very heavily in romance circles and in ways I am not necessarily equipped to discuss in this post. But I will link to this post for everyone to read: https://medium.com/@ashiamonetb/queer-love-interests-of-color-and-the-white-gaze-8928b7b5e6ad

It’s 2020. These conversations have been being had, quite fervently, for many years, so there’s absolutely no excuse with how Judd is approached or treated in this book.

And here’s the CRUX of all this.

This book isn’t even really about Judd.

It’s about Colin.

Even though Judd is on the cover of the book, in all of his objectified Black body goodness, the plot of the story is about Colin. It’s very much entrenched in Colin’s issues with his family and his identity. Judd is there to take care of Colin and ~guide~ him and ~teach~ him things. To protect him. To be sexy to him.

See the medium article above. See the conversation about objectification above.

So if this book is SO MUCH ABOUT COLIN, why is Judd on the cover?

Why is Judd naked and glistening and Black on the cover of the story about the trials and tribulations of a white twink?

…Do I really have to say it? Maybe I do. It’s racist.

It might not be intended that way, but it is.

And look. There were parts of this book that I found enjoyable. I am still a fan of Gail’s wit and the way she writes. I’m a sucker for the found family trope, which all of these books have, and I really like Trick and Marvin. I’ve been where Colin is. I’ve fucked around with my gender presentation and been scared to out and fabulous or be perceived a certain way because I present a certain way.

But I’m really frustrated and frankly ANGRY with the racist stereotypes and gay stereotypes present in this book. It doesn’t feel like this was sensitivity read at all, by anyone. The book feels like a culmination of racist and homophobic trends that make me feel that Gail hasn’t been paying attention or listening to the cultural reckoning happening nationwide or in publishing.

And yes, there is a lot of “don’t idolize authors” talk, but here’s the thing.

Gail isn’t some anonymous author to me, someone I can just cancel and be done with.

Gail is a mentor to me. We’ve hung out at multiple cons, shot the shit about publishing, and talked about queer shit together with. We aren’t close, but she’s a friend (liminal space, etc). She gets a Christmas card from me every year, she asks after my partner when we chat. We’ve been in each other’s orbits for TEN YEARS.

I have this entire sideblog dedicated to her books, for fucks sake.

So when I read shit like this, it makes me upset. This book is a pile of microaggressions that stacked into a macroagression. It’s insensitive, definitely hurtful, and feels exceptionally tone deaf (AT BEST) to have written and released this book.

She has people in her inner circle who could have caught this if we’d been allowed to read it before hand, if we’d been a part of the beta process. But we weren’t. And it shows.

Gail, this is a message directly for you: You talk a lot about supporting people. You reblog lots of #ownvoices work and have been plugging a lot of #ownvoices fiction. I know (or at least hope) you’re a good person.

SO WHAT HAPPENED?

Why is this book such a disaster?

Have you been listening at all?

And I get it, we all have things to learn and things to unlearn. As white ally, and as a member of the queer community, as someone in your inner circle and as a friend (liminal space!), I get it.

I’m also saying this isn’t ok.

This book that you’ve written is not okay. Not even a little bit.

Here’s the thing: you can fix it (or you can try). It’s gonna be hard and require difficult conversations and actions, but you can.

If you want to know more, if you want to talk: you know how to contact me. I’ll give you my number. We can email, Skype, Zoom, text, call, whatever. I know I’m not the only member of the Pigeons that feels this way. You have people here to help.

As for everyone else:

As might be apparent I have…a lot of feelings right now. I’ve loved these books for so long, made a friend (liminal space!) with the author through social media. Genevieve Lefoux, and Sidheag, and Aggie, and lots of other characters mean a lot to me. Gail’s books have helped me through hard times and hard places, and she’s influenced a lot of whom I am as a writer.

But right now having this blog, dedicated to all these books with this massive subthread of racism and stereotypes, feels…not great.

And I don’t know if I can continue to support Gail and continue to be a fan (and a friend) if she keeps up with this.

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multiverseofmiracleshq · 3 years

Photo

After leaving the Inn, a group of heroes led by Sam Wilson headed to the Town Museum. It was there that the items & weapons that had been confiscated by the town were inventoried along with a fragment of the Reality Stone. Things couldn’t be too easy of course, and the group ran into U.S. Agent and Elektra. There was no time to waste. The mission was simple: get your gear and get out. Town Hall was waiting.

These events come AFTER the INN and BEFORE the HOSPITAL and TOWN HALL.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

MATT MURDOCK: Matt entered the museum first, the rest of the group filing in after him. There wasn’t exactly a welcoming party at the door as one might have expected, so things took on an eerie quiet for the time being, as if Zemo’s cohorts were spiders, waiting for them to stumble into their web. Matt blinked and Elektra’s alternate face flashed behind his eyelids. He swallowed harshly, unsure of how the encounter was about to go down, but eager to get things going either way. “What’s the plan here, Sam — ?”

SAM WILSON: “We get in, we get out stuff and we get out. Seems easy, but, I’m gettin’ the feeling that nothing is here. My guess is they’re going to need all the help they can get at the Town Hall.”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: The town was a facade that had shattered. Chaos was eating its way out of the cracks and running rampant on the streets. The inmates of Pleasant Hill had come back in full force. The former sheriff had tried to intervene before she had felt the shiver run down her spine as well. Still clad in her officer uniform, Zemo’s request to play guard at the Museum had been indulged only because she wanted to see who was going to show up. One shoulder resting against the wall of the vault, the assassin watched the supposed heroes trickle in. Better her to see them than Walker or Bullseye. “Theft is still illegal in Pleasant Hill.” A wolves smile appeared on her face. “More or less.”

MATT MURDOCK: “Elektra,” Matt gasped, the name falling past his lips without his consent. She had been missing this entire time, and his search had been fruitless, but here she was, playing sheriff in this fucked up Westview/Stepford hybrid. Unaware if she too had been woken up from the memory of her false past, Matt refused to speak up, so as to not cause any more trouble than they already had to deal with.

STEVE ROGERS: Steve wasn’t familiar with either individual dressed in red, but if Sam was willing to work with them, they had to be assets. At Elektra’s comment, though, Steve’s eyes lingered on her briefly. “Let’s just be sure.” Steve said. If it turned out there was nothing there, then at least they could cross it off the list. “I’m gonna spread out, start looking.” and with that he broke off to find whatever it was a piece of a reality stone looked like.

GWEN STACY: Feeling incredibly naked, Gwen followed closely behind Steve. “Where do you think they hide alien life forms?”

STEVE ROGERS: Steve glanced at Gwen from his peripheral before his eyes returned to scanning the area as they walked. “Don’t know...—but in my experience, after your first alien or two y’kinda just know one when you see ‘em.” cosmic forces included. “They don’t really blend in.” a beat “Unless they’re skrulls.”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: “Matthew.” The name was said quietly, fondly. Holding both hands out in front of her, the device that Zemo’s lackey Fixer had created to counteract the Reality Stone hummed. Returned to the red and black uniform she had entered the town in, Elektra approached. “They’re going to get attacked, you know. Zemo told John Walker to make himself at home, be territorial.”

GWEN STACY: “It’s a symbiote,” Gwen elaborated even though he hadn’t asked. She was pretty sure she’d never actually sustained a conversation with him before, but Miles and Cindy weren’t there. Symbiotes responded to sound. That was known. It seemed too risky to attempt a whistle though, so Gwen just looked around for a jar or something of the kind.

MATT MURDOCK: Matt froze as Elektra's appearance shifted back to the one he was much more familiar with. A mixture of relief and worry left a sour feeling in his stomach. This was all coming to a close, and soon. And by their luck, things would likely get messy. "I think they can hold their own against Walker. It's Zemo I'm concerned about. We can't let him go through with whatever he's planning, Elektra. It could be disastrous."

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: She shook her head, dark hair swinging. “Zemo is a megalomaniac, Matthew. You’ve faced those before, no? I have no desire to be on the losing side of this. The stakes are too high. There’s a vault in the middle of the museum behind a portrait of a star. That’s where the Stone fragment is. It’s what Zemo wants but he can’t have.” Dark lips tugged downwards. “I missed you.” Real? Fake? A bit of both.

STEVE ROGERS: “What’s a symbiote-?” Steve started to ask but before he could finish, something came hurling out of nowhere. The first one whizzed by him, hurling straight for Sam. Steve’s head whipped back around to search for the source, activating the vibranium gauntlets strapped to his wrists that T’Challa had given him. Instead he had just enough time to throw his arm up and block the second object flung in their direction. It bounced off his shield gauntlet and ricochet right back to its owner: “Walker.” Steve said.

JOHN WALKER: So he’d been stripped of the Cap title and shoved in a prison — turned inside out with the face of someone else just to have the Avengers show up and try to cause more problems than already existed. They didn’t know when to stop making things worse, so he wasn’t surprised to see Sam—maybe a little surprised to see Rogers, though. Whoever the hell else was with them. “Traitor.” Walker said, regarding the former Captain. “What are you doing here, Sam? Go home. You don’t belong here. None of you do.”

MATT MURDOCK: Matt took a few steps backwards, his own expression having yet to betray his true feelings. He had to get this information to Sam - or Steve - or whoever else would be there to listen. The search for missing weaponry and armor had stretched out to neighboring rooms, but Matt could just make out the beginnings of a confrontation between Walker and many others. Was Elektra allowing him to leave? It was shocking, but possible. "I have to help them - I've gotta go, Elektra --" I missed you. Matt gave no response, but his expression said otherwise.

SAM WILSON: Sam held up a hand, wincing slightly as he caught the shield with one hand and his bicep strained from the effort to stop it. “Belong here? I think I do. Got some wings with my name on ‘em, and my friends were being held against their will. You know how that feels, don’t you?”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: He was walking away. If he asked, she would have helped him. She didn’t know the Vault codes but it could be cracked. Elektra wanted to help, to be whole. She wasn’t a Pleasant Hill caricature anymore, but he turned and left without returning the sentiment. Matthew felt the same. Elektra had trained herself to respond to the dips of his voice and twitches of his face. Did he not trust her? Maybe. She watched his form recede before stepping back into the shadows.

JOHN WALKER: John caught the second shield when it returned to him, eyes trained on Sam. “Yeah, that’s right. I do. And what did any of you do about it besides show up late?” He asked.

SAM WILSON: “Better late than never?” Sam asked wryly. “Look, three Captain America’s. We can sort this out.”

KATE BISHOP: Unabashedly eavesdropping, Kate had listened in on Matt and Elektra and was hightailing it towards Steve and Sam. “Picture of the Star. Vault.” She spoke in a quiet rush to Sam, grabbing his arm. “The Stone.”

GWEN STACY: Gwen was going to break down the complicated facts behind sentient alien goo when shields were being thrown and she was ducking for cover. Choosing to take that moment to break off, it took a few minutes for Gwen to find a clay statue that looked like a spider. Wincing as she knocked it over, spiders spilled out from inside and quickly covered her body. There was a a moment of blackness as the symbiote reconnected with its host and Gwen left for Town Hall.

JOHN WALKER: “Look, whatever it is you think you came here for—turn around and leave. Nobody needs you here.” The world had cast him aside the second he made his first mistake amidst war. He had no reason to return to the shambled title he’d been left with after they dishonorably discharged him for avenging his best friend. “Honestly Sam, you’re walking in the light today but what about tomorrow? Eventually you’re gonna do something they don’t like and they’ll toss you aside just like yesterdays trash. — happened to Steve.” He glanced at the former Captain. A man he’d once held so high on a pedestal. “I guess it’s true what they say — don’t meet your heroes.” He stared at Steve.

STEVE ROGERS: The muscle in steve’s jaw jumped as his teeth ground together, it wasn’t really the insult that irritated him as much as the arrogance. He had a hard time listening to men boast about things they had no idea about. “You think being a hero is a crowd at your feet and that’s your problem.” Steve said. “That’s why you were never a good Cap.”

RIRI WILLIAMS: Moving on her own, Riri had found her suit disguised as a suit of armor. The nanotech had felt cold as it responded to her wristlet and covered her skin. The light of her repulsor lit up the darkened museum until it found Sam, who was staring at an oversized painting of a falling star with Kate. “That it?” She asked, hand canon already firing up.

JOHN WALKER: Okay, that stung. The heat that burned through his cheeks then was a mixture of embarrassment and fury. “Oh, screw you—.” John replied and he flung his shield at him, using the seconds that it took Steve to deflect it to propel himself across the fifteen feet of space between them. A deafening clang rang out as they slammed into one another, vibranium meeting metal. Despite matching strength, the shock reverberated through John ten fold, practically chattering his teeth. He groaned, pushing against Rogers as he pushed back—then Steve kicked his right ankle out from under him and drove John backwards. It was a series of fists and blows between the two of them, and where Walker had youth, Rogers had experience.

KATE BISHOP: “Are you going to shoot an Infinity Stone??” Kate looked to Sam in surprised confirmation.

SAM WILSON: “It’s only a part of one.” Sam tossed out as if it made it any better.

RIRI WILLIAMS: “It’s a little more exact than that.” Riri grit her teeth. Her repulsor had a precision setting and it carefully carved out a section of the painting and vault. The lock required a code, but she let N.A.T.A.L.I.E. interface with it for a second before it clicked open. As her suit created a nano chamber, Riri carefully scooped the Stone in and secured it. “Feels kind of dumb to drag it to Zemo, so I’m going to the hospital.” Without waiting for confirmation, Riri flew out.

SAM WILSON: Finding his wings and a shield ( one that wasn’t his ), Sam nodded at Bishop. “We need to get to the Town Hall. Steve’ll follow.”

STEVE: Maybe a little part of him had wanted to hit him the first time he saw him on that TV, adorning a shield that wasn’t given to him in a uniform that no real place in this world anymore. Walker was arguably an equal match in terms of strength—he’d been trained just as well as any other soldier, but he was sloppy. He let his anger get the better of him rather than channeling it like fuel. It left him open and Steve took every shot he gave — a jab to the liver here, a blow to his kidney there. Without that healing factor, he’d be pissing blood for weeks and by the look on his face, he was starting to realize the rapid succession of Steve’s hits were a little more than it could keep up with. Steve had lived in this form for a long time—he’d spent himself to the point of total exhaustion more than he could count. he knew what it took to reach that breaking point.

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: The museum slowly emptied. Rogers finished beating the living hell out of Walker and left him to be picked up by some S.H.I.E.L.D. guards. The inmates were buzzing that Bullseye was down and Taskmaster had abandoned post. When the former Captain America vacated the premise, Elektra danced over Walker to peer into the Vault. Empty. Good. She had liberated her sai’s from a display already, but the assassin still did a check of the museum before she exited to escape Pleasant Hill.

#momevents #event: pleasant hill #pleasant hill: finale #chatlog: pleasant hill museum

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kasdeyathebitterwoman · 4 years

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Running Mate Part 3

Welp. There’s going to be a part 4 and probably several other parts to continue this story…the response to part 1 has been insane and y’all definitely seem to be enjoying part 2 as well, so thank you!

Description: While running in the English countryside, Henry meets a fun documentarian and sparks fly.

Word Count: 2,255

CW: none, fluff

Every day after your coffee date, you and Henry had talked via text message. He was charming and sweet in a way that most others were not. When you weren’t running with him, you were talking about a variety of topics from PC gaming to Ancient Egypt. You found a common love of history which was rare for you. Not everyone enjoyed listening to you go on about some ancient Roman or Grecian fact that you’d learned.

And now a week later, you were standing in the reception area of a private theater chatting with a friend and film critic from the area. As a tradition, your team held a sort of cocktail party before a viewing to give your guests a chance to mingle and learn more about the film from the producers. You were dressed in a sleek black halter dress with black pumps and minimal gold jewelry while your hair tumbled down your shoulders in a half-up, half-down hairdo. You found this dress that very day and fell in love. It hugged your curves just right and made you feel sexy, without being obvious.

Nervously, you glanced around the room looking for evidence of him. It was still early in the evening, so he wasn’t there yet. You ended up in a conversation with one of the directors on your staff. They were talking about a recent experience with a project and you couldn’t help from laughing. You closed your eyes, tipped your head back, and laughed. When you opened your eyes, your gaze slid toward the front door where you saw Henry stride in. He was wearing black slacks, a gray button-down shirt with the top to buttons undone, and a plain black jacket. His normally curly locks were smoothed out into loose waves and smoothed back so he looked even more like Superman than he already did. Your breath caught in your lungs and for a moment. Henry peered around the room before his eyes landed on you and you swear you saw the same thing happen to him. Then a beaming smile grew across his face and then walked confidently to you.

“Hello there,” Henry said as he got closer to you. You accepted an embrace and a kiss on the cheek from him and you could easily smell this cologne. It was earthy and musky with a hint of floral that you couldn’t place, but you didn’t mind.

“Hey,” you said smiling as Henry leaned back up after kissing your cheek. “Thank you for coming,” you said, genuinely thankful he showed up.

“Of course,” he replied. “I’m happy to be here,” he smiled down at you and your heart skipped several beats, but someone clearing their throat brought you back to reality. It was David, the director friend you’d been talking with.

“Uh, Henry this is one of our in-house directors, David,” you say, gesturing toward David who gently waves. “David, this is my friend Henry,” you continue, gesturing to Henry. The men shake hands and chuckle.

“Oh yeah, I know who he is,” David says and Henry raises an eyebrow. “How’s your support for England treating you, mate?” David asks and Henry laughs suddenly. The two begin discussing, you slowly figure out, rugby. “Y/n, what do you think?” David asks at one point, turning to you. Your eyes grow wide and you look between the two men.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply and the men exchange a glance.

“Rugby,” David says slowly and you bob your head.

“Yeah, no clue,” you say and Henry chuckles as David shakes his head.

“Damn, Yank,” he says and you openly scoff.

“Hey now, to be fair, I don’t even understand American football that well,” you start. “I played soccer in high school,” you say and Henry bellows at that. You smile at the sound, feeling your heart flutter again. David shakes his head and says that he’s going to get another drink from the bar. Henry agrees to go with him to get his own drink and you continue to mingle around the room. This was your least favorite part of the film making process, but you knew it had to happen. Henry found you again and offered you a glass of champagne which you graciously accepted.

“I have to admit,” he started, after taking a gulp of his Guinness. “If movie premieres were like this, I think I’d enjoy them much more,” he smiles at you with an eyebrow raise and you laugh sardonically.

“Really? I’ve never actually been to a bonafide movie premiere,” you say and Henry bobs his head.

“They’re honestly just horse and pony shows, but I have to do them,” he says, a tinge of irritation in his voice. You smirk.

“Oh that’s what this is as well,” you say and Henry raises that eyebrow at you. “That group over there,” you say, tilting your head to your left a little and watch as Henry subtly checks them out. “Is a group of our backers. They gave us money to make this documentary, so we have to show them finished product so they can tear it to shreds before the festival season,” you say this sardonically and Henry chuckles. A sound causes you both to turn around. It’s an usher announcing that it’s time to enter the theater for the viewing. “Oh by the way,” you start suddenly. You open the little clutch you brought with you pulling out a ticket. “This is your seat. Sorry, I forgot to give it to you earlier,” you hand Henry the piece of card-stock and his finger brushes your skin. You feel your knees turn to jelly instantly. He smiles as he takes it, then gestures for you to go ahead of him like a true gentleman.

As Henry finds his seat, you move the front of the room where James is standing with a film critic and friend. He sees you and smiles gently. You walk up to him, giving him a half hug.

“And who’s your friend?” James asks, his eyes darting quickly in Henry’s direction. You squint at him, your nose twitching as you try not to smile.

“Just that - a friend,” you reply, though James clearly doesn’t believe you.

“Mhmm,” he muses and you roll your eyes at him. He accepts a microphone from an usher and begins the opening comments. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to another Bulldog Westley Production screening. I’m James and this is y/n, and we are the team behind this company. We are absolutely grateful to have each and every one of you here, but I’m going to let y/n take over because ultimately, this film was her project,” he says, turning to hand you the mic. You take it and smile at everyone.

“Hey y’all,” you say in your usual twang and several people chuckle. “As James said, we are very grateful to have all you here. For many of us, this ain’t our first rodeo,” you say, waving to all the backers in the audience and laughing with them. “For those that are new here, hi, I’m y/n. I’m from Texas and I love documentaries. I get to work with one of my best friends,” you say, glancing at James who is smiling gently. “And I’m honored that he lets me spend real time and effort on things that I’m truly passionate about,” you smile around the room at everyone. Your eyes land on Henry for just a moment and you feel your heart flutter. “Alright, ooey-gooey stuff aside, there is just a little housekeeping I have to go over,” you say, pausing to make sure everyone is paying attention. “Number one, please, please, please, make sure your cellphones are turned off. This is an advanced screening and we are really hoping this does well in the festival circuit. It can’t do that if someone leaks even one second of footage. And number two, under every seat there is a feedback card. I’d love to know your thoughts about this when we are done. It is anonymous, so if you do say something ugly, I’ll never know it was you, but remember this,” you pause, staring everyone down. “I will think about it every single day for the rest of my life,” you joke and the audience bursts out in laughter. “Okay, that’s it for the intro. Ladies and gentlemen, we are Bulldog Westley Productions and this is our latest documentary, Take Me Home Country Roads,” everyone claps as you and James walk off stage to your seats. You gave Henry the seat next to you and he was smiling wide when you walked up.

“You were incredible,” he murmurs as you take your seat. You smile wide, grateful that the lights are dimming so he can’t see you blushing like crazy. Your nerves are amplified as the doc begins and the opening bars of “Take Me Home (Country Roads)” by John Denver begin. Without realizing it, your hand reaches out to Henry’s hand for comfort. He accepts your hand willingly, squeezing your hand gently. You can see him smile at you out of the corner of your eye and you feel yourself smile in response.

What you hadn’t been able to explain to Henry before this night was that the documentary he was viewing was incredibly personal. It was more a personal diary about a trip you took with your dad and your grandmother back to her home town of Grant Town, West Virginia. The documentary was based around the fact that your grandmother was going home to bury the last of her six sisters. It had been years since she had seen anyone or her home town. You had never been and you wanted to learn more about your dad’s family, so you asked if you could come along and film the experience. James thought it would make a great documentary and thus, the project was born.

An hour and fifty-two minutes later, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when the lights came back on. Henry, who was still holding on to your hand by the end of the film, let go to dab at his eyes as you made your way to the front of the room again. You and James received a standing ovation from the audience, then watched as everyone began to head back out to the reception area. Henry lingered to the side as you thanked a few of the backers that came to congratulate you on a job well done. When the last backer had gone, Henry came up to you.

“That was incredible,” he said, a faraway look in his eye. You accepted a hug from him and smiled at the compliment.

“Thank you,” you reply into his chest, taking in his smell again which as lingered. He pulled back to compliment you, but he just kept opening and closing his mouth and shaking his head.

“I mean, just,” he started and stopped. “Wow, that is going to do amazing in the festival circuit, y/n,” he says and you blush.

“I certainly hope so,” you respond, smiling. You stare at Henry, who’s staring right back, with amusement and happiness. You can hear someone walking up to you and glance over your shoulder to see James walking over.

“Hey y/n,” he says quickly, smiling and waving at Henry. “Hi, I’m James,” he says. Henry introduces himself and they shake hands. “Y/n, we need to get back out there and talk to a few backers before they leave,” he says before turning and walking away. You nod and turn back to Henry. It’s just the two of you now in the theater.

“Sorry, duty calls,” you say and he smiles at you.

“I understand,” he replies. “I actually need to get going myself, but I was wondering. Do you think I could see you again tomorrow?” he asks and you smile wide.

“I’d like that,” you reply. Henry nods and leans down to kiss you on the cheek. “You missed,” you say. Henry looks at you puzzled. “You missed,” you repeat, but Henry’s brow is no less furrowed. Ever so slightly rolling your eyes, you grab the collar of Henry’s jacket, stand up on your tip-toes, and pull him in for a kiss. It’s a surprise at first and Henry isn’t ready. It’s all a shock for both of you and you take a step back. “I’m sorry, that was forward and impolite. I’m so sorry,” you say, but Henry is shaking his head no.

“No, no, that was,” he starts, a little breathless. “That was really good,” he finishes. Then he steps forward closing the gap between you and kisses you. It’s raw and passionate and delicious. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders while his hands snake around your waist. After a moment, you release yourself from him and take a step back. Breathing heavy, you look at him and he’s smiling like a schoolboy after his first snog.

“I have to go,” you say, still breathing heavily. You move to hurry off, but you stop and look at Henry over your shoulder. “And don’t look at my butt as I walk away,” you say dramatically, before turning and running for the door. The sound of Henry’s laughter follows you and you can’t remove the smile that is now permanently attached to your face.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill one shot #one shot #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #henryxreader #henryxfemale reader #femme reader

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gwasgy · 3 years

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Okay. So. Here’s an elaborate multiple days of brainstorming ideas as they come PracticalMagicnatural AU nonsense. Thank you.

- Bobby and Rufus would be the Aunts and they'd be bffs not siblings and would have Vibes but it would be... hm. This is not a Bufus story is what I'm saying.

- the Curse would be on the men and for the women they love of course (classic fridging :/)

- this works for Bobby, (Rufus,) John, and Sam. (Supernatural is bad)

- so this is where it's kind of. Hm. Bc Sally and Gillian are not one to one for either boy. Where Sally and Gillian BOTH have identities separating family and magic (family business), these ideas are inseparable for the brothers.

- alsooo dean and sam to BE dean and sam they would've had to be "raised" by john until they were at least near-grown, even if they had a home base at Bobby's house.

- John still kills himself with grief MAYBE but it's like /later/ and more through self destruction and revenge and alcoholism, leaving the boys to live their later teenage/early twenties in the Bufus household

- Azazel is the one killing all the Wives in this curse. And if they use The Resurrection Spell to bring them back, he is possessing them

- hmmmmmmmmm they need to still be hunters I think buuut what if. They also did witchcraft.

- Dean would cast the love summoning spell, making it so that he uses angel descriptors unwittingly or on purpose because he doesnt think angels are real and therefore cannot exist for him to fall in love with and kill (bc the curse)

- it would be fun and very cringe fail embarrassing for Dean if sometimes he thought about His Angel and accidentally occasionally prayed to Cas

- Anna could show up and be Dean's red herring

- Dean could be in an About to Die situation and think, as a joke or whatever, "fuck. I never even got to meet that hot angel chick that's in love with me," and Cas shows up (with wings bc hot), saves him, *handprints*, then leaves

- OR. There's a blinding light and screeching noise and Dean blacks out and wakes up with a handprint safe and sound

- Cas and The Guy From Practical Magic That's A Cop both bend the rules of their superiors for their person easily and pliantly. except for the initial pushback. Hm.

----

- it's weird bc in practical magic there's this whole vibe of I'm Done With Magic And You're Dragging Me Back Into This And Ruining My Life but sammy had gone away and rejected The Life THEN found the woman he loves and THEN tried to resurrect her mayyybeeeee wait wait wait it wouldn’t be Jess bc she isn’t evilll...

- DEAN would be the one with a bad boyfriend that they accidentally kill and have to resurrect... hmmmmm

- maybe it's like a Boy Best Friend of dean's like maybe he is on a hunt with Benny and he accidentally chops his damn head off and tries to resurrect him to cover it up

- and that fucks up something in the afterlife and Cas is sent to Fix The Problem of whatever the fuck happened to this guy's soul when they did this

----

- it's wonderful to think of the PTA mom shenanigans Dean and Sam could get into but I don't think that Dean would have any sort of kid in this besides maybe jack?

- I mean, it could be that Ben is still around and he was with Lisa but never Loved Her on principal, and left in time so the curse didn't fuck her up, but they're still friends and he will still pick Ben up from school sometimes

- I don't see how the phone tree could work into it but I don't think that it's necessary bc sam and dean and cas's version of this story does not and can not revolve around them being outsiders in their own community but overcoming it and accepting who you are and integrating into the community through girl power and witch magic

- BUT. the potential of sammy being possessed is yeah. It’s extremely. Yeah.

- They could have a nice bonding moment of I'm never gonna leave you you can do this like from Swan Song. Like Sally joining Gilly in the broom circle to help her while she’s being exorcised

- their brotherly bond is NOTHING like Sally and Gillian's, though. Like YES. they would no doubt help bury the body, but they aren't giggling about their love life under the covers together. They simply are not that type of girl

- also I guess there wouldn't be the tension of You're Ruining My Life That I've Constructed Just By Being Here between them.

- WELL.

- Dean WOULD say something shitty about cleaning up Sam's messes though. He is just that type of guy

----

- Dean can definitely be the one chopping and hacking at the rose bush and cas would DEFINITELY get distracted and heal him in the middle of his conversation with him

- Dean oh dean he and his close Boy Best Friends could totally fuck with the curse. Like-

- Dean: Oh my good friend Benny he’s the first person ive really allowed myself to get attatched to in a while but that’s fine! he can't die because i don't love or like him like that because he's a guy! Haha, I'm not gay! We are just guys being dudes just two bros hanging out :)

Benny: *dies anyway*

Dean: FUCK

- Sammy would totally make that new age witchy herbal shop that Sally had! that would be so fun. Also ft. periphery what the fuck is up with those people type locals

- maybe Rowena shows up still and Crowley is also there hmmmmm and Rowena teaches Sam magic stuff and it gets him to make the supernatural a part of his life again without having to do any hunting hmmmmmmm or it's just another tool in his arsenal and he just always deserves to have magic powers

- the supernatural ladies could work in the shop :) like Meg and Rowena and Ruby anndddd Alya :) Ava? The psychic hunger games MVP girl

- or all the kids work at that shop!! I miss those dang kids. Max, the twins, death lesbian, Jake, electric guy, and all them :)

- Rowena is like a witchy shop owner up in town that buys Sam's wares to sell in the city #CareerWoman #GirlBoss

- Jody and Donna can also hang out I guess. Since we're at Bobby's place

----

- Dean casts the love summoning spell after either Regular Heartbreak with Cassie, his first love, when he was 15 or whatever, OR after the behated Boy Best Friend death. Hmmmmmm

- it makes more sense for the story for dean to have someone die on him and apply to the curse. But I don't wanna kill Benny ):

- well I don't think he was ever In Love with Crowley or Benny like he was with Cassie (or even Lisa)

- when he was 15 or 14 and John was still around but had left him at the Bufus household he got hold of that love summoning spell and made sure it was impossible so he would never experience heartache again. He does so while crying teenagishly and 11 year old sam is like. Why the fuck are you summoning this weird monster girl to fall in love with you

- and Dean is like no no this kind of monster doesn't exist. Anyway they'd have glowing blue eyes and they're as big as a building and and they hear me whenever I call no matter far away

- Sam: that...... sounds like an angel, dean.

Dean, having already done the spell: WHAT. NO. NO IT'S NOT IT IS SO NOT LIKE AN ANGEL. ANGELS AREN'T REAL

- Cas in Heaven, a bunch of flower petals swirling around him: what the fuck is that. That's weird

- Cas like 13 years later when he sees a cajun zombie vampire demon: okay I'm already getting weird prayers from some guy down there I'm just gonna check that out

- by the time Cas gets down there they've killed it again and buried it and hmm

- It's weird because it's the opposite of Practical Magic here bc Cas is the one that needs to be believed about something supernatural BY dean

----

- what if they accidentally kill JOHN instead of a hot bf. Dean kills John bc John tries to kill Sam, and they panickedly try to resurrect him immediately

- yeah yeah yeah yeah and John, possessed by Azazel, gets killed again while still being possessed and is buried underground. There can still be a rose bush and frogs and whatnot

- I doon't know why Bobby and Rufus would just leave the brothers in their house if John was alive until then?

- Alright John's been missing for like 5 years and the boys have just been living there and assumed he's dead. Then he comes for Sammy bc Sam is Turning Evil or whatever and John's a huge loser about it

- so Bufus is like "you guys are acting insane and you aren't telling us what's wrong so we’re just going to leave and you're going to sort it out yourself." Like the aunts

- then, when cas shows up to track down the weird resurrected demon-possessed serial killer abomination Dean and Cas are EMBARRASSING like completely totally absolutely embarrassing cringe fail love where they can't talk normal with eachother and Cas keeps getting too close and staring but Dean forgets to tell him to back off or anything and he just stammers uselessly through thin dumb lies

- there aren't any children there to comically thwart Sam's plans to get rid of Castiel as he is investigating Dean and Sam but it could end similarly

- where Cas finds Sam making a small angel banishing symbol and is like "okay. You guys aren't to be trusted and you're doing something evil (and i don't understand what’s happening to me when i’m around Dean). I'm just straight up going to leave then" and boom he's gone

- the fight Sally and Gillian have right before Gillian gets possessed can play out pretty damn similarly with Sam and Dean, but it's a LOT different too

- like it's their DAD not some random serial killer bf. You can't choose your dingdang dad! So the part of "I cant keep cleaning up your messes" WHOSE MESSES who even says that to who whose mess could this even be

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- Sam has a girlfriend that dies from the curse and it’s bc of being caught in the crossfire when Hunter Bullshit Happens. The Women of the Winchesters’ way. So he moves back specifically to get back into hunting and witchcraft to BREAK the curse hmmmmm.

- Much like Sally with Michael’s death. “I don't care what he comes back as. As long he comes back. Please do this for me. Please? Please? Please? Please?” :(

- I think Dean is an Of Course I’m Not Going To Fall In Love kinda character, like younger Sally before Michael. very pessimistic very self depreciating. He only confides his deepest darkest desires (to be loved simply and openly without fear of the Curse taking anyone. To be held and to take care of someone who will appreciate it) in his fakey fake pretend prayers to his imaginary angel (this turns out to be very cringe fail embarrassing when Cas shows up)

- Cas holds onto these prayers like Hallet (the cop from movie) does with Sally’s letter to Gillian, not knowing or understanding why he’s so fixated on them and why he can’t stop reading them/playing them back/listening in

- John… maybe he was pulling a Gordon and was killing all the psychic kids and was eventually going to have to kill Sam, and Cas was for some reason Put On The Case as an angel or was Allowed to Interfere or whatever bc it was fudging up God’s Plan

- and that’s how Cas justified being so fixated and taking notes on Dean’s prayers, like Hallet did with the letter. It was a good lead. It was about their father, and Sam seemed to be having psychic tendencies or whatever that could turn dangerous

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- Okay okayokayokay so Sally and Gillian’s story is them escaping the ostracization they feel from the people in their physical regional community. The Owen’s family has always been outsiders, even before the curse came into being. They are persecuted for being witches (and sleeping around and being sexy).

- the sisters try to escape this either by just LEAVING: going to a place they can be themself without shame, or assimilating and abandoning a part of themself so that they can stay.

- the Winchester brothers are, I guess, ostracized by the hunting community because they are kept away from it and moved around a lot in the show. Okay okay okay okay okaywaitwaitwait

- Okay so the Winchesters feel alienated from both civilians and the hunting community, and they both eventually choose to do similar things to Sally and Gilly..! Sam LEAVES and assimilates, while Dean stays and just accepts his role his father gave him.

- Gilly and Sam LEAVE, while Dean and Sally STAY. Gillian and Dean embrace what makes them Different, while Sally and Sam reject it in favor of Being Normal

- The witchcraft/hunting thing especially doesn’t mesh well here though because Hunting is KILLING it’s literally murdering sentient beings. It’s war propaganda it’s desensitizing you to Even Though The Enemy Is Capable Of Good Individually They Are, As A Group, Evil And Should Be Slaughtered.

- Witchcraft in Practical Magic is just… a way of life that’s considered outside the accepted norms of society. It’s being openly queer, it’s being from a different country of origin, it’s being non-christian religious in a small town. Accepting witchcraft doesn’t have any moral good or badness, it’s just with or without the consequences of being “out” in your area. While accepting Hunting as a lifestyle is to accept putting yourself in bodily danger doing morally ambiguous/BAD things to protect people you can’t relate to or find a community in. Hmmmmmmmmmm

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- Sam and Sally both have natural talents/instincts but don't want to use it in favor of being "normal"

#literally all i want to think about.#spn #my posts #like this is Just For Me but GOD.#if theres thoughts or feelings to be had please let me know #practicalmagicnatural #it ends in a whatever kinda way but let me tell you. This is not my final thoughts on this #pmn

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