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duncandriver · 2 years

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Three Perspectives on ‘For No One’.

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I. Cinema

In a commentary track recorded for the Criterion Collection release of his 1965 film, Darling, director John Schlesinger describes it as the story of a girl ‘who could not make up her mind about commitment of any kind, who always felt there was going to be something around the next corner which would be better, which was a syndrome of the time as well … very much of that time.’ Schlesinger’s description captures his camera’s dry regard for London society just as it was beginning to swing. Diana (the titular ‘darling’ of the arts/media set) is a loose and free-spirited individual adept at living in and for the moment. At first, this makes her appear fresh and vital: she wins the admiration of a ruling class whose conventions she brushes aside. ‘She [is] fascinated by the spectacle of money and power, but she does not go after it in an organized way. Improvising her every move, she takes advantage of whatever strikes her fancy at the moment.’ Inevitably, the dizzying effect of the sixties’ swing leads Diana to long for a more stable existence, and the film resolves as a mildly cautionary tale about how quickly alluring moments can become jejune.

A pair of cross-cutting scenes around the film’s mid-point are typical of its aesthetic: Robert (Diana’s lover) sits alone in a fug of cigarette smoke and jealously, trying to get a phone call through to the decadent auction party that Diana is attending. Schlesinger cuts to the party itself as a horsey socialite wins a holiday in the Bahamas (‘I’ve only just returned!’). We observe Diana’s flirty interaction with a film director who may cast her in an upcoming feature; we listen to her recite the ‘sceptred isle’ speech from Shakespeare’s Richard II as the party’s unctuous host attempts to conceal his arousal. After a few more of these vignettes Schlesinger cuts back to Robert, brooding away in his garret. A tipsy Diana stumbles in and is surprised to find him waiting by the door:

Diana: What the hell are you doing? Robert: What the hell am I doing. Diana: Sitting in the dark? Robert: Admiring the view.

Frederic Raphael’s Oscar-winning dialogue is as dry as the gaze of Schlesinger’s camera, and Robert (a rather farouche character) gets many of its best lines. Robert’s bohemian intellectualism allows him to appreciate Diana’s vitality, but he is too content with his middling position in life to capture her attention for long. Her restless ambition soon outgrows the walls of his flat, and she sabotages the relationship with an affair that prompts their acrimonious split (‘Look at this place, this rat trap! I’m not going to be a prisoner here any longer!’). She is taken under the wing of a louche advertising executive (aptly named Miles Brand), who assists her ascent of the social ladder to its highest rung: royalty. It is only near the end of the film that Diana allows something like regret to appear in her aspect, and the impulse is as fleeting as any other of the film’s moments. Speaking about love and family with an Italian Prince who will soon become her husband, Diana is moved to admit that she ‘recently lost someone’, but she chooses not to reveal more. It is less a case of regret at the end of a relationship and more a wistful recognition of the fragility of relationships generally. Diana’s accumulated wisdom takes on the subjunctive mood of possibility in a voice-over narration: ‘Life’s full of “if onlys”, isn’t it? If only, if only … I suppose the whole thing might have been completely different.’

When alone with Miles for the first time, the question Diana asks in order to assess the appeal of his lifestyle is, ‘Do you go winter sporting?’ Miles responds with three laconic syllables: ‘Yes, I do.’ None of the film’s continental scenes occur at ski resorts (they favour the glamour of Paris and the Italian Riviera), though if Raphael’s screenplay had taken the characters ‘winter sporting’, their destination of choice might have been Klosters, an exclusive resort town in Switzerland so favoured by HRH The Prince of Wales (and other royalty) that one of its cable cars was named in his honour. Though only ‘royalty’ in a much looser sense inclusive of celebrity and cultural significance, Paul McCartney and Jane Asher themselves chose to visit Klosters from 6 to 20 March 1966, six months after the British release of Darling and just prior to the London premiere of Alfie, an event on the London social calendar that attracted all four Beatles as well as Asher (one of the film’s supporting cast). Like Darling, Alfie is a film that may be said to dramatise the loosening morals of swinging London. Asher’s role in the film as the dowdy, honest Annie is a world away from Darling’s capricious Diana; indeed, all the cool moral abandon in Alfie is practiced by Michael Caine’s titular character. The film, however, remains a study of fleeting relationships between those trying their luck in a new social order, one in which traditional gender roles could be reversed (as in the Beatles’ songs ‘Girl’ and ‘Drive My Car’) and one that is comparable to Darling: the scenes between Alfie and Annie interrogate the mercurial nature of romance just as those between Robert and Diana do in Darling; both films concern themselves with the restless opportunism that Schlesinger recognised as ‘very much of that time.’

The fact that McCartney was able and eager to holiday in Klosters in 1966 speaks to his increasingly comfortable position in life as well as to his interest in sophisticated, cosmopolitan experiences. He would remember in Many Years From Now that he’d ‘done a bit of skiing in Help! and quite liked it’, and so decided to venture a little further into the world of jet-setting winter sports. Years later, he would tell Guitar World that he ‘was in a very secure position’ at the time. As much as the stunning alpine landscape may have provided reassurances of his status in life, it appears as if tensions in McCartney’s relationship with Asher were building below its idyllic surface. McCartney recalls ‘another argument’ between the couple that led him to sequester himself in the bathroom of his rented chalet (La Casa Rosemarie), channelling frustration into creativity. This was in keeping with an established pattern for the young composer, who had used a Caribbean holiday with Asher in 1964 to explore the strain of their relationship in ‘Things We Said Today’, an emotionally complex and bittersweet song in which a moment of present happiness leads to speculation about its potential to stir future nostalgia. In 1965, McCartney attempted a more conciliatory attitude in ‘We Can Work It Out’, though he also presented an argumentative aspect in ‘You Won’t See Me’, a song born of frustration at not having been able to reach Asher on the telephone (‘When I call you up, your line’s engaged’). Alone in his alpine bathroom in 1966, McCartney’s argument with Asher spurred the composition of ‘For No One’, one of the most arresting studies of a relationship gone wrong to have appeared in popular music extant at the time.

Although a genuine and personal set of circumstances spurred the composition of the song, there are clear differences between McCartney’s relationship with Asher and the failed love affair explored in ‘For No One’. For instance, while McCartney and Asher’s relationship endured its ups and downs, it did not end in La Casa Rosemarie in 1966 – the couple were engaged to be married in 1967 prior to their 1968 split, over two years after McCartney wrote ‘For No One’. In the song, however, there is no apparent hope of resolution for the separated lovers: the narrator’s emphasis is on the unrecoverable distance between them. Indeed, McCartney appears to have made a rather conscious effort to externalise the song’s characters and setting, aestheticising them in ways that separate them from the context of their composition. As Steve Turner notes in Beatles ‘66: the Revolutionary Year, ‘the second-person narrative mode … [creates] distance between him and the actions and emotions described. It’s almost as if it is written in the voice of a stage or film director explaining motivations to a pair of actors’.

With the opportunism characteristic of mid-sixties British cinema in mind, it is interesting to consider the extent to which the song’s lyrics work cinematically: ‘Your day breaks, your mind aches’ is a wonderfully economical opening line comparable to the direction of a screenplay (FADE IN: EXT. LONDON – 7am. The dawn breaks over a row of terrace houses). The line is cast in the present tense and focuses on scenic, visual details reflecting the inner life of its protagonist (the ‘breaking’ of dawn seeming to cause or contain the ‘aching’ of his head). As the song progresses, McCartney’s narrator demonstrates an omniscient separation from the scenes he observes in much the same way as Schlesinger’s camera does in Darling. Indeed, a dry, catascopic regard for the song’s separated lovers is established in the way initial verses ‘cross-cut’ between two very different bedroom interiors, ‘his’ aching head and torpid inactivity juxtaposed with ‘her’ carefree but active preparation to face the world:

She wakes up, she makes up She takes her time and doesn’t feel she has to hurry

The application of make-up here is like the face in the jar by Eleanor Rigby’s door: both conceal past failures and present insecurities; both function as focal points for the daily performance of successful selfhood. It may be the case that the female character in ‘For No One’ enjoys the opportunity to go about her routine in an unhurried way (perhaps her lover’s impatience was a contributing factor to the relationship’s demise), but the lines also imply disregard: the make-up might be emblematic of pretence, a disingenuous tendency to ignore the past where the male character dwells on it masochistically. Where he wallows in articulate melancholy (a trait he shares with Darling’s Robert), the female character could be said to exist at the opposite extreme, possessed by a determination to move on to whatever lies around the next corner. As with Darling’s Diana, the glimpses we have of her might lead us to criticise her as flighty or opportunistic.

Although Darling studies the entire course of Diana’s relationship with Robert where ‘For No One’ chooses to linger only on the aftermath of its lovers’ separation, there are other points of comparison between these two products of the mid-sixties zeitgeist that are revealing of the song’s depth and the extent to which it works cinematically. Just as McCartney’s ‘Here, There and Everywhere’ emphasises the camera-like gaze that itself watches a lover’s eyes for reassurance, ‘For No One’ zooms in on the same visual detail:

And in her eyes you see nothing No sign of love behind the tears Cried for no one

McCartney’s narrator appears to find signs of the female character’s inauthenticity in feigned ‘crocodile’ tears. To listeners who have seen Darling, the detail may recall Diana’s histrionic separation from Robert as well as her remarkable ability to move onward and upward. Wise to the dramatic scenes Diana stages and her self-justifying claims to truth-telling, it is an unmoved Robert who castigates her with the words ‘All lies are true at the time.’ This is to take a rather critical view of the female characters in both song and film, however. It is quite possible to hear/read the female character’s perceived absence of love differently, as a judgemental assumption the narrator is making (or that the male character is making, filtered through McCartney’s second-person narrative). In this reading, ‘For No One’ might be considered another of the Beatles’ ironic gender-role-reversing songs in which the jilted, forlorn lover is the man and all the ‘moving on’ is undertaken by the woman. While the song’s title refers to tears cried in vein (‘for no one’), it also implies that the protagonist is himself a ‘nobody’, one of ‘all the lonely people’ to have inspired McCartney’s muse in 1966. Alternatively, it may be that ‘For No One’s narrator is an appropriately disinterested party (as opposed to uninterested), laying no blame on either character for the breakdown of their relationship.

A separate point of comparison might draw attention to the fact that, as McCartney’s narrator continues to examine the stark difference in the lives of his song’s ex-lovers, the female character makes an offhand comment remarkably in keeping with Diana’s passing admission in Darling that she ‘recently lost someone’:

You stay home, she goes out She says that long ago she knew someone but now he’s gone She doesn’t need him

McCartney’s female character may be self-possessed where Diana is more flaky or wistful, but it is worth mentioning that ‘For No One’s working title was ‘Why Did It Die?’ With this in mind, the song takes on something of the subjunctive mood that characterises Diana’s voice-over narration near the film’s end: both the film and the song appear similarly struck by the happenstance that throws people together and pulls them apart in the age of ‘free love’.

Is it reasonable to assume that McCartney had seen Darling and was directly influenced by the film when composing ‘For No One’, or are the similarities in tone and subject matter between the two a felicitous coincidence in works created a few months apart? It is difficult to say. Certainly, the timing of the film’s release suggests that it would have been on McCartney’s radar: released in America on August 3, it made quite a splash just prior to the Beatles’ 1965 American tour (‘[it] will set tongues to wagging and moralists wringing their hands’, predicted The New York Times). It is certainly conceivable that McCartney saw Darling at some point between 13 and 31 August, either in New York or Los Angeles, or he was made aware of it in conversation (perhaps when entertaining guests at the Hollywood house The Beatles rented from 23 to 30 August). Indeed, we might consider it obtuse to believe that McCartney, a cinephile and amateur filmmaker in a relationship with a star of stage and screen, would be unaware of an English film’s success in America at the very moment he was himself part of a ‘British invasion’. Perhaps the film lodged itself in his capacious memory and something of its affect helped to shape the similarly unsentimental way in which he would write about love gone wrong seven months later. Perhaps Asher’s recent experiences on the set of Alfie (and the film’s imminent premiere) helped his fecund imagination to make the connection, combining elements from the film(s) with ingredients from his own life for the purpose of one of his most cinematically striking songs.

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sleep-i-ness · 4 years

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Immortal (Part 1) (Maria Hill x Reader)

Synopsis: Y/N hasn’t quite told her girlfriend about her immortality and her past with Tony Stark; which causes a lot of tension whilst the Avengers is being formed. Set in 2012 during the first Avengers movie. (brief Loki x reader)

Immortal Masterlist

“Maria, darling, please explain to me your thinking behind chasing after a GOD instead of fleeing the explosion caused by the Tesseract.” Maria glanced at the tapping foot and folded arms before turning back to the files open on the screens in front of her, flicking through the latest stats on said god and the team Fury was expecting her to somehow pull together.

“I was doing my job. Something I am meant to be doing right now but you are distracting me.”

The woman sighed, walking so close to Maria that she could almost feel their bodies touching. “Trust me, I can be a lot more distracting,” she breathed, pressing a soft kiss on Maria’s temple.

“Y/N, honey, please. Let me finish up on this. Then you can distract me all you like.” Maria’s head was aching and all she wanted to do was sit down for a bit, maybe have a rest and then deal with the situation. But being Deputy Director of SHIELD meant she could rarely have a break.

“Don’t change the subject. I was terrified when I heard you’d been trapped under a collapsed tunnel, what if you’d been seriously injured? What if...” Y/N trailed off, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them. What if you hadn’t made it back to me?

“I’m fine.”

“But what if you hadn’t been? Maria, love, please. Look at me.” Y/N placed two fingers on Maria’s chin, guiding her to make eye contact. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“This is our job!” Maria finally exploded. “If you can’t handle the fact that one of us might get hurt, then this won’t work out. I am not going to neglect my duty for fear that I might get injured. There’s a bigger picture than just my life. You, of all people, know that.”

Y/N was silent and sat down opposite Maria, rubbing her neck.

“If that’s all, would you mind leaving me so I can actually get on with my job.” Maria’s tone was cold and she studiously avoided Y/N’s gaze.

“Let me help. I’ll go to ground, find the horned godling and show him what it’s like to be trapped under a pile of rubble.” Y/N joked, trying to lighten her girlfriend’s mood. She was worried for her, Maria looked absolutely exhausted and she’d barely gotten out of the rubble before plunging straight back into her work. It was futile to try and tear Maria from her work; her diligence was one of the qualities she admired so strongly.

“Y/N!” Maria scolded lightly, eyes never leaving the monitors in front of her. “You know that wouldn’t help; I’d spend the whole time being worried sick about you. Doing your job doesn’t mean putting yourself in danger unnecessarily. Plus, it would be nice to have you around when we’re dealing with the Avengers.”

Y/N bolted upright, eyes wide and face pale.

“Avengers? As in Tony Stark?”

“Well, yes. You were there when we were selecting the candidates, turned down a place on the Initiative but we’ve contacted the others. Will you reconsider?” Y/N winced at Maria’s words, knowing that her place on the team would only lead to mistrust and chaos.

“I’d love to, love, but I don’t think I’d play well with Tony Stark. His famed ego would brush me the wrong way and I’m sure extra tension will not be appreciated.”

At that, Maria finally looked up, giving her a cold, dead stare.

“You managed to complete several missions by playing nice. Don’t think I haven’t heard of your reputation as the ‘Seductress’. It’s not too difficult for you to smile nicely and calm things down when the team gets in each other’s faces. Romanoff is on the team as well so you will have another agent to work with.”

Y/N groaned. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No. Fury’s orders. Report at 9am on the Helicarrier tomorrow morning.”

“Nick, darling. Good to see you again,” Y/N greeted Director Fury effusively, grinning at the stoic man’s exasperation.

“It’s Director Fury to you, Agent Y/L/N. Please remember to be professional in a work environment. But I’m glad to see you arrived on time. I wasn’t sure you would, given previous meetings.” Director Fury walked over to the central monitors in the command room, clearly expecting her to follow. Y/N snapped to attention, schooling her features into a poker face.

“Yeah, well, Commander Hill is most effective in completing her orders,” complimented Y/N, a serene expression on her face as she scuttled after him.

Y/N breathed an interjection of astonishment as she gazed out at the clouds stretching endlessly in front of them. The command room was abustle with agents as the Helicarrier prepared to take off and she could see a small team running facial recognition software internationally in one corner.

“Now, as you can guess, you’re not here to ease tensions among the team. I know of your past with Stark and am not willing to risk the safety of the world on some petty spat you two had a few years back.” Director Fury pulled up various files, tapping hurriedly on the monitors.

“To be frank, sir, Mr Stark does not know of my work here at SHIELD and I would like to keep it that way. I feel it would jeopardise the Avengers if he knew.”

Director Fury turned to face her, his one, beady eye boring into hers. “I was not planning for you to be working together.”

“Then what am I here for, sir?”

“I need your skillset.”

Y/N grimaced, she knew it was coming. She was good at her job, the best, maybe, and if you needed someone undercover, to be charmingly deceiving, she was your woman. However, her teamwork skills were lacking, to say the least. Her position on the Avengers team was therefore surprising and she had sensed an ulterior motive to Fury’s orders.

“Yes, sir. Who is my target?”

“We’ll be sending you into the mouth of the beast himself.” Fury pulled up Loki’s file, although there was little to show other than a couple of blurry images. “He has a team of SHIELD agents under mind control, including Agent Barton, which will make your job harder. But with your… condition, I think you can easily pretend to switch sides. Say you want information, a cure maybe.”

“Understood, sir. Where am I to encounter him?” Y/N tapped on one of the blurry images to enlarge it, zooming in on the long stick-thing with a glowing blue gem at one end. “And what the hell is that?”

“That is his sceptre. It has some kind of mind-controlling properties. Just keep away from the pointy end and you should be fine.”

“Sounds easier said than done if he got Barton,” muttered Y/N. Mouth of the beast. God, Fury did like to send her on the fun ones.

“I expect you to provide intel on his plans. His location is highly confidential, as we need to ensure that he comes to us. He will make his next move soon, so you will be deployed as soon as we get off the water.”

“Yes sir.” Y/N turned to leave and gather her gear, but paused as a thought came to mind. “Just wondering, Nick, if you could do a favour for me. Can you keep this off-record, or make sure Commander Hill doesn’t know about my mission?”

“It’s Director Fury. But, yes, of course. This was never going to be below Level 9 Clearance anyway, but I’ll make sure to put it with the rest of your files.”

Y/N nodded sharply, turning smartly to exit the command centre and head to the tactical gear room. As she walked towards the double doors, they slid open as Agent Coulson strode towards Director Fury.

“Phil.”

“Y/N.”

“I hope you took your chance in getting your cards signed.”

“Not yet, I didn’t have them on me.”

Y/N laughed at Phil’s regretful tone, before making her way out to get her gear.

Y/N had parachuted down to the location Fury had given her; it was a nondescript, seemingly abandoned warehouse. However, the muffled bustle betrayed the movement behind the locked doors. Squeezing under the chain-link fence, she dusted herself off as she scanned the outside of the building for activity. It was completely still as she made her way across to the doors, squeezing her way through the slim gap left between them.

Only to be face with a pistol pressed against her head. This must be the muscle. Y/N smiled disarmingly sweetly at the two burly men in front of her.

“Hey boys. Don’t say you could point me in the direction of the Asgardian with horns?”

The thugs glanced at each other in confusion, giving Y/N enough time to kick upwards, knocking the pistol out of his hand. It scattered across the floor, out of reach and Y/N groaned. She’d actually have to fight these men.

One man attempted to swing a punch at her, while the other grabbed her in a headlock. The resulting right hook to the jaw left her seeing stars as pain shot through her jawbone and down her neck. He swung again and Y/N blocked his arm, grabbing and using his own momentum to push him down.

The thug behind her tightened the headlock and black spots clustered at the edge of her vision as he constricted her air supply. Y/N locked her leg round his and threw him down, ducking as the second man sent a lumbering punch towards her head. She elbowed sharply back into his gut and he doubled over, air pushed out of him.

The first man clambered to his feet and she grabbed him by his shirt, pushing away. Y/N pulled him towards her, her head colliding with his nose. He collapsed to the floor in a heap. The second thug, seeing his friend fall, kicked Y/N’s legs out from under her. He straddled her, repeatedly striking blows across her face. Reaching her left hand up, she blindly pressed her fingers into his eyes.

The man howled, sending footsteps running their way. Fuck.

“We found a SHIELD agent trying to break in and she demanded to come see you,” Barton’s voice was monotonous as he pushed Y/N onto her knees in front of Loki.

“SHIELD, huh? They only sent one of you? At least you too will become free,” Loki crooned, lifting her head to meet his eyes with the tip of his sceptre.

“They didn’t send me,” Y/N mumbled, voice muffled by the blood in her mouth.

“Pardon me?”

She spat on the floor next to her and looked him dead in the eyes.

“SHIELD didn’t send me. If they knew where you were, trust me they would be here by now.” There was a bitter edge to the tone of her voice as he smiled coldly at her.

“Then why did you come? What do you want?” Loki appeared bored, fiddling with his sceptre. “Did you come to beg for mercy for your pitiful little planet?”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her hair out of her face.

“I came for your help.”

“My help?” A smirk grew on Loki’s face as he gazed into her pleading eyes. “What makes you think I’d be so generous as to offer you any?”

“Because there’s no one like me. And I have willingly come to you, unlike these minions that you’ve brainwashed.” One of the men behind her grunted, knocking the back of her head forward and Y/N grinned savagely.

Loki stood up and Y/N froze, expecting him to turn her into one of his mindless slaves. However, he just tapped his fingers against the sceptre, an amused twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“And what would make you so… special?”

Y/N stretched out her hand, palm upturned to show she wasn’t holding anything.

“Surely you can sense it. What they made me into.”

Loki gently placed his fingertips against hers and felt the strange force that flowed beneath her veins. She didn’t carry the same weakness that all the other mortals did. He grabbed her wrist to take a closer look beneath the translucent skin as she hissed in pain. Interesting. Her blood was sky-blue, similar to the colour of the Tesseract.

“You’ve become immortal.”

“Not willingly.”

Read Part 2 here

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anika-ann · 4 years

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Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold - Pt.8

The Truth-bearer

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2510

Summary: Avenger!reader AU. Part 2 of Melting Hearts series. Part 1 HERE.

Tony creates a superbot. Oh joy - because thats exactly what Steve needs now. Oh and let’s not forget the enhanced individuals... that sent him into a nightmare taht feels all too real.

(Dealing with A:AOU, pt.1)

Warnings: swearing, angst, semi-consensual medical procedures, blood, torture...yep, this one is ugly

Story Masterlist

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Steve didn’t know why he had been hoping his search for Bucky would go any better than his search for you. The results were down to zero; trying to take down the remaining HYDRA bases was not leaving much time for his own investigation in the first place. Bucky was another person he was failing – again.

You were gone. Bucky was gone. None of locked up HYDRA operatives felt like victory to him, despite the team objectively winning. Time dragged.

The Avengers regaining the Asgardian sceptre was a perfect excuse for Tony to throw a party, especially with Thor staying for it. Steve was in no mood for celebrations, meeting individuals enhanced due to experiments – one of them a young woman – bringing back the memories of you too heavily.

But in the end – with the help of Asgardian liquor – he found himself forgetting the weight on his shoulders wearing him down, if only for few moments.

And then Tony’s artificial intelligence appeared with the goal of destroying the world, it apparently made an ally with the enhanced Maximoff twins, and Steve had no time to mope at all.

That was until they went after a man who got his hands on vibranium and a strange energy hit his head, making him dizzy; his eyes fallen shut for a short moment and when he opened them again, things were just not the same.

Steve found himself in a spacious ballroom, loud swing music attacking his ears. He blinked in shock, looking around cautiously.

What the-

An explosion blinded him for a second and he automatically crouched – except no, it wasn’t an explosion, it was just a flash of a camera, an attempt to capture the lively entertainment, men and women dancing together, flirtatious and animated moves, laughter seconding the tune played by the band on the stage.

A bang sounded on his left and he fought the urge to cover his head, the insuppressible instinct gained by years of fighting. It was just one of the waiters opening a bottle of champagne. No guns. No guns anywhere, despite another man in a well-fitting suit cleaning his friends’ jacket – Steve would think he had been shot with the crimson liquid covering his clothes, but he could see few more drops of red wine remaining in the glass in his hand; and of course, everyone around was laughing again.

The resemblance of war in the frisky party was terrifying and Steve found himself wishing to rather be on the battlefield where red meant blood and loud noises meant gunshots – because that he knew how to work with.

“Steve,” soft female voice addressed him and he quickly spun on his heels to face the woman he once loved.

If she hadn’t spoken, it would have taken him a while to recognize Agent Carter, Peggy, young and beautiful, unlike him not wearing a uniform. No, Peggy was all dolled up, pretty blue dress and her lipstick dark shade of red, drawing attention to her mouth curled up in a hesitant smile.

“Are you ready for our dance?” she asked expectantly, and Steve gulped, his nerves working. He started at the woman, grateful when another loud bang gave him an excuse to look away.

What— how? Peggy had grown old, he had been asleep for years, frozen in ice. He had woken up in a modern world, not in this, this wasn’t-- this looked like the times too familiar to him, the times of World War II., the-

“The war is over, Steve. We can go home,” Peggy’s voice suggested gently and Steve slowly turned his head back to her.

Only to find you in her place, a soft inviting smile on your lips. His heart stopped, his breath hitching. The music faded away into slower melody, calmer, but beautiful.

“Snowflake,” escaped his lips unwittingly, the nickname, the endearment so foreign on his tongue after such a long time.

You were here. Wherever this was, whatever this was, you were here, alive and well, pretty red dress flattering your lean figure, making his eyes roam over it before his gaze settled at your face. Your expression was one of shy ones and slightly amused at his awe.

“I know. Blue suits me better, right?” you laughed bashfully, lowering your gaze and it was all it took to Steve’s feet to cross the distance and he pulled you in for a tight hug. “Steve?”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he breathed out shakily, nuzzling his face in your hair. Tears stung in his eyes, but he ignored them, indulging the sensation of your body pressed to his, your light perfume tickling his nostrils, your hair soft against his skin. “And you look lovely in red.”

Your body shook with hushed laughter and you melted into his embrace, your ear over his heart. Steve loved when you did that, reminding him that his heartbeat was as important to you as yours was to him.

“Are we gonna dance, Steve?”

Steve smiled against your scalp, planting a tender kiss there. “Of course. If you want to. But you know I’m not much of a dancer.”

You pushed against his chest a little with your rather tiny palms, looking up and rewarding him with a gorgeous smile. Your eyes twinkled with happiness.

“You being my partner is what will make it special even if you step on my toes.”

Steve felt his heart swell, too big for his ribcage now. You put your hands around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist in what was barely a dancing stance, but neither of you cared as you swung in the slow rhythm. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you – you were so close, so real in his arms and oh so content as if there was no place you would rather be.

Peripherally he noticed that all of the people around you resolved into thin air as if he snapped his fingers; he would find it strange, but then your head was resting against his chest and he realized he didn’t care.

He tightened his embrace and leaned to your ear with sudden urge. “Come home with me,” he whispered, not having a clue where it came from, just knowing he wanted nothing else.

The words rolled off his tongue so easily and felt so right. You going home with him, whatever home it was, wherever home was. The thought of that didn’t scare him, not anymore. You were the only thing that mattered.

Your lips spread into a delighted smile and then you were kissing him, your palms framing his face. You suddenly stood in the halls of the Tower in front of your common room, originally only his, and Steve didn’t care what kind of magic it was. His fingers fell into your hair, drawing you to him, while his other hand was on your waist, never wanting to let you go. Never.

He sunk his lips into yours deeper, exploring the sweet taste of your mouth he had almost forgotten. His hand clutched your dress tightly at the moan you released from your lips and Steve pushed a little, fumbling with the handle so you could get out of your snoopy teammates’ sights. You smiled against his mouth, letting him, and walking backwards as he pushed further blindly until your calf finally hit the bed.

You fell down with a giggle and that was when Steve realized he had no longer control over his body. His eyes snapped open, but it was as if they were and weren’t his own at the same time. His gaze met with sterile white examination room, a cold single bed you now lied on, your smile inviting as ever. His fingers reached for the leather straps on the side of the bed and you offered your wrist deliberately as he clasped it tightly, your other hand following.

Steve fought his own body to stop cuffing you, to stop— whatever he was doing, but it was as if his hands didn’t belong to him. He was just there to watch his body acting without his command. The picture of you flickered in front of his eyes and suddenly your red dress was gone, replaced by sickeningly green hospital gown. His fingers continued their work, tying up your ankles to the bed next.

Steve wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, to curl his hands into fists, just to get a fucking grip on himself, but it was all in vain. When he fastened the straps, he leaned in, closer to your face, kissing your forehead. You smiled with just a trace of worry, your eyes wide with fear but trusting.

“What are we doing today?” you asked warmly and Steve sensed that the phantom of his body raised one corner of its lips.

“Don’t think we got enough samples yesterday,” he heard himself saying and a second later, he buried a thick needle into your sternum, your scream echoing in his ears.

The inner Steve gasped, crying out your name breathlessly as you threw your head back with your jaw clenched and your eyes squeezed shut. Tears rolled down your cheeks, but he pushed the needle a bit deeper, watching it fill with bone marrow.

And then his hands were on your elbow, taking your blood, adding a fresh vial to several others – eleven, there were eleven vials already and now he added the twelfth one –, and your skin played with colours in the area where the samples were taken from, needle marks blossoming into wide bruises, old ones and fresh ones. Where the skin was free of bruises, it was scarily pale, looking paper thin, and Steve couldn’t fucking breathe, his heart stopping at the sight.

He needed to snap from this, this must have been a dream, a horrible nightmare, how was this-

His fingers brushed sweat-soaked hair from your face, white as sheet of paper apart from the dark circles under your eyes. Your eyelids fluttered open and you met his gaze. You seemed exhausted, but there was an endless trust in your eyes, almost reverential, a sad smile on your purple lips.

“Love you,” you whispered soundlessly and Steve honestly just wanted to scream. Scream until his throat would be raw and hurting, because he was doing this to you somehow.

“Love you too. You’re so strong, Snowflake,” he praised and Steve felt a wave of nausea attacking his stomach, tears in his eyes at the burning sensation of the bile rising to his mouth. This was so wrong, so twisted, the creature wearing his face and calling you that while- “You can take more, can’t you? I know you can, I believe in you.”

Stop this!

This must have been a dream, Steve needed to snap from this, he couldn’t stand it anymore, seeing you like this-- he released a relieved breath as he – not quite him – uncuffed you, mentally thanking god for having mercy upon you – and him.

But it didn’t stop there. The image changed again and suddenly you were strapped to an enormous chair, wires and tubes leading from several machines to your body, tiny lights flickering, periodical beeping of a heart monitor echoing in the room. He watched you from the corner of his eye, mainly focusing on what looked like a bomb exploding in a slowed motion. A strange blue energy surrounded it and he realized with shock that it was you – you were slowing down the detonation with your powers.

“That’s good, Snowflake. I’m so proud of you for controlling it like this,” he heard himself again and he wanted to throw up.

These were his own words. The authentic himself. I believe in you. Love you, Snowflake. I’m so proud of you, you controlled yourself perfectly.

God, Steve just wished to pass out at this point. But here he was, staring dully and unable to do a thing.

“Thank you.”

Something cringed inside him at the tone of your voice, sounding as if you were on your deathbed and yet, your tone was dripping with gratitude and relief.

“But I’m so tired, Steve.”

Steve felt his jaw tremble, yet he knew for a fact that the phantom, the vessel of his body, was unfazed by the statement. It charmed a smile on its lips. “I know, Snowflake. Try harder, hold it. You can do this.”

He saw you nod and his head snapped to you fully as he noticed a trickle of blood dripping down your chin. He tilted his head curiously.

‘No! Stop!’ he wanted to cry out, but no sound came out.

You squinted at the bomb, keeping your focus. Then your eyelids closed, fresh pour of blood coming out of your mouth. Steve sprung forward to do anything – except he didn’t. He didn’t move besides taking two measured steps closer to the chair, his lips whispering to your ear.

“Keep. Working. Or they’ll replace you with me. You wouldn’t want that, would you? For them to hurt me?” he demanded sweetly and Steve felt his insides being torn apart.

What kind of a sick blackmail was that?

The real one, he realized.

This must have been a nightmare, but it was nothing but the truth. You were out there. Most likely tortured. Serving as someone’s personal lab rat. Fighting for your life. And yet, the motivation you had was the fight for his life, because it was never supposed to be you in the chair. It was supposed to be him – or you believed so.

All of that happened to you, because you were trying to protect him. And while he didn’t lead the needles into your body himself, he might as well could; because there he was, unable to do anything, only watching.

Just like when you had talked to Michaels alone, just like when you had disappeared and he should have known you would when you had acted so strangely that fatal night.

Your eyes snapped open at his words with a whimper, a new spark of determination in them.

Steve’s stomach rolled over as he saw the pool of blue energy around your weak hands, fighting to ball into fists. With horror, he realized that the beeping of the heart monitor was unnaturally fast and when he looked at it, the machine was screaming with red exclamation marks.

You coughed and he felt hot liquid hit his cheek. He let out a disgusted sound, once again against his will.

He stood up straight as he reached for a tissue, wiping the substance of his face. The crimson of your blood was in stark contrast to the white of the tissue and when he glanced at you, your eyes were rolled up to the ceiling.

“Bring her back,” he growled, several people in scrubs showing up as if from the thin air. He spun on his heels, heading to the door. “We’re not done with her yet.”

Steve yelled at himself to stop in his track, to fucking stay and fight for her life, but his legs just kept walking.

The doctors and nurse were murmuring something he didn’t understand, the clinking of the tools in their hands unnaturally loud. The room was quiet otherwise; the heart monitor fell silent.

He didn’t even look back and the door clicked shut behind him.

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Part 9

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart, @murdermornings, @elisaa-shelby @ask-hellbent-tweek @cxptain, @kallafrench, @smilexcaptainx @scentedsongrebel, @orions-nebula

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I’m such a horrible person for enjoying writing this chapter. I know that, okay? :D But I actually enjoyed that little peak in the Avengers’ heads in the AoU movie in the first place, so it was even more fun to toy with Steve’s a little.

One more chapter and then we go back to the ‘reader’ POV ;)

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers #captain america #avengers #avenger reader #heart too cold but friends of gold #anika ann

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its-bits-and-pieces · 4 years

Text

Fight the World 1

– What's this event about? The shadow of a woman asked, quietly, turning her head slightly towards the shadow standing next to her on the bench facing the museum.

– I've no idea. Why? Thinking to attend? Answered her friend, a smile being detectible in his voice.

A short huff, something between amusement and annoyance left her lips before responding – No, I'm not dressed for the occasion, plus what's the point to attend an event that might not even interest me.

– I assumed that any event that takes place in a museum would interest you, he replied laughing quietly.

– That's why you proposed this place for the meet up, a subtle manipulation to make me more lenient? The woman asked jokingly.

There was no answer; both looked at the people entering the museum, studying their elegant clothes and mannerisms. The man got up from the bench, he bent down and picked a bag from the ground and cleared his throat before speaking.

– Well, I think it's time for me to go. Thank you for your help, you got me out of a tight spot ... again!

– Don't mention it, that's what friends are for, and ... anyway you owe me two favours now, she answered and smiled at him.

He looked down at her, smiling back – you know, you've got that kind of innocent smile, probably the dimples in your cheeks, he added more to himself making a short break in his speech ... you can fool a lot of people with it, I was one of those fooled in the past, but now that I know you better I can see that mischievous and sometimes wicked side of you in your eyes and that's why I knew you'll come to collect sometimes in the future.

Her smile widened, the corner of her hazel eyes crinkling – Only if necessary, maybe I'll never need your help in the future so I won't come to collect, I'm not as bad as you make me to be!

The man let out a short laugh starting to leave – Hmmm, you have potential either way, to be worse or better, all depends on your mood, isn't it!?

She remained on the bench looking at the empty square in front of the museum, all the guests were already inside, enjoying the event that was taking place; she felt an urge to attend too, "Maybe he was right, an event in a museum is just enough to pick my interest. Too bad I didn't pack a dress for this trip." The useless and unimportant ramblings of her mind were interrupted by the screams of people flooding out of the museum.

The calm night has become loud and agitated in a few moments, the screams of people running out of the museum were covering the beautiful music that was heard before from inside. The woman got up from the bench but still waited on the side, she wanted to figure out what was the cause of the sudden terror that took over the attendees to that event, she was never one to react impulsively in a dangerous situation, not when she wasn’t emotionally involved anyway, and she clearly didn’t care much for this people, she didn’t know any of them.

Waiting to figure out what caused the mayhem, she saw a tall man with dark hair coming out from the museum. He looked imposing and had a calm demeanour, in fact that was the reason he caught her eye, he was the only calm person in the madness that was taking place in front of him. Keeping her eyes trained on him she saw the way his clothing changed from a black, elegant suit to something else, resembling some kind of leather armour, a horned helmet appeared on his head and the cane he held in his hand transformed in some kind of sceptre with a glowing blue stone fitted in.

She was certain now that this man was the main reason for the insanity that started so abruptly and that he was either a mutant or a sorcerer, or maybe something else entirely that she has never encountered before.

She kept herself in the shadows waiting to see how the situation progressed, making some plans for intervening if case may be.

– Kneel before me! the man ordered, but to no response from the crowd that ignored him and kept scrambling around, trying to reach safety.

All of a sudden the man duplicated himself, appearing in multiple places in the square stopping the fleeing people, trapping them in a field of terror. When the people stopped running the original of the chaos creator boomed over all of them:

– I said. KNEEL!!!

The crowed stopped its frantic movements and the people one by one kneeled, shocked and scared.

This response pleased the crazy man, he smiled opening his arms wide, in a royal and encompassing gesture.

– Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.

The woman observed the crowd and spotted an old man who was getting ready to stand against the would be ruler. Realising that things will get worse, maybe even deadly, she decided that it was time to intervene. She started towards this arrogant man, who had the galls to make such daring claims, passing through the kneeling people. The golden and green clad man saw her approaching, how could he not, she was the only one up on her feet, not bowing her head to him. He squinted his eyes at her, trying to asses her, intrigued by her smile, that seemed so out of place in a crowed of scared faces. She clearly was not part of the group of people that attended the ceremony, she was wearing dark, ripped jeans and a leather jacket that looked like it has seen better days. Her hair, even though it was arranged in a braid starting on the top of her head, wasn't an elegant up do, nor were her shoes appropriate for the occasion, no one would wear army style boots for that kind of event.

– Apparently I wasn't heard in the back, he commented looking her right in her eyes, KNEEL, he added shouting, his voice making the rest of the people flinch.

She kept approaching him, stopping two meters from him. Smiling wider and slightly raising her shoulders she responded – Sorry, sir, I don't know you and you haven't bought me dinner, either, so I would say there will be no kneeling tonight.

For a short second the man was stumped, he definitely didn't expect that kind of response, who in the Nine Realms flirts with someone who's threatening them, but he recovered quickly, anger filling his chest. He pointed his sceptre towards this daring and foolish woman, but he didn't have time to use it, a strong electrical beam hit him square in the chest and sent him on his back.

He got up instantly staring at the woman, not being able to believe that she was the source of that electrical blast, she didn't appear alongside the other powerful beings that he has researched on this planet, that he planned around when he came here with his mission. Now his interest was definitely picked, he didn't want to kill her anymore, he wanted to add her to his army, because if she wasn't part of the team SHIELD would assemble against him she was most likely a rogue maybe even an enemy of SHIELD.

She hit him again with another electrical charge sending him further behind, trying to drive him away from the rest of the people.

– Run, you fools, what are you waiting for, a formal invite towards safety? She screamed at the stunned people who were still petrified in a kneeling position. Her words registered in a few seconds and the people started running with new found vigour and survival instinct kicked to the max.

The square emptied, leaving the two combatants alone in a stare battle. The horned man didn't wait for her to attack again, even though her blasts were not deadly, they were certainly painful. He jumped towards her, swinging his sceptre, trying to knock her of her feet, but she jumped over his swishing staff in a forward motion; she grabbed his shoulders, making a hand stand on them, her body turned in the air and then landed behind him. Even though he caught on fast on her movement and turned again to face her, he didn't have time to stop her kick to his chest. Fortunately for him, her kick was weaker than her blasts, he felt it more like a slight push.

She cocked her head sideways, like a puppy that was trying to figure something out, she was surprised by his strength, that kind of kick should have sent him a few steps back, and to think that she was holding back with her electrical hits, not to kill him.

The man took advantage of her state of surprise and grabbed her by the neck, slamming her to a wall of the fountain from the square. – Pathetic, trying to fight a god, pathetic human, he whispered his face close to hers – but you will be of help and under my command, he added placing the sceptre on her chest. Her eyes changed their colour momentarily, but then turned back to their original hazel hue. One corner of her lips raised in a lopsided smile.

– That's not going to work on me, sir. Mind control is something I'm immune at, so if you want any chance to have me under your command you'll have to persuade me with reason or bribery, I respond to both! But I have to let you know that I am kind of stubborn and not easily bought. She felt satisfaction seeing the bewilderment on his face and took advantage for stumping him the second time tonight and hit him with a stronger beam of electricity, sending him on the pavement.

Even though he was angrier now, his sceptre failing him, he still wanted to subjugate her to him and get her to be under his control. Getting back up, he decided to get her unconscious and find a way in her mind; maybe like that her mental walls would be penetrable.

He produced a knife out and pounced at her, she impeded his attack, blocking his arm with hers, but she wasn't fast enough this time. He managed to swipe her feet from under her with his long leg, sending her on her back. Falling she pulled him down with her, for a short moment thinking that she'll succeed to overpower him, but he was so much stronger than her and ready for the fall so he managed to keep on top, without giving way to her pull to the side in a try to get him on his back.

Pinning her to the ground with his body, he stabbed the knife he was still holding through her left shoulder, right under her clavicle. A grunt of pain left her mouth, making him smile. He was getting ready to get the knife out and hit her head with the pommel, when something hit him hard, sending him on his side a few steps away from her.

Looking back up to see who attacked him he recognised the soldier. Captain America headed towards the woman that was standing up pulling out the knife from her shoulder. – Are you ok? He asked her, kindness and worry in his tone of voice.

– Yeah, no need to fret. She responded, getting the knife out from her shoulder and hiding it in the side of her boots.

The two men fought on the side, not paying attention to the woman who got up shakily. It wasn’t the stabbing that weakened her but the use of electricity, also fighting against the powerful mind control that was attempted on her. Her powers, as great as they were, came with a catch, more powerful the electrical blast she would use, more pain she felt in her whole body. Theoretically she could produce such an electrical charge to light up a big city, but she assumed that might actually kill her.

Steadying herself she threw a quick glance to the soldier and the psychopath fighting and deciding that they were distracted by each other, she got ready to leave the scene. She knew Captain America was working with SHIELD and SHIELD she was trying to avoid; unfortunately her departure was brought to an abrupt stop when a jet appeared with a gun pointed at all three of them.

A woman’s voice sounded in the night: Loki, drop the weapon and stand down!

#avangers #loki #thor #tony stark #natasha romanov #captain america #hulk #oc #story about a woman who decides to fight the world after meeting Loki

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