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benedictscanvas · 9 months

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pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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saschax · 4 months

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ghost headcannons.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: intense negative emotions (experiences strong feelingsof anger, resentment, anxiety, and stress), grudge holding (hold onto negative feelings), emotional surpression, isolation and touch deprivation (isolated and unaccustomed to phsyical contact, which he yearns for), trauma-related fear, sexual anxiety, mental distress (experiences a lot of mental distress and anxiety, which is exacerbated during intimate situations.) nsfw (sexual content)

safe for work.

ghost is an individual who is deeply angered, seeking vengeance, and filled with intense resentment.

contrary to the popular belief that ghost is understanding, compassionate, or forgiving, i personally perceive him as stern, and he has a tendency to hold onto grudges.

although he might seem “peaceful” on the surface, there’s a storm brewing within him, as he suppresses his anger. this is a detrimental habit of his. in general, his internal emotional state is typically dominated by anxiety, stress, hatred, and fury.

ghost is isolated…

in my opinion. he is deprived of physical contact, but it doesn’t help when he recoils or twitches every time someone accidentally brushes against him. ghost struggles to communicate that he doesn’t dislike the touch, he’s just not accustomed to it (and in fact, he yearns for it more than anything), but he keeps this to himself.

building on the previous point, he is fearful of intimate gestures.

such as hand-holding, close proximity (he doesn’t mind this if it occurs during missions, as long as it’s necessary. e.g., door breaching), and so forth. this fear stems from his traumatic experiences with such gestures…

i believe this is referred to as haphephobia?

ghost has a leaner physique.

in my view. he is strong, but not overly muscular. he’s not leaner than soap or any other guys, though, he’s still a bit more muscular than them.

his build aligns with the original ghost’s, just with a bit more muscle to support the current one.

ghost falls ill frequently.

since ghost doesn’t really take good care of himself, such as getting adequate sleep or consuming enough food/drinks, he tends to fall sick easily.

and he never discloses this to anyone and continues to carry out his missions.

ghost experiences nightmares during his sleep.

and because his dreams are so vivid, he temporarily forgets a person (like soap, if he is dreaming about soap. e.g., soap gets brutally attacked) for a while when he wakes up.

his brain temporarily suppresses certain memories of his to shield him from stress, but they always resurface later…

not safe for work.

ghost is timid, hesitant.

it’s already a small wonder if you somehow manage to have him above you, he’s not accustomed to being this exposed and he feels like he’s on the verge of being sick.

he’s just… unfamiliar with this, trembling the entire time.

this is the real him, a guy with full of anxiety, troubles. a guy who is told to "hide your fear", and don't show weaknesses. his whole fucking walls are falling down because of alot of things are going through his head.

he tends to pause frequently.

don’t worry if he pauses his thrusts, it’s just him reflecting on… certain matters.

you’ll need to gently draw him out of his thoughts if you want him to continue, his eyes fixated on the pillow, lost in thought, is making you worried.

P.S i always imagined ghost as person with mental problems, considering his backstory.

please let me know if this is not canon! i am german so i dont really know the plot very well, im still learning.

(i dont know english pronouncations, just how to type the words)

ill be posting a "dominant and needy" john price fanfiction tomorrow, unknown time. its nsfw.

#ghost x reader #ghost smut #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #headcanons #cod headcanons #cod fanfic #cod imagine #task force 141 #mentions of #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader smut

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sansacherie · 2 months

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so allegedly based on episode 5 leaks, alicent tries to vie for regent while aegon is (temporarily) incapacitated.

predictably, there have been stupid takes from both sides of the fandom. i just know that y'all rhaenyra fans (and a lot of the general audience) aren't going to realize that alicent would be asking for something VERY different than what rhaenyra wants. a queen regent is not the same thing as a queen regnant, and there have been examples of queen regents in westeros before. call alicent a hypocrite on everything else (which is a whole other discussion) but i will fight anyone who tries to call her a hypocrite for this. not to mention if the other leaks its true it's obvious that the writers are trying to draw a parallel between rhaenyra and her where rhaenyra also gets undermined.

but moving on to the aegonwives- just as i call out daemonwives/viserys fanboys when they piss me off, im going to do same with you lol.

ive seen comments like "alicent cares more about having power than the fact her son almost died" im sorry but have you actually seen the episode yet or are you just jumping to conclusions? dont get me wrong, the writing HAS done aegon dirty, so a lack of faith is understandable, but that doesn't mean abandoning all common sense especially when there have been times y'all were wrong about something. like i haven't forgotten how so many assumed alicent saying "proceed cautiously" was after blood and cheese and yet turns out it was the small council deciding what their next move should be after aemond killed luke.

anyway, i honestly don't know how based on a single line you can interpret alicent wanting to be regent in that way. if anything, her wanting to be regent shows her LOYALTY to aegon. she put him in that position (pushing his claim) so she owes it to him to be his regent while they wait for what is to become of him. it doesnt matter if she hasnt ruled in wartime, she has to help her son somehow. according to these same leaks, alicent is also suspicious of aemond. if that's true, then yeah it makes perfect sense why she would want to be regent. what's the bet y'all would get mad if alicent despite her suspicions, doesnt have any objections to aemond taking over? she can never win. i love aemond BUT depending on what they do with it he has put her in a situation where alicent can't really confront him for aegon because that would mean making alicent's other children and granddaughter even more vulnerable than they are now

finally, ill end it here by bringing up that according to professional reviews from people who've seen past episode 4, alicent has been described as someone who "screams for vengeance when her son is scarred in battle" now how does that scream indifference or lack of love??

#alicent hightower #house of the dragon #hotd #pro alicent hightower #anti rhaenyra stans #anti aegon ii stans #anti aegon ii targaryen #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti hotd fandom #hotd spoilers #hotd leaks #hotd speculation

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amourlyns · 9 months

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❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which the reader meets bruce wayne at a gala, the riddler is rampant in the city. and this gala is his next target. part one of two.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of alcohol consumption, and drugs. bruce is vv emotionally repressed, he’s got problems ok?

✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 🦦 this is pattison’s batman influenced by matt reeves (the batman.) no use of y/n, pov switches to bruce twice in this fic. listen to 〞thank god for the rain 〞 by bernard herrman for ambiance.

⟡ ⠀ | Gotham is well (…) an odd city. An odd city with slick—tongued alley cats who roam and lurk at each corner, merging with the shadow and watching passerby dance and speak in hypnotic tongues.

You liked to call it the Gotham effect, it comes with the city of sin and crime. It’s odd, like you stated before. There’s the occasional glitz and glamor of wealthy Gothamites, galas laced with cocaine pearls and wine filled bottles (…)

Accompanied by champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvre’s to indulge in for the night.

And within this false sense of normalcy and entitlement, there’s the night. The Gotham better known for its crime and vigilantes. You see, everyone in Gotham is acting. The key to understanding it all in Gotham is the rhythm.

The people are the rhythm, the day is the rhythm. The night is the rhythm. And within this element of rhythmic chaos, there’s always something lurking. Watching the city underneath light polluted skies and charcoal clouds. When the smog seems to clog up your lungs and choke your breathing, there’s always something else to worry about.

The Batman, of course.

If anything, he highlights what Gotham is at the core. A broken city, deeply scarred and angry. Scratching at its surface to be heard. To be healed. Has Gotham always been seeking justice and light? Or is it seeking something much more carnal and sinister (…) Vengeance? A certain greed?

Whatever it was, it spoke to Gothamites. Hate the Bat, or love the Bat. He spoke for the city of Gotham, and he would always be there at every corner, watching.

Gotham is sick and venal.

You hope for the day of a real rain to come and wash off the scum from the streets. For now, it’s the Bat who takes care of the illness. Could 〞 it 〞 save Gotham?

Maybe.

It’s silly thought anyways, Gotham has been plagued with crime for decades. Some masked vigilante wouldn’t be able to stop that regardless. The thought is flimsy and useless. Something made out of hope and optimism, the kind of thing you consume in dreams. Not only that, but the Batman is more of a fable, a myth.

Besides, there was no use in consuming yourself with thoughts of Gotham and its nightly specter. For now, you’re here, at another Gala— with the same diluted faces and the same twisted smiles. Then night moves on in an odd distorted way, a blur even.

The man who snaps you out of this daze is Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s Prince, the man of the hour. You could only wonder what caused this recluse to emerge out of the manor he calls home. Unlike other notable people in Gotham, Bruce Wayne chooses to live a quiet life shrouded in mystery.

When he does remove himself from the confines of the manor, and the tabloids simply go into a frenzy. Like sharks during a feeding. It feels like everyone in Gotham wanted a piece of Bruce Wayne. Craving a flesh they surely don’t deserve.

Something tells you to draw closer to the oddity, like this would be the only time you’d be able to lay your eyes on Bruce Wayne in the flesh. So, you might as well take the opportunity to really take him all in.

Wayne eventually loses the limelight. The audience dies and you decide to pass through the sea of bodies that separate you two. He notices this of course, ever so vigilant. Some part of you expects him to flee and avoid the confrontation all together. Wary hues remain fixated on your figure slipping through the crowd.

Surely he isn't waiting (…) Right ?

Apparently he wasn’t, not like you knew of course. Bruce Wayne was a hard man to decipher after all, you couldn't tell if something compelled him to stay or if that kept him still.

For the first time tonight, you're accompanied by someone else. It'd off to say the least, Bruce is certainly a presence to behold, sure. But he wouldn't even spare a glance at you, you gaze eventually follows his line of sight.

Now? Now, all eyes are set on beacon in the sky now. The symbol of the night.

Batman is called by the city tonight, needed in the shadows once more. You could only wonder what for. You’re not one for new and tabloids but, there has been some discussion about the 〞 Riddler. 〞

Gotham’s newest deranged lunatic villain.

The man was terrifying, you’ve seen the footage. You've seen the terror and heard the screams. So how was the Batman going to save the city now? The thought of Gotham coming to its own demise (…) it was bound to, the city hasn’t had hope in a long time. You knew that very well.

Now what was he thinking? Did the Wayne believe in the Bat? In Vengeance, and his own crusade. Before you can even ask the question, he’s turning away. Maybe he’s had enough of your company for tonight.

❛ MISTER WAYNE, WAIT. Before you go, I’m just (…) curious about this one thing━━ IT’S THIS (…) BAT. VENGEANCE, do you really think he can protect the city ? Save Gotham ? His motives just seem so unclear. He’s menacing, almost reminds me of the Riddler. It’s all about vengeance, no ? Whether it’s about the city or people who’ve wronged you. ❜

Bruce does not turn back around to face you, instead he turns his head. Adjusting his gaze to you and the symbol in the night, it shifts. Once, twice than thrice. His face is unreadable. Typical.

He wants to speak, you know that much. Yet he doesn’t, for whatever reason. Bruce chooses to stare right through you.

You let him.

He doesn’t owe you a response, you know that much. Before you know it, he’s gone.

𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙲𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝙽𝙴’𝚂 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙰𝙻𝙰. A FEW HOURS BEFORE YOUR ENCOUNTER (…)

⟡ ⠀ | THE CITY IS QUIET TONIGHT. Unlike any another night, the city streets are deserted, emptied if you will. It’s all because of the recent attacks by the Riddler. There’s a few stranglers of course, sticking near the shaded roads and corners.

There’s a gala tonight, Alfred informed me on that. He wanted to me to attend because I needed to 〞 maintain 〞 my appearances for the sake of my family’s reputation and legacy. I only agreed because it would be the perfect opportunity to watch the city through civilian eyes. And give me an advantage.

The suit is less than ideal. Tight, stuffy and constricting.

Alfred is in the middle of fixing my tie when he tells me I look like my father.

I do not reply to that.

I stare into the mirror. Taking the time to analyze my polished appearance, Alfred fixes my tie and hands me my father’s cuff links once more. Now he’s watching me closely, too closely. Like I’ll break and shatter because he mentioned my father.

My face must’ve given my thoughts away, Alfred is quick to place his hand on my shoulder. Giving it a squeeze. My eyes dart between his hand and his face.

There’s that (…) sympathy again, or was it regret? Sometimes the two emotions blur and mix, all into one.

I should be kinder to Alfred.

If I could vocalize it, I would. But it comes out all raw, sore and achy. Like I’m forcing the kindness out of me. If only I could— could verbalize this gratitude. I would—

My chest throbs at the guilt. I grimace. Alfred seems to get it somehow, he can see the apology in my eyes. He lets me go for the time being, I insist to drive myself. He obliges.

The arrival is dreadful. The lights are too bright and there’s too many eyes on me. Voices ring out, calling out my name— Gothams Prince, Wayne, Mister Wayne, Bruce Wayne. They chant to me. The media swarms me like flies, and questions flood after.

I hardly keep my head above the water, I’m practically drowning. The only thing that keeps me going is that light in the sky.

The signal.

The media disperses, shifting towards the beacon of light that brands the sky tonight. From my peripheral view, I see something moving closer to me. Slipping through the sea of people. Their destination is to me. My gaze remains fixated on the bat-signal.

I have to go.

The figure besides me shifts, eyeing me down every now and then. I decide to take my leave.

❛ ❛ MISTER WAYNE, WAIT. Before you go, I’m just (…) curious about this one thing━━ IT’S THIS (…) BAT. VENGEANCE, do you really think he can protect the city ? Save Gotham ? His motives just seem so unclear. He’s menacing, almost reminds me of the Riddler. It’s all about vengeance, no ? Whether it’s about the city or people who’ve wronged you. ❜ ❜

Their words capture me for a few moments. I still. Letting the words settle into my mind. I can’t find it in me to look at them.

WHEN I LEAVE, it seems like the city mocks me. It feels like the rain corrodes my kevlar. The frigid rain seems to sink through bone marrow and nip away at skin. There’s a ferocious wind in Gotham tonight, the rain drenches everything in a torrential downpour.

Storm drains are filled and plugged, creating miniature oceans in the road.

When I arrive, the commissioner informs me on the recent developments of the Riddler. He has plans for tonight, and another letter written for me.

An explosion goes off that night.

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sunnyfoxsstuff · 26 days

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Hello! Hi! Im quite happy tonight lol between @shadowfuka here's the draw of Ghost shi qingxuan!

Be the judge buddy >;p i hope y'all like this little Fanart i made of my own fanfic! With that imma hop onto the fanfic!

Chapter 4: meeting again

Xie lian, hua cheng and shi qingxuan all shared their deserved diner

After this they went to sleep, hua cheng and xie lian sharing the same bed again it obviously became an habit while on the other hand shi qingxuan was in the guest room however he could not find sleep imediatly so he stared mostly outside looking at the nature around and falling asleep beside's the stair's of the front of puqi shrine,

In the morning the Sun ray's woked shi qingxuan up he wasnt really hungry but he decided to prepare breakfast for xie lian and hua cheng he wasnt expecting any special reaction about it from hua cheng he was more doing it for his friend as a part of pay back for his past help he had offered, not too long After xie lian woke up walking toward's the kitchen to shi qingxuan

XL:"i could've made breakfast y'know you dont need to work or do chore's around" he said feeling a bit awkward

SQX:"pff-" waving his hand "dont worry about it and i wanted to Cook breakfast since you two were still asleep i didnt wanted to bother" he said smiling looking for a minute at his friend before putting his attention back on the food he was cooking

XL:"how-..how does it feel?"

SQX:"huh?" Confused by the question his Friend had just asked

XL:"like uh- yknow? Dying and being a Ghost like- how did it felt? How do you feel?" He said smiling awkwardly

SQX:"since when did you figure it out? But i suppose i cant really hide it well yet, and didnt you asked hua cheng that? He's a Ghost even better he's a Ghost king" he say's joyfull as his usual self extending his arm's up making dramatising gestures

XL:"no i didnt asked him i usually dont it feel's kind of awkward and personnal to Ask someone 'bout their death" fidgeting with his finger's looking down a little

SQX:"hm well i suppose i could tell you, however my death wasnt really tragic unlike other people's that either die saving someone or on war or protecting someone you should know you said it yourself that i was sick gotta admit it felt like torture staying back there sitting and not being able to properly digest my food like literally! I couldnt even move!" He say's a bit annoyed about it "i was already slow because of my limbs which by the way dont really hurt anymore cant deny the pain is still a tiny bit present i dont know why or how so i keep the bandage's just incase who know's but as for my death, first my injuries were pretty Bad and barely had even healed of course and seccond i suppose the illness got me.." he said pausing for minute

A silence fell for a little while, while these minute's xie lian was preparing the bowl's for their breakfast seeing that shi qingxuan was almost done

XL:"i wish i had came back and picked you up" he said with a sad tone

SQX:"naaaa! I didnt even feel my death i just closed my eye's one morning After waking up and..poof! I was a soul!" He say's with a brighter tone bringing the rice and putting some in each bowl's not really filling his enough

XL:"sooo you didnt feel anything?" Tilting his head

SQX"nope! Not even a pinch!" Saying proudly putting the vegetables on the rice with an omelette

XL:"why did you became a Ghost then? You're not one to want vengeance and your brother is-" he shutted his mouth before saying one more word

SQX:"yeah well i thought i would pass on After all there was nothing else to do but,.." he paused thinking about that moment for a minute until he got snapped out of his thought's

XL:"but?" He said looking at shi qingxuan who's smile had wore off because of his thought's

SQX:"i saw a black silhouette looking at me with golden eye's" he say's seriously "you're probably thinking i imagined it but i didnt" he stopped seeing xie lian wanting to speak and without loosing a second he exclaimed what he was thinking

XL:"wait! So you're saying, black water sinking ship"

SQX:"mhm"

XL:"the one that traumatised you and killed your brother!," he exclaimed louder

SQX:"yeeesssssss i mean my brother was kinda going insane obviously but i still love him of course he'll always stay my ge'" he answered

XL:"why would that one person Come see you it's odd" he paused thinking with his usual thinking pose while hearing hua cheng waking and sitting at the table too and shi qingxuan starting to munch on his food

HC:"it doesnt look like what you usually Cook gege" he said looking at xie lian snapping him out of his hard thinking

XL:"oh!- yes, that's because i didnt made it shi qingxuan did he didnt wanted to bother us since he woke up before us" smiling at hua cheng finally taking the bowl and eating it without any more word's hua cheng on the other hand looked like a kid a picky eater toying a bit with his vegetables even so he still ate a little bit of it since xie lian seemed to appreciate the food

However soon enough hua cheng felt a stare and looked in the direction of shi qingxuan raising an eyebrow looking at his bowl seeing that he was empty, he tried to ignore the stare of this..New ghost but he couldnt shake it off and put down his chopsticks turning his head to shi qingxuan which had now a side smile and he started glaring back, not giving up shi qingxuan continued his stare and with that they continued their stare glare fight while sometimes breaking it to answer xie lian

In the morning shi qingxuan went off in the forest wanting to explore while hua cheng insisted that xie lian stay's and pass Time together, soon the afternoon came shi qingxuan was coming back while hua cheng was displeased with the presence of a so said 'ghost king' he looked more like a angry fish to hua cheng's eye's, xie lian however tried to make him at home but he'd refuse to enter puqi shrine as to not get more debt from hua cheng

Hua cheng and he xuan were kinda bickering seeing who would Snap at who first like a competition, when suddenly someone got Heard from a far sounding like as if they were running back

SQX:"your highness look what i got!-" he'd exclaim happily to then stop straight infront the three of them seeing he xuan up close again made him feel, fear, with a mix of a bit of happiness and didnt quite know how to act

Xie lian came toward's his friend continuing his talk "what is it what you got?" He answered as if to change his thought's

Shi qingxuan looked at xie lian for a little and then openned outer robe a bit a little white bird peeking his head out

XL:"he look's adorable! You shouldnt take animal's like that though he's a wild bird!"

SQX:"i do what i want" saying proudly "beside's he's the one that came on my shoulder he was cold so i putted him in there" petting the bird's head

He xuan just observed he didnt know why hua cheng asked him to come and seeing qingxuan standing right there wasnt feeling right, he was sure to have seen him die that day, that morning

Suddenly hua cheng coughed a little bit only to bring the attention to him "he xuan i asked you to come because thi- his highness's 'friend'. Wanted to see you dont make me do it twice." He said with a strict tone grabbing xie lian bringing him inside not wanting to deal anymore with these two he had already beared shi qingxuan's presence long enough he had even dared to cook breakfast instead of his highness saying that he was pissed would be an understatement

Both of the ghost's stared at the door that had been slammed shut right infront their nose, they both felt awkward not knowing how to start the conversation something qingxuan was usually good at, for once he xuan started talking first

HX:"so you're not dead?" Talking with the same monotone tone as before

SQX:"actually- i am-" he answered awkwardly fidgeting with his finger's

HX:"qingxuan" he sighed crossing his arm's "why are you here dont tell me it was to see me because as far as i can tell your body is against being near me." He said coldly not looking away

and he wasnt wrong qingxuan's hand's were horribly shaking he still tried to hide it by putting his hand's behind his back and smile a forcefull smile he didnt know why he couldnt just smile right now, "well i thooought we could probably start over? Our friendship, i wanna get to know you" he exclaimed with a bit of a shaky voice

HX:"sure." Still cold still monotone no change's "but i dont recall you having a home"

SQX:"i'll build my own house we could share it!-" he said determined and bold while the bird flew off back into the wild where he belong

He xuan take a sigh before walking off with an instant shi qingxuan was right behind him following

SQX:"he xuan where are you goooiiiiing!? Wait for me!" His bad leg betraying right on that moment falling face flat down on the dirt

He xuan stopped and looked back amused at the sight but keeping a neutral face, walking back toward him handing out a hand as to help him get up shi qingxuan accepted the help of course a bit embarrassed about falling down like toddler that barely knew how to walk

HX:"your leg isnt healed isnt it?" Looking down at the Bad leg that qingxuan was keeping up

SQX:"uhm, well it depend on the time sometime's it does hurt sometime's it doesnt" he answered to then saying lowly "i didnt thought it would hurt right now, its embarrassing it was fine until now"

HX:"you Can walk or do you need a stick?" He raised an eyebrow looking at him

SQX:"i'd rather die than keep a walking stick by my side!" He exclaimed with a pouting face

HX:"..you are already dead idiot" slapping gently qingxuan's back head

SQX:"hey!"

After a little while of fighting and chatting which was as usual only qingxuan talking he xuan made a teleportation array to a nice spot and offered qingxuan to live in a small but big enough house that had been abandonned there,

He wasnt much of a builder so he agreed and so their journey together started.

Imma stop here i feel like i wrote longer than usual! However i loved writing this chapter my creativity just kept flowing lol x)

#fanfic #shi qingxuan #he xuan #mxtx tgcf #tgcf #xie lian #digital art #beefleaf #hualian #hua cheng

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buttercupyellow · 4 months

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BBC Merlin Timeline (canon info only)

Pre-Series

Kilgharrah born - over 1000 years ago

Ashkanar hides a Dragon Egg in his Tomb - 400 years ago

7 of Camelot's knights are seduced by a sorceress and become The Knights of Medhir - 300 years ago

Uther conquers/usurps/is a laughing heir to Camelot

Morgause born to Vivienne and smuggled out of Camelot

Gaius begins working as the Court Physician - 25 years ago

Gaius and Alice meet - 25 years ago

Morgana born to Vivienne

Uther uses magic to conceive Arthur, Ygraine dies in childbirth, Uther begins the Great Purge of magic

Uther tricks the Dragonlords (Balinor) and Kilgharrah into coming to Camelot "to make peace" but kills them and captures Kilgharrah - 20 years ago

Balinor and Hunith concieve Merlin in Ealdor - less than 20 years ago (max 19 min 16)

Balinor is hunted into hiding by Uther/Camelot

Gorlois dies on the Northern Plains, Uther adopts Morgana as his ward - Morgana 10 yro

Uther holds a tounament in Arthur's honour, The Sarrum attends - Arthur 10 yro

Arthur leads an attack on a Druid camp but is unable to control his men and a massacre occurs

Arthur is challenged by Odin' Son to a duel, asks him to withdraw, and kills him in the duel

Elyan leaves Camelot - 4 years before S3, ep7

Season 1

The Dragon's Call

Valiant

The Mark of Nimueh

The Poisoned Chalice

Lancelot

A Remedy to Cure all Ills

The Gates of Avalon

The Beginning of the End

Excalibur - Arthur's Coming of Age/Arthur's Birthday (approx April)

The Moment of Truth - Harvest time (August - September)

The Labyrinth of Gedref - Harvest time (August - September)

To Kill the King

Le Morte D'Arthur

Season 2

The Curse of Cornelius Sigan

The Once and Future Queen

The Nightmare Begins

Lancelot and Guinevere

Beauty and the Beast, pt 1

Beauty and the Beast, pt2

The Witchfinder

The Sins of the Father

The Lady of the Lake

Sweet Dreams

The Witch's Quickening

The Fires of Idirsholas

The Last Dragonlord

Season 3 - "Over a year" since S2, ep12

The Tears of Uther Pendragon, pt 1

The Tears of Uther Pendragon, pt 2

Goblin's Gold

Gwaine

The Crystal Cave - Morgana's Birthday

The Changeling

The Castle of Fyrien

The Eye of the Phoenix

Love in the Time of Dragons

Queen of Hearts

The Sorcerer's Shadow

The Coming of Arthur, pt 1

The Coming of Arthur, pt 2

Season 4 - "A year" since S3, ep12

The Darkest Hour, pt 1 - Samhain/Oct 31st - Nov 1st

The Darkest Hour, pt 2 - (Nov contin.)

The Wicked Day - Arthur's Birthday (approx April)

Aithusa

His Father's Son

A Servant of two Masters

The Secret Sharer

Lamia

Lancelot du Lac

A Herald of the New Age

The Hunter's Heart - Ostara/Spring Equinox/March 20th

The Sword in the Stone, pt 1 - Beltane/May 1st

The Sword in the Stone, pt 2 - (May contin.) Arwen Wedding

Season 5 - "For three long years, we have been blessed with peace and prosperity"

Morgana and Aithusa captured by The Sarrum - 2 years

Morgana and Ruadan begin searching for the Diamair (at Ismere) - 3 Months prior to S5

Gwaine, Percival and some knights investigate Ismere - 6 Weeks prior to S5

Arthur's Bane, pt 1

Arthur's Bane, pt 2

The Death Song of Uther Pendragon - Anniversary of Arthur's Coronation, possibly Beltane/May 1st

Another's Sorrow

The Disir

The Dark Tower

A Lesson in Vengeance - Arthur and Gwen's Wedding Anniversary, possibly May

The Hollow Queen

With All My Heart

The Kindness of Strangers

The Drawing of the Dark

The Diamond of the Day, pt 1

The Diamond of the Day, pt 2

#bbc merlin

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teawithnosugar · 1 year

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Terrified Her

Toxic!Ellie x Chronically ill!Reader

CW: angst, Ellie is kind of toxic???, anxiety??? not the best depiction of a heart disease, open ending WORDS: 1.4k SYNOPSIS: Ellie is constantly pushing you away and your already weak heart can't take it anymore SONG: You're Losing Me - Taylor Swift

"I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy"

AN: not happy with how this turned out, still practicing after years of writer's block so feedback is appreciated <3

“My god- just fuck off for once!”

The words echoed in your ears like a piercing scream, shaking the fragile peace of your farmhouse. Barely a week had passed since your return from Santa Barbara, yet the tension between you and Ellie had grown unbearable. Each time those harsh words spilled from her lips, they struck your heart with the force of a jagged stone.

“We can’t keep going on like this Els, we need to talk about this, I can help you.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, and Ellie stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. She never strayed too far, merely pacing around the farm, choosing to sleep beneath the stars instead of finding solace by your side. So you retreated to the bedroom, sleeping alone once again. Silently, tears streamed down your face, just as they had during the treacherous journey to Santa Barbara and back. You had mastered the art of stifling your sobs and sniffles, not wanting to further upset Ellie. That was a mistake on your part, creating a barrier that held her back from comprehending the agony that her relentless quest for vengeance caused you.

The morning arrived, Ellie's absence was noticeable until you found yourself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. With puffy eyes, you cast a pointed glare at her as she walked into your home. You needed to let her know that this was wrong. But when she gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek and ever so casually asked what you were making, you almost crumbled then and there beneath the weight of her indifference or feigned ignorance of the profound anguish you bore down deep.

You held it together though, as always, and gave her a soft answer, afraid to use too much energy in speaking as it was already taking everything in you to keep it together.

“Some pancakes…it’s all I could make with what we have right now.”

She hummed in response, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind as you cooked. Resting her head on your shoulder, she seemed lost in thought, oblivious to how tightly she held onto you. Her embrace that used to comfort you greatly now suffocated you, literally. She was clearly still grappling with the events in Santa Barbara. Ellie had been frustrated for years, always yearning to seek revenge. Now that she was back home, she felt so alone, and that killed you because you were right there, begging for her to see you.

But now, you were softly begging for her to let go, wincing a little because her grip had opened a few stitches of wounds earned during your trip.

"Shit, sorry," she quickly let go, hurrying to retrieve the first-aid kit from the bathroom when she noticed blood seeping through your shirt. You turned off the stove and perched on the counter, patiently waiting for her to return.

You slipped your shirt off, to make it easier for you both. Once you got a look at the wound, only a few stitches had come undone but you took blood thinners due to the heart condition you had and it caused an excessive flow of crimson.

Ellie wordlessly positioned herself between your legs, tending to the wound with delicate hands and having to do very minor stitches. Her brows furrowed in worry and lips pursed in concentration, guilt filled her eyes as she adamantly avoided meeting your gaze.

In moments like these, you caught a glimpse of the Ellie you fell in love with all those years ago in Jackson—the one hidden beneath the walls you now saw, your Ellie.

Your Ellie, once so tender and serene, always playing your favorite songs and filling her notebook with drawings of you. Now her guitar sits silently in the corner, its strings wounded by her injury. And she had grown weary, devoid of the energy to birth new art. Whenever she opens her notebook, it's only to revisit old memories. Once, she left it out on the table, and it was hard not to notice the prominent tear stains that marked its pages, like a sad reminder of lost joy.

Even when she finished patching you up, she lingered before you, her presence marked by silence, her hands trembling ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but ask a soft “you okay Els?”

In an instant, her expression changed dramatically. She emitted a small, exasperated groan before abruptly leaving the room, a bitter remark escaping her lips, “I’m fine, stop fucking asking.”

You just closed your eyes, trying to steady the resounding heartbeat that you could hear in your ears. You swallowed thickly once you composed yourself, ignoring the pins and needles you felt on your forehead and fingertips.

You quickly abandoned the half-prepared meal and walked in front of her where she sat on the couch. You slipped on a shirt from a pile of clean laundry next to her. Silently, you stood before her, though she made it abundantly clear that she would ignore you, rolling her eyes and meticulously cleaning her already gleaming firearm.

“Ellie…please…we need to talk about this…I’ve been so understanding…let me into the pretty little head of yours.” You whispered softly, voice a gentle plea as you put a gentle hand on her hair, which she quickly swatted away as she rose from the couch.

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m fucking fine”

“You’re not fine!” You shouted, causing her to freeze because you never raised your voice at her before.

“Just…leave me alone Y/N…” she sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Are you sure you want me to do that? Cause if you want me to leave you alone, I’m going to fucking leave.” Your voice resonated with firmness, but your eyes begged her for any kind of communication, to tell you she wanted you there.

Her eyes widened slightly and her mouth opened and closed a few times as she struggled to find the words she sought but all that left her mouth was a soft and pathetic “I don’t understand.”

“Clearly,” you muttered under your breath before shaking your head softly and sighing. “I’m getting tired Els, I’m here to help you. I’ve done nothing but fight by your side…so stop ignoring me…” You took a few steps closer to the brunette. Every step you took, a warmth blossomed within Ellie's chest, a familiarity she hadn't felt since Joel’s death. It absolutely terrified her, bringing back memories from when she had everything, reminding her of everything she had lost yet again, so she snapped.

You had no idea what she was shouting at you, and neither did she. She screamed at you words that she hadn’t even processed before they left her lips. You didn’t know when it happened but you were now standing, back against the wall as she pinned you, her arms enclosing you in as she spewed words she didn’t even mean.

Her glare alone caused you to instinctively shrink, your heart pounding so forcefully that all you could hear was the ringing in your ears. You wanted to tell her to stop, that you felt like you were going to faint, but you felt frozen on the spot.

You had a heart condition, a condition that demanded caution, and yet you followed Ellie across the country despite the dangers. But it was not the infected or violent people that quickened your heartbeat in an unhealthy manner; it was Ellie, right within the safety of your home. Ellie just had that effect on you

It’s only when you let out a strained cough, doubling over against her, did she finally realize the extent of her rampage and fell silent.

She immediately lowers both of you to the floor, cradling you in her arms.

You desperately tried to breathe and she did everything she could to help, holding your hand and whispering sweet words. She kept you close to her chest, trying to calm you down. As your breathing gradually steadied, absolutely drained, you closed your eyes, falling asleep in her arms.

Ellie fought back tears as she held you because she realized that while she mourned the losses she had endured, you had been silently mourning your relationship which wasn’t even over yet and that was all her fault. Her thoughts spun wildly, attempting to etch the feeling of your weight on her and your scent into her memory, unsure if you’d grant her such intimacy like this again when you wake up. That terrified her.

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader

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ivoryand-gold · 2 months

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this may be confirmed somewhere i missed, but if not i have a theory that we’ve already heard all the gods in epic the musical after seeing the new commissioned art for the horse and the infant!

so we have this gorgeous illustration by Giulia Toneatto! you can see Odysseus holding the infant and pleading up to Zeus as one would expect listening to the song, only it’s not just Zeus up there in this illustration. There are 8 other figures up there outlined.

and Jorge mentioned them in the comments too so he’s drawing attention to them (and while that could mainly be for engagement i think there’s more to it)

there’s less to go on for the outer two, but my guess from left to right is that they’re Hephaestus, Hermes, Ares, Hera, (Zeus), Apollo, Athena, Poseidon, and Aphrodite. aside from Hermes and Poseidon (who should be returning in the Vengeance Saga in Dangerous and Get in the Water, respectively), the other gods listed will be in God Games at the end of the Wisdom Saga, which is the next one set for release.

as for the horse and the infant: in the new version, Zeus’ second “i don’t think you’re ready” before Odysseus sees Astyanax has much more prominent backing vocals and they honestly feel more noticeable for the remainder of the song than in the stolen version.

i wonder if all that plus a more forceful delivery of “this is the will of the gods” lined up with the timing of the re-releases means that the Cast of EPIC the Musical that’s credited for this song might include the other gods of Olympus? we know that gods follow different rules than mortals in Epic and can create their own backing vocals, but Hermes backs himself up in “Wouldn’t You Like” so this isn’t entirely without precedent either. this version of THATI was presumably recorded after all the Olympians were cast, so these background vocals could have been recorded at the same time as God Games. all that to say that based on circumstantial evidence and pure vibes, i think we may have already heard Hera, Hephaestus, and Apollo!

(but if anyone knows why this may or may not be true or has their own theories, i’d love to hear 😁)

and if you’ve read this far and are able to afford doing so, please consider donating to one of these go fund me campaigns to help a family in Gaza!!!

🍉🍉🍉

Support Arwa Afana, her young family including a newborn baby, and chronically ill widowed mother in getting their needs met after losing everything, and in rebuilding after the eventual ceasefire.

Support Mahmoud AlBalawi, his chronically ill parents, 5 siblings, and 5 nieces and nephews in their efforts to go to Egypt when the border opens again.

Support Mahmoud Hamam and his family rebuild after the genocide is finally stopped. They’ve been displaced multiple times and their home was completely destroyed.

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oobi-oobi · 1 day

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I had to succumb to the peer pressure and make an umineko oc!

Their name is Panacea. She is one of the 72 Great Demons. As furniture, she is contracted by different masters and specializes in getting vengeance. She can cause illnesses and can only heal ailments she herself has caused. Their favorite clients to help are murderous housewives <3

They are greatly inspired by Vephar from the Lesser Key Solomon, hence the mermaid and illness design influences. Below is the stuffed animal she was inspired by and some alt versions.

I definitely want to draw them more and draw them in my own style. I forgot how difficult style matching was 😅 starting off with a sprite in Ryukishi07's style definitely humbled me and drained all my energy.

@nezumiva

#nezumivastream #oobi ocs: panacea #umineko oc #umineko #when they cry #umineko no naku koro ni #oobi ocs #digital art #my art #oobi-oobi art #I tried to use a wide variety of characters as reference but I feel like a lot of Eva accidently came through😅I like her tho so thats ok

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killmongerskeepermain · 2 years

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Prompt Request: hiii i haven’t seen as much shuri angst as i was hoping for (pretty sure i read it all) but could u do angst 3 into fluff 10? only if ur still accepting ofc, but if u do thank u

Angst #3: “You mean nothing to me.”

Fluff #10: Behind someone who’s sitting down, leaning over to kiss the forehead (and potentially block their eyesight with hair falling in their face)

You fiddled with the kimoyo bracelet resting on your wrist as you waited for Shuri to return. She had just taken the heart shaped herb she had created to go against Namor. To say you were scared would be an understatement. You were terrified. She was going to war with a heavy heart. Namor murdered her mother and you couldn't even begin to think about what she was feeling. You wanted to try to talk her down. But her mind was made up. The door opened and you looked up to see Shuri holding a panther helmet. Her hair was braided back for battle and your heart sank. Her mantle. Her eyes softened as they landed on you and she reached for your hand. "What troubles you, my love?"

"You know what troubles me. I'm scared for you." You mumbled tightly holding onto her hand. She brushed your skin with her thumb with a knowing nod. "I have to do this." You shook your head not wanting to think about the endless way this could end. This could be a bloodbath or a suicide mission.

"Shuri if you go into this with an ill heart it won't make the feeling go away. It will only make the void from her loss larger." You hated how blinded she was for vengeance. It's like everything you said went through one ear and out the other. "So if I go into battle my wounds won't heal. But if I don't go, my wounds still won't heal."

"I can help you heal them, Shuri. To make sure you don't bury yourself in your lab to run away from your feelings. I always have. But when you get like this you don't see that. You shut me out." You retorted and she sat the mantle down on the table. "You're saying I run away all the time?"

"Shuri, that isn't what I meant and you know it. I need you to be honest with me." You held your composure not wanting her to be angry with you.

"What do you want me to say Y/N? That I don't care about anything anymore? You mean nothing to me? Because it's not true! I've proven time and time again it wasn't." She said, trying not to raise her voice. You suddenly felt like you shouldn't have come here. Starting a fight wasn't the way to go about this conversation and you now see that. She has proven more times over how devoted she was to you. How much she loved you. "I CANNOT risk losing you too."

"So you risk yourself? That I could lose you instead. What good comes out of that?" You questioned as she remained silent. She grabbed the panther helmet and turned to leave the lab.

"I'll be back." The door closed after her and you didn't know I'd that was a promise or a statement. You sighed before turning to the computer in front of you. "Griot?"

"Yes Ms. Y/N?"

"Keep an eye on her please." With a clear of course, you left the lab for your shared room. You slowly looked around before grabbing the shirt she wore to bed a couple days ago. Bringing it to your nose you inhaled her scent and a sad smile forced its way to your lips. You went to your desk and started drawing small doodles of the heart shaped herb with your other hand under your chin. When Shuri returned she went to the lab to find you but you weren't there.

"Ms. Y/N has gone to your shared quarters princess." She was quick on her feet and entered the room to see you sitting at your desk. Head tilting forward letting her know you fell asleep. She silently approached you seeing your sketches of the herb and she let a smile form on her lips. She stood behind you to lean over and place a soft kiss on your forehead. Your eyes flutter open only to be blinded by a bunch of curls in your face. You sat up and turned to see Shuri with a soft smile. You didn't say a word to her. She understood that you were upset with her and would give you your space for the night if you asked. But no. Instead you pulled her into a hug and cried on her shoulder. Happy for her safety. Shuri brought her arms up to your frame and held you as you cried. Cried for her.

"It's over sthandwa. We have an alliance. Should keep us off Namor's radar for now." She said softly as you pulled away. You tilted her head down so you could kiss her forehead. "Baby, say something."

"Don't you ever make me worry like that again." You replied, resting your head on her chest. She smiled down at you while holding your waist.

"I won't. Now let's get you into bed yeah?"

#poc reader #princess shuri #queen shuri #shuri #shuri black panther #shuri fanfiction #shuri fluff #shuri imagine #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuri x woc!reader #shuri x black!reader #shuri x fem!reader #letitia wright shuri #shuri prompt

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sjsmith56 · 3 months

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The Gilded Age, Part 5 - Regret

Summary: Sergeant Barnes steels himself to convince Amelia to leave by declaring he does not love her. When his plan goes awry his regret turns to anger and thoughts of vengeance.

Length: 7.1 K

Characters: Sergeant Barnes, Amelia, the Avengers, Mr. Winston, John Walker, General Alexander Pierce, dark-haired man, Django.

Warning: Conversation causing emotional distress; scenes of brutal violence, involving physical assault of a woman.

Author notes: Forgive me. Divider by vecteezy.com.

<<Part 4

Only a few people were awake when Sergeant Barnes arrived at the Society. He came off the elevator on the 17th floor, and went straight to his room, ignoring their greetings.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Samuel Wilson, to Steve Rogers. “Where was he this early?”

“I don’t know,” answered the other man, “but I’m going to find out.”

He went to Barnes’ door, knocking on it but there was no answer.

“Buck, it’s me. What’s happened?”

The sound of someone approaching the door and standing on the other side puzzled him.

“Nothing. I’ll be out soon.”

Repeated knocking didn’t draw him out and Rogers returned to the common area on their floor. Something was wrong, he knew it but if his friend refused to speak of it there wasn’t much he could do about it. As they waited for others to awaken, he heard Barnes’ door open and strode to the end of the hallway only to see him enter Amelia’s room. Looking at the clock, he noted it was 7:38 am.

Inside the room, Amelia looked adoringly at her beau, eager to see him after the previous evening.

“My darling,” she began, then noted how exhausted he looked. “What’s wrong?”

“Please sit,” he requested, gesturing to the very armchair where they had exchanged loving touches and words mere hours before.

“James, what has happened? Are you ill?” She reached out to touch him, then hesitated when he recoiled away from her outstretched hand.

“I … have spent all night considering our circumstances and have concluded that we are not suitable for one another.” He looked down at the floor, breathing erratically. “I am ceasing our courtship and believe it would be better if you left the Society. Your presence … irks me.”

“What are you saying?” There was an edge of panic in Amelia’s voice. “Last night you sat on this very chair, with me on your lap and spoke honeyed words of love in my ear. You placed your lips on my bosom. I touched ….”

“I know damn well what you touched,” he interrupted. “It was all for naught. We are not suited for each other, and I find your presence unwanted. You must leave this building. In fact, it would be best if you leave New York and return to Chicago with your father while he is here.”

“Why are you saying these things to me?” He would not answer, determined to keep from losing his composure. “What have I done to lose your regard for me?”

“Nothing that isn’t already innate. You are young, inexperienced in the ways of the world, and I suddenly realized I did not want to be saddled with the responsibility of taking care of a woman who was barely out of childhood.”

“Four and twenty is not a child,” she insisted. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you do not love me.”

He turned his head, almost abandoning his intentions at the sight of the tears that were brimming in her eyes.

“I do not love you. For a brief time, I was infatuated with you, but now you bore me. Go home where you belong. Marry some rich heir to a fortune and live the life of a silly society wife.”

“I don’t want that!” She stood up, standing over him. “I want you!”

“The feeling is not reciprocated,” he answered, not looking at her. “I am leaving now. When I return by 10:30 I pray you have already left.”

Standing up, he barely moved two steps before she grasped his hand to kiss it, but he yanked it out of hers as if it burned him. Then without looking back, he left. As he stepped into the hallway he saw several others standing at the end, the cries coming from the room audible to them. He approached and went to pass through them, but Rogers placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, preventing him leaving.

“What have you done?”

“Stopped what shouldn’t have begun,” he replied. “I have ended our arrangement and asked her to leave. If she is not gone by my return at 10:30, I will be vexed.”

Rogers held him in place, as Barnes looked at him darkly in a challenging manner. Releasing him, Rogers watched as his friend returned to the elevator and called for it. Wanda and Natasha hurried to Amelia’s room, begging entry.

The elevator door opened, and Barnes stepped inside, closing the doors, then pressed the button for the main floor. Leaning back against the wall he began to weep for what he had done. As the elevator car approached the end of its journey, he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaned his face as best he could. Then he left the building, ignoring the entreaties of the door attendant, and disappeared into the already crowded street. After a block he crossed the street to the other side, entered an alley way and searched for a fire escape stairwell. Pulling the ladder down, he climbed up all the way to the roof, then leaped from rooftop to rooftop until he was at the building across the street from the Society building. Positioning himself in a way that he could observe the doorway he waited, then began to weep again for how cruel he had been to the woman he loved.

Back on the 17th floor, Steve Rogers made some quick decisions as soon as his friend entered the elevator.

“Peter, quickly get your gear and follow him,” said Rogers to the younger man. “I want to know where he’s gone but don’t let him see you. There is something seriously wrong for him to do this. He has never spoken this harshly to any woman in all the years I’ve known him.”

The young man ran to his apartment, and didn’t return, exiting out the window there.

“You think he’s been compromised?” asked Samuel Wilson.

“Or, he feels threatened,” replied the blond man. “He wouldn’t do this unless he felt he had no choice.”

The door to Amelia’s room opened and Wanda came out, her face troubled.

“She is packing and has already called her father to take her home,” she said. “I placed my hands where Buck was sitting. Everything he said to her was said unwillingly. I envisioned a note and a drawing that spurred him into this action. Could you let me into his room so I can explore the energy in there?”

Together they went to the door of Barnes’ room and Steve entered the code, then let Wanda in. She cautioned him to stay in the doorway while she entered. After only a few steps, she clutched her chest and drew in sharp, painful breaths.

“Oh, he did not want to do this but felt pushed into a corner. He believes he is protecting her by sending her away. The note was a threat against Amelia. The drawing was of her and her father in front of a local landmark.”

“Can you get a reading on the note or the drawing as to who sent it?” asked Steve.

She shook her head. “No, I need to physically handle it but it’s energy may already be corrupted by the energy of others for me to be sure.” Retreating back to the door she stood in the doorway looking back into the room. “He did not make this decision lightly. If he is right, Chicago is safer for her than New York.”

“And if he is wrong?” Rogers looked her in the eye.

“She will be in more peril.” Suddenly, she faltered, and Rogers pulled her out of the doorway, then put his arm around her waist, helping her to the common area. “Thank you. The energy in Barnes’ room was very draining.” She took several deep breaths. “We have to help them, but I fear Amelia will not waver in her desire to leave.”

“Then we let her go and follow her and father to the train station,” he decided. “If they board the train without incident, she will likely be alright. If something happens, we can intervene. Sam, are you prepared to fly with your wings yet?”

“Stark and I have only tested them for short flights,” he replied, “but for Buck and Amelia, I will don them and follow the cab to its destination.”

“Good man.” Rogers looked grimly at the others. “Even though Wanda was unable to discern exactly who was behind the note and drawing, we all know that HYDRA has wished for him to be back in their control ever since his acquittal. With Walker knowing of the courtship between him and Amelia, I would place the odds on him being the instigator of this.”

“Instigator of what?” Anthony Stark descended from the stairs. “What has transpired to have everyone looking so dismayed?”

As Rogers relayed the events of the morning Stark was at first angry at Barnes for his cruel behaviour towards the young librarian. It took Wanda’s declaration that the cruel behaviour was a deception, for him to soften his stance toward the man and listen to reason.

“Where is he now?” he asked.

“I sent Peter to follow him, but he has not yet contacted us. Anthony, I have foreboding thoughts about this. It would probably be wise for us to prepare for action.”

“I agree,” sighed the older man. “Buck must truly love her, to make himself the villain in this.”

“She means everything to him,” murmured Wanda. “They spoke words of passion to each other in her apartment last evening and more, but she shared the details in confidence. When he returned this morning with his demeanour completely reversed, she was devastated. I took an immediate reading of where he sat when he delivered his ultimatum and felt his despair like a raging storm. His whole apartment reeks of his dilemma, and his decision, made after hours of deliberation. I could barely stand in there, so strong were the emotions.”

Since the emotions from Amelia were just as overwhelming for the female Avenger, Stark called up for his wife to come down and be of comfort to the librarian. They wouldn’t try to change her opinion of Barnes, as her heart was too raw to listen to the truth. As she likely would be safer with her father, they would let her go then determine their course of action next. A sound from the window drew their attention as Peter appeared on the ledge in his Spider Crawler gear. Stark opened the window and helped the young man in. Removing his head covering, he gazed at Rogers with sorrow upon his brow.

“He is ensconced on top of a building across the street where he has an unimpeded view of the doorway. I believe he waits for someone to arrive as he keeps checking his pocket watch.” The young man looked down, as if embarrassed at relating the next observation. “He weeps sporadically as if he is consumed with regret.”

“He is,” confirmed Rogers, with his hand on the young Avengers’ shoulder. “We have reason to believe that someone threatened the life of Amelia, and he did this to convince her to leave for her own safety. In his state, he likely persuaded himself that this was the quickest and most sure way of inducing her to leave.”

“Do you wish for me to return to my post?”

The young man’s attention to duty was one of his strengths. His desire to help was so strong; his need to protect an integral part of his character. Rogers shook his head.

“No, he won’t leave that spot. His intent is to return here at 10:30, when I believe he will enlighten us to his behaviour. It is likely we will need to plan a sortie against HYDRA, for they are surely behind this.”

“Shall I contact the friend of the vigilante?”

Rogers turned to the others and nodded. Leaving them for his apartment, Peter disappeared down the hall, pausing briefly outside Amelia’s apartment as he heard Natasha and Mrs. Stark attempt to assuage Amelia’s despair.

At 10:15, Samuel Wilson and Anthony Stark repaired to where the Falcon’s wings were stored, intent on having him ready to take off as soon as Amelia left with her father. The others were all gathered, ready to receive Sergeant Barnes at that juncture, and hear an account from his own lips of what arose to lead him to this action. The sound of the elevator rising signalled the imminent arrival of Mr. Winston, which was confirmed when he stepped out of the car, accompanied by Mr. Hogan. His own face showed all the pain of a father, trying to assist a beloved child while she mourned the loss of her beloved.

“Gentleman, and dear lady,” he said, by way of greeting. “How does my daughter fare?”

“She grieves,” replied Wanda, glancing at the hallway as if she could sense the feeling of loss emanating from Amelia’s room. Staring at him, her face brightened slightly as if she had just discerned something. “You knew he would do this, did you not?”

“He came to me at my hotel early this morning, and shared the document and the drawing that he received last night. It shook him to his core, as it did mine. My daughter is the living embodiment of my late beloved wife. If anything were to happen to her, I would be a broken man. I agreed to her removal from this domicile for her safety. It was my intention to enlighten her on the journey to Chicago, to lay the foundation for her to perhaps forgive him someday.”

With that explanation, he steeled himself to enter his daughter’s suite and experience for himself how Barnes’ declaration affected her. Her pitiable cries were audible as soon as he was granted entrance, followed by the exit of Natasha and Mrs. Stark. Both women sat heavily on the sofa, depleted of their emotions. Anthony Stark and Clint Barton sat beside their ladies, consoling them on the experience. When Mr. Winston emerged with his arm supporting his daughter, prepared to leave, Hogan and his men entered behind them to take the packed luggage down in the service elevator. Amelia could barely walk, and it tore at Steve Rogers’ conscience to see her struggle so. Approaching the pair, he looked at Mr. Winston.

“Please, sir, allow me to carry your daughter down the elevator,” he said in a contrite voice. “It is the least I can do.”

With Mr. Winston’s permission, he lifted her easily, finding it difficult not to kiss the young woman’s forehead as a comforting gesture. She rested her head against his broad chest, like a child who had tired itself out crying after being lost. Glancing at the others, he and Mr. Winston made their way to the elevator, where the older man drew the doors closed and pressed the button for the main floor. On the way down, Amelia’s hand searched for her father’s, and he grasped it gently, only releasing it when the main floor was reached. Mr. Hogan was already at the door, opening it for the trio, while his men loaded her luggage into the back of the hansom cab. Rogers placed her gently on the seat, then did lay that kiss on her brow, as he would have kissed a sister. Stepping out, he then shook Mr. Winston’s hand and watched as the cab pulled away. Without thinking he looked up at the roof of the building across the street, and spied his friend, seeing even from the street the devastation on Barnes’ face before his friend withdrew from view. With a sigh, he returned to the building, ready to wait for the appearance of his friend to explain his actions.

On the rooftop, Barnes noted when Mr. Winston arrived. He waited for what seemed an interminable amount of time for him and Amelia to return. When she emerged in the arms of his friend, carried like an invalid, his first thought was of the horror he had inflicted on her. For a few brief moments he looked at his friend, Steve, who was staring up at him from the street. Somehow, he had known where Barnes waited.

“What have I done?” His mind demanded to know. How could I have inflicted such pain on such an innocent woman, who only sought my love and protection? I am truly a cad and scoundrel. This is the proof of it.”

He sat in despair on that rooftop, not noticing the winged man who swooped from the rooftop of the Society building, intent on following the hansom cab that just left. It was some time before he gathered the courage to return to face the wrath of the others, knowing that it was inevitable. Jumping from the ledge to the fire escape, he climbed down the stairs, not bothering to lower the ladder of the final section, instead leaping into the alleyway from a significant height. Approaching the doorway, he tried not to look at Mr. Hogan but the man stopped him, with sympathy in his eyes.

“The others await you,” he said. “It must have been an agonizing decision.”

Unsure what to say in response, Barnes chose to say nothing and entered the building. On the way up to the 17th floor, he prepared to be banished from the protection of the Society, sure he would be set adrift to fend for himself. His shame threatened to drown him, and he almost didn’t open the doors to exit the elevator car. When he appeared at the entrance to the common area, his visage must have been sufficiently altered because Mrs. Stark approached him first, and gently cradled his cheek in her hand.

“Oh, James, how you must be blaming yourself for trying to do the right thing,” she said, in a voice that almost broke him, so gentle and understanding was it. “You must let us help you in this. We all love Amelia and would do all we could to protect her from harm. Do you have the documents that set you upon this course?”

They knew? How? He was dumbstruck until Wanda came and looked up at him with mournful eyes. Of course, she used her gift to discern the truth, feeling what he felt, uncovering his dilemma. Taking the folded documents out of his inner pocket he handed them to her then the dam broke, and the tears began to flow from his eyes. Sinking to his knees, he allowed his grief to consume him, until he was unaware of anything.

He came to on the couch, his jacket and hat removed, his tie loosened, and collar unbuttoned. A damp cloth was on his forehead, and he pulled it on to his face, feeling its soothing coolness on his skin.

“There you are,” said Mrs. Stark, seated on a chair brought close. “How do you feel?”

“Unworthy,” he answered truthfully. She frowned and he spoke again. “Better. How long was I out?”

“Fifteen minutes at most,” she answered. “Steve picked you up and placed you here.”

He looked around seeing no one. “Where are they?”

Her face darkened. “It is best we go up to the 21st floor. There has been an incident.”

“Amelia, is she alright?”

Mrs. Stark looked crestfallen. “She has been abducted and her father injured. Sam was following the hansom cab and attempted to intervene, but they outnumbered him. The others are planning a sortie.”

He threw the cloth to the floor and sat up, forcing Mrs. Stark to stand up to make way for him. His anger radiated from him like the waves from a stormy sea. Her hand touched his arm.

“James, you need to approach this with reason and intellect,” she stated.

“No, I reasoned for hours last night, certain that my plan of removing Amelia from danger was the correct one. Instead, I delivered her to them, placing her in certain jeopardy. Until I get her back safe and sound, no one in HYDRA can expect a reasonable response from me. I seek vengeance.”

Picking up his jacket, he left that good woman there, bounding up the stairs three steps at a time. No matter what the others were planning he had his own plan to execute and if he was successful, every single member of HYDRA would lie dead, starting with John Walker and ending with General Alexander Pierce.

The jostling of the carriage finally roused Amelia, opening her eyes from where she leaned against the side of the coach. Her last memory was of a company of men, toting guns, stopping the hansom cab and dragging her from the inside. Her father, who attempted to intervene was pistol whipped, falling to the ground with blood pouring from the cut in his head. Despite her cries no one interceded, except for what she thought was a winged angel, but he was fired upon repeatedly until a bullet tore into his wing and he fell from the sky. Then she was pushed into another carriage with such force that it knocked her senseless.

“There you are,” said a familiar voice. “It’s about time you woke up. Once we’re married, you’ll have to be up with the sun to attend to my needs.”

She looked at the source of the voice, her hopes falling when she confirmed it was John Walker seated inside the carriage with her.

“I will never marry you,” she retorted.

The back of his hand connected to her cheek, knocking her against the inside of the carriage. Leaning over her, Walker placed his face close to her.

“You will never speak back to me again,” he sneered, as she favoured her cheek with her hand. “I will beat that defiant spirit from you if I have to strip you bare and horsewhip you. When I am done correcting your defects, you will be obedient, compliant and quick to satisfy my needs and wants, as any good wife should.”

Biting her tongue to avoid giving the reply she wanted, she said nothing, and he sat back, offering her no hand to sit back up. She looked at the window, finding the covers drawn.

“You don’t need to know where we’re going,” said Walker.

“He’ll find me,” she said, then stopped, wondering if it would draw Walker’s wrath upon her again.

“He threw you out,” he replied. “So easy to manipulate. After my man left that envelope for him, I knew he would attempt to spirit you out of New York. I was counting on it. I sent the note and drawing.”

“What note? What drawing?”

He regarded her with disbelief. “You truly don’t know, do you? Tell me, did he end your courtship instead? Did he convince you that you were beneath contempt, and he wanted nothing more to do with you? Even better.”

“What did you tell him?” Her lip trembled at the thought that James’ last words to her were false, designed to send her to safety.

“Just that you were beautiful, which is true, but you won’t draw attention to yourself once we are married. Don’t want anyone else to get any ideas. I said if he truly loved you, he would leave you and return home to keep you safe.”

“But he was already home,” she offered, still puzzled somewhat.

“I wasn’t talking of the Society or his childhood home,” stated Walker. “I was talking of his real home, which he was being conditioned to accept until that meddlesome Captain Rogers escaped with him, undoing all the efforts that had been applied to him. The court-martial was our attempt to regain control, but they stacked the bench with two incorruptible men, who found him not guilty. Then they transferred him to the Society where he has been out of our reach. Until now. They’ll see that taking you will bring him, and he will be back in the arms of those who appreciate his gift the most.” He looked sideways at her, an evil grin on his face. “Just like you, he will be obedient and obey all orders without question. When the moment is right, he will be drawn into the inner circle of President McKinley and a new age will dawn in American politics, when he puts a bullet in the man’s head.” He laughed for a moment, then grasped her by the throat and pulled her close. “I shouldn’t have told you that. If you tell anyone, I will beat you with my fists until your body is covered in bruises.”

Amelia could feel her windpipe closing and her air supply stop. Her eyes teared up and she struggled to get air, but he just looked at her impassively, then suddenly released her, leaving her gasping for her breath, and clutching her throat. That John Walker was evil was no longer in dispute. He was a menace and she wondered how she could escape from him, to warn the Society about HYDRA’s plan for James. That brought her thoughts to the man she loved. He knew she would not leave willingly, not after their declarations to each other. It was obvious to her now how he had been on the verge of losing his control as he told her those lies, deliberately hurting her to make her leave of her own volition. The thought that HYDRA would turn James into that biological automaton to assassinate the President sickened her. Somehow, she would find a way out of this.

The carriage suddenly stopped, and the door opened. Grasping her wrist in a painful manner, John Walker pulled her out the door, practically dragging her inside a warehouse. Several men were gathered together and observed them entering. One of them retreated through a door behind them, returning with a dark-haired man whose scowling face she did not trust. The other, an older grey-haired man in a general’s uniform, looked at Walker with anger.

“What have you done?”

“You were all wondering how to get Barnes in an opportune position to bring him back into the fold.” He dragged Amelia forward and shoved her hard enough that she fell. “I just caught the bait. Gentlemen, this is Amelia Winston, the beloved of James Buchanan Barnes.”

The grim face of the older man was proof that he had no part in this.

“Did you ever stop to consider that by doing this you bring all of the Avengers into the fight and this time they will be prepared and bring a larger force.”

Walker shrugged. “Won’t matter. All I have to do is point a gun at her head and he’ll give himself up to save her.”

“He has a point, General,” said the dark-haired man.

The General beckoned to a young man who had the strangest hair colour. It looked grey interspersed with locks of dark.

“Help her up.”

The young man came over and kneeled slightly offering her his hand. His touch was full of respect, and he gently held her elbow. He noticed the mark on her cheek and the bruises on her throat.

“She’s been injured,” he said, looking back at Walker. “Did you do this?”

“Yes, she was disrespectful to me, and since she will be my wife once Barnes is in his proper state, I thought it prudent to begin asserting my authority over her.”

The General and the dark-haired man glanced at each other in a manner that Amelia recognized as perturbed. Jerking his head to the side, the dark-haired man signalled for the young man to take Amelia through the door. He escorted her to the back, closing the door behind them, leading her to a room that had a cot, table, and chair.

“Sit here, and I will get some ice for your throat,” he said, as she sat on the cot. “The place is surrounded so escape is not possible.”

Returning a moment later with a bowl containing some crushed ice, he packed some into a towel then gave it to her to apply to her throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely. “They should never have given the serum to him. It made that which formed the main part of his character worse. He is arrogant, condescending, and has a vicious nature that is alarming.”

“I know,” she whispered, then she looked closer at the young man, thinking he was familiar in some way. “Have we met?”

“No,” he replied quickly. “I do not socialize with anyone. It is discouraged.”

“But I have seen your face before,” insisted Amelia. She thought for a long moment. “A portrait, painted from memory by my friend, of her brother who was separated from her at a young age. Are you Pietro?”

His mouth opened then closed and he looked fearfully behind him. “Do not say that name here. I gave that name up years ago after my sister was abducted, as I attempted to trace her whereabouts. You say you know Wanda?”

Amelia nodded. “She is a member of the Avengers for SHIELD, and she mourns you still.”

“Then she will be among those who will come for you,” he murmured, before looking closely at her. “I had no choice but to connect myself with these people, as they caught me after I stole some food while I was starving. In exchange for my freedom from jail, I accepted being associated with an organization whose plans sicken me.” He thought furiously for a moment. “My name here is Django. I will do what I can to protect you and try to help you, but it will be difficult. All I ask in return is that if you do get rescued to tell my sister I never gave up looking for her until I fell into HYDRA’s clutches and still love her dearly.”

The sound of footsteps forced him to his feet, and he repositioned himself against the wall, taking on the stance of a man assigned to guard an enemy. The door opened to the General and dark-haired man, who gestured to Django to leave. Pulling the chair closer the General sat on it, his eyes intent on Amelia.

“I’m sorry you were dragged into this but for once Walker had an idea worth considering,” he said. “We’ll use you as bait to lure Sergeant Barnes. Now, I do have one question. Why did your father reject my offer?”

As his eyes bore into her soul for an answer, Amelia felt a fear that was as great as the fear she felt after Walker’s assault on her person. That this man could order her death without compunction was certain. Despite his well-cultured manner, his eyes were cold and calculating. She had to either tell him the complete truth or find a way to lie convincingly. The truth won out. Pierce’s gaze on Amelia was enough to place a chill on her soul. His emotionless eyes reminded her of the eyes of fish, lined up at the fishmonger’s, blank and staring. Whatever spiritual character this man had was determined by one thing, power.

“You can lay the blame on John Walker for my father’s decision,” said Amelia, looking directly at General Pierce. “He was a potential suitor of mine at one time, but his words about women in general, and me in particular, angered my father. When Sergeant Barnes and I left Mr. Walker in Central Park after he revealed the court-martial, he went straight to my father in an attempt to get him to intervene in Sergeant Barnes’ courtship of me. Instead, my father sought us out, and was told the truth of your role in Sergeant Barnes’ capture, torture, and court-martial. At that moment, he decided he did not want to enter into any sort of business relationship with you, sir. John Walker’s assault of my father in his attempt to protect me from the abduction will certainly cement his decision as the correct one. I don’t even know if my father lives, since Walker threw me into his carriage with such great force that I lost consciousness.”

The General sat back with his fingertips tented. “That is unfortunate. I could have made your father a very rich man. As for the treatment of Sergeant Barnes, we could have let him die of gangrene after he was taken prisoner by my loyal forces, but I saw value in his skills and approved the treatment he was given. What is the freedom of one man worth when the future of our entire country is at stake?” He leaned forward. “Wouldn’t you rather live knowing that you will always be safe?”

“With John Walker as my benefactor?” she asked, in disbelief. “He has already assaulted me three times this morning alone. I have the bruises to show for it. Your version of safe is markedly different from my own. He threatened to strip me bare and horsewhip me in public. How am I to consider that as safe?”

Pierce reached his hand out to cup her face, despite her leaning away from it. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair.

“I can understand what both men covet from you. If I were a younger man, I might attempt to court you myself. You are intelligent, well spoken, and attractive in a way that would mark your husband as a lucky man. In the America I propose, however, those qualities would be superfluous. All women should be in the home, looking after their families and attending to their husband’s needs. The sooner you accept that the better.” He looked to the dark-haired man. “Rumlow, get Django in here.”

The man left, leaving the door open and Pierce stood up. “I have no doubt that the Avengers will come for you. But they won’t find you, not here. Django will take you elsewhere. Do not try to escape from him as he is quick, and he is loyal. At least he is, as long as I have his wife in one of my whorehouses. She is his weakness, and I will use that to keep him in line. Don’t be responsible for his wife’s death.”

Django and Rumlow reappeared, with the first man stepping forward.

“Take her to the warehouse on Pier 84,” said Pierce. “Keep her there until I send for you.”

“Yes sir,” he answered meekly. “Miss Winston, please.”

She stood up and went with him, past where Walker was sitting with some men in dark clothing. As they passed, he called out to the grey-haired man.

“Don’t lay a hand on her Django, or I’ll make your whore wife pay for your actions. When we defeat the Avengers, I expect her back here untouched.”

The young man stopped while Walker spoke then kept walking, guiding Amelia by the elbow. He stopped at a windowless room and picked out some boy’s clothing and a cap from a shelf inside, placing them on a chair.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to disrobe and put boy’s clothing on. The vigilante has eyes all over this place and they’ll be watching for a woman. So, you’ll have to be disguised as a boy.”

“Why did you tell me you were beholden to Pierce for stealing food? He said he holds your wife hostage in a whorehouse.”

He looked down, ashamed. “I spoke the truth. They followed me as I brought the food to feed us both.” His brow furrowed. “They took her from me and gave me a choice. Join them and she would live as a cook in a whorehouse, or don’t join them and she would live as a whore in the same place. I haven’t seen her in a year, but I have no doubt they will subject her to the lusts of dangerous men if I don’t cooperate. Walker himself taunts me with his own tales of being with her. Is he telling the truth? I honestly don’t know any more, but I will cling to my belief that she is untouched.”

After closing the door, Amelia began disrobing down to her chemise and knickers, folding and placing her clothes on an opening on a shelf. The clothing pieces he gave her were a little loose but did fit her, as she slipped on the pants, then a shirt, tucking it into the pants. Over the shirt, she put on a jacket, then reached for her hair and undid the combs and pins that still held parts of it up. Braiding it, she used a ribbon from her blouse to tie the end then pinned it up so that she could put a newsboy cap on over it. Looking at the combs, she slid one in the pocket of her jacket, hoping to drop it for one of the vigilante’s people to find. Opening the door, she waited for him to assess her look then looked down at her stocking feet.

“Do you have boy’s shoes for me?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Yours will have to do. Put them on.” He found a sack while she did so and transferred her clothing into it, then tied up the rope and slung it over his shoulder. “You ready? Don’t try to escape as I’m much faster than you and I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“I won’t try,” she promised.

Opening the door to the outside, Django stepped outside and looked all around, nodding at Pierce’s men who were on guard on top of the next warehouse. Gesturing to Amelia, he took her by the elbow and started walking briskly away, keeping close to the building before they reached a path. As they walked, she noticed all sorts of people in the area, mostly working men, in rough clothes, with poorly trimmed beards and hair. The few women were obviously not the kind she normally would associate with, and she wondered what they had to resort to for survival. By the looks of some of them it wasn’t an easy life. When they reached a section of the path that went through a small shanty town, she saw a part of New York that she never knew existed and realized this was likely what James had referred to as not suitable for genteel society or women. Glancing behind her she did notice a boy following them, but he seemed to dawdle when she looked at him.

“Keep up,” said Django. “This area is not safe, even for Pierce’s people. There are cutthroats here who would risk his wrath for the clothing on your back.”

Stepping up her pace she kept going and didn’t look back again for some time. Finally, Django seemed to relax, and he pointed ahead of them.

“Pier 84,” he said. “Pierce has an arrangement with Boss Fisk.”

At that moment, Amelia tripped and fell forward, spreading her hands out to break her fall. As Django looked around, she placed her hand in her pocket and pulled out the comb, quickly tossing it to the side when her companion looked towards the nearest building. He held out his hand and helped her up, waiting briefly while she dusted herself off.

“Sorry,” she apologized, “I tripped.”

“Are you injured?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine. Carry on.”

They kept going and approached another warehouse, with guards on top. Django took his hat off and looked up. One of the men touched his hat and he placed his back on, then opened the door. She looked back before entering and noticed the same boy watching them. He lifted his hand, showing the comb then tipped his cap to her before running off.

This warehouse was full of large crates. As they walked past them, she noticed they were addressed to several different places, not just in New York City but elsewhere. Several were open and their contents scattered around the floor beside them. He noticed her looking at them.

“Stolen,” he said. “They have a fence who sells the items. It helps fund their activities.”

They went up a set of stairs where a series of doors were. Opening one of them he placed her bag on a chair. There was an actual narrow bed, a dresser, a wardrobe and a table with a bowl, pitcher, towel and soap.

“This will be your room. Lock it and only let me in. I don’t trust any of them to respect your person although I’ll make it known that Walker has claimed you already. That should scare most of them. The privy is outside. I’ll escort you whenever you need it. I’ll bring you food and water as well.” He stopped at the door then looked at her with sympathy. “I am sorry, but I must keep you a prisoner. If I had a choice, I would take you to the Society myself.”

“Do you know where your wife is?”

He nodded. “It’s in Washington, for the men who Pierce has in his pocket, as a reward for their support. They are allowed to do anything to the women there.”

“You know that the Avengers would rescue her if they knew?” She had a thought. “I think your sister may have been there or in a place like it. She never confided in me, but I was told she was subjected to a fate that was almost worse than what HYDRA proposed for Sergeant Barnes. For a woman, to have your autonomy taken and expected to perform acts of depravity would be unbearable.”

“How did she get out?”

“A man, Vision, rescued her,” replied Amelia. “They are betrothed but not formally. He loves her dearly and she loves him.”

“The only man I know named Vision, is an illusionist and escape artist,” said Django thoughtfully. “He was well known in New York, then suddenly disappeared from the public eye several years ago. If he saved Wanda from that life, he is a better man than me.”

There was no response to that, as the man’s helplessness emanated from his whole being. He closed the door, and she locked it behind him. Hopefully, that boy with the comb was one of the vigilante’s contacts and he would take the comb to the Society, along with her location. She would do all she could to keep Django safe, for he had treated her decently. Reuniting him with his sister was a priority.

Part 6>>

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