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The White Dove Pt 44 - Mr Moomalade

@devilishminx328. @theincaprincess, @lilith15000, @jesevans, @jiminapickle

The White Dove Masterlist

“This Jenner again,” you muttered to yourself tearing open the latest of the series of letters that had been arriving in your mailbox since you had signed the deal with Stark for your jets.

The same woman who claimed her children had died in the Goblin jet attack and only had her grandson from one daughter as she was currently suing her other daughter’s husband for the money he inherited due to a lack of an updated will to say otherwise.

All of the money you would get from the jets she claimed to be hers and should be put into a fund in her family name to honor the legacy of her children out of the goodness of your heart as you were profiting off their deaths as they were the most notable of the victims within the crash. A claim that had your blood boiling as she assumed her blood to be worth more than anyone else’s involved.

At your last thread of patience you brought out your phone and took a picture of the five page photocopied hand written letter posting it on Twitter tagging the one woman who had a moniker to match that name asking simply, ‘Are you the one who keeps sending me these letters?!’ Brushing your again dyed mint hair from your face.

By the thousands the responses kicked up of people, namely the supposed hive of fans for Beyoncé, who had also died, lead by her husband and family members, who begged to differ more sensibly saying every life lost was precious, the former who were simply out for blood. Of course Beliebers and Jonas Brothers fans were enough to almost leave the streets loaded with ample shouts from the younger generations joined by older ones still mourning Madonna as well. Churning and churning the common tags and feeds from the second she posted rotated between which team of fans were on top. Until half an hour later you got followed by her so that she could reply in both a private message and a public one, ‘We should discuss this privately.’

Already your name had been circulated by the incident with the boxer and now people were referring to you as the girl who knocked him out to clarify if you were the same person. Surely jolting that video back into circulation on the trending list with joking comments on how this Kris didn’t stand a chance and chose the wrong girl to mess with.

Publicly you tagged her again and replied, ‘No, I will say this once. I’ve been publicly stalked/ harassed by fans of the man who has been charged for assault against me. I don’t need this. I don’t know who you or your children are, nor do I care to. If you contact me one more time in any form I will press charges for harassment and possibly extortion if my lawyer agrees the verbiage in your 73 letters you have sent me so far is up to par.’

You wanted to throw in a selfish money grubbing fame whore to be spiteful but a string of comments on her post to discuss it privately had already gained that. You hadn’t talked to Mr Murdock yet, but it seemed you didn’t have to as your notable connections from overseas had sent their own legal vultures into this race and had contacted you to send them copies of the letters. Through your bees the letters were scanned and sent in an email to them. While Stark in his tower by himself had his own legal team in a flurry to see how they could help out. Hourly updates from lawyers both on Twitter and YouTube had dissected the letter to give their opinions on what could be basis of terms of charges with varying opinion while the flailing grandmother who hoped to save face suddenly went quiet in her typing tirade.

“Okay, tickets are printed, pack a bag, we are going to Busch Gardens.” Eddie said excitedly in his pop in through your front door with a bag in hand of his own things.

“Bush Gardens?” you asked in a rise up off your belly atop your cloud couch closing the notebook of your mysterious transporter ring in a means to figure out the core workings as you were too irritated to work on your sail for fear of ruining it. “Why the trip?” you asked, sensing something was up to spring a trip on you so suddenly.

Deeply he sighed and dropped his bag on the green couch in a move to sit by you, “Riot is beyond pissed, and you need an alibi.”

Your lips parted and you asked, “He’s telling Carnage to go after her?”

“No,” he said with a wry chuckle, “He’s sending Sleeper’s Other, she’s not gonna be hurt, or the grandson, but they’re,”

“Empire toppling?”

He nodded, “Oh ya, but, good thing is no one will expect to see us there and they’ll be curious for a few moments then be left to, ‘nah, couldn’t be them’ and we can come back late Sunday, you have the weekend off. Made a list of what’s in town, not much but we can raid the wooden cubby stand of tourist traps when we get there.” He said smiling widely in a try to calm you to this change of plans.

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about the message.” You said and he shook his head.

“You don’t owe me an apology, not in the least.” He said taking your hand, “I know it’s your mom’s birthday.”

“Idun and Epli just left a message on a dinner they have,” you gestured to a potted plant that had arrived the day before, “Sent me something living instead of a bouquet.” And into his chest you leaned, “Thengel said he’d try to get a flight out to visit, some boat building convention in Florida,”

“Well we’re headed to Virginia, sure he wouldn’t mind the place I got for us, Scream told Venom where his Other keeps the spare key to his place out there. Apparently it’s a bit noisy, place next door is being remodeled, but it’s got land and the pictures look nice. Tons of spare space he can come too if he can make it.”

You nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll pack. How long is the flight?”

“Just an hour, could get there and at the park by noon.”

“Okay, I’ll bring my new OWLS and emergency kit in case something pops up.” Off the couch you rose brushing hands across the legs of your shorts that were visible underneath the ends of your black t shirt that read, ‘Pretty Cute For A Monster’ that matched the one you saw Eddie had on under his partly buttoned blue flannel he’d gifted you a week ago. Neon tights to go under your torn black jeans matched the yellow and black flannel you pulled on to pair with tall yellow socks mostly hidden by your knee high boots.

When your suitcase and leather tassled bag were packed you added your leather jacket, ensuring with a pat of your hand that the chunk of hive you were bringing wasn’t too bulky for the bag. Once the place was locked up the pair of you, with sandwiches in hand of the last of your deli meat, cheese and tomato that went bad by next week were snacked on. All the way to the subway you talked and kept focus away from people who recognized you. Straight shot all the way to the airport he led you and picked a self ticket kiosk to print the reserved tickets off the code in his email you carried to security.

Domestic flights at least didn’t have much security hurdles compared to international ones, especially ones lasting just over an hour. Right in time you made it to the gate and were able to take place in line to load onto the flight for the seats in the far back of the plane. Up until liftoff you kept hold of his hand. Keeping track of his racing pulse not helped to lower as he heard chatter of the Hive through Venom. “What type of car did you rent?” you asked hoping to distract him.

“Beetle,” he said making you grin, “Figured you could drive it too if I get too nauseous after roller coasters.”

“Won’t be too cold?”

“Nah, only, 48 degrees tomorrow at the lowest.” He said making you giggle and press your forehead into his arm as he chuckled to himself. “They have great deals though on winter themed stops before they shut down for Turkey day till spring.”

“Long as it lasts it’ll be fun.” Down to the safety booklet your eyes shifted at the move of an attendant into view for the back of the plane for the safety video. Barely any time was needed for the snack to be enjoyed by the time everyone got served before anxiety seemed to spike at news of arrival over Virginia.

“Maybe we could buy our own old plane to fly ourselves around,” he said making you smirk.

“Where would we park it? Have to keep it somewhere.”

“Just find you a place with room for a landing strip in the back.” Making you giggle.

“Would have to be enormous to fit a landing strip. Have to look in the Hamptons for that.”

“One day, we’re gonna have enough money to afford it. Just need a few dozen casino trips and maybe a couple years of us both online and we will be rolling in it.”

Baggage claim to the rental car place you kept at his side quietly reading the posters put up. Yet with keys in hand following the map your bees projected he drove the way to a gated neighborhood.

Long uneven square and rectangular stones formed the long driveway up to the square U shaped mansion of a home beyond two tarp and rubble pile surrounded homes. Red brick contrasted the white pillars and balcony to the second story with four tall domed windows around a huge window topped double front door to make it reach the ceiling to surely flood the two story entryway with light on the other side of it. Double garages were on the right with a blank wall on the left hiding what it contained to fill the space mirroring the garage space.

“Oh wow,” you said as he parked in front of the home after turning around to park facing the road. “Hopefully it’s not modern inside.”

“Oh it’s not.” He said leading the climb out of the car. Over to the lantern light mounted on the wall beside the garage doors he unscrewed the top to remove the lid that had a rotating number dial lock to a hidden pocket he rotated to bring out the keys then twisted the numbers to obscure the true code so he could assemble the lantern again.

Atop the roof over the garage stood an orange and white cat spotted like a fluffy cow who meowed and gave a butt wiggle before leaping off the roof to spring off a bush to your left. Awkwardly it bounced to the ground and you hurried over. “You okay, little guy?”

“Hey, must be a neighbor’s. Didn’t mention a cat.” Eddie said coming closer as you crouched to look at the cat.

“There you are,” the cat said making you lift up at its oddly ominous tone, “You should not be here.”

“What?” you asked stepping back to Eddie’s side instantly making him ready an arm to pull you behind him.

“What’d it say?”

“It said, there I am, I shouldn’t be here.” You said and his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Venom, that some kind of shifter?”

“Doom awaits you.” The cat said and you barely had time to translate before his arms engulfed you as the jaws split open to reveal tentacle like tendrils coated in fangs that shot out to suck you both inside the unnamed Flerken who contently trotted off.

Venom was fast to coat Eddie while back first atop a desk the pair of you slammed in the middle of a ramshackle war office jolting the men inside of it away from the desks and waft of papers into the air as Eddie’s desk split to drop him heavily to the floor. More than your back the sting in your right arm had you look to grumble at the end of the pen inside a pen holder sticking out of your bicep.

“Get up now!” was shouted by several men who had various blunt objects and scattered clearly empty pistols drawn from holsters on hips. Painfully off your back as a hand grabbed your tassled bag that had fallen to the floor beside the desk to jerk away in case it held weapons and another took hold of your shoulder. “Who are you?!” was shouted to you as a pistol was lined up at your face to another man behind him shouting at Venom who sprung up to hiss at the floor of men, “What the hell are you?!”

“Chickadee,” the pistol holding man in front of you said as you were pushed off the desk and guided to a side room leaving all pushed off the desk with you to fall to the dirty carpeted floor. Awe in his tone, like you were sent from the heavens, rippled through the room. “You do just fall out of the sky. Now you’re gonna help us!”

“Howard Stark wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?” you asked as a set of hands gripped your arms to cuff your wrists behind your back causing you to grit your teeth.

“Careful of the arm, nitwit!” you growled as Venom was nudged with sticks and clubs to another room beside yours listening closely for your warning to know when and if to attack these men.

“No one gives a damn about Stark. We got bigger fish to fry, and you are gonna get us out of this mess!” into a chair you were shoved to glare up at the man who pulled a wallet out of your bag. Camera in hand he captured an image of you, the bag, wallet and then your ID in the clear sleeve.

“You’re gonna tell me who you are, right now.”

“Shut up! We give the orders here, not you!” behind your back the snap of the cuffs were heard as you burst out to leap up and kick the man through the wall in the start of knocking out the three around you so you could collect your bag and wallet. Just a dip of a hand in the bag later and you brought out a pellet you threw in the other room. That exploded to fill the space with colorful mist knocking those men out in a matter of seconds while you held your breath.

“Venom, Eddie?” you asked exiting the room when the mist dissipated to find Venom smacking his lips having eaten the three men with hold of the empty pistol one of them had.

Closer to you he moved and you accepted hold of the gun as Eddie said, “Prop gun. Too light for an old Magnum.”

“Oh that’s nice,” you said tossing it away and accepted a folding badge Venom coughed up to read, “MI-5,” off the body of another man nearby you found an FBI badge with more sporting police badges. “What the hell is this?” They were discarded onto a nearby desk after an inspection of each.

Eddie said in lifting a calendar off a desk, “1963.” Turning your head to him across the desks between you, curiously Venom had crept out of Eddie towards you at the drip of blood on the carpet he noticed from your arm near the cuffs you had torn off. “What did the cat say?”

“Doom awaits us.”

Venom atop a desk tilted his head while an arm reached out to tap your injured arm beneath the wound. “Venom knows a Doom. They do not speak to the Hive often. Very reclusive.” His eyes narrowed, “What is this in your arm, Sister?”

“Another pen.” You said and painfully he helped to pull it out and ooze into you to help it heal faster, closing the wound and repairing the torn muscles to just leave a tolerable bruise. “Figures, guess I can start a collection.”

“Think I got one to add,” Eddie said luring Venom back to him as he pulled a pen from his thigh.

Around the desks you walked gathering papers to see if any had addresses on them you discarded after reading. “These say Belfast.” And to the windows that were covered by newspapers and layers of tape you walked to peel back an overlapping section big enough to allow a single eye to peek out.

“63, we got dropped in the Troubles then.”

“Eddie, there’s Nazis outside,”

“Oh you got to be kidding me,” he said crossing to get to your side, peeking out as you did to see the Nazi regalia decorated streets and marching forces on patrol. “So much for our No Nazi November.” As he offered you his pen he’d wiped his blood off of he said, “Now it certainly earned the name the Troubles.”

“So, fake guns, mixed forces in an office building,” against a wall crates of supplies were seen as you looked around, “No phones. Take it these are the last holdouts.”

Eddie nodded and Venom said in a loop around Eddie’s head to peer up at the ceiling of removable panels around lights that clearly had been taking turns burning out since they holed up here littered with pencils and pens on makeshift targets for sport to keep from being bored. “Doom is not here.”

“Well, might as well head down, say hello. They did want to try and employ us.” Down your back in braids down the sides of your head your hair was woven back on the creep down the steps as your bees crawled out of your bag to latch onto your hair and coat, “Should have brought my armor too,” you sighed to yourself.

Shifting the barricades along the entrances to the lobby, which was boarded up, was rather simple. Out into clear winter air sprinkling snow you walked, flare gun sized launcher in hand drawn from your bag to fire at the panzer on the end of the street. Hard and fast it burrowed into the side of the panzer hungrily eating its way to the warheads inside that once detonated inside the OWL you fired at it a gale force wind shattered every window on the street.

Screams from inside and from the Nazi’s now turned to look at the source of the blast warned of the brief break you had. One you used well to leap over as Venom did. To grab the closest Nazi, you to disarm and gather as much ammo as possible to start picking those far off easier to use those closer to gather more firepower and weapons.

“Chickadee!” the name was shouted by a familiar voice. Howard Stark, who was being held back by others he fought to get away from to speak to his friend.

Shouts of clearly Irish men who sprung in a fury of their own, wielding bats and metal bars, joined in to empty the street of any more threats. Bullets off the barrier your bees cast up flattened and littered the street between whips of the grappler chords used to help bend and break the clone army into brittle bloody heaps on the street. Several minutes of direct tactical moves to lessen their numbers until Venom’s victory screech that had the Irish men left standing take a few steps away.

“Chickadee,” was whispered again as you turned your head. A trickle of blood from a glass shard that cut your forehead finally reached your cheek in its bent and jagged path there. Howard Stark and Peggy Carter beside him came to a stop, eyeing the orbiting rings of bees around your body that caved inwards to coat your jacket. Every bee taking turns to crawl into your bag to power down in groups to rest while others remained on guard. “You’re not, Chickadee, she can’t do that.” He muttered to himself still moving closer as Peggy kept her eyes fixed on Venom.

“Who are you? Because,” she pointed at you, “You look like Chickadee. Except for the hair.”

“Pluto, this is Venom. Anyone care to explain the Nazis?”

Howard with his brows furrowed asked, “Do you not know? Chickadee always seems to know what’s going on when she drops in on me.”

“Okay, I’ve heard from Chickadee and she never knows what’s going on. So, Nazi’s, anybody or do I have to wait another 40 plus years and dig into SHIELD records to find out what you’re not telling me?”

That had Peggy ask, “Why would you have to wait over 40 years?”

Venom answered as you laid a hand over your face, muttering in Swedish to yourself, “We were taken from then and brought here by a Flerken one of my kin sent to fetch us.”

Howard stepped closer, clearly with hold of your yellow bolero hat and bag you had left behind in Poland held at his side, “You’re from the future?”

“And the trouble in the split of Ireland didn’t mention anything about Nazis, so are you going to tell me or do I have to beat it out of one of them?”

Peggy said, “That isn’t a very comforting notion, sending someone so ignorant on the times.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered and turned as her mouth dropped open to say to the nearest Irish man, “Hey, you got any clue where the Nazis came from?”

“Aye,” the burly man said as he looked between you and Venom who turned to eye him and his buddies. “Came from England not three weeks ago. Royal family, Palace, even the ruddy Parliament has been taken over. Last we heard they invaded Australia and were being blasted best managed, then the landlines got cut and radio waves is nothing but Kraut central.”

“Okay, so we need a phone booth,” you said turning around to eye the street.

“Lass, did you not hear me?” the man asked eyeing your back.

“Nazi’s tend to be on the dumb side, good sir, haven’t met one smarter than me yet.” You said, starting to walk to a shattered booth. The warped red metal frame barely upright after apparently being rammed with something to break inside.

Howard asked, “Chickadee?” hurrying after you making the men turn to eye the familiarly named figure who came to help them out. “What could you possibly do with a busted phone booth?”

“Even the oldest models have to dig more then most are willing to dig up to cut the connection.”

Peggy, behind him, adjusted her worn trousers to get a piece of glass shaken free from above her knee, said, “Even still, the phone is clearly broken. There is no use.”

“And here I thought you were the fun one from your file, nothing but a fuddy duddy so far.” She scoffed to Howard’s chuckle.

Lowly Howard asked, as you stepped through the empty door frame to crouch at the mount where the wires had clearly been cut, settling down the pack, speaking so only you’d hear him, “How do you know Chickadee? You related?”

“You know what’s annoying? Having the face of someone who’s saved the world and the disappointment of not being the one to blow yourself up to save the world to everyone who wants to not be the one to save the day.”

“You related?”

“Different dimensions have similar people.”

“I am not a fuddy duddy,” Peggy said making you glance her way as you removed a trio of bees from your hair to settle into the wires.

“Well you certainly are gonna have to prove that one to me, now aren’t you?” you joked, then looked to Howard pointing at the hat and bag, “Kept that on ice, have you?”

“This is the last stockpile of ammunition we could get out hands on. Kept it for you. Or,” he glanced down a moment at the hat he turned in his hand to offer to you, “Tell me you’re gonna be able to help us in this? You got more to throw than a big wind and that guy.” Gesturing to Venom as you smirked taking hold of the hat.

“I’m the new Howard Stark, just haven’t broken a million bucks yet.” You said then looked at the bees that sparked up shining a key pad off their backs you dialed a number you knew well mid sound of a dial tone that had the men and Peggy crowd in disbelieving of what they had heard to be true.

“Happy Trails Caretaker cottage,” sounded through the connection widening your smile as Howard’s lips parted and the men behind you chuckled in amusement to Carter Slade’s voice coming through the line.

“Hey Caretaker,” you said widening a smile across Carter’s face, “I’m out in Belfast, you wouldn’t happen to know where Boggs is?”

Lowly he chuckled and asked, “If you got an address for me Banshee can get me out there, he’s a bit of a sour puss lately. But he’ll cave for you I’m certain.” A man outside the booth gave the address, and Carter said, “I’ll grab my things. Never did feel I got my fill of Nazis after clearing those camps. On my way.”

The bees let go and flew back to your hair and you stood, adding the hat to your head to split the crowd to get back onto the street. “Alright, so we got Nazis, all we know British Empire is, well, they’ve always been linked to Nazi’s, but at least now they’re donning the uniform. Any word on if the Queen is dead or not?”

Peggy, the one your eyes fell on answered in a turn back to face her, “Our last contact the week before last she was being held captive, same as the rest of the ruling family.”

“So we got Nazis keeping Nazis hostage. Fair enough,” Venom said for Eddie making you smirk. A burst of flames in the middle of the street turned your head to see Banshee and Carter leap out of a giant portal.

Howard behind you asked lowly, “You know him too?”

“Oh ya, best buddies.”

Rather easily once dismounted Carter took the hint of you being known as Pluto but posing as Chickadee, especially after Howard said to him, “You got to call her Chickadee, we need Chickadee.”

Only making Carter smirk and lean in to rumble back, “Howard, you don’t know the first thing ‘bout the little lady. A name is a name.” Patting him on the shoulder while more of the SHIELD allies brought maps down to help you come up with a battle plan.

The Irish called for reinforcements as you tossed a handful of expanding hornet drones who took your order and shot off into the distance. Each of them glowing furiously with the glowing substance from Ghidorah they would use to destroy any more tanks, faster than light they vanished into every direction to clear the way of at least those they could see in the open freeing up weapons and ammunition for those willing to grab them.

“Alright then, off to England it is,” you said. Leaving the table of maps inside the building you had been led into, vanishing before anyone could stop you with Venom right behind.

Peggy just had to say, “We have no way-,” in the turn of her head she asked, “Where did she go to now?” and huffed storming off to where she guessed you had gone, only to be confused on the empty street.

An engine firing up turned her head to a blocked off garage. Suddenly an army jeep littered with Nazi regalia drove through the wooden door into the street to be parked in front of her wide eyed self. “I’m sorry, you were saying, we can’t what?” Her brow arched up and you eyed Howard who had your ammo bag in hand.

“I’m coming too!” tossing your bag in the back as Carter smirked and readied to climb atop Banshee’s back to Venom adding armfuls of ammunition he had found as well into the back he’d gathered in a large sheet. More cars hidden away had been fired up and filled to the brim with Irish men hoping to help clear more of their homeland.

Hours you would drive only showing that it was stunningly clear until at a gas station you parked to fuel up only being stopped by a burly man who said, “And just what ya might be doing in this jeep here Lass?”

“We’re headed to the ferry to England.” You answered plainly, “Foot to your right will suit nicely.”

“Sir, we just need to fill up our tank.” Peggy said plainly only making him glare at her.

“We don’t take kindly to orders from the likes of you!” Only making Venom pop up widening his eyes that then turned to Banshee, who appeared in flames on his left giving off a frightening whinny that had him stagger away from between you and the pump.

“Thank you,” you said lifting the nozzle to add to the tank.

“Ay!” he barked and tried to take a stomp back to you only to have Venom burst out with sharpened spear like tendrils out his back screeching at the man.

“You will not harm our Sister!”

At the man while you slid the nozzle into the pump you looked to say, “Terence MacSwiney wrote, ‘It is not those who can inflict the most, but those who can suffer the most who will conquer.’ My British traveling companion is not here to enslave your people, that I know of, and will be gone as soon as we fill our tanks.”

“Tanks?” he asked then turned as you nodded your head to have him gawk at the Irish flag donning train of vehicles that had more and more joining along the way. Payment was excused and one by one the train of vehicles were leaving the station aimed for the distant ferry.

Along the way your hornet drones caught up to you and lined your hat to help your bees take up guard until the barren ferry grounds littered with dead clones was between you and the unmanned ship.

Once parked you climbed out and Howard asked, “Do you know how to drive a ferry?”

“Of course I can drive a ferry, anyone could drive a ferry, it’s big, slow and usually only goes one way till it reaches its goal. The real question is if they’ve tried to seize up the engine or left it running for the dandy SS to tote themselves and their uniform obsessed selves across the pond to meet with the Queen Mum’s shores.”

Venom was right behind you all the way up to the engine room to check the vitals of the craft while cars and bodies loaded the ship. The man who tried to stop you at the pumps asked loudly as you were neck deep inside the engine hold on the back end of confirming with your pop up lantern the engine was good. “Little Lass, just why would any of us agree to let you try and free that British Queen after what her lot have done to my kin?”

Softly you chuckled and shut off the lantern, taking hold of the sides of the hatch to pop out using a foot to close the hatch widening his eyes a moment at the quick motion that came from you with such ease. “You know, if I imagine myself a young Queen, children and family taken hostage, most likely far away from me, and someone came to take the keys to my cage from my captors. I’d be very warm to any sort of alliance with them.” Making him and others smirk as you said, “And if niceties and claims you did it out of the goodness of your hearts at the thought of a young mother and her children locked up by such heartless monsters doesn’t work, tear her husband limb from limb and mount his head on a spike. See if that loosens her up to talks of independence, her life for your lands.”

To himself the man chuckled and another asked, “Not too fond of the Princey, there, are you, Lass?”

“The man disgraced himself before his God, his wife and the world in breaking his marriage vows. Any man who lies to his Gods, his word is worthless. I wouldn’t trust a word he said to me in bartering for his life. How Liz hasn’t acted upon her lineage to King Henry the eighth and cut the whore’s head off I haven’t the faintest clue. Other way round you know he’d have her dumped off the face of the earth while she has to live with the shame of such a spineless slug on her arm. After all,” you said as Peggy’s brow lifted to Howard’s impressed chuckle, “She might just be grateful for the excuse to don widow’s smocks.”

“Now I know you’ve got to have some Irish blood in you,” another man said.

“My ancestors were Vikings, we both hail from Pagans and battled the Brits. Something close to cousins I would imagine,” making more of the men smirk as you cranked up the engine, “We’re off to invade England. All aboard that’s going ashore.” A phrase echoed down the ship to the latch of the ramp to start the path ahead while the men shared your thoughts on ways to possibly work this to the favor of their people’s independence. Piling as many bodies and supplies onto the ferry as possible to have the best odds in their favor.

“Where are your parents Pluto?” Peggy asked from along the wall of the control room.

“I’m an orphan.”

Howard said in a check that you were alone to just your group, “Oh come on, you can think up more fun questions than that. I have a family to pass my name and empire down through?”

“Stark Industries is still alive and kicking in the 2000’s,” you said making him grin and lift his brows to Peggy who shook her head.

“What can you tell me about my kids?” he asked with a curious grin.

“You should tell any children you have that you love them.”

“Why is that?” he asked a bit lower making you look his way.

“Because you can never say it enough.” You said making him nod understandably.

Peggy asked something he’d nearly forgot about, “And yet with his heirs to keep the name alive you are the new Howard Stark?”

Howard said, “No, no, that’s good.” He said gesturing your way, “Good that my kids have some competition. Keep them from growing complacent. Competition can be the mother of invention.”

Venom said, “For now, best we find Sister something to eat once we make landfall. She is always hungry.”

Peggy stated, “Chickadee said the very same thing.”

“We have the very same metabolism, burn nine times what we should.”

Peggy asked, “Why would anyone send you here, clearly you are a child still. You have no powers.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I am not magnificently terrifying,” you said making her brow arch up as shouts sounded to the sight of land was growing closer. “Because if anything to those men out there between the two of us they’re more pleased to have me here than you. Someone with this face is known for blowing themselves up to save the world, remember?”

“That is a highly illogical mode of thinking. One’s reckless urge to sacrifice themselves is a moot point. My country is lost.”

“Ya and how’s that feel?” you asked dropping her jaw, “Kingdom of colonizers? Doesn’t mean it can’t be won back, but it does mean this should never be forgotten. To know something and experience it yourself are two completely different things.” Patting a hand on her arm you passed her by, “For now, I have a dock to clear.” Howard was told how to shut the ferry down and how best not to crash it beyond further use if he didn’t stop smoothly at the dock.

Running leap didn’t come close. Ten feet from the dock with Venom at your side you sprung off the ferry with metal grappler chords wrapped around two of your daggers to make wide swings and easy clearance of the guards of the waterway who were not warned of the arrival of a ship from Ireland.

Blood soaked and wiping the daggers off with a torn bit of uniform from the dead, the gate by you was opened to signal the drop of the ramp on the ferry to let the cars and men loose while your hornet drones were off again to clear this new country.

In lines they drove off the ramp to fill the street beyond the dock in wait for Peggy and Howard in your stolen Jeep to lead the way. Up into the window frame as they drove by you hopped to sit sideways in the open air atop the metal opening. Enabling easy use of the rifle Howard had hidden for you to knock off stragglers all the way to Buckingham Palace. Bullets and flaming blasts from Carter’s gun cleared the way, ensuring each and every Nazi flag and banner were left smoldering in your wake and town after town of frightened but curious bodies that crept out of their hiding places to see what was going on.

London, while mostly clear only added to trouble and had Venom spring out to clear road blocks so that you wouldn’t have to so much as slow down or swerve. And soon enough inside the body filled courtyard the cars were parked to let everyone out to peer up at the Palace. Low and quick to the door you and Venom rushed to both pick the lock and snap the necks of more guards to be hurled through the open doors clearing out the last of the stragglers. Waves of all clear then had the others file inside the grand estate.

“Now lads, all nice like we will be watching this castle for our benevolent monarch.” The man who you’d spoken to earlier spoke with a smirk to your back as you strolled to join others in search of the castle for hint of where the Royal Family might be. “Not so much as a boot print on the couches. Keep it nice and tidy for her till we come to terms.”

“If I had a Queen hostage, where would I keep her?” you asked yourself in a walk through an empty hallway, or at least so you thought. Inside the wall a panicked heartbeat had you tap a knuckle on the decorative wood panel on the lower half of it stirring up a gasp terribly muffled behind hands. “Whoever is in the wall, we’re American. Do you know where the Queen is being kept?”

That had a latch sound after a few calming breaths and through the crack of a secret door to a tunnel a young teenage girl who had been kept to keep up with the fireplaces locked her eyes on your blood splattered face. “I heard the officers mention Balmoral a few times.”

“Scotland, another castle, figures.” You said and Venom offered her a hand she looked at. “He won’t eat you, he’s a big softie.” You said nudging his side luring a flinch of a grin on her lips and her hand to come out. “Live nearby?”

She nodded and said, “Two squares over, the officers, were killed by exploding balls of light, exploding fireflies is how I can describe it.”

“That’s alright, it’s magic. I go by Chickadee, and I promise we’ll get you home safe, what’s your name?”

“Lillian, Portsmouth.”

“There’s a good deal of men here but we’ll get you home safe.” She nodded and back through the palace she was shown and kept close to you and Venom at the crowds of eyes on the men who had also rounded up a few other male workers who seemed to not know a thing. “Lillian here heard the officers say Balmoral. We can check that next on the way to take her home.”

The leader of the men nodded and said, “Young Lass, none of my men will lay a hand on ye, and anyone gives you a cross glance give us a shout and we’ll show them straight. Just minding the throne while Her Highness is hidden away.”

“Now where is a bathroom,” you sighed to yourself and found the nearest guest bath where Eddie in Venom’s ease back helped to gather towels to soak and help you clean up. In the silence you eyed your blood stained leather jacket and bag far beyond use after this if not cleaned by a specialist who would know how to get blood out of them. Sure to cost hundreds and enough to have you draw back the top half of your rinsed and mostly towel dried hair into a braid to help keep it in order. Turns for the toilet were stolen and like the others the expansive kitchen was the next stop while others outside had taken turns in each vehicle to refill their tanks.

Peggy already had one of the ovens under her use and seemed rather proud of her mushroom sauce she dolled out to many who asked for some. Though several times at her warning of overcooking the meat you found to go with the supply of warmed veggies from a mountain of empty cans and fresh baskets of produce everyone took ample of her frustration seemed to bubble as you ignored her. A matter of preference to not pink meat that Howard took notice of as another similarity, yet Carter and Venom gladly doubled the preference with their own bits of meat they had chosen.

Cross legged in a corner inside the hall to let others cook their own food you sat down with the two men, daringly refusing her offered sauce that led to her new glare cast your way from the other end of the hall. Mid discussion with her fellow agents mentally she raged at the blatant refusal of her help and special sauce that tapped on a deeper frustration she had for the one whose likeness you bore.

Like others you washed up your dishes and guided Lillian to your vehicle dropping her off with a smaller group of male workers while a hoard remained behind to keep guard on the Palace. “Where is Boggs again?” you asked Carter as she hurried inside and he nodded his head leading the way to the city the Rider had been keeping contained himself.

In the middle of the street a colorful bright yellow Symbiote screeched and bounded to take hold of the jeep to join in with three more that would join in along the way.

Peggy finally breaking her un-verbalized irritation said, “Somehow Chickadee has the impression Steve is the reason James Barnes is dead.”

Looking at her you asked, “That’s what the whole frustration with me is? Seriously? Here I thought it was because I was stepping on SHIELD’s toes by tackling the Nazis.”

“Steven is not responsible for Barnes’ death.”

With a brow arched up your hand shifted on the wheel to look at her pointedly using the bees to help you keep the jeep straight on the road. “Bucky’s not dead,” you said dropping her jaw, “And I’ve seen the memories he has of how he fell off that train. He taught me how to protect myself. Just because you want to think the best of Steve since you have the hots for him,”

“I do not,” she said and you rolled your eyes. “Steve is a hero!”

“Steve has almost killed me personally with his shield three times while he tried to save the day. Not to mention him knocking a bomb into a subway station loaded with children and myself for a staggering fourth.” Wide open her jaw fell, “Your hero has tunnel vision and doesn’t care how many civilians he kills in the process of saving the day or how ruined the city is left when he says job well done. Had Bucky not been guinea pig to Dr Erksine’s Super Soldier Serum while held captive as a POW he would have died from that fall. And to this day Steve since I told him Bucky isn’t dead he’s been using me as a sort of life raft and only concerned about my safety because I’m the only one who has the guts and the common sense to be able to find where he’s being held. So don’t you go spouting off that you know who the man is when he was aiming to put a ring on your finger while he’s Dr Jeckel to everyone else he isn’t remotely romantically attracted to or finds useful.”

Howard leaned forward as you looked forward again with lips pursed a moment after that outburst to ask you, “Steve’s alive?”

“Stark Industries has his codename in their system as Capsicle. If you look it up there’s actual research on dropping people’s temperature that preserves bodily function that when warmed up gradually and safely there can be little side effects.”

“Why would Barnes teach you to protect yourself?” Peggy asked still reeling at your words.

“Have you seen my face?” you asked, “You know who I look like.”

“Why are you so hostile about Steve?” she asked.

“He’s almost killed me four times, and, still, hasn’t apologized. The last time knocked a bomb at me and other children. Honestly, are you kidding me? Not everyone falls for his pathetic tries to bat his blue eyes your way like a giant puppy begging for affection.”

“He does not bat his eyes,” she tried to say but Howard cut her off.

“Ya he does. Seen it myself.”

“He does not!” she said to Peggy.

“You’re married.” You said to Peggy dropping her jaw again, “With children, you no longer have the right to defend your ex to me when you don’t have the faintest clue who he is now. You are married, you chose your team and your loyalty you can’t bat both sides over a ghost of a man you knew two decades ago.”

“You can’t tell me-,”

You cut her off, “Your brother is alive by the way.” You said making her voice crack. “You should shift your focus on finding him instead for his child’s sake.”

“Michael’s alive? Where is he?” She asked softly.

“Now that would spoil the process, eyes on your own paper.”

“And what is your issue with mushrooms? First you ruin your meat by over cooking it and then you refuse the mushroom sauce I made.” She asked defensively after a deep breath.

“I get ill when I eat mushrooms, and I don’t eat meat that is bleeding. The supposed love of rare meat is a preference and if you marinate the meat it isn’t dry no matter how cooked you eat it.”

“Still, I made the sauce.”

“I prefer to not die, you know, while eating. I already had to grow up in a facility where they incorporated toxins and poisons into our meals to build up our tolerance, so when I say I don’t eat something, I would rather go hungry than eat something I know will possibly kill me.”

“Who fed you toxins and poisons?! Your parents?!” she asked making you glare at her.

“My parents wouldn’t ever hurt me. You don’t need to worry about the rest of it. Too late to jump in and save me, Venom keeps an eye on me now.” You said hearing another body bound onto hold of the jeep to talk to your brother on top of it in conference to see if they knew where Doom was hiding out.

Howard asked, “What’s the deal with Venom? He’s missing a nose, and ears, and eyes.”

“He’s a bit like a snake, tongue helps with smell and his ears are hidden. His eyes are the white patches on his face, he’s let me take scans they’re like bee and fly eyes, it’s all his eye.”

“He eats people, and has those, things that shoot out of his back.” He stated.

“His body morphs to shape how he needs it, and, well there’s always been cannibalism in various cultures throughout history. He needs a great deal of food to power him and Nazis are a rather calm compromise for people to be able to eat. He doesn’t just snatch people off the street, but if a criminal happens to come across him causing trouble or harming people he’s a great person to run into for help.”

Howard chuckled saying, “Just happens to eat people occasionally.”

“Exactly,” you said cheerfully then had to ask, “Gotta ask, that huge glowing sign outside the Stark Expo lot who chose the red pulsing lights?”

“Contractor said it would be the brightest ones they had, why?” he asked curiously.

“Twenty birds die a year trying to nest on that sign, you really should change them to have domes around the lights or something if you want to keep the red. They produce too much heat and especially rarer bird breeds love the location and they should be protected.” You said and his brows raised a moment.

“I will remember that,” he said watching the Symbiotes leap off the roof to spring into action at the road block ahead, uncertain exactly why that would be important for him to know about the future.

On the cusp of your second sunset through a town without sight of any Nazis at all people on either side of the convoy of vehicles and Banshee’s casual flame free trot down the street a pub was found. Needing to stretch your legs and use the bathroom you parked and hopped out to take Carter’s side making him smirk and rest a hand on your back. “See you calmed Mrs Peggy down.” Making you giggle to yourself.

“Oh she’s fine, old flames are hard to put out.” At the door he took hold of the handle to open it for you and guided you through into the pub where heads turned in the exception of one at the bar to whom the bartender looked. Between the bodies and tables you passed to get to the bar to lean on it facing the stoic man who eased his eyes off his shot glass to land on your grinning mint haired self. A bit to the side he shifted, straightening up to look you over.

“You’re the one behind the flaming bugs,” behind you his eyes darted up to Carter then back to you as you lifted a hand he raised a hand to accept yours.

“Heard a lot about you, Mr Coinen.”

“You as well.”

“Well Carter can fill you in, have to use the bath, be right back.” Hands were released and you trotted away towards the clearly marked hall for the toilets that had a crowd of heads turn to follow you then look back to the two men.

“Brought Chickadee, I see you’ve kept your city fairly clear. We’re headed to Scotland and she wanted to meet you and no hard feelings if you’re not up to taking on some Nazis to rescue the Queen and her rugrats.”

That had Boggs’ brow arch up, “You and her are going after the Royal Family?”

Carter chuckled, “Chickadee might have encouraged to use the family as a bargaining chip to gain freedom for Ireland.”

That had Boggs chuckle and lift his glass in a mock toast, “Oh that is certainly just how you described her,” drinking from his glass he lowered mid swallow to keep their chat going on how the country on the way here looked outside of Boggs’ territory to know what he might be facing.

Falling silent as you came back into view to lean into Carter’s side, then Boggs said to you, “Heard you’re after the Queen.”

“Yes, it seems Venom’s friend Doom sent a Flerken to fetch us.” He lifted a finger and you said, “Venom’s outside, never met Doom myself yet, and a Flerken apparently looks like a cat but its mouth sort of explodes with teeth covered tentacles.”

“Ah, Rider knows that one.” He finished off his drink and patted the bar, “Be back Bernard, shouldn’t take long. Keep an eye on town for me.” Outside the pub he took Venom’s hand as he was on his way to check on you, the latter who named the other Symbiotes. A whistle called a second horse from its phantom phase and they both mounted up to lead the way to Scotland as you let Peggy drive to give you a rest.

Seated in the window frame however the closer you got, rifle in hand, you cleared the guard stations for the riders to blast the arms blocking the road. Off the hood of the jeep your hornet drones shot off again as you angled to shoot another body in the distance patrolling a panzer one of your OWLS rounds blew up in handling the explosives inside.

Towns finally came into view, and out on guard at a gas station a smile split across your lips as the men from other vehicles scavenged the town for food the Nazis had hoarded from the locals who were frightful of who was now invading their town, passing the clone bodies by that littered the city.

“Look at you!” you said and were seen by a smiling Shepard who was guiding his herd of sheep back from the pen the Nazis had taken them to. One of which was pregnant you neared shouldering your rifle to stroke the curious sheep’s face. “Aren’t you just magnificently ready for sheering come spring time!” contently the sheep grunted and sighed while other sheep turned their heads to smile and proudly listen to your compliments to each of them. “I bet this is the finest of wools you are growing here. So magnificent, and I bet your little ones are going to be just as strong and capable to such a fine task of growing the finest of wool.”

“Chickadee,” Howard said, having come to check on you after noticing you were gone. “Found some food. You can leave the little guy be.”

“This is a female actually.”

“Got horns, only boys have horns.”

“He also happens to pregnant then.” You said making his brow arch up as the Shepard chuckled at your parting compliments to the herd who turned to follow him again. “My dad said he’d buy me a sheep one day when I was older before he passed. I am getting me a sheep one day. What’d you find?”

“Mainly fish and potatoes. Little old lady is frying them up for us. Peggy is cracking the radio box we found to let the town know Nazis are gone and they can come to ration the food we don’t eat.”

“Just make sure we don’t eat more than our share. Don’t think this town has much to spread across new dozens.”

“Psst, hey,” you said and were seen hopping out a window to go to a fence with a line of birds on it who turned to look at you as you collapsed, tangling your foot in a hidden dip in the ground. Up again you popped to hurry to the fence.

Howard muttered, “First the sheep, now birds.” Then he said louder, “Chickadee.”

Venom leaning forward down the side of the jeep dangled his head in view of the window to tell him, “Sister can speak to animals. She is bartering for information for our battle plan.”

Peggy asked, “She talks to animals?”

Back from the fence you turned as the riders became solid again after their own sleuthing ride beyond the gates, tripping once again to hop up and come back to the car. “Guard stations are clear, but there’s still bodies patrolling on the west side. Birds say horses have seen their riders wave from higher windows overlooking the stalls recently.”

The outside was easy to clear and down a hall you walked, having cleared that wing of any sign of the Royals, while Symbiotes cleared wings and floors around where you were tasked to clear. By chance out a window you looked and said, “Venom, it’s the same cat!” Right behind you he morphed and turned as you did to dart around corners and bodies.

“Chickadee!” Howard shouted, “Where are you going?!”

“Flerken outside!” you called back.

Darting back into the early morning air of your fifth day in the past aimed towards the stables where the cat was aimed making the inventor huff feeling a familiar feeling. Pastures and stalls found the both of you bounding and racing about looking in the tall grass and hay alike while Banshee and Boggs’ steed mingled with the horses who said they hadn’t seen the cat you were searching for.

Boggs turned your head as he peered up at the barn, “Pluto? We have another sibling of yours.”

Bright turquoise with white markings and what looked like bunny ears and paws like a giant squishy Easter Bunny the Symbiote smiled flashing his teeth to you and Venom looking up at him. “You wouldn’t happen to be Doom, would you?”

“We would.” He said hopping down to stand up on his back legs peering down at you and Venom showing off his more slender toned figure proving to resemble a bunny even more.

At your feet the orange and white cow patterned Flerken meowed circling your feet urging you to bend and lift it up to peer at you with another meow. “You just tearing us away like that was not very nice.”

It meowed again and Doom reached out to scoop his feline shaped friend into his front paws for you to let him go. The Symbiote stated, “We apologize, another Flerken freed the invading forces here from another dimension. Only Venom’s Sister could aid in their destruction.”

Carter asked, “Are you able to send them back?”

“Oh yes,” Doom said with a wide smile. “Mr Moomalade?”

“What?” you asked at the Flerken opened his jaws freeing the tentacles that had Venom latch onto you again.

“We’ll mind the Queen for you,” Carter assured you before in a goopy mess of tentacles you were sucked into the creature’s jaws.

Pt 45

#Escaped Child Assassin #Extortion #Goblin Attack Backlash #Matt Murdock #Eddie Brock #Venom #Alibi #Flerken #The Troubles #No Nazi November #Pen collection #Howard Stark #Peggy Carter #Doom #Carter Slade #Ghost Riders #Marvel

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entangledmuses · 7 months

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📞 for a drunk phone call from Kie to Rafe or 📱drunk text if you like 😏

Kie knew it was late, she knew she was drunk, yet she wanted Rafe. She knew he was still at the party, because they had been screaming at each other only moments before.

It had mainly been for show, and she had been damn lucky she hadn't accidentally let out their little secret.

But now she felt guilty.

She hated having to play the part of hating him, when she infact felt the exact opposite of that for him.

{Rafe}: I so funking sad. So funking drunk. find me?

She actually had no idea where she was, otherwise she would of told him. She just hoped he still had the location sharing on her, so he could find her.

She flopped onto the sand and dialled his number when he didn't reply. Not that she really gave him a chance, because she was so drunk.

"Rafe. I'm lost. and drunk... and.... are you there? i sooo didn't mean any of it. you gots to belieb me."

@ahistoryofviolence

#muse:Kiara Carrera #yep! She can't pronounce V's when drunk XD #{{its all about queue}}

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nctaezen · 3 years

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I'd spend 10000 hours and 10000 more ♡ Oh if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours

#nct #nct dream #mark #renjun #mark gifs #renjun gifs #*nctaezen #they look sooo pretty in the sun #taking every chance to show their belieber side

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yours-stevie · 4 years

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‘Holy’ music video is out now!! 🙏 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pvPsJFRGleA

#justin bieber #holy #new single #2020 #chance the rapper #music video #out now #youtube #amazing #song #storyline #beliebers #love him

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soundchxck · 3 years

Text

Justin Bieber's new album has arrived, stream Justice now!

#justin bieber #beliebers #justice #new music #spotify #soundchxck #khalid #chance the rapper #the kid laroi #dominic fike #daniel caesar #giveon #givēon #beam #burna boy

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ftl-radio · 5 years

Text

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sergeant-spoons · 2 years

Text

Halfway Down 111th West and Halfway Up to Love

Pairing: Donald Malarkey x Female OC

Word count: 4950

Tone: Strangers to lovers, fast burn, serendipity, lighthearted fun, a slight sprinkling of spice

Summary: She collides with chance, who introduces her to the keeper of her heart for tonight and, perhaps, forever.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @victoryrollsandredlips @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @mgdln97 @tina1938 @drinkwhiskeyandsmile @ask-you-what-sir @indecisiveimpatience @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @onlyyouexisthere

New York City was just as old as it was new, Presley Sutcliffe discovered through her month-long stay in the great Northeastern capital of commerce. Everywhere a person stepped or looked was a blend of time and culture and news, lots of news. The number of papers they printed in Brooklyn alone was astonishing. Presley read them all, and by the time she was done, tomorrow's editions were hot off the press, ready with reports on the economy and the style of the day and, most especially, the war. She was shipping out soon, so she kept a careful eye on the news from Europe, no matter how it troubled her. The restlessness of NYC's population endeared and exhausted her alone, but with a group of friends, enjoying the 'City that Never Sleeps' became a grand adventure. Who knew what was in store? Turning the corner of Humboldt Street and Diggs Avenue on a sunny September afternoon, Presley ran right into chance and had to help him up off the sidewalk when he took a tumble.

"Thanks, and hi!" he greeted her gaily. "I'm George Luz."

"Sorry about that-"

"No worries!" Shaking her hand with an enthusiasm that shocked the breath right out of her, Luz beamed. "You're a very pretty lady! My friend has tickets to the Ziegfeld Follies tonight and he needs a date- so, how's about it?"

Bewildered by this unexpected, unequivocal flurry of intrigue, Presley gaped at the stranger for a good few seconds. He seemed to accept her silence as interest and thus took her grandly by the arm, guiding her down the sidewalk to where a trio of men, all in the same uniform, stood around an unlit lamp post. She glanced over her shoulder at her friends, but they just shrugged, grinning, and trailed along after her and her new pal.

"Fellas, I'd like you to meet..."

"Uh, Presley." She glanced about the group, her gaze lingering on one of the men when she caught him already watching her. "Presley Sutcliffe."

"Miss Presley Sutcliffe!" announced Luz with such grandeur, Presley felt like a very important person. "She's agreed to be your date tonight, Malark."

"What?" exclaimed the pair in question at the same instant, and though Presley was loath to admit it at the time, she was relieved to discover 'Malark' was the man whose eye she'd initially caught- and vice versa.

"Your date! To the Ziegfeld Follies!" Luz shot them each such a charming, lopsided grin that Presley felt half-inclined to agree with his nutty proposal. "Why don't you two exchange information, and I'll take these friendly fellas-" He grabbed the other two soldiers' arms. "-over to meet these lovely ladies."

As Luz and his buddies meandered towards her friends, Presley was left standing on the busy sidewalk with a stranger (albeit a handsome one) and the idea that she'd agreed to something without ever really saying she would. The man at least had the sense to beckon her out of the flow of foot traffic to the nearest awning, and they stood beneath it, glancing at each other and the sidewalk in awkward uncertainty.

"Well," said the stranger, "I should say 'thank you', right?"

Presley tipped her head. "For what?"

"For agreeing to this- if you ever did agree, I mean." He sighed. "Knowing Luz, there's a fifty-fifty chance he just snatched you up and sent you on your way over here."

"Fifty-fifty isn't bad odds," Presley replied without really considering why. "There's still half the possibility I did agree, after all."

"Did you?" A flush crept up his neck. "Wait, no- don't answer that, I shouldn't, uh, keep you from your friends."

Presley looked over her shoulder. "I think they're preoccupied, but thanks." She stuck out her hand despite herself. "I'm Presley."

They shook as he studied her face, and Presley was surprised to find she didn't mind his inquiry. Any other guy and she would have wrinkled up her nose and stepped back, but there was something about this...

"Donald Malarkey," he revealed, "but please, call me Don."

"Don. Alright." Presley glanced at his hands in his pockets and guessed, "Do you, uh, do you actually have tickets, or is, Private Luz over there messing with us both?"

"No, no, I have tickets. I just- I had a date, but she, um..."

"Ah." Presley grimaced sympathetically. "Ouch."

He laughed, more lightheartedly than she'd expected him to. "'Ouch' is right. Left me hanging with these great seats and nobody to see the show with." He stepped towards her to avoid a roller-skater, and Presley noticed the dimples in his smile just as it dwindled. "Unless..."

"Unless?"

He tipped his head back and forth. "Luz might be onto something," he conceded. "What I mean to say, is: unless you'd be willing to come and see the show with me, I'm flying solo tonight."

"Oh, then, we can't have that." Presley flashed a smile, and he seemed to enjoy it, for his own lips turned back upward. "What time's the show?"

He brightened up significantly, and Presley was astounded by the sunshine flashing through his gaze. "Really? You'd go?"

"Yeah!" She shrugged in good humor. "Why not? I've heard promising things about the Follies, and you seem like you'd make decent company."

"I promise I'm better than decent," Malarkey said, and he proceeded to fumble in his pockets until he produced a little notebook no bigger than the palm of his hand. "If you really do want to go, where should I..?"

"The girls and I- we're staying at The Central Park North, halfway down 111th West." Presley smiled as his pen flew across the paper with an urgency that made her feel important for the second time that afternoon. "We're shipping out in a week, so-"

"Really? We're going in two days." Malarkey cleared his throat. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Where d'you think you'll end up?"

"Europe, looks like. You?"

"Same here." He looked peculiarly at her, and she fiddled with her hair, newly conscious of the heat messing with her 'do. "What's your part in the service?"

Presley opened her mouth to answer, then had a thought and tapped the notebook with a decisive finger.

"Why don't we leave that for tonight?" She moved to fix her necklace, feeling the clasp against her collarbone rather than the nape of her neck. "Don't want to exhaust all our small talk just yet, right?"

"Right." Malarkey grinned. "Okay, great, I'll see you tonight at the Park North. At- what time?"

"When's the show?"

"Eight."

"How about seven, then?"

"Six-thirty, and I'll take you out to dinner."

"You've got yourself a date, Private Malarkey."

Her unexpected beau positively beamed.

"Call me Don," he insisted for the second time, "we're not supposed to be strangers anymore."

"Right you are," she agreed. "Well, then, Don."

"Well, Presley."

"Looks like I'll see you at six-thirty."

"You sure will."

Don extended his hand as if to shake again, and before he could think better of it, Presley accepted the gesture as if it was the most normal thing in the world, this serendipitous connection of theirs.

"Afraid it's time for us to fly the coop," Luz declared, swooping back in. "Not that this place isn't chock full of the loveliest hens this side of the Maison Dixon line..."

"Did you just compare them to chickens?" queried one of Luz and Don's companions, but Luz brushed him off with a shrug just as cheerful as his smile.

"Where are you going?" Presley asked, smoothing down her skirt at the reminder of a recent breeze that her legs were bare save for the thin summer stockings her mother called brown but Presley called beige.

"Sightseeing! But lunch first. Wanna come?"

"The girls and I already ate, but thanks."

Presley tipped her head at the two soldiers, and a warm feeling tickled her chest to see Don still smiling at her, hardly attending his friend although Luz had taken up leaning nonchalantly on his shoulder.

"See you tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll see you."

As Presley returned to her friends, she could hear Luz interrogating Malarkey, and she stifled a snort to realize he was just as surprised his ploy had worked as Presley and Don had been.

"You're not actually going," gasped her cousin and closest friend, and Presley couldn't help but laugh in astonishment at her own spontaneity.

"I think I actually am."

The afternoon passed in short order, and the girls were back at their lodgings long before six o'clock. Presley's friends, delighted at the thought of their prolongedly-single friend having a date with a stranger, made such a fuss, she ended up shutting them out of her room for peace and quiet's sake. She needed just enough time to change into the one nice dress she'd been allowed to keep by regulation standards, and once she'd got it, she wondered if she should do something with her hair. She picked up her brush, got sidetracked by a scratch she hadn't noticed before on the side of her left thumb, and then it was 18:31, her cousin bounding into the room with news of a handsome redhead waiting on the front stoop, and she ended up leaving her locks in their usual victory rolls.

"He said it's too nice out to come inside," she reported, "but I think he just doesn't want to swoon over you in front of us."

Presley shooed her and the others off and smoothed down the satin of her shoulders as she traipsed down the stairs. Realizing she was moving much too speedily to uphold an air of calm enthusiasm rather than blatant thrill, she paused herself before the revolving door and composed herself. Stepping through with only a slight delay (the nineteenth-century hinges were no longer the buttery smooth they'd once been), Presley faced the fading sunshine with a smile. Her heels alerted Don to her presence, and though he didn't yet look, he somehow guessed it was her approaching him halfway down the steps.

"They weren't kidding when they named this place- it's practically part of Central Park," Don started to say, but the words disappeared right off his tongue when he turned and took her in.

"It's a nice view," Presley agreed, coming down beside him, and as she tucked her arm around his, she indulged in the delightful thought that he considered her appealing.

"Wow," he whistled hardly a second later, "and I thought you were pretty in your uniform."

Presley stifled a laugh, and he raised two handsome ginger eyebrows at her as they started their stroll up 111th West.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing at all," she replied, "but also everything." Her smile almost became a smirk, and she wondered if it was why he stumbled over that crack in the sidewalk just then. "You can't tell me this isn't kind of a crazy thing, what we're doing."

"Two strangers, taking a chance on one another?" Don shrugged. "I've done crazier."

"Oh? Do tell."

As he studied her, his smile grew playful, and she matched his mood with a new, teasing twinkle in her eye.

"You wouldn't believe half the stories I've got."

"Try me."

And he did, as she'd expected, right away. He told her about how he was a paratrooper with the army and his job was to jump out of a plane, parachute all the way down to the far earth, and attack the foe from behind their own lines. She pretended not to believe him, at first, and he showed her his jump wings (which he was very proud of) and told about how his 'chute once got tangled during a training jump, and he had to untwist it in midair. By the time he was done with the story, they'd gotten into the restaurant, been seated, and received the menus.

"And all you had to show for it was a few bruises?"

"And the story of my death-defying quick thinking," he reminded her, nodding his thanks at the waiter as he poured them each a glass of water. "Hey, you want anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Sherry wine?" they chorused, and as they shared smiles equally as delighted as they were startled, something clicked in the air between them. This fun little jaunt began to feel like the date it was supposed to be.

"Sherry," Don affirmed and, as the waiter walked off, laid the menu facedown on the table. "I don't think I've ever dated a girl who liked that kind of liqueur before."

"Well," Presley decided, her lips skimming the rim of her water glass, "now you have."

They got to talking more, and the conversation soon shifted from Don's very interesting service as a paratrooper to Presley's own involvement in the forces.

"You said you'd tell me tonight."

"Did I?" she teased, and as she ran her tongue across her top teeth, she couldn't help but grin at Don pretending to sigh.

"Fine, you keep your secrets, Presley Sutcliffe," he groaned, and it was the way he said her name that sent spirals of butterflies through her stomach and brought forth the truth at once.

"I'm with the Clubmobile girls," she admitted, hastily enough that he took notice and sipped at his sherry to hide his smirk. "Part of the Red Cross- I s'pose we're the morale boosters for you lot."

Don smiled once he'd swallowed, and he raised his glass to her.

"Nobody I'd rather have boosting my morale than somebody like you, Presley." He smiled as she tinked her own drink against his in a sort of cheers. "Who knows? Maybe it won't be somebody like you but you yourself."

"Maybe," she supposed with a wink, and as he chuckled, she saw something in his eyes burning brighter. As they wined, dined, and chatted, Presley began to notice Don's gaze lingering on her more and more, and in turn, she allowed herself to more openly display her interest in him. He was a very handsome man, of course, and the more she spoke to him, the further she enjoyed his company. He was funny, wildly so, but also sweet (he called her pretty several times) and polite (to everyone- her, their waiter, a kid wandering past who took interest in Presley's shoes) and respectful (he questioned something about her family and when she hesitated to answer, he pretended he'd never asked in the first place). He was a gentleman with an excellent sense of humor, and he had Presley guffawing into her napkin just as often as he made her bloom at his compliments.

"-and so I told him, 'I'm not the one who brought back a whole bucket of sand'! And he knew that just as well as I did, that he was the one who'd made the whole mess-"

Giggling into her hand, Presley trembled in her chair, trying to withhold her delight in begrudging regard to the table next to theirs who'd already shot several unamused looks their way. She gave up quickly, though, and lightly kicked Don's ankle under the table with her toe in reproach for the staredown she was already getting. It wasn't her fault Don was so clever with his stories, and when he flashed her that grin, she decided it wasn't his fault, either.

"And because I'm such a good person," he concluded, "I helped him sweep it all up before Sobel- our CO, Captain Sobel, he's a nasty piece of work -before he could bust him to private for it."

"How noble," Presley praised, and she meant it. "You swept up every last grain?"

"Well..." His expression made her giggle. "That's debatable."

"Sand specks aren't exactly the easiest to count," Presley agreed, "or to keep track of."

"Hey, at least he kept the bucket."

They started to laugh again, and when their neighbors began to glare, they decided it was high time they departed for more pleasant company. And by that, of course, they meant each other.

"Shall we?"

Don offered Presley his arm as they left the patio for the sidewalk, the summer sun peeking through the buildings and flashing in their eyes almost like affection.

"We shall."

The theater was only two blocks away, and the walk was a brisk and brief one. They stopped at a crosswalk and gazed excitedly upon the avenue, and when they arrived at the theater, they went past it and walked all the way up and down the street, admiring the gleaming lights of the Broadway signs and shows. Returning to the theater ten minutes before the show was set to begin, they hurried through the ticketing booth and across the sleek red carpeting to the mezzanine stairs. Don had to guide Presley through the aisles with his hands on her hip and arm because she kept stalling, staring at the architectural art of the place. A part of her took her sweet time for the sake of his touch, although she was uncertain she should be feeling that way considering the circumstances of this date. Once seated, her awe of the beautiful arches and vibrant frescos persisted, and Don had to call her name three times to alert her the show was beginning before she looked down.

The Follies were a delight, and Presley was torn on whether or not to lament her previous absence from the theater. Her unit had been in the Big Apple for three weeks already, yet she hadn't set foot on the street of Broadway- nevertheless one of its theaters -until tonight. A part of her wished she'd come to see a show before, but the greater majority of her heart agreed that spending the evening with Don made the moment all the more enjoyable. A scene commenced in which the villain of the show, a pirate with a magnificent mustache, battled the heroic professor, and at the slash of a gleaming sword, Presley jumped in her seat. She hadn't realized she'd grabbed Don's hand out of alarm until she felt his fingers begin to shift, and she held her breath as she hesitated. Slowly, he turned his palm upwards. Their fingers had just begun to intertwine when the first act ended, the lights came up, and the thundering of Presley's heart in her ears subsided like the waves receding from an ocean beach.

"Gosh," she said, clasping her hands in her lap, and Don hummed a note of acknowledgment, nodding as if in deep thought. He rose, and when Presley followed suit, she felt a dash of lightheadedness. Leaning the hilt of her palm against the arm of her seat, she made a distant joke about needing to stretch, and Don's laugh sounded to her the fondest it had been all day.

They went out to the lobby; Don departed to relieve himself in the bathroom downstairs and Presley stationed herself at the bar. She received a glass of water from a bartender with the most pristinely-kept swoosh of hair she'd ever seen, and as she sipped, she wondered what it was about the city that had led to tonight. It wasn't herself, nor her friends, not even the Private Luz who'd orchestrated this date- something had caused this to be, in a city of millions, this evening, and Presley's head was again swimming by the time Don reappeared at her side.

"Woah, there," he muttered as a quartet of slightly-drunk theatergoers bumbled on past, and when he wrapped his arm around her back protectively, Presley's chest felt all light and trembly. She took a shaky breath and passed the empty water glass back to the bartender, who thanked her for coming to see the show with a wink. Don's hand on her hip shifted up hardly an inch, but Presley's breath still caught in her throat. She told herself jealousy was the most absurd thing of all, and as she tried to clear that airy sort of dissonance from her mind, Don studied her face and seemed to discern her unsteadiness. He insisted they walk back to their seats like this, his arm around her; the further they went into the theater, the more secure his touch became. Again, Presley stalled, pointing out a handsome light fixture floating high above their heads, and Don's breath on her cheek made her glad her skirt covered the goosebumps rising on her thighs.

Once they sat down, disconnected, Presley's skin felt prickly, as if something warm had just abandoned it and the cold was now biting in. She didn't want to be like this, to sit beside him but not with him, and when the lights faded in the house and the magic onstage resumed, she decided she might not have to. A gasp escaped her in reaction to an incredibly mild surprise, and when her fingers brushed Don's again, he took her hand and held it. He leaned towards her and she mirrored the gesture, feeling his lips brush the side of her ear; whether intentionally or not, the graze made her shiver.

"You don't need to pretend you're startled to hold my hand," he whispered, "I've been wanting to do this all night."

Presley turned her head, reaching dizzyingly for a reply, and found that his lips, so near to her ear, were now dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. She could feel his exhalation upon her skin. It was flimsy. Tense. His thumb brushed over the side of her hand and she closed her eyes.

Sit up, before you do something you shouldn’t.

Presley straightened her spine and turned her attention back to the stage, but she could hardly focus, knowing he was so close and so far. Don said nothing but did squeeze her hand after a few seconds. Though Presley tried to believe his interest couldn't possibly mirror her own, the exhilaration of those near-affections kept her electrified all through the second act. She presented that sweet, safe lie to herself, pretending she didn't want to kiss him, knowing to do so would become the catalyst of the night in one way or another. It was especially important to take into consideration their location: the third-row, center mezzanine seats were no place to smooch a stranger. And if she did kiss him, or if he thought the same and kissed her, Presley was thrilled to imagine they would not share a mere chaste peck.

By the end of the second act, Don's grasp had become as familiar as the freckles on the back of her hand, and Presley knew this tumbling attraction had no choice but to last long past tonight, even if they did not.

They clapped and cheered, and just as they thought they were ready to leave, they were invited to do it all over again when the cast came out for a second round of bows. The actors, the orchestra, the crew, all were celebrated, and by the time the theatergoers began to shuffle out of the aisles and down the stairs in a steady stream of sleepy delight, Presley's hands were tired and a little sore. She felt no shame in leaning against Don to keep on her feet amidst the crowd. He seemed to enjoy keeping his arm around her waist, for he left it there as they proceeded through the lobby, across the red carpet, and down out the doors. The evening air was colder than the day, but it was still balmy (early September, after all, was yet summer in the city), and when Don started to hum one of the songs from the show, twirling her around beneath the tall flashing sign, Presley danced with him and loved the night.

"I'd rather walk," she said before either of them had suggested a cab, and Don's agreement was clear in his widening smile. He tucked her against his side as if she'd long belonged there, and they walked slow, musing at the city and each other.

"Can you imagine the stamina it must take for that tap number?" Presley shook her head, pretending she was utterly staggered, and was rewarded with Don's laugh. "And they were singing the whole time, too."

"Right?" He squeezed her hip and grinned when she turned her gaze his way. "I bet you could do that."

She laughed. "Me? You think I'd fit in up there, wearin' one of those floofy skirts and a big ol' hat? I can dance, sure, but I'm a lousy singer."

"I don't believe that," he declared. "And I think you'd look fantastic in a red showgirl outfit."

She scoffed, playful. "You just want to see me in one of those sparkly, no-skirt things they had on for the ballet bit."

"Maybe," he admitted, and as she squirmed in feigned displeasure, he turned them off the sidewalk and onto a paved path. Presley was about to ask where he was taking her when she glanced up and saw the gate, the grass, and the trees.

"Feel like taking a detour, huh?"

"Why not?" He shot her a smile and she just about melted. "The night is young, sweetheart."

Trying and failing to ignore the way her heart skipped at the pet name, Presley replied, "It's nearly midnight."

Don's smile took on a slightly rakish look. "Is it? Well, then, maybe it is too late-"

He turned them around and, just as swiftly, Presley spun them back.

"Or not," he supposed, and when she mumbled something about wiping that smirk off his lips, he grinned. "I dunno, sweetheart, you may have to convince me-"

She stopped right there on the path, only ten yards into Central Park, grabbed his face, and kissed him. It seemed to do the trick, for when she opened her eyes, his gaze wasn't mischievous any longer, but woozy. Surprised, she stepped back, and he let out a low, shaky whistle.

"Damn," he said, tucking her into his side once more, "aren't you just full of surprises."

They kept walking, enjoying the breeze and the trees and the occasional lightning bug. Strolling under the lamplight, Presley knew it was risky and foolish, indulging this all-encompassing, fluttering sensation towards a man she'd just met, but her lips still tingled and she desperately wanted to try again, slower, to see if he'd kiss back.

It's silly, she thought, but who am I kidding?

He caught her looking at him and winked, his smile broadening.

He's everything and more.

"Lucky, lucky me," she mumbled aloud, and Don's thumb, brushing up and down her side, stilled.

"What's that?"

"I oughta send Private Luz a thank-you note," she said, though it was hardly what she wanted to tell him. "For setting us up tonight."

His eyes shone with fondness. "I hope you've had a good time-"

"Of course I have!" She stepped on an acorn and it crunched pleasantly beneath her heel. "Why wouldn't I? You're just- you're lovely. Absolutely wonderful. You-"

Her words falling away in a breathy laugh, Presley stumbled off the path as Don drew her along, a sudden deviation from the straight, lamplit way that made her dizzy with anticipation. The tree he took her to was a sycamore, and she barely had time to take note of the leaves dancing like satin in the warm breeze before he kissed her like his life depended on it. There were people walking by, but they paid the couple no mind, and Presley didn't even notice anyone was there other than Don, Don, Don. His name echoed in her head as she ran her hands through his slightly-messy red hair and leaned into his fiery embrace, dizzying and steadying her all at once. He touched her hips, her back, her sides, her arms, all reverentially, and his kisses explored her lips and cheeks and neck, oh, her neck. She let out a shuddery breath, and it was only when he kissed her collarbone that she realized he was speaking.

"You're so goddamn gorgeous- don't know how I managed to keep my hands to myself all night- do you mind this?"

He kissed her lips, needing both her and an answer.

"Do you like this? Do you like me?"

Presley cupped his face in her hands just as she'd done earlier by the gate and kissed him so deeply he sighed into her mouth.

"I do like you," she agreed, her voice breathier than before the sycamore, "I like you very much."

"You do."

"So much so that I'd very much appreciate it if you'd come back to the hotel." She kissed his cheek. "It's late... and such..."

"Mmm," he hummed, capturing her lips with his own, and it was a good seven or eight minutes before they found the restraint to separate and catch their breaths.

"It is late," he agreed. "Very late. So late."

"And dark," she added. "Who knows what could happen in the dark?"

Smiling from ear to ear, he drew her back towards the path, holding both her hands and keeping his gaze locked on hers even when he tripped on the lip of the lane.

"Only good things, I hope," he said, tugging so that she fell into his arms, and she pecked his lips before anchoring herself by his side.

"Only good things."

Walking gleefully through the lamplight, stealing kisses in spots of near-darkness, the happy pair continued on their way, and no onlooking gaze could have guessed they'd been strangers not twelve hours ago.

"New York, New York, New York," Don hummed, kissing the side of her head, and as he in her bed sang her to sleep at the break of day, Presley drifted off, believing last night's chance could become the morning's beginning.

#donald malarkey #one shot #band of brothers #band of brothers one shot #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfiction #don malarkey #hbo war show #hbo war show one shot #hbo war show imagine #hbo war show fanfiction

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holdingforgeneralhugs · 3 years

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Hello darling! I was wondering if you could do some head cannons for dick, ron and maybe lew, where they're rejected by the reader? Like the reader loves someone else? I know angsty😭 but I'd love to see something like that😭❤️ if not it's alright i love ur work anyway💗

Victoria my dear, tysm for this 💕

Dick Winters

Dick has even quietly in love with you for the longest time.

He just didn't say anything because he was afraid it would ruin your friendship

But eventually Nix and Harry convince him to shoot his shot. So he does.

He knows the minute he's confessed that you don't feel the same. He can see the conflict all over your face.

"It's alright if you don't feel the same," he assures softly, "our friendship is far more important than anything else."

You tell him you're sorry, that you love him so much but not in that way, that you found someone else and you know they're the one.

He seems to have taken it very well, and by all appearances it looks like he's not overly upset.

Its only when he's back in his own room by himself that he allows himself to feel anything.

He's got this pit in his stomach and he feels shattered.

"It's my own fault," he sighed, "I let her get away."

Ron Speirs

You're very very distracting, and it bothers him.

He likes to be focused and prepared for everything and it's inconvenient when he's too busy thinking about you.

But he can't stop thinking about you. So he has to get on with it and tell you.

You kind of freeze when he tells you, and he ignores the worried pit in his stomach.

When you tell him there's someone else he just nods, and he rubs your shoulder reassuringly

"It's fine I understand, don't worry about it."

And it is completely fine, except in those quiet moments he has to himself where he can allow himself to feel the loss.

Lewis Nixon

Lew is always flirting with you, it's like a running joke at thus point.

Except its not a joke because he's head over heels for you.

So with some liquid courage he finally told you.

"Oh Lew...." You sighed, "I didn't think....I mean I thought it was just....."

"Forget I said anything," he replies, walls already coming back up. You tried to explain to him but he didn't give you a chance.

He walks quickly back to his room and shut the door roughly.

He rubs a hand over his face before grabbing his bottle of VAT and drowning his sorrows, cursing himself for saying anything and ruining everything.

OK this broke my heart to write I am SORRY😩

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @anderperrysupremacy @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @scientistsinistral @vv1nch3st3r @ask-you-what-sir @parajumpboots

#band of brothers #bob #dick winters #ron speirs #ronald speirs #lewis nixon #dick winters x reader #ronald speirs x reader #lewis nixon x reader #band of brothers fandom #hbo band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #holdingforgeneralhugs

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nonstoplover · 3 years

Text

protagonist ~ joe liebgott (band of brothers)

my masterlist | my hbo war masterlist

pairing: joe liebgott x female reader

short summary: joe's assigned to search for the perfect house for easy's hq in the new town they'll soon arrive to on their way through germany and finds one with a girl in there who's like the protagonist of one of the comics he's read - courageous, fearless, heroic.

words: 2.5K

a/n: first of all, sorry for disappearing, exam season has started at my uni and i've been hella busy these past weeks (and gonna be for the following few as well, u g h ).

anyway this fic came around from a conversation i had with the lovely @now-im-a-belieber when i was telling her about an idea i had and she technically came up with the base of this. thank you, Pearl, i love you xx (i hope i did justice to your idea)

oh and let's just say i have no clue if this would have been possible, at least the exact way i wrote it.

taglist: @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @50svibes @pennyllanne @nowinnablewar

gif credit: @basilone

Four loud bangs sound against her front door right as she starts washing the dishes after they finished lunch. With her eyes widening in surprise she rushes back into the room, telling the family of three to hide as she's drying her hands in her apron before making her way to the door.

After taking a deep breath she grabs the handle and opens it. The next thing she knows is being pushed to the side as a figure storms in past her without a word. A gasp leaves her lungs as her back lightly collides with the wall, head turning to watch as the soldier barges in the house.

What is going on? Has someone found out about them?

With a hand reaching behind her back she pushes herself off the wall and hurries behind the man. Trying hard to sound completely calm and innocent she asks him what is going on, but he only barks back something almost inaudible - only a few German words reach her ears.

The soldier is moving with such speed that she hasn't got a single chance to get a better look at his uniform as he's entering every room one by one. Who is he? Worry swiftly floods her veins - more importantly, what is he looking for?

She can only pray the family has had enough time to properly hide.

As he reaches that door, she holds her breath back, repeating her little prayer like a mantra inside her head. The man comes to a sudden halt just as he steps through the doorframe and in an instant fear makes her blood turn freezing cold. She carefully moves closer to glance inside next to his body, not knowing what to expect.

And what she sees makes everything else in her mind disappear - just the thoughts of all hell breaking loose any time now move around inside.

Her best friend crouches on the other side of the room, clearly frozen mid-movement as her body is still half out of the hiding spot, eyes wide as she stares at the soldier, not a single muscle moving. It's like everyone's got frozen in time, none of the three people makes a move.

Liebgott's mind slow to catch up to what he sees - he didn't expect to see that as he rushed through the house. He's only been trying to decide whether it's a good place for Easy's HQ, as he has been ordered to do when Winters sent him ahead of the company.

His eyes then start moving around the room, trying hard to find a good reason as to why that girl is half inside the wall. A book is laying on the table next to the door, open at around the middle. With one glance at the pages he recognises the letters of the hebrew alphabet, and suddenly it all makes sense.

She's a Jew.

His breath hitches in his throat as he struggles to comprehend this new information, and just in that very moment the silence is broken by a voice. And it's not coming from either of the two girls in the room - more like it's coming from inside the wall.

One simple sentence, ending with a Yiddish term of endearment - one he can perfectly understand. It came from a woman, asking the girl crouching facing him from across the room why she's stopped moving.

There are more Jews in there.

His lungs fill with a sharp breath he's taken and he spins around, staring straight at the girl who opened the front door only minutes prior. The question must be clear in his eyes as she starts stammering in defense, her voice audibly shaking.

Joe shakes his head, stopping her mid-sentence. "No, they're Jews, I can see it," he says in perfect German, and the already pale girl suddenly seems even whiter.

He swiftly grabs her arm and pulls her in the direction he remembers finding the dining room in, trying to find a chair for her to sit down on, as she's visibly close to fainting - though the reason behind it he can't find.

(y/n) flinches with utter fear, weakly trying to resist being pulled away - he most probably is now taking her away to kill her, right? He's a German soldier, that's what his job is. But no matter how hard she tries to wiggle away, his grip is too tight around her arm and she can't do a thing.

Just when they arrive to the dining room and he kind of pushes her into one of the chairs is when Joe realises that she's scared of him - she immediately pushes the chair further away from him as soon as he lets go of her. So that's why she's shaking so bad.

"No, wait, don't be scared," he rushes to say. "I'm a Jew too."

This finally breaks the scaredness - instead her eyes fill with utter confusion. Her forehead wrinkles as she tries to make sense of what he's saying. How can a German soldier be Jewish? It makes absolutely no sense.

With a sudden wave of suspicion she moves her glance down to his uniform, examining every detail she can lay her eyes upon.

Is he not German?!

Suddenly she can see differences - details about his uniform that she's never seen on a German soldier before, and she's seen her fair share of those in the past years.

But if he's not German, who is he and what is going on?

She takes a still shaky breath and looks back up into his eyes - seeing the waiting expression on his face as he's standing there in patient silence for her to say something.

"Are you-" Her voice cracks mid-sentence. It's not good. She clears her throat and tries again. "Are you German?"

All of a sudden he bursts out laughing - so loud, and somehow so dark that her eyes widen once again. She just can't decide if it's from fear again, or only surprise.

A minute or so goes by with nothing but Joe laughing - this must be one of the most hilarious things he's heard in the past couple years. That he is a German.

Then his laughter finally quietens down to slight chuckling and he speaks up once more to confirm the truth. "No, of course not," he shakes his head in amusement. One look in her eyes tells him that somehow she still has no clue about his nationality, so he opens his lips again to give an answer to her question in advance. "I'm American. Don't worry, you're not in trouble for that," Joe points back in the direction of the room with the hiding spot above his shoulder.

A loud sigh escapes her lungs, her shoulder visibly falling a bit as she slumps more into the chair. It feels like years worth of stress and nervousness have just come to an end - it's truly like an enormous stone has rolled down from her chest and shoulders. She somehow feels free again for the first time in years.

Relief completely replaces the worry and fear in her veins as all other thoughts leave her mind. She's not gonna die. At least not today.

"They're Jewish," the soldier speaks again - and it's not a question. More like a statement.

(y/n) nods, unable to say a word as she's still overwhelmed with her new feelings.

"You're hiding them?"

She just raises an eyebrow, and Joe mentally slaps himself - what a stupid question. He could've might as well just asked her the colour of the wall.

"Since when you've been hiding them?" He corrects his question.

"Ever since the whole thing has started," she answers, her voice so quiet it almost disappears in the air between them.

"Wow," Liebgott breathes out before he can stop himself. He stares at the girl in disbelief. She looks so innocent and young - she's probably one or two years younger than him. How could she pull off something such a thing? Such a dangerous and pretty reckless thing?

"Esther is my best friend, she's been ever since we were little kids, they all are like a second family to me, I've spent most of my days with them," (y/n) explains, the relief causing her to ramble and Joe - for about the first time in his life has to struggle to keep up with the German words that come flying out past her lips. "I just had to help them, you know. I couldn't just leave them here."

"Where's your own family?"

"My parents left to France to be further away from the chaos, and my brother joined the Luftwaffe, and since then I haven't heard from none of them."

"Why didn't you leave with your parents as well?" The young soldier keeps asking, moving closer to the table and sitting down on a chair on the opposite side, facing her. Pushing his M1's strap down his shoulder he places the weapon on the table, pushing it only a little further in order to calm the girl more. He knows he probably shouldn't do this - and keep Winters waiting, but he's too curious to stop himself, he has to hear the rest of her story.

"I love this town, I was born and raised here," she shrugs as if it's obvious. "But more importantly, I didn't want to leave and let innocent people like my best friend's family suffer. I wanted to stay and fight back as good as I could."

Joe subconsciously mumbles under his breath before he can stop himself - words that praise her absolute bravery, words that give away his true feelings he suddenly feels towards her - then he has to move his gaze away from her, fearing that she sees the embarrassment in his eyes. He tries hard to think of another question while also trying hard to forget the look of the half-smiling expression that took over her face just a moment before - it does nothing good for his heart.

"Did you make that hidden room yourself?" He asks in the end, thinking back to what he saw in the room.

"Oh," she giggles - and it's the prettiest sound he's heard in a very long time. "No, my father made it when me and my brother were young and often played hide and seek. I just improved it a little so they can fit in more comfortably."

Liebgott hums, not knowing how to tell her - or if he should even tell her in the first place - how absolutely super impressed she left him with every single thing she's told him and what he's seen. It's one of the craziest things he has ever heard, and he had a fair share of unbelievable stories told to him in his life. He simply couldn't even imagine how on Earth this girl could manage to do this - and not get caught. Throughout the whole war.

In that very moment he swiftly decides that he'll go and find another house for the HQ, and that he'll somehow get back to this particular one, no matter what it takes. He wants to get to know her better. He has to get to know her better.

She's the most incredible woman he's ever heard of, read about or met. She's a woman who fits in the stories of the comics he's been reading his whole life - as the protagonist, the hero. He can't leave this town without hearing more about her, seeing her face more. That would be the biggest regret of his whole life, he can already tell.

But for now, he has to leave. It wouldn't be a good idea to keep his officers waiting even longer.

He stands up, fingers reaching out to grab his M1 before looking back into her eyes. Damn, he doesn't even know her name.

"I have to head back to my company, but I'll come back later, if that's okay with you."

Her eyes are already on his, seemingly staring straight into his soul with that intensity that lays in her (y/e/c) orbs. The girl then rises to her feet - still never breaking the eye contact.

Thoughts race inside her head, and it's like an angel and a demon are sitting on each of her shoulders, one telling her to say no whilst the other trying to convince her to say yes.

What if he only wants to use her? What if he only wants to sleep with her? Maybe force her to do so, threatening her with his knowledge of the Jewish family. He might not even be who and what he says he is. How could she know?

But on the other hand, there is this feeling she has about him. A feeling that tells her that nothing she previously thought will happen. She doesn't know what it is, but it's there, right in her chest, and she can't fight it. He seems genuinely curious and impressed, and honest. And she feels a pull towards him. She wants to see him again.

In the end, the devil on her shoulder wins, and she simply nods - right before she could change her mind.

"I'm Joe," the young soldier moves around the table, one hand held out towards her.

A glance cast down and right back up to his face she takes his hand and gives it a shake, holding onto it tightly, as if only to let him know how strong she actually is.

It probably works, 'cause he raises an eyebrow, slightly tilts his head and the corners of his lips curve up into the smallest smirk she's ever seen - but it's there.

"(y/n)," she eventually answers with her own introduction.

A few seconds pass and neither has let go of the other's hand, not yet. They just stand there, staring into each other's eyes, only the small noises of them breathin breaking the silence.

Then Liebgott blinks, clears his throat, pulls his hand out from her grip and instinctively places his fingers upon his weapon hanging from his shoulder whilst nodding towards her as a gesture of saying goodbye without words.

She watches as he turns around and walks out from the room, and after a tiny, happy sigh she follows the sound of his steps.

Just as he opens the front door and moves through it is when she arrives to the hall. Joe glances back over his shoulder for one last time, offering her a small smile, then looks back ahead of him and continues his walk as if nothing has happened. None of the past dozen of minutes.

(y/n) leans against the doorframe and watches him right until he disappears in the distance with a dreamy look in her eyes.

She can't wait until he comes back again.

.::the end::.

(might write a part two if i'll have time and you'd like to read it)

my masterlist | my hbo war masterlist

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