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#grey paneled deck
yoitisi · 6 months
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Uncovered Deck Inspiration for a medium-sized, open-air contemporary side yard deck renovation
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jouelacommeboutin · 6 months
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Uncovered in Minneapolis Mid-sized trendy side yard deck photo with no cover
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zheeer · 7 months
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Side Yard in Minneapolis
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Example of a mid-sized trendy side yard deck design with no cover
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Uncovered Deck
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Inspiration for a medium-sized, open-air contemporary side yard deck renovation
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abstraxx · 7 months
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Uncovered Deck Inspiration for a medium-sized, open-air contemporary side yard deck renovation
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xcaetus · 8 months
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Side Yard in Minneapolis Example of a mid-sized trendy side yard deck design with no cover
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oleg-rybak · 1 year
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Uncovered in Minneapolis
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rachelsfindings · 1 year
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Deck Roof Extensions Deck - mid-sized coastal backyard deck idea with a roof extension
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paulmunkotv · 6 months
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Modern Deck - Uncovered Mid-sized minimalist backyard deck photo with no cover
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varsiteeclvb · 1 year
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Rooftop Deck Los Angeles Deck: Idea for a mid-sized, contemporary rooftop deck with a pergola
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meridabears · 1 year
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Beach Style Deck - Roof Extensions Deck - mid-sized coastal backyard deck idea with a roof extension
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f-airchilds · 1 year
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Landscape Decking (New York)
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dewo-art · 1 year
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Los Angeles Rooftop
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jasmines-library · 7 months
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Spinning out.
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WHUMPTOBER DAY 14. Prompt: Water inhalation. Fandom: Top Gun (Maverick daughter reader x Bradley Bradshaw)
Summary: When a mission goes wrong and you and Rooster are sent into a tizzy, forcing you to eject, you run into a sticky situation when your lifevest fails to inflate.
Warnings: Drowning, Water inhalation, Near death experience, minor ptsd.
Word count: 2K
Notes: I'm sorry. (Side note, this can be plationic or romantic.)
MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS
🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸
The sun was just rising above the skyline as the familiar rumble of the jet started up. Shortly after that came the weightlessness as it soared into the sky. It was supposed to be a simple mission, take down a couple of fighters that had stepped over the territory line, then return in time for a drink down at the ‘Hard Deck’. 
You would never not admire the way the world looked from up here as you soared between the mountains towards the ocean, leaving the base as a tiny grey speck in the distance. It took your breath away. 
“How’s it looking back there, Viper?” Rooster asked from the front of the jet. The com crackled in your ear.
“All good, roo.” You replied, glancing down at the multitude of buttons and screens.
Rooster has been your best friend since you were young. You had grown up with each other and worked your way through Top Gun to follow in your parents’ footsteps. He was the Goose to your Maverick. Literally. Although the two of you were only young when his dad passed, you had seen the way that it broke him, much like the way it broke your dad. And although you would never completely be able to understand Roosters grief, you stuck to him through thick and thin. 
Once you were finally old enough to join Top Gun, your dad was hesitant. He had lost his best friend. He wouldn’t lose you too, though it was all you knew. It was all you had wanted to do since you were 6 years old and playing with model planes in the garden with Brad. And so, there you were; strapped tightly to the chair of a plane hurtling through the atmosphere as your best friend’s RIO. And you couldn’t think of anything better. 
Time passed nonchalantly as the fighter edged towards the opposition. Although it was a standard mission that you had done hundreds of times you still couldn’t help but form an anxious knot in your stomach, especially when the other jets came into view.
“Bandits ahead.” You informed the Phoenix and Bob who were cruising along besides you.
“Copy.” 
You watched the small dots dance across the green screen. The triangle of fighters heading straight towards the four of you. “Heading straight towards us.” You told Rooster, who nodded abruptly and began to manoeuvre the plane to the right. 
“Taking evasive action.”
The jet swerved as it raced past the enemy, before setting in line behind them. They broke apart, scattering around you. 
“Shit.” Cursing, you tried to adjust the monitors to locate the plane that had slipped from view on the monitor. “I’ve lost one of them. Bob, anything.”
“Negative.”
As Rooster flew, you kept a keen eye out for the third plane which had vanished within the clouds that obscure your view. 
Thanks to his skilled training, Rooster managed to take down one of the enemy vessels without an issue. The second one was trickier, with both pairs of planes making a beeline towards it as it raced away, You could feel the force on your body making it harder to move as Bradley urged the plane forwards. You could see the two dots inching closer together until they were nearly aligned.”
“Rooster, I can’t get the shot.” Phoenix called out over. 
“Copy. Just give me a moment.”
Narrowing his eyes, Rooster placed his thumb over the missile, twisting the jet so that he could get a clear shot. When the lines finally aligned and the control panel let out a happy chirp, he pressed the trigger down, launching the missile which hit its target and sent it careening into the water. Phoenix congratulated your partner as you continued to search the sky for the missing plane. Though seemingly it was truly out of sight. After deciding that it may have retreated, and receiving the go ahead from Maverick to return to base, you reeled back around and began the journey home.
“I’m glad I can bring you back in one piece Y/N.” Brad sighed from in front of you. “Now there’s one less reason for Mav to kill me.”
That was when the monitors began blinking, and the third dot reappeared on the scanner.
“Break! Break!” You yelled as they locked onto your jet, launching a missile towards you. Quick on his feet, Rooster swerved. 
“Bandit found!” He called out over the comms as you moved to fiddle with the switches, although the frantic movement made it hard to move as it sent you sliding around. 
The enemy was suddenly coming up in front of you, causing Bradley to break hard. “Shit!”
When it pushed in front of you, the force which it left with, shoved your plane harshly, causing you to slam into the side of your chair. 
“Jet-wash!” He cried out.
There was no time to react as the force sent your plane spiralling. Lights flashed frantically in the cockpit as the high pitched alarm screeched. “Both engines out!” 
Without the aid of the engines the fighter jet was forced into a tizzy, twisting as it spun out of control. At some point the motion had slammed you into the glass of the cockpit. You cried out painfully.
“Viper!?”
Your body screamed at you as you tried to move but the force of your body as the jet rapidly dropped in attitude was too much to allow you to move. 
“Eject!” You told him, craning your head to twist towards the two loops that hung in between where the two of you were stationed.  “I can’t reach the handles. You have to eject!”
Eyes wide and frantic, Rooster reached behind him , fumbling for the fabric. When his shaky hands wrapped around them, he gave them a sharp tug and then the two of you went tumbling from the plane and hurtling towards the bottomless ocean. 
Rooster groaned against the heavy pull as his parachute opened. He watched anxiously for yours to fly open, letting out a breath when he saw it fly out behind you and your fall slow. But something was wrong, because when you hit the water, you didn’t come back up. 
Your arms flailed frantically as you tried to keep yourself afloat, but you had hit the water hard and every movement you made with your legs sent agony across your body, and without the aid of your life jacket, which failed to inflate, the parachute which quickly absorbed the water began to drag you down. You took a gasping breath as you heaved, trying to keep your head above the churning water, but it w as no use. You vanished beneath the surface of the water.
It was dark. And cold. And your lungs burned for air that wouldn’t come as your  lungs filled with water. You twisted, struggling within the fabric and rope which had wrapped itself around your body, tangling around you like you were a fish caught in a net. Your eyes stung with the assault of the water as you stared blankly at the inky green above you. Your movements slowed as your energy began to deplete, and soon you knew nothing but the dark and icy water.
~
Rooster watched in horror as your head disappeared below the water and you didn't resurface. Struggling against the water, he swam as fast as he could. The heavy weight of his parachute slowed him down, trying to drag him towards the same fate as you, but he pushed himself forwards. He had to keep going, he had to get to you. Barely registering the loud humming of the helicopter above, he swam to the green ink that leaked from your suit and began to dive down. The resistance of his life jacket tried to pull him back towards the surface, but he could see you now. Your hair floated around your face, drifting as you lay motionless in the water. Your skin was pale and your lips were turning a shade of blue. He could see the chute wrapped around your ankle and the def
He outstretched his hand until his fingertips brushed yours, but then he was yanked back harshly by the buoyancy-aid. Cursing loudly, he dived back into the icy water, propelling himself forwards. When he finally managed to wrap his hands around yours, he pulled you towards him. His lungs burned and tiny air bubbles escaped from his nose. Fumbling, he struggled to unclip you from the parachute, but after finally freeing you from the binds, your body floated up with his easily. 
With a hard kick, Brad resurfaced and took a gasping breath, sucking the air greedily into his lungs and allowing the life jacket to do its job.
You lay morbidly still across his chest. Lips chapped and an ugly shade of blue. Bradley called out, crying your name and begging for your response but you said nothing. Did nothing. Not even your chest rose and fell. The helicopter settled above the water and soon there were hands on him, parting your lifeless body from him. He struggled against them, ignoring the pleading of the medics and the rescue team. He needed to get to you, but you were just too far away. 
~~
Maverick watched you anxiously from where you lay on the bed, hooked up to a line of machines. There was a cannula attached to your right side, so he held the left, bringing it up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss to it. Maverick would never forget the moment that he heard the alert come through on the radio. His body tensed and his heart stopped in his chest as though he had been gripped by one massive, icy hand. He refused to leave your side. Not even to sleep and that was because every time he closed his eyes, he was hit with the image of Goose, lying lifeless in the ocean. It was too similar; too much of a sick coincidence spat out by fate. But this time it was different. The two of you had clawed your way back. Rooster had been in a state when he returned; frantic and rambling. Mav hardly made him feel any better after yelling at him. The pilot’s stomach sank at that thought. Unmeaning to hurt the boy, scared he yelled at him- words he would never have said. The thought was relentless as it echoed in his head. 
You began to stir, blinking heavily against the fluorescent lights. Maverick sat forwards from where he was slumped in the armchair. He greeted you with a gentle smile as you turned to face him. 
“Hey kiddo.”
“Hm?” the noise you made was groggy as you shuffled. Your entire body ached like you had been bit by a truck. 
“Oh kid…” He cooed, tracing circles on your palm. “I’m so glad you’re ok.”
You nodded, scanning the room. “Brad?” Your voice was hoarse. 
“He’s…” Maverick didn’t have the heart to tell you that he had warned the boy away. But he was saved when the door peeled open and the tired boy pushed his way into the room. He had a small cut on his cheek and a blanket shawled around his shoulders. Bradley also shivered slightly. He stopped dead when he saw your eyes on him. 
“Y/N.”
You smiled. “Hey, Roo.”
Maverick watched the two of you intently. His daughter and his best friend's son. He saw the way that his features softened around you and the way that your eyes glistened as you listened to him chatter away. It was a moment of tenderness that brought a proud grin to his face and in that moment, Maverick knew that as long as you two had each other, you would always pull through.
🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸
<-DAY 13 ⛤ DAY 15 ->
Taglist:
@senjoritanana
@deans-spinster-witch
@amaryllis23
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artificialgirl · 3 months
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This is the first part of a long-form piece about a robot and a giant computer. I expect it to take 3-5 parts to finish in a state I'm happy with. It will contain adult topics, overt sexuality, blatant robotfuckery, toxic lesbians, unbalanced power dynamics, wireplay, and lots of other things that may be triggering or make you uncomfy. Be aware before reading that while I'm emphasizing worldbuilding, at the end of the day this is gay robot smut.
Salvage - 01
Time inside - 00D/00H/00M
Levels deep - 01
Your feet hit the floor with an echoing clang as you drop the few yards down into the access hatch. You stare into the blackness for a moment as your cameras adjust to the lack of light, small LED points in the hallway glowing brighter by comparison as the rest of your vision lights up. You glance back up the hatch at the giant roll of auxiliary cable you've set up to leech from the structure's solar paneling, plugging the end of the wire into your upper back and giving it a firm pull to make sure it will unspool properly. It does. You invested in the best on the market, and even if it takes you weeks to get to what you need you shouldn't have to worry about power.
The site is a centuries-old computation soul, built during the ninth conflict as a safeguard against any unforseen threats. It was machines like this which ultimately won the war and led the corporation to global dominance, but they haven't exactly been rewarded for it. Dozens of the city-sized structures now sit abandoned and restricted, looming forgotten over the scrap fields they once protected.
Unlike the rest of society, you haven't forgotten them. Though they're from long before your time, you're connected to them in a way few other bots are- You're a late activation, brought into existence a few decades ago, one of just a few old wartime reserve models powered on for the first time to meet the demand of a labor shortage. Aside from less than a hundred other late activations, either maintenence drones or combat units like yourself, these old computational souls are the only real family you have left. It's why you're here at all, both because your body is permitted to be here without setting off the alarms, and because your obsolete frame is failing without the parts that exist nowhere else.
A few years ago, your battery life allowed you to function unplugged for weeks at a time. The last time you tried to operate without an external power source, you didn't even make it a few hours. A battery canister from the computer soul should fix that, though. The worn manual you were given on activation has taught you that it's an easy fix, and a single non-faulty canister should keep you going for the entirety of the conceivable future, it's just a matter of getting one. You tug at the cable, and it slithers along the ground behind you as you march forward into the dark.
For a place this old, the upper decks are shockingly well-maintained. You're sure they're not sterile, but they're about as close as a place like this could get. Whichever soul this facility maintains, they're exceptionally diligent about flushing pests and unwanted growth from their halls. Your heels click against the reflective metal flooring as you make your way through the seemingly endless halls of clean white and grey, passing rooms where maintenence drones once stayed and the occasional whoosh of a colossal ventilation column.
A thin survey arm drops from the ceiling, structure panels silently parting and closing in a wave around it to make way for it as it zips down the hallway to take stock of you, twin lenses fixed intently on your body as you give it a nervous wave. You shouldn't be perceived as a threat, but it's still not comforting to imagine how that might change for a hyperintelligent being left alone for hundreds of years. If YOU were in its position, seeing a light-framed combat unit aimlessly making her way through your hallways, you probably wouldn't be too thrilled.
The arm takes a last look at you and retracts back up into the ceiling, just as you stop at the central stairwell. Even though it's gone, it's safe to assume you're always being watched from this point forward. You try to ignore that feeling as you lean into the stairwell, making sure its structure hasn't degraded. It should be able to take you all the way down to the soul's core systems, where you'd find the thousands of fresh battery canisters storing the energy it pulls from the sun. You grip your cable with both hands to steady yourself, and begin your descent.
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wkemeup · 2 years
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Sky Full of Song (6)
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series summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed. Pirate/Siren AU
pairings: pirate!bucky x pirate/siren!reader
chapter word count: 5.2k
warnings: that thing a lot of you were mad didn’t happen in the last chapter (🎶), lawrence continues to be a dick, you’re prob gonna be mad at me again
🏴‍☠️ series masterlist // series playlist
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It was worse, you decided, than the nightmares that often left your voice raw and aching by the first light of dawn. Worse than the fears that crippled you with every year you called this ship your home. Worse than the memory of a whip as it cracked against your spine, drawing blood and shredding your skin.  
To actually watch the familiar comfort of ocean blue eyes cloud over into an unforgiving grey, to watch your captain lose any trace of his free will as he threw himself to the waters, to know he would face certain death in the arms of a siren.
To know you may have already lost him.
You couldn’t breathe.  
You scrambled to your feet despite the protest in your spine. Dull throbs of pain pulsed against your shoulder blade where you’d met the trim of the railing, your skin still alight where your captain’s hand had roughly shoved you from his path. You stared down at the white crests of the waves – paralyzed.  
Your heart was pounding so violently you were certain it would spill from a gory tear down the center of your chest and drop to the deck – withering and dying, desperately pulsing in search of life where it would fine none to give. Blood would smear to the splinters in the wood, dripping between the cracks to the galley below. The pathetic thing might even get crushed under a boot as it swayed on the rocky currents. It wouldn’t survive. You wouldn’t survive.  
Dugan reached for you, urging you back away from the edge, but you could not tear your eyes away from the splash of water where your captain disappeared.
For you. He’d jumped... for you.  
Despite the truth of your protection from the song, Bucky had believed he had offered you a chance at survival the moment he took the candle wax from his ears and pressed it to yours. Only a chance and still, he knew what it would cost him. He knew he would fall victim to the song in your place and yet, he didn’t hesitate. Not even for a moment.  
The honorable, reckless fool.  
His name was one that evoked fear when spoken; a name written into stories to scare curious children from the water’s edge, a name whispered under hushed tones in fear they might find him lurking over their shoulders with a dagger in hand. His ship was the source of legend for a reason – for all the gold he’d ravaged and the countless ships he’d sunk.  
He was ruthless and greedy. Infamous.  
And somehow, this was the same man who so tenderly brushed his fingers over the old scars on your jawline, who held you like you were made of worth, who spoke your name as if it were a prayer upon a sinner’s lips. The same man who would have started a war amongst pirates to avenge the scars upon your back if you had let him. 
He condemned himself to certain death – to an eternity at the bottom of the ocean he’d dedicated his soul to – for you.  
The water had yet to settle under the current where he’d jumped; crests of white still floating around the wave where his body had pierced the surface. Rippled in the shades of darkened blue. Bubbles from his last breaths.  
He wouldn’t have long.  
You gripped tight to the railing with renewed strength. The familiar panels of wood were firm under your grasp, steady, as if the ship itself was urging you on.  
“Y/n? What are you doing?” came Dugan’s strangled voice behind you, louder than you expected he intended given he could not hear himself through the wax and the screams of his fellow crew. Still, it broke on the syllables of your name – the concern, the confusion.  
You did not tear your gaze from the water. Your grip only strengthened.  
“Hold on,” Dugan eased as if to a frightened animal with bared teeth. “Y/n, wait—” 
You swung a leg over the edge.  
“Wait! Stop!” 
He lunged toward you, desperate to save just one of his friends from the sirens and the death that surely awaited you. You carried a free will you shouldn’t have access to amongst the sirens and still, you leapt to the infested waters. The devastation wreaking havoc in his usually round and joyous features was not lost to you as you stole a final glance over your shoulder. 
Dugan’s fingertips grazed the nape of your collar as you swung your body over the ledge, slipping from his grasp.  
There was only one breath of air before the rush of water folded in around you in an icy embrace. The vague echo of sirens singing through the waves vibrated against your skin, prickling goosebumps in their wake, thumping deep into your chest with every note. It was dulled under the water as if it were miles away – distant and dreamy.  
You open your eyes, hissing at the sting of the salt. 
All around you, sirens held men by their collars and pressed them down to the water, swimming deeper and deeper; all while the men smiled. They smothered their prey, stealing the last remnants of air from their lungs until only the currents gave sway to their lifeless bodies – a final kiss of death. Your stomach turned at the sight.  
Panicked, you swam in circles desperately searching for a glimpse of your captain. He wouldn’t survive much longer. Not in the icy temperatures of the water. Not after the siren stole what was left of his breath and he succumbed to the gentle darkness closing in around him.  
But then – a rush of water swirled only a few feet away from where Bucky had jumped.  
Through the clouded haze of the waters, you spotted a siren holding Bucky tight to her embrace. Scales lining her spine and along her tail, fangs sharp enough to tear through flesh. A horrific looking creature while it roamed the seas; one your father had sworn could transfer into a beautiful woman on shore. Gazing at it now, you had a hard time believing this creature could resemble anything but the monsters in your nightmares.  
Bucky’s eyes were open as he stared at the creature. The way he looked at her – it reminded you of the softness he carried in the tavern weeks earlier, how his hand had lingered so gently along your cheek, his gaze flickering to your lips, but still waiting, always waiting, because he knew such a boundary could only be crossed once and he so desperately wanted to do it right.  
But the siren touched him sweetly, granting him the resolution to an ache you never had the courage to return, and she gingerly coaxed him to her lips. Your heart constricted; the fragile, pathetic thing. The siren kissed your captain and with it, she pulled the remaining air from his lungs.  
Rage sealed the fractured edges of your heart.  
You swam up behind the siren with your blade clutched painfully in your grip. Without wasting another precious moment, you snaked your arm around her boney shoulders and dragged the sharp edge of the dagger against her throat, tearing her away from Bucky before she had a chance to pull him deeper. 
She hadn’t even seen you coming, too fixated on her prey, too certain that no other living creature could break through the trance of her song. Blood clouded up into the water around you; deep red fading swiftly into a thin emptiness as her body began to sink. Throat torn open from the prized dagger you held in the lock of your fist.   
You looked to Bucky then; eager for the spell to break, for recognition to flash over his features. You waited for his clarity to return, for him to rush back up for the air he so desperately needed.  
But the spell did not relent. 
The song held a vice grip on your captain and you watched in sudden, paralyzing horror as he turned from you and swam down after the dead body of the siren that had nearly taken his life.  
You lunged for Bucky’s arm, attempting to drag him to the surface by force, but he shot a painful kick to your ribs to shake you off. You groaned, clutching your side as precious air bubbles spilled from your lips.  
Bucky gathered the carcass of the siren in his arms, gentle as if it were a lover, holding her like he mourned the creature. He slid a hand over her wiry hair, brushing it tenderly from her eyes. You didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t understand how the song held such an impact on its victim, even in death, but you supposed it was the strength of the trance that forced men to jump willingly to their deaths. Fabricated desire. Love, even.  
The song would keep a hold on him, would drown him long after you’d killed the siren that had taken his will. He’d die in these waters; in the seas he had drawn comfort and home upon. His body would decay amongst the currents, his flesh slowly eaten by creatures of the deep. Any trace of the man you had sworn your life and loyalty to would be gone – cruelly and without remorse.  
This man, who had given you a chance. Who had saved your life again and again. Your captain. 
And his skin was turning blue. 
There was no longer a choice. No matter of want. No holding onto the desperate need to remain hidden, to preserve the thread of a bond you shared. The same captain who stitched your wounds and danced with you in empty tavern halls under the pale glow of candlelight would likely condemn you to the depths for what you were about to do. He’d never look you in the eye again knowing what you were. He’d curse his hands for every touch he granted to your skin, cleanse his own soul for any affection he’d felt for you. He’d brand you a monster and a traitor and he’d shatter your heart until there was little left but the broken shards at his feet.  
But he would be alive and that would be enough.  
It would have to be enough.  
You parted your lips, allowing the ocean water into your mouth. And then, you sang. 
Notes fluttered through the water and sharply grabbed a hold of Bucky’s attention. His skin was drained of color, his body weakening as he let go of the siren’s body and slowly swam towards you, drawn by the song.  
You hadn’t used the parting gift of your mother since you were a child – too young to know what it meant or the consequences it carried. Its use was the only time you ever felt unmade, ever felt like the monster you were born of. You’d once expected it to be euphoric – addictive in the power it possessed. But it was as unkind to you as it was to the souls commanded under your will. It was violating down to your bones; it smothered you like a flame withering inside a pale glass jar. Deprived of its oxygen; struggling against captivity.  
The song sought to consume you as easily as it took the victim in its melody.  
You’d sworn to never use it again, to never strip another of their will and force your own upon them. To never know what it felt like to be suffocated under the raw energy of the song.  
But it was the only way to save him. And you would do anything in service of your captain.  
He was looking at you again the way he did in the tavern, the same way he’d looked at the siren just moments earlier. This time, it left a nauseating shame in your stomach as his hands drew sweetly to the sides of your face; thumbs brushing tenderly over your cheekbones, his hair floating in a gentle halo. 
But you had little time for remorse. Not with his life on the line.  
You drew your lips to Bucky’s in a siren’s kiss. Instinct as if it were etched into the crevices of your bones screamed to steal his remaining air, to scar his lips and shove his chest toward the deep. But you cursed the monster who dared to take your captain from you and instead, you gave him the remaining air in your lungs.  
You emptied your last breath, pushing it deep into Bucky’s chest. It would be enough to get him to the surface, to save him from the ocean that nearly took his life.  
But his hands did not stray from your face, his mouth still pressed firmly to yours. He did not stop as he took the air you freely gave him. Pressure sucked on your lower lip, hands slipping around your neck, your waist, drawing you into him as if he was the one who could sing a trance over your mind and body.  
You could have stayed underwater with him until the ocean found its way into your own lungs, could have happily surrendered to him if only he’d kiss you longer, if only he’d hold you like this for an eternity in the quiet safety of the currents. It was the first time you understood the call of the siren, why men had jumped ship to their deaths for such a moment.  
But it was also the first time you’d ever touched his lips. The first time you’d ever kissed the man you swore your life and loyalty to. To have it marred by such betrayal was worse than never having kissed him at all.  
Bucky's fingertips danced around the low curve of your spine, sliding against exposed skin, drawing you as close as possible. He pressed himself against you and you had to remind yourself he wasn’t in his right mind. It was the allure of the song – desire beyond self-preservation; the curse that dragged too many below the waters into the arms of a siren. The tenderness of his touch did not belong to you. It was not freely given.  
Shame curdled into your stomach. 
You pulled harshly away from his lips despite his whine. Air bubbles poured from his mouth. Holding the greyed look in his eye, you urged him back to the surface, back to air and safety. A command of the song to save his life when it was only ever meant to take.  
The ocean was silent save for your song; the other sirens content with their meals within the depths. It was only as you pushed Bucky toward the surface that you realized the fire burning into your lungs, pressure intent on luring you under the currents. The song had drained you as if you’d swum for miles, drawing nearly all of your strength. 
The moment Bucky broke the surface of the water, you let go of the melody. The rush of exhaustion that swept within its wake was near agony. It took every last bit of strength remaining in your body to swim up beside him. You could hardly tread water, your eyes falling heavy as the waves carried you effortlessly above and below the surface. 
“There!” someone shouted from above. Ropes were thrown over the edge of the ship. 
You barely noticed their desperate pleas for their captain to take the line as you watched the grey fade from Bucky’s eyes, the slow flicker of recognition returning to his senses as he gasped for breath. It was what you’d given everything to see again, what you sacrificed your life for. 
Ocean blue eyes.  
“Y/n...?” His voice was a dream – gentle and far too distant. 
You could hardly speak, but you gave him a short nod. It was all you could manage. Confusion knotted into his brows as he looked at you, his hand gingerly brushing the wet hair from your eyes the same way he had to the dead body of the siren just moments earlier. You shivered against his touch.  
“Captain! Quickly!” men shouted from the deck, urging him toward the ropes.  
You hadn't realized you'd slipped below the water, the waves pulling you under, until Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you back to the surface. You coughed the sea from your lungs. 
Bucky held you tight against him as he swam toward the ropes, allowing your body the preservation it was screaming for. Your head rested against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut – finally safe, finally at home. He murmured something against your ear; a hand tapped gently to your cheek to wake you.  
“Stay with me.” It was not a request, but an order from your captain.  
You did your best to keep your eyes open. For him. But the exhaustion was overwhelming. There was a reason the song was dangerous for you. It left you vulnerable after its use; vulnerable enough that you would not be able to fend off the attacks of a crew full of pirates who had just watched their brothers drown at the call of monsters who shared your blood. That window of weakness would surely be your end.
You hardly noticed when Bucky grabbed hold of the ropes and the crew began to raise the two of you from the water. But you felt Bucky’s grip on you tighten. You felt the cold brush of the salted breeze. You felt the shivers of icy water lingering on your skin. You focused on that – just enough to keep you conscious.  
It was quiet as the crew pulled you and Bucky over the railing. Dangerously so – if a pin had dropped in the brig, you might have heard it even over the crash of the waves.  
“Sir, be careful,” a voice warned. “Put that thing down.” 
Bucky tensed his arms around you. You could feel his heart thundering in his chest and still, his thumb traced the most delicate pattern on the cold goosebumps along your skin. “What the hell did you call her?” 
“We don’t have long before she attacks again!” one yelped from a distance.  
You barely had the strength to open your eyes, let alone use your song. But these men would not see reason. They didn’t want to. You knew as much when you jumped into the sea after your captain – knew they would turn on you with little need for persuasion, that they’d take any excuse to write you off as a monster. You’d gone after Bucky anyway; accepting the consequences before you broke the water.  
Bucky’s fingertips gently brushed along your back – a startling contrast to the anger building like stone throughout the rest of his body. “I don’t know what has gotten into you men but—”  
Foreign, rough hands clamped down on your body and before you had a chance to fight back, you were ripped from Bucky’s arms. You met the cold embrace of the deck and you forced your eyes open in time to watch as your captain’s own men surrounded him, restraining his arms as he attempted to claw his way back to you. 
Panic coursed through his body. Desperation unlike you’d ever seen in him. But this wasn’t the song – you'd released him the moment he’d made it back to the surface. Whatever drove him to you was his own.  
“Hurry!” someone shouted and suddenly, rope was strung around your wrists tying them hastily at your back; digging into your flesh, burning you. You cried out as your skin pinched under the bindings, your weakened muscles yanked in agonizing angles.  
Then, something akin to barbed wire was thrown around your neck – a collar made for creatures like you that could use their voice was a weapon. Sharp edges pierced into your skin as you parted your lips to speak. Blood trickled down to your collarbone with every pathetic attempt. You could hardly draw in a shallow gasp of air without it puncturing your skin.  
Fury burned red into Bucky’s eyes at the sight of it.  
Guns were drawn. The sharp point of swords surrounding you on all sides.  
“What is the meaning of this!?” Bucky demanded, tearing his arms away from the crew intent on holding him back. Anger raged through his body as if fire spun in his veins. His dripping wet hair stuck to his face as he bared his teeth. “Release her! Now!” 
You managed to crawl up to your knees, looking to the crew that had despised you from the beginning. But there was no longer the lingering trace of resentment and distrust within their features. Instead, what remained was unbridled fear and loathing of the monster they believed you to be. It was that same fear that would be your end. A frightened man was more dangerous than an ignorant one.  
“She’s one of them!” Lawrence bellowed, shoving his way to the front. “I saw it. No wax in her ears and she wasn’t affected by the song at all. She’s a siren!” 
The crew murmured to one another, all nodding their heads as if they’d seen the same. You weren’t even sure that was true. But they believed it as easily. 
Bucky's expression slacked though his eyes remained hardened. “That’s impossible.” 
You hadn’t considered what might become of his memories. There had only been one man before him who had been released of the siren’s song – your father. He’d only been able to recount vague images of what had happened below the water, never able to recall entirely what transpired between him and the siren. It was why he spent a lifetime in search of the creature in hopes of answers. 
The trace of disbelief on your captain’s face was evidence enough that his own memories were compromised. 
“That’s not possible,” Bucky said again and you wondered whether he was trying to convince himself or the crew. “Look at her! Does she appear to have scales and fins like those creatures of the deep? She is not one of them.” 
“Then you are blind!” Lawrence shot back. 
“And you are out of line!” Bucky roared, his hand reaching for the sword on Morita’s belt as he stood only a few short paces away.  
“It’s true, sir,” Dugan admitted quietly, a remorseful look in his eye as he offered his account to the captain. He spoke of the wax absent from your ears, your desperate pleading with the captain as he attempted to shove his way to the water, the time spent in the ocean beneath the surface that surely would have spelled doom for you both.  
Dugan kept his gaze upon you as he spoke, a strange look of guilt upon his features, uncertainty mixed with the sting of betrayal. Tears sprang to your eyes as you tugged weakly against the restraints.  
“She was under the water too long. Nothing human could have survived that,” another of the crew warned and several called out in agreement.  
“I always knew something was off about her!” shouted another nameless man.  
“She’s been after us since the start!” 
“Traitorous witch!” 
“We all heard it after she jumped to the water – her song,” Lawrence spat, the sticky wet slime of his spit landing against your cheek. It dripped down along your jawline. “Didn’t affect any of us because she’d already found her target. It’s what she’s been after this whole time. She intended to take the captain to his grave!” 
Your eyes widen, desperately looking to Bucky as you shook your head rapidly. The motion dug the spikes of the collar into your flesh. Muffled pleas rasped from your lips, indecipherable from the agonizing pain of the wire around your neck and the aftermath of the song that had left you weakened. 
Confusion laced into the blue of his eyes; an awful mix of uncertainty and disbelief clouding over the man you’d given everything to protect.  
“Why are we even keeping this monster on board!? We should kill it!” a voice shouted. You flinched as they cheered in response, fearful eyes scanning the deck for any trace of hesitancy, of humanity in men you would not find. 
A hand closed around your elbow, violently yanking you to your feet.  
“Do it now! While she’s muted by the collar!”  
Someone shoved you hard in the back, forcing you into the arms of an unknown crewman. He flinched in disgust upon touching you, elbowing your weakened body until you lost your footing, stumbling back into another’s vicious grasp.  
“Quick! Who has a blade?!” 
Tears slid down over your cheeks, mixing into the droplets of blood on your neck where the collar pierced at your skin. 
“Stab her in the heart!” 
“No, the throat! Silence her song before she can take us down with her!” 
The solid width of the mast slammed against your chest, your cheek digging into the splintered wood as a heavy hand held you steady against it. Another dug for the soaking wet fabric of your blouse and you lashed against it.  
“Stay still,” Lawrence hissed, shoving you harder against the mast until your head smacked the wood, leaving you dizzy.  
 You bit on your tongue as you felt Lawrences’ grimy fingers graze your lower back, the gold edge of a cheap ring scratching against your skin. Then, without warning, the back of your blouse was shoved up to your shoulder blades, exposing the history of raised scars. The wind chilled against your spine.  
“N-No. Stop...” you whimpered, the effort drawing blood from the collar. You knew what was coming, could feel it from the smug satisfaction of Lawrences’ laugh as he bared witness to your scars. He hadn’t been expecting them but you could tell from his low laugh that he felt vindicated by the evidence that others had uncovered your supposed sinister nature.   
“We should punish her before we send her to the deep!” Lawrence declared to the crew. “Twenty lashings should do it!” 
Your heart plummeted and you did not dare to look for your captain. Shame burned hot into your skin. You couldn’t move. Couldn't breathe. Blood dripped down your collarbone from the spikes around your neck.  
“ENOUGH!” Bucky roared as shook off the men restraining his arms. It looked as though he’d been held down by nearly four of his own men and still, it hadn’t been enough.  
Lawrence released his hold on you and you crumpled in a heap to the deck, unable to hold your own body weight. Bucky bounded into the open circle at the center of the mob to stand in front of you, his legs blocking you from the rest of the crew. The men quickly clamped their mouths shut.  
“You will not touch her!” Bucky ordered; the rage of his voice centered in his voice on par with the violent crash of waves against the belly of the ship. “I am the captain of this ship and I will decide what is to be done with her. If she’s what you claim, then she will be dealt with accordingly, but I will be the one to interrogate her. Is that understood?” 
The first fracture cracked down the center of your chest, barreled deep into your heart. You had hoped – perhaps foolishly, desperately – that Bucky would be able to look past the lineage you never asked for, that he might not alter the gentle heaviness in his eyes he held for you. You had hoped once that you’d gain the courage to ask him what that look meant. You supposed now that you never would.  
He looked to Dugan. “Empty the brig. We’ll need to keep her behind bars.” 
Dugan’s gaze slid to Morita and Jones, uncertainty painting his features, though he followed his captain’s orders. You couldn’t look Bucky in the eye. Instead, your stare focused into the barely healed cuts on his knuckles, cuts you had cleaned and bandaged yourself, cuts you would have taken on instead if he had asked.  
The same cuts he earned the last time he interrogated a prisoner on his ship.  
When Dugan reached for your arm, his grip was kinder than you’d prepared for, baring most of your weight to help you navigate through the crowd of men who taunted you as you passed. His thumb gingerly stroked along your dampened sleeves, almost as if he were trying to comfort you.  
“You won’t have long, bitch,” one of the crew spat.  
“Wait until the captain's through with you. You won’t be able to sing again!” 
One landed a kick to your shins as you passed by. “Monster.” 
“Always knew you were a curse upon this ship!” 
Dugan led you below deck. Even as the men’s voices silenced under the low echo of waves pressing against the belly of the ship, their words sank deep into your chest—carved by blood and stone. But it was the glaring silence of your captain that hurt the most, the knowledge that he heard each of those threats and witnessed the venom spat to your skin and said nothing.  
Dugan leaned your weakened frame against the post at the bottom of the stairs while he discarded the forgotten prisoner left in the cell. The man would find himself a new home amongst the waves soon enough.  
After Dugan opened the cell, he set a guiding hand upon your shoulder and eased you inside. You went without resistance.  
“Careful now, lass,” he soothed as he helped you sit on the makeshift bench of old, rotting barrels and hay.  
You parted your lips, trying to speak, but only offered a short whimper instead as the prongs of the collar cut into your neck. Dugan clenched his jaw, gingerly reaching a hand to brush away the droplets of blood from your collarbone.  
You stared at him long enough for your silent question to sink in – the uncertainty of why he was being kind to you despite the accusations above deck. How could he stand to be in the same room with you, knowing what you were? He’d seen the evidence of it himself. He’d offered his account to Bucky. He’d seen you without the wax and he knew as well as any other what that meant.  
Dugan only offered you a small, faintly sad smile.  
“I still know who you are,” he said simply. “Right here.” He tapped your heart.  
You would have sobbed if not for the utter exhaustion luring your body under. You nodded at him; eyes wet with tears as you leaned your forehead against his shoulder. It was all you could manage with your wrists bound and the wired necklace at your throat.  
“I don’t know what’s going through the captain’s head,” Dugan admitted slowly, “but if I’m right about the way he feels for you, he will not allow these men to take you from him. You will be protected.” Your gaze began to sink, doubt creeping in, but Dugan lifted a finger under your chin. “I’m right about most things, kid. He’s a good man. You know that.” 
You nodded, but still the coil in your stomach remained. Dugan patted you gently on the crown of your head before he closed the cell’s door behind him. The key turned the locks into place and he hung them on the banister across the hall. There was little more to be done than to wait. 
You’d seen enough times the sort of thing that happened within this cell. Blood still remained dried upon the hay from the previous visitor who was now being led up the stairs to his watery death. You’d cleaned the wounds on Bucky’s knuckles enough times to know what his kind of interrogation meant.  
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