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earlgreydream · 3 years

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scientist.

| bucky x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. scientist working closely with the avengers at the compound becomes close with bucky and is one of the only people who he feels safe to open up to, and they end up falling in love? maybe with some fluff and smut?

“Y/N, this is Bucky,” Steve introduced you to the Winter Soldier. He eyed you warily, silver eyes untrusting. His body was full of tension, and his jaw tightened with uncertainty.

“Hi, Bucky. I’m going to try to help you, okay?” You smiled sweetly, and he glanced at Steve who gave him a reassuring nod.

Bucky had recently arrived at Stark Tower, traumatized and shaken up after being rescued from Hydra. He was safe with immunity, and brought to the tower for recovery. He was quiet and anxious, barely speaking to anyone except for Steve.

You had been asked to run tests on Bucky and help him adjust, as well as being the one responsible for his injured body. Steve knew you would be the most gentle, and he trusted you with his life, and was willing to trust you with Bucky, even in his own absence.

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice broke when Steve went to the door. He bit the inside of his lip, not wanting his only friend to abandon him. Anxiety welled up inside of Bucky, and a pang of guilt shot through Steve.

“I have a mission, but you’re safe with Y/N. She’ll be gentle,” Steve promised, and Bucky’s entire body tensed up when Steve disappeared down the hallway.

You and Bucky were left alone in the lab, and you smiled gently. His eyes were sharp, and he watched your every move as if you were a threat. You quietly moved things around, preparing for an exam.

“You don’t need to be nervous. I only want to help you, okay?” You asked, and he didn’t answer. You didn’t mind, you were patient, and you knew that you couldn’t rush him into trusting you.

“Can you take your shirt off for me, please? I just want to get a look, I understand that you’re wounded.”

Bucky hesitated before slowly peeling off the loose black t-shirt he wore. Red, angry scars littered the skin that his prosthetic was attached to. You winced, imagining it must have been painful. You took time examining his body, figuring out how to best help him. Getting the poor soldier out of pain and more comfortable was your first priority.

“Does it hurt?”

He nodded silently, and you frowned.

“Will you let me touch you? I’ll be gentle,” he didn’t respond, and you took a step toward him. He was sitting on the edge of the exam table, and you carefully lowered it with your foot so you were at eye-level. He flinched as you lightly touched the metal of his arm. He instantly grabbed your wrist when your fingertips touched the damaged skin.

“It’s okay!” you gasped out, startled by the tight grip.

“You said it hurts, right? I’m going to give you some numbing gel.” You held up the small container in your other hand.

“It’ll take the edge off, I promise, Bucky.”

He released his grip on your wrist, and you dipped your fingers into the gel and carefully spread it over his wounds. He relaxed slightly under the relief, and you got him to lay down for x-rays.

“Do you sleep?”

Bucky shook his head, and you went to your box, searching for a sedative. You couldn’t begin to imagine what Bucky had been through. You’d seen videos on the news, but despite his history of violence, you felt safe around him, and wanted him to trust you.

“I’ll give Steve something to give to you to help you sleep, but just for a while until you adjust, okay?” You didn’t want to give it to Bucky, unsure of whether or not he was stable enough to handle his own medication. He’d given you nothing, only silence.

“I’ve been working here with the avengers for several years now. It’ll get less intimidating, I promise,” you casually filled the silence. When you had arrived, you were hesitant and wary like Bucky. You didn’t trust the other soldiers, and you didn’t even have a best friend looking out for you at the tower. You’d transferred from S.H.I.E.L.D., coming off of training with Fitz and Simmons, to an unfamiliar home with unfamiliar faces. Steve had been the one to welcome you, and had helped you adjust to Stark Tower.

Bucky listened to you talk, appreciating your attempts to empathize with him. Steve had promised him a million times that you would take care of Bucky, that out of everyone, you would understand.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, looking down at the light bruises forming on your wrists. He felt guilty, you had only been helping him. You looked up at the sound of him speaking, and you smiled.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to.”

You spent several weeks with Bucky, running tests, fixing his wounds, and trying to help him. He no longer jumped whenever you touched him, and he eventually gave short, verbal answers to your questions. You’d managed to calm the inflammation that caused him so much discomfort, and he began to open up to you slowly.

“Have you been sleeping better?”

“I sleep longer, but the nightmares are still bad,” Bucky confessed shyly.

“I’m so sorry,” you frowned, and he shook his head.

“I’ve got this almost all healed. I want to do a sleep study, is that okay with you? Maybe we can figure out what’s going on in there.”

“Yes. I’d sleep in here?”

“No, I’d let you sleep in your own room, I’d take my equipment in there.”

Bucky nodded, and you got everything you needed. It was already late, Bucky had been hanging around in the lab with you long after hours while Steve was gone. Whenever he was off on a mission, Bucky barely left your side. He would sit in your lab, or even in the chair at the end of your bed while you relaxed. You’d taken it upon yourself to introduce him to the Hobbit movies upon finding out he loved the books. Eventually, the two of you moved onto more cult classics, spending your time watching movies to distract him from Steve’s absences.

“Oh, try some of this tea. I got it for you,” you handed him the box, and you saw him smile for the first time. It only lasted a second, but color sparked through his eyes, and he thanked you.

The two of you walked to his bedroom, and you told him to get ready for bed. You watched him tear off his shirt and lay down on the bed, the silver of his dog tags glinting in the moonlight shining through the window.

You carefully attached the monitors to him and got settled in a chair in the corner with your laptop to monitor his sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling steadily.

It took a couple hours for Bucky to drift off, and you sipped from a cup of coffee to stay awake. You set your laptop aside when you saw his heart rate spike, getting up to check on him in the dark. You walked to the side of the bed, seeing his chest heaving with choked breaths.

“Bucky, breathe, love,” you touched his face, trying to pull him from the nightmare. He sat up abruptly, a cry escaping him. His eyes were wild and afraid, and you wrapped your arms around him.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.”

His arms went around your waist, and he buried his face in your shoulder, tears slowly soaking your shirt. You put your hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through his short hair.

“Hydra can’t get to you here. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

“Please don’t go.”

“I won’t, I won’t leave you,” you hugged him tightly. Bucky let himself cry in your arms, holding you tightly and trying to fend off the nightmares. Your heart broke for the frightened soldier, and you turned your head, your lips pressing against his temple as you promised it was going to be okay.

“Did I ruin the study?” He asked once he’d calmed down, leaning back against the pillows.

“No, no. I’ll get this off of you,” you took off the wires, freeing him from the feeling of being tested on.

“Do you feel like you could go back to sleep?” you asked, and he rubbed his eyes and shook his head. You closed your laptop and put everything in your bag, taking your coffee cup.

“Come on.”

He followed you to the kitchen of the massive penthouse, and you set the cup in the sink before turning on the kettle.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t be,” you promised, lightly squeezing his arm as you walked by.

The night was quiet, and you made tea for the two of you, hoping it would calm him down some. He thanked you, taking the tea and sitting with you.

It became a ritual whenever he couldn’t sleep, you would drink tea together late in the kitchen, watching the city lights glitter through the huge windows of the tower.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Bucky?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He looked up at you with a shy gaze.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

Over the following weeks, the two of you spent nearly all of your time together. Bucky opened up to you about some of the horrors of Hydra, and you were always there to wipe the tears away as he recounted the trauma. You listened to him, holding him in your arms when the memories became too much.

You were everything to Bucky, and the two of you were hopelessly in love.

Bucky said goodbye to Steve as he went on a mission abroad. He’d been at the Tower for almost three months, but he still got extra anxious whenever Steve left. He wandered around the tower, avoiding the avengers were still home. He felt uneasy, and he searched for you, stopping by your lab, only to find it empty.

Bucky looked around, finally discovering you in your suite. The door was unlocked, and he said your name as he stepped in. He found you on your bed, asleep in your clothes, a novel open on your stomach as you laid atop your duvet. Bucky watched you for a moment before walking over. He carefully lifted the book off of you, making sure to mark your page. He pulled a throw blanket over you before sitting down on the beanbag in the corner.

You woke up a few hours later, seeing you had a blanket over you, and Bucky was sitting in the corner.

“Bucky? Are you alright, love?” you asked, sitting up slowly.

“Yeah, I just...”

He didn’t need to explain, and you smiled softly at him. You scooted to the edge of the bed, holding your arms out to him. Bucky didn’t hesitate, getting up and climbing onto your bed beside you.

Bucky felt safer near you, and ever since you’d held him through his nightmares, he had craved your touch. He curled up against you, relaxing as you wrapped your arms around him.

You adored Bucky, and you’d grown attached to him, more than just studying him. Your heart swelled whenever you saw him, and you lived to get a glimpse of his rare smiles. You’d fallen entirely in love with him, and becoming his girlfriend was one of the best decisions in your life.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, and his head rested on your chest, his arms secure around your waist. You relaxed when you felt him fall asleep on you, listening to his heartbeat. He slept through the night with you, your kindness keeping the nightmares at bay.

“You don’t mind?” Bucky asked, sitting in your bed.

“No, I like it when you stay,” you leaned down, kissing Bucky lightly. He smiled against your kiss, making butterflies flap around in your stomach. You giggled as he pulled you to straddle his lap, giving you a real kiss. You lost yourselves in a make-out session, everything fading except for each other.

“I want to do it,” you whispered breathlessly in between kisses.

“Do it?”

“Have sex, with you,” you clarified, sitting up. His eyes widened, and his hands stilled on your waist.

“Are you certain? It’s your first time, are you sure that you want me-” Bucky stammered, hardly believing your request.

“I’m absolutely sure. I want it to be with you. I trust you, Bucky.”

He nodded and carefully slid your shirt off over your head, kissing your lips again before flipping the two of you over. Your back hit the mattress, and he knelt between your legs. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you shyly blushed, and he leaned down and kissed your now-exposed chest.

“Beautiful,” he smiled sweetly, making you melt.

You lifted your hips for him to slide your plaid shorts off of you, slipping your underwear off with it. You immediately closed your legs, unused to anyone seeing you naked. You trusted Bucky, but the action seemed more daunting in real life than it had in your imagination. Insecurities caught up with you, spreading warmth across your cheeks.

“You don’t need to be shy, not around me,” Bucky promised, recognizing your sudden hesitation as he discarded his own clothes. You were thankful when his lips reconnected with yours. The kiss was slow and reassuring, his right hand going down to gently run his fingers through your folds. He found your clit and stroked it carefully, kissing down your neck, his lips getting to the spot that always turned you on, just below your ear.

You were a little bit nervous, but you spread your legs further apart as he made you feel amazing with just his hand. You’d never been touched like this before, and your body reacted to everything he did. His movements were skilled, and you were melting into him in no time.

You started to squirm, wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to pull him closer. He smirked proudly into your kiss, moaning as you parted your lips and allowed him to slide his tongue against yours.

“I need you inside of me, please,” your sweet begs made Bucky weak, and he held himself back from giving in immediately.

“Wait, doll. I want to make it hurt as little as possible,” he carefully pushed a finger inside of you, not getting much resistance. You rested back against the pillows, looking up at your boyfriend as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, trying to get you ready for him.

You winced a bit in discomfort with three fingers, and Bucky carefully watched your face, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. When you began to push down against him, unable to sit still, he couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could you.

“Bucky, I’m ready,” you insisted, anticipation building up inside of you. The coil in your belly had already started to build from just him fingering you, and you were desperate to feel him inside of you.

“Okay. But I’ll go slow,” He promised, intertwining your fingers as he carefully eased into you.

A soft whimper rose in your throat, tears pricking at your waterline. You hadn’t expected it to hurt as much as it did, feeling like he was tearing you open when he was only halfway in. He’d been careful to do his best to prepare you, but he was just so much bigger than his fingers. A soft gasp caught in your chest, pushing tears down your cheeks.

“Y/N, my love, it’s okay, just breathe, it’ll feel better soon.” Bucky felt immensely guilty for hurting you, but he kept pushing forward until he was all the way in. His soft lips kissed tears off of your face, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck, holding him against you tightly.

“I love you, I love you so much,” Bucky promised, stilling so you could adjust.

“I love you too,” you kissed him and tried not to focus on the sharp pain.

It slowly began to fade, and he rocked his hips, thrusting slowly. The ache was replaced with soft euphoria, and he built a steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. You reached down to help yourself and rub circles on your clit, making the pressure tighten in your abdomen as the pain disappeared to make room for the electricity that sparked through your nerves.

Bucky felt you squeezing around him as he rolled forward against you, and your legs started to shake. He carefully pushed down on your lower belly, feeling the outline of himself and sending pleasure shocking through you. Your back arched, and he leaned down to kiss your chest, praising you for taking him so well and being so gorgeous.

“Let go around me doll, I’ll catch you, come for me,” Bucky urged between loving kisses, and you tumbled over the edge, your orgasm bringing you to squeals. He came quickly after you, riding you out and making your head spin.

The sex left the two of you breathless, and you snuggled against his chest, wanting to stay close to him. He showered you with affection and kisses, making sure you were comfortable and relaxed afterwards.

You didn’t leave his side, and once the ache had worn off you’d even convinced him to go again, a request he was all-too-happy to oblige.

“Bucky!” You squealed, running into his arms when he returned from his first mission away. He’d made significant progress, and even became a valuable member of the team, helping Steve catch the bad guys.

“Oh, my love, I missed you,” Bucky hummed before kissing you deeply and holding you in his arms. He hated being apart from you, but it was worth it to see your joyful excitement when the two of you reunited.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” you giggled between kisses, melting the super soldier.

“I love you too, doll.”

You held his hand as he walked back to your bedroom, peeling his clothes off once you were in private.

“Mmm... I need a shower,” he mumbled, having to practically pry you off of him.

“What are you doing?” he laughed as you pulled your own jeans off.

“Saving water.”

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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Sunshine - Daisy Johnson x Romanoff!Reader

Main Masterlist

imapotatao asked:

Hey! I have a Daisy Johnson x reader request. When being sent to the future, Daisy and Reader meet their grandchild. Said grandchild is brought back with deke, they have no idea that they are their grandchild until something happens to reader and they think she won't make it. Or the grandchild says something that reader always says and Daisy puts it together. (That make sense? God, I hope so. Sorry it's long.)

Daisy Johnson leans against her girlfriend, as (Y/n) Romanoff shovels pancakes into her mouth, her fiery red hair making a curtaining plate as she eats.

"You know," Phil Coulson says, eating his own food. "I think this is really the first time we've all been together in a really long time."

(Y/n) hums in agreement, swallowing another huge bite of pancake and May smiles warmly at Coulson.

(Y/n) lets out a whine as Daisy steals a bite of pancake from her, and everyone - Mack, Elena (Yo-yo), May, Coulson, Daisy, and FitzSimmons - laugh.

"Why do you always have to steal my pancakes, Sunshine?" (Y/n) asks her girlfriend, a frown on her face.

"You know you love me," Daisy replies, gazing fondly at her girlfriend. Daisy grins mischievously, taking another bite from (Y/n)'s plate.

(Y/n) blinks affectionately at Daisy. "I do," she murmurs in Daisy's ear.

"Anybody have room for some pie?" a waitress asks

(Y/n) drops her fork in excitement as the others murmur their agreement.

"Okay, so we have apple, strawberry, rhubarb, and chocolate banana cream," the waitress continues, looking amused at the excited expression on (Y/n)'s face.

There is a crackle of electricity, and the diner powers down.

There is a whir of electricity, and all the SHIELD agents sigh as lights appear outside the restaurant, resembling headlights.

"Here we go," May grumbles.

A door slams open, and some of the other customers gasp.

(Y/n) looks sadly down at her plate of pancakes before, simultaneously, the agents sit up straighter, lifting their hands into the air.

"Phillip J. Coulson," A man with a calm voice says, appearing behind said man.

"Yep, that's me," Coulson says with an eye roll, his eyes fixed on his own plate. "You got us. Nice job. And hey, congrats on the whole power-outage thing," he adds. "It was very . . . ominous."

A device powers on, and there is an actual ominous high-pitch ringing noise.

"The window closes in less than two minutes," the calm voiced man says. "Take them."

. . .

All seven agents gasp as they finally regain their breath.

Daisy sneaks her hand into (Y/n)'s, interlocking their fingers as the agents look around the dark room.

"Is everyone okay?" Coulson asks.

"Yeah, I think so," Mack replies.

Looking around the room, Simmon's eyes fall on a white rock with red lines running through it.

The Monolith melts into a white sludge, like solidified milk, and washes over the seven agents.

. . .

When (Y/n) blinks, she finds herself standing beside, not Daisy, but a woman who looked a lot like her older sister, Natasha. The same splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks, the same fiery red hair, but she had familiar chocolate brown eyes, but (Y/n) shrugs off the younger woman's - she may have been twenty or twenty one - appearance for a moment.

"You," The woman turns to address (Y/n). "We've been waiting for you to come save us."

(Y/n) tilts her head questioningly.

"You must be (Y/n)," the woman continues and (Y/n) nods.

"How do you know me?" (Y/n) asks, frowning slightly.

The young woman replies, "Virgil and I always believed the stories."

"Believed what?" (Y/n) asks. "What stories?"

"Well, this one," she answers. "T-that you would - you would come and save us."

"Save who?" (Y/n) narrows her eyes.

"Humanity," the younger redhead answers, looking grim.

. . .

Coulson, Yo-yo, Simmons, and Mack are running down a hallway, Yo-yo shooting at one of the aliens chasing after them.

There is a rumbling, and Daisy Johnson is framed in the corridor where the alien had just been - it had been exploded.

"Right?" Daisy asks shakily.

"Yes, that was right," Coulson replies, "and not the only one."

Daisy looks around at the group, noticing the two missing bodies. "Where's (Y/n)? And May?"

. . .

Coulson, Yo-yo, Simmons, and Mack stalk cautiously behind Daisy, who walks with her hand out, ready to strike.

"This has to be the coolest we've ever looked," Coulson comments.

. . .

"My friend should be here somewhere," (Y/n) comments as the two redheads walk down one of the corridors.

There is an intersection and (Y/n) crashes into a familiar, shorter figure.

"Whoa," (Y/n) says as her girlfriend scrambles to her feet, raising her hand defensively.

"Hey," Daisy says, looking relieved, wrapping (Y/n) in a tight hug.

"Hi, Sunshine," (Y/n) says so softly that no one else but Daisy could hear.

"I suppose I'll leave you here, then," the younger redhead says.

"Thanks -" (Y/n) pauses, not knowing the younger woman's name.

"Natalie," Natalie replies.

"Thank you, Natalie," (Y/n) nods.

Natalie turns and walks off, looking around cautiously, leaving (Y/n) with her friends.

"Seems like it's just a lot of work just to keep this place afloat," Coulson comments, looking at the walls.

"But it's designed for humans to survive -" Simmons says. "Atmosphere and simulated gravity - and machinery seemed to be for reclaiming water, I think."

"Yeah, it looks man-made," Coulson agrees.

"Could possibly be a colony?" Simmons wonders aloud. "Moving mankind to the stars? Maybe that's what Virgil meant by 'humanity,'" Simmons goes on.

"That's what Natalie said, too," (Y/n) says. "Said she and Virgil had been waiting for us to arrive."

"I don't know," Coulson says. "That plasma gun wasn't man-made, and I don't think they could've built this place without some outside help. It's got some serious miles on it."

"Decades it looks like," (Y/n) comments, "but that means that this program had to have been started in the eighties by Howard Stark. And that doesn't feel right. Tony would've mentioned something."

"Yo-yo found something," Mack says, appearing out of the gloom.

(Y/n), Daisy, Coulson, and Simmons follow Mack, and they find a flare still lit on the ground.

As the group walks up to the flare, it goes out, and Coulson frowns.

The group lines up in front of the door, stepping back.

(Y/n) steps forward and kicks down the door.

The agents walk into the room, catching sight of the dead men on the floor.

Daisy sighs heavily. "Nothing," she says.

"Nothing alive," Yo-yo says.

(Y/n) kneels down, studying the fresh blood on the ground.

"Hey," Coulson says, noticing the blood, as well as Melinda May's jacket.

"They didn't get to her, did they?" Yo-yo asks, looking rather concerned.

"May would've put up a fight," (Y/n) replies.

Coulson nods. "And they left the other bodies here," Coulson adds.

"'Water reclamation,'" Daisy reads off a computer screen.

"You were right, Jemma," Coulson says.

"I figured it out using magic," Simmons replies, glancing at Mack with an amused gleam in her eyes.

Mack shakes his head, not looking the least bit amused.

The console beeps and Daisy leans over the computer. "I can try and find out a layout and track May," Daisy says.

"It's in English," Simmons says. "They're tracking debris fields called 'frozen oceans'."

Daisy types on the computer, and there is a silence that is only disturbed by the clacking of a keyboard.

"They're collecting water form ice in space," Simmons says and she and Daisy look up from the computer. "This is a colony."

"Which means unless they all came through a Monolith . . . " Coulson trails off.

"Then we're close enough to Earth for people to travel here," Daisy looks back down at the computer.

"And we can get home," (Y/n) says.

"Yes, bu just as important," Simmons adds, "collecting ice means they have a spacecraft, and if they have a spacecraft, they must have a laser-based rapid-transmission system," Simmons rambles. "If we can find the ship and fly above the debris field . . ."

"We can send a message," Coulson finishes.

"We can send a message to Fitz back on Earth," Simmons goes on.

"Okay, okay, so if I can find a layout, find a ship, find May, it's a start," Daisy says. "This interface looks similar to -" the monitor beeps, and (Y/n) leans down to read the message, her hand resting on the small of Daisy's back.

"'Human access denied'?" (Y/n) reads.

"Coulson, do you recognize this language?" Daisy asks.

"No," Coulson replies, leaning forward to look at the hand print. "I don't think humans are running this place after all."

There is a thud on the door and (Y/n) moves her hand to rest on Daisy's waist.

The door bursts open and two blue aliens step into the room, through the doorway.

The aliens attack Yo-yo, and knock her to the ground and (Y/n) advances but one of the blasters smacks her in the ribs and she hits the wall, sliding down it with a gasp of pain.

Mack tries to knock down one of the aliens with a metal pipe, but the alien doesn't gall down.

The other blue alien raises a staff and a white light floods through the room, knocking everyone in the room out.

. . .

When Daisy comes to, she blinks deliriously, but she focuses herself faster when she hears yelp of pain from (Y/n).

Sitting up, Daisy blinks again, looking at Simmons who is wrapping a cloth around (Y/n)'s ribs.

"Thankfully they're not broken," Simmons says, tightening the cloth.

"Sure feels like it," (Y/n) mutters.

"Are you okay?" Daisy asks, looking worried.

"Don't worry, Sunshine," (Y/n) replies, wincing a little, but Simmons and Coulson share a look of amusement. "I'll be alright."

Daisy softens before looking at the rest of the jail. "Mack?" she asks. "Yo-yo."

One of the Kree says, "We'll leave the transgressors on the floor chief?" He pauses. "To use as he needs."

Daisy swallows thickly, glancing at (Y/n).

"He should be interested that they've removed their Metrics," the Kree continues.

Daisy stands up and stumbles over to the doors. She slams her hand against the door. "Hey," she says, her words slurring a bit. "What are you gonna do with our friends?" she questions and (Y/n) gets to her feet, her arm resting on her bruised ribs.

(Y/n) puts her other hand on Daisy's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Whatever we want," one of the Kree says. "Experiment. They knew the rule, and they broke it."

"They're not gonna make it easy for you," Daisy says, her eyes watering.

The two Kree walk towards the door, and (Y/n) gently pulls Daisy back.

"No," the Kree replies. "They'll beg for their lives as you humans always do. I've done twenty-two rotations and I have never observed anything else."

(Y/n) swallows thickly. She takes Daisy's hand and leads her back over to the bench. "They'll be alright, Sunshine," (Y/n) murmurs. "They're strong, the two of them." Daisy turns to study (Y/n), but even though (Y/n)'s words were meant to keep Daisy from worrying, but (Y/n)'s eyes betrayed her words.

. . .

"Okay," Coulson says. "New plan."

"The Kree have been abducting humans to this outpost for years," Simmons offers.

"Running experiments?" Daisy asks, pacing the room, and (Y/n) furrows her eyebrows.

"Well, their genetic work in creating Inhumans is well-known," Simmons says. "Maybe they're doing more of the same."

(Y/n) frowns.

"Yeah, well I'm not going to wait around to find out," Daisy says, raising her hand at the door. "So . . ."

She falters as the door opens, and three figures are framed in the door.

"May," Coulson says, taking a stop forward.

The older SHIELD agent is leaning against a familiar red haired woman, and a spiky haired young man beside them.

"Buddy!" the young man says, stepping into the room. "Just go with it," he whispers. "We've been looking everywhere for you guys," he says in a normal voice. "Man. What a mess back there, huh?" he asks. "These poor suckers," the young man turns to look at the Kree. "Virgil - you know, from R&R? He was trying to scam these guys out of some tokens. This one," he turns to May, "came running to me begging for help, the poor thing. When I get my hands on that no-good louse, he's gonna have some explaining to do."

"Where is Virgil, anyway?" Natalie asks.

"He's dead," Coulson replies.

"Good," Natalie says after a moment of silence. "Good," she turns to the Kree.

"He got what he deserved then," the young man agrees, nodding to Natalie, "didn't he, for trying to drag these poor transfers up from Processing into the Wet Works," he grabs Coulson's hand, showing it to the Kree, "just to steal their Metrics."

"So, he's just Roach food then?" Natalie asks.

"Oh, yeah," Coulson replies.

"One more vacancy, right?" the man asks.

"That's what I was gonna say," Coulson agrees.

"Guys," the young man stammers.

"What did we tell you about trusting Virgil?" Natalie asks.

"She's right, we did go over this. What did we say?" the young man adds.

"Don't trust Virgil," Simmons says.

"N-not to trust him," Daisy says simultaneously, her arms crossing.

"God, you repeated it back to us," the young man says, "and we said back - it was like a pass-and-catch thing."

"Look," Natalie turns to the Kree. "We really appreciate your help with these guys, but I can take them off your hands, even slip a few tokens your way for your trouble."

There is a moment of pause and the Kree warrior nods.

"Right, let's go," the young man says, and (Y/n) lets out a soft sigh.

Daisy keeps close to (Y/n) as the two walk down the hall after Natalie and the young, spiky-haired man at her side, May and Coulson in front of (Y/n) and Daisy.

"Don't worry, Sunshine," (Y/n) murmurs, soft enough for only Daisy to hear. "I'll be alright."

Daisy's chocolate brown eyes soften, the corner of her eyes crinkling cutely. "I love you," she says softly, and (Y/n) smiles.

"I love you too, Sunshine," (Y/n) replies softly.

The group stops as the young man and Natalie look down the hall.

"What the hell happened to Virgil?" the young man beside Natalie asks. "The Roaches get him?"

"Sorry to say," Coulson replies. "Was he a friend?" Coulson asks.

"Acquaintance," the spiky-haired man replies. "He owed me a ton of tokens for this job."

"Job?" Simmons asks.

"Deke!" Natalie says, smacking the young man.

Deke looks at Natalie before her replies, "All he said was that he wanted to hide some people. That's not unheard of. So I was hired to supply the Metrics and swap them out," Deke grabs Daisy's wrist and (Y/n) narrows her eyes, "but you guys don't even have Metrics, which means you don't have the tokens to cover Virgil's end, so have fun."

(Y/n) wraps an arm around Daisy's waist, and Deke lets go of Daisy's wrist.

"Hey, wait, wait," Daisy says as Deke turns around. "We need your help. We need to find our friends," Daisy goes on

"Your friends?" Deke asks and Natalie glances warningly at him. "Your friends attacked a Kreeper. They're as good as gone. Those blues are bred to kill," Deke looks around, "so, so just - you make your peace with it."

(Y/n) pulls Daisy back a little as Deke looms over her.

"We'll take our chances," Coulson replies, and Deke looks over at him. "Listen, if you could just help us find them and then get to the spacecraft -"

"You mean the Trawler?" Natalie asks, looking surprised. "To do what?" she questions.

"The only pilot I knew was Virgil," Deke add, "and may he rest in peace," Deke shrugs, "apparently. So best of luck to all you guys, but mine's running out."

"Jeez Deke," Natalie smacks the man's arm and (Y/n)'s eyes flare with amusement.

"Well, Deke," Coulson says, "we just wanted pie, and now we don't know where we are or what's going on, and we finally found someone who does, so you're not walking away."

"I really wanted the pie," (Y/n) says wistfully.

Then the group stiffens as they hear Yo-yo screaming in pain.

May moves forward, twists a knob, and Deke rises of the ground, and sticks to the wall.

(Y/n) glances appreciatively at the older agent.

. . .

Daisy cracks through the pad, May, Natalie, Coulson, and (Y/n) standing behind her.

"All set," Daisy says.

"Good job," (Y/n) says, her eyes twinkling lovingly.

"Express train to the bottom of the Lighthouse, no stops," Daisy says, her hand coming up to brush against the inhibitor in her neck.

Natalie, May, and Coulson walk through the doors, and (Y/n) goes to take Daisy's hand, but Daisy steps back.

"Daisy?" (Y/n) asks, looking at her girlfriend questioningly.

"I'm not coming with you," Daisy says.

"Like hell!" (Y/n) says, frowning and glaring at her girlfriend.

"I know you're scared about going home," Coulson says, (Y/n) still fuming.

"No, I'm terrified," Daisy replies. "Look around. Billions of people gone. If there's a chance I'm the cause . . . I can't go."

"We can get through this together," May says.

(Y/n) looks away, a hurt expression crossing her face.

"You don't even have your powers anymore," May goes on.

"It's only a matter of time, and you know it. If there's an emergency or if one of you are in danger, I will need them, and we will find a way," Daisy argues. "If I go through that portal, you know it's the beginning of the end."

"We don't even know you did this," Coulson says, Daisy's eyes welling with tears.

"I was right in the epicenter," Daisy replies.

"I won't let you sacrifice yourself," Coulson says, "because you're scared of what's to come."

"What's to come is the end of everything," Daisy argues, her voice rising.

"If you can change the future here, you can change it back home," May says, gritting her teeth.

"But we know this solution works," Daisy says.

"I. Don't. Care!" (Y/n) shouts, clenched, her eyes filled with tears.

There's a pew noise, and Daisy drops to the ground, the dendrotoxin doing it's work.

Natalie gazes, wide eyed at the brunette lying unconscious on the floor.

(Y/n) tucks the ICER into the waistband of her pants, kneeling down to brush her fingers across Daisy's cheek.

"She's not going to forgive you," May says and (Y/n) glances up at her.

"I'm not leaving her here," (Y/n) picks Daisy up from the ground, and Daisy's head lolls to the side, resting against (Y/n)'s shoulder. "Let's go," (Y/n) says grimly.

. . .

May, Coulson, (Y/n) - who is still carrying Daisy - and Natalie walk down to meet Simmons, Fitz, Mack, Yo-yo, Flint, and Deke.

. . .

"What happened?" Simmons asks, her eyes falling on Daisy's unconscious figure in (Y/n)'s arms.

"She ICE'd her," May replies. "Daisy didn't want to come home."

"I wasn't going to leave her behind," (Y/n) says softly.

"Where's Yo-yo?" Mack asks. "She didn't find you?" he asks.

(Y/n) lies Daisy down on one of the couches on Kasias's lounge, Daisy's head resting in her lap.

"I'm sorry, Sunshine," (Y/n) murmurs. "I know you might not forgive me, but I couldn't leave you behind. Not like this." (Y/n) swallows thickly, blinking back her tears. (Y/n)'s fingers thread through Daisy's hair. "I love you too much to leave you here."

Coulson walks over to (Y/n), his eyes soft, and his voice is gentle, "It's time." He glances down at Daisy resting in (Y/n)'s lap. "Do you want me to take her?"

(Y/n) shakes her head. "No, I've got her."

(Y/n) shifts slightly, holding Daisy in her arms before she stands up.

Coulson stands beside (Y/n).

The rock turns to liquid and everyone - minus Daisy - looks around as they realize that they're in the same place.

(Y/n) lies Daisy down on a table, slips her hand into her pocket, and sets the box in Daisy's jacket pocket.

"Not like you'd want to," (Y/n) murmurs.

"Well that was a hell of a thing," Fitz says and (Y/n) smiles.

"Are you kidding?" Natalie says, looking around. "I'm from the future."

Coulson looks amused, then looks at Yo-yo, Mack, and Simmons. "I'm so glad you guys made it," Coulson says.

"Why are we still in the Lighthouse?" Yo-yo asks.

"Maybe Flint's Monolith didn't work," Mack offers.

Natalie looks around. "It took us to the same place, but in a different time."

Fitz nods at the redhead. "She's right."

"We're home?" Simmons asks.

"Yeah," Fitz says, and all the agents sigh with relief.

. . .

Coulson gives the agents some tasks, and (Y/n) has to remain in the same room as the unconscious Daisy.

(Y/n) opens one of the electrical panels but freezes when she hears a familiar voice.

"You ice'd me," Daisy's words are slurred. She shifts slightly, not noticing the velvet box in her pocket.

"I was . . ." (Y/n) pauses, a pained expression flashing across her face, ". . . kind of hoping you'd forget that part." (Y/n) stops herself before she says 'Sunshine.'

Daisy scoffs before she sits up, looking around at her surroundings. "Sorry to . . ." she falters, ". . . disappoint."

(Y/n) swallows thickly, focusing back on the problem in front of her she could actually fix.

"It looks the same, but we're - we're home, aren't we?" Daisy asks.

"I -" (Y/n)'s voice quavers, "- I couldn't leave you behind."

"Even with all of the risks that -" Daisy begins.

"I don't care," (Y/n) turns around, biting the inside of her cheek. "I need you here."

Daisy tilts her head, softening.

(Y/n) turns back around, fiddling with some of the wires.

There is a spark, and the lights flicker on.

(Y/n) sits herself on the floor, her back to her girlfriend.

Daisy softens even more, and gets to her feet.

(Y/n) jolts as she feels Daisy's arm wrap around her waist.

As Daisy leans into (Y/n)'s side, both women can feel the box (Y/n) had left in her pocket pressing against their sides.

Confused, Daisy reaches a hand in her pocket, pulls out the box.

"What's this?" Daisy asks. She opens the box and finds a pair of rings inside the box.

]Daisy's eyes widen and she stares at (Y/n).

"Marry me?" (Y/n) asks, meeting Daisy's chocolate brown eyes.

"Yes, is that even a question?" Daisy says, capturing (Y/n)'s lips in a kiss, pouring her love into the kiss.

Daisy's hand moves to the back of (Y/n)'s head, deepening the kiss.

Daisy pulls back from the kiss, to find a disheveled (Y/n) blinking back at her, her eyes wide.

(Y/n) shakes her head slightly, takes the sun ring from box and sliding it onto Daisy's ring finger, and Daisy does the same with the moon ring, sliding it onto (Y/n)'s finger.

(Y/n) leans into her new fiance's side, and Daisy smiles softly, her head resting against (Y/n)'s.

"I love you, Sunshine," (Y/n) murmurs.

"I love you, too," Daisy replies, her eyes gleaming happily.

. . .

"Plans are already in motion," Leopold tells Fitz, smoothing the front of his suit.

. . .

(Y/n) charges into the room and she finds a teary-eyed Daisy on her side, strapped to a table, and Fitz sitting in a chair beside her.

"Fitz? What are you doing?" (Y/n) asks.

There is the sound of a gun firing, and (Y/n) looks down, her hand coming up to her stomach.

(Y/n) slides down against the wall, her eyes glazing.

Daisy lets out a strangled, pained cry.

Simmons and Deke - who had somehow appeared a few days before - run into the room, Simmon's eyes falling on (Y/n), and her eyes widen in horror.

Daisy screams as Fitz cuts the inhibitor from her neck as Simmons and Natalie - who had just ran into the room - crouch beside (Y/n).

(Y/n) lets out a pained groan as Simmons presses against the wound.

"Don't worry, Sunshine," Natalie says, and (Y/n) is too dazed to realized what the redhead had said, but Daisy isn't, and her eyes widen. "You'll be okay.

Mack enters the room next, and he takes Fitz down into the holding area.

. . .

Daisy sits by (Y/n)'s side in the MedBay, holding (Y/n)'s hand.

Natalie enters the MedBay, and Daisy fixes her gaze on the redhead.

"Where did you hear the Sunshine thing?" Daisy asks, and the question startles Natalie a little.

"My mom would always talk about how adorable her mothers were," Natalie admits. "She said that one of her moms would call the other Sunshine. I always though it was the sweetest thing.

Daisy's eyes widen with disbelief. She studies Natalie's familiar features, the fiery red hair, the same splash of freckles across her nose, and chocolate brown eyes that matched her own. "(Y/n) always calls me Sunshine," Daisy whispers. "You're our -"

"Grandaughter," Natalie finishes, her eyes wide.

Word Count: 4322 words

Skye / Daisy Johnson Taglist:

@imapotato

@confusinggemini612

@marie45019

#daisy johnson x female reader #daisy johnson x romanoff reader #daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson x fem reader #skye x female reader #skye x reader #skye x fem reader #skye x romanoff reader #skye #daisy johnson #phil coulson #melinda may #deke shaw #agents of shield #leo fitz x jemma simmons #phil coulson x melinda may

240 notes · View notes

daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

second, third, and hundredth chances (home) (d.j.xreader)

word count: 5.9k

warnings: canon-typical violence and a few swear words

requested by @imapotatao , thx for the request, hon!

ship: daisy johnson/R, mentioned Fitzsimmons

lmao i sprinkled a little *canon divergence* in there bc,, fitz is literally r’s best friend and he needs to be a good person. also enoch is a rockstar we love him. davis is a literal child.

“Jemma, find anything yet?” Daisy called, searching through the ruins of the spaceship. This was the third lead that had ended in a dead end.

“We will, Daisy,” Jemma murmured, preoccupied with sifting through burnt tech and broken belongings.

Daisy opened a scorched cabinet that was still intact, gasping at what was inside.

“This was…” Daisy trailed off, bending to pick up the black and white plaid stored between piles of papers in a language she couldn’t read.

“That’s the Chronicom’s language,” Jemma informed her from over her shoulder, brushing Daisy’s blonde and purple hair away from her face to see better.

Daisy handed her a couple papers. “Can you read it? What does it say? Are there any clues?”

Jemma shook her head, “No, I recognize it from the museum we raided.”

Gathering a few pages, Jemma left to further explore the ship. Daisy went up to the cockpit, worn flannel still in hand. The stars were barely visible from the junkyard on D’Rill. She felt guilty for the relief. Stars were great the first few months, everywhere was a marvel. But now, after almost a year…

It felt weird, fighting without you. You always knew her next move before she did, had her back no matter the assignment, and if you couldn’t go you would patch her up afterwards. Daisy sighed, Jemma’s footsteps approaching.

“Daisy, come look,” She said.

Daisy got up, her muscles aching. They’d been going and going non-stop for three weeks, fighting their way through a planet every couple days only to escape at the last second, not finding you or Fitz.

Daisy stopped abruptly as Jemma continued into the small room, some sort of box lying on the floor.

“A cryosleep chamber,” Jemma explained, “There’s alien writing on the inside.”

Daisy stayed frozen.

“Why is there only one?” She whispered.

Jemma gave her a sympathetic look, one that had anger and guilt and lava bubbling up in her lungs, in her veins, in her head.

“There are plenty of reasonable explanat—”

Daisy left, cutting Jemma off, unable to listen.

She’s dead.

She’s gone.

I’ll never get another chance to tell her ‘I love you’.

Daisy felt her breathing quicken, the glass and metal crunching under her feet as she walked aimlessly through the junkyard. Somewhere over her shoulder, a voice was calling to her, yelling something she couldn’t quite decipher.

The world around her buzzed, the sky lightening slowly to a lilac hue. The clouds spiraled. Daisy wasn’t sure if that was normal or not. God, she missed Earth. She missed Earth and rain and oceans not made of lava and air that they didn’t have to test before going outside and movie nights and you.

And now, she supposed, that’s all you would be to her.

Something she missed.

Daisy’s head swam, trying to decipher

The ground beneath her was shaking, and she was on her knees, and everything surrounding her was flying, flying, and the breath was knocked out of her lungs, and was that snow?

Daisy’s hands shook as she brought them to her face, pressing her palms to her eyes. They were damp when she pulled away, shaky inhales grounding her.

The junk surrounding her was blasted fifty feet in every direction. Dust and ash fell from the sky, probably stirred up from the displaced scraps. Daisy sighed, but felt relief washing over her. Despite the slight pain in her arms, she felt lighter, like she had been carrying around a quake in the form of anxiety and spiralling thoughts.

“Daisy?” Called a delicate voice from behind her. Daisy was too tired to be annoyed at Jemma’s gentle tone, as if speaking too loud would cause another meltdown.

“I’m fine, let’s go.”

Jemma came up behind her, dropping a card in her lap.

We’re okay. No time, love y

Daisy stared at it blankly. It was your handwriting, the chicken scratch affirming that there really was no time.

“I found it in the cryo chamber. Fitz’s note is on the back,” She murmured.

Daisy flipped it over, Fitz’s neat handwriting completely finished.

We’ll find a way to you.

A wet splotch appeared on the paper, then another, then another. Daisy looked up to see if it was raining, if that was even possible on this planet, but the swirling clouds were far off now, over the city line. A raindrop fell on her cheek.

Daisy wiped the tear, getting up silently and heading back to the clearing where Piper and Davis had parked. Hope was dangerous. Hope was something that Daisy couldn’t afford right now, because it would mean that she could lose you all over again.

“Any clues?” Davis called from the cockpit, Piper sat next to him. Daisy ignored him, continuing back to her room.

Jemma explained what they had found in a far away voice, too far for Daisy to hear. She climbed into her bunk, closing the door. The space was cramped, too small for one person. She missed her bunk on The Bus, or Z-1. At least she had room to move. Daisy lifted her pillow carefully picking up the two photos underneath.

The first was of you and her, from when she had short hair and blonde tips, eating ice cream on the couch after a mission. She remembered that day well, the day she had realized she loved you. She liked to think that it was the day you realized you loved her, too, but she would never really know for sure. She remembered watching you fight the three guards as Daisy got the information she needed from the building mainframe. It was a small mission, slim chances for complications, just a little something to get a leg up on the Watchdogs, then just some disorganized online chatter. You had gotten a cut on your cheek, not enough for stitches, but enough for Daisy to use patching you up as an excuse to be close to you. You had suggested ice cream, climbing it was better than ibuprofen for pain, and stole two half-pints of ice cream from Hunter’s “secret stash”. Mack had surprised you with the photo, you were both too engrossed in each other to notice the comically small camera in his hands.

The second was a photo of the team, exactly a month after they had picked you up. It was a rare night that no one had to be on a mission, nothing was (immediately) threatening their lives, and they were all feeling nostalgic. Mack and Elena were on the couch, Jemma and Fitz across from them on another couch, and May and Coulson were standing in the back, hands not-so-subtly intertwined. Daisy was sitting on the floor, your head in her lap as she tried to braid it. You were smiling, a slight glow radiating off of the two of you, an aura of rainbows appearing around the picture. She missed that warmth, the way you could bend light to create beauty or reorganize the darkness into a blade.

She sighed, all her tears disappeared. A knock sounded on the door.

“Daisy, it’s time to make a decision about our next move. As the, uh, as the Captain we, well w-we don’t want to interrupt but…”

Daisy opened the door, brushing past Davis and his rambling to head to the bridge. Jemma was already there, standing next to Piper in front of a big screen. Davis followed Daisy in, leaning against the door.

“What’s our next move, Cap?” Piper asked. Daisy watched as Jemma kept glancing at the note, flipped to Fitz’s side. She hated what she was about to say, but it was for the good of the team. These clues weren’t definitive evidence that you were even alive. They had no idea where to go, where to run, if you and Fitz and Enoch were even together.

“We’re heading back home. We’ll regroup, rest, restock, and try again after we’ve recovered from this time,” Daisy said quietly, the bridge feeling eerily quiet after her announcement.

“Daisy, no…” Jemma whispered, voice breaking, “He’s out there! He’s…”

“We’re low on everything, Jemma. Food, fuel, energy. We need a break,” She said, her voice reaching her as though underwater.

Jemma gasped quietly, Piper and Davis looking on as she wiped at tears. Daisy couldn’t watch Jemma fall apart, not when she was so close to the edge herself…

A loud blaring alerted the crew to an incoming threat, probably the Confederation again. Davis and Piper leapt into action first, running to the cockpit. Daisy jarred herself out of her head, sprinting after them.

“Shit!” Piper exclaimed as Daisy reached the cockpit and looked up. A ship one hundred times as big as theirs loomed over them, a monstrosity akin to a futuristic floating city internal to the belly of the beast. Davis hopped into the pilot’s seat as Daisy left to help Jemma cut all the power. Low red lit the ship as all power was cut as the engines were killed.

Daisy returned to the cockpit, the threat floating over them preoccupying her mind.

“Maybe they haven’t noticed us,” Daisy whispered.

“Maybe if we didn’t act so powerful, they wouldn’t send such big ships!” Piper said. Davis flinched, shushing them.

“They can’t hear us, sound doesn’t carry in the vacuum of space,” Jemma called from the bridge. Davis turned around to shush her.

“Weapons are locked!”

Piper yelled, an acute beeping from the dash telling them to move their ship or get destroyed. Davis brought his focus to the many levers and buttons in front of him, buckling in with one hand as he prepared the ship to move.

“Get ready for some fancy flying!” Davis called, turning the engines back on and making his way through the scattered meteors.

“Weapons hot! We need a jump right about yesterday!” Piper warned.

Daisy leapt to the bridge, slowing as she saw Jemma locking in coordinates. The digital map of the galaxy mapped their course, taking them to the outer clusters of planets and stars.

“Jemma, what are you doing?” She asked, careful not to startle her.

Jemma didn’t respond.

“Jemma! I’m the Captain, I say we’re going back to Earth, that’s where we go. We don’t have the supplies for that kind of jump,” She reasoned, voice hardening. Jemma pressed a final button on the screen, turning around.

“Coordinates are locked in. I’m not leaving him again,” She said. The jump drive whirred to life, preparing them to leave the inner circles of the Milky Way, away from their safety net, away from Earth and the Sun and memories of better times.

The ship sped up, avoiding the small missiles launched at them. Daisy was thrown to the ground as Davis spun under a meteor, missing the explosion by a hair.

It reached top speed, the jump drive whirring louder. There was a jolt, Daisy’s stomach dropped, and then they were gone.

Daisy got up from the floor and jostled Jemma as she ran to the cockpit.

“Hey, Cap, these aren’t our constellations,” Davis said apprehensively. Piper gave him a weird look, to which he responded, “What? I’m smart!”

Piper snorted, turning to Daisy. Daisy was focused on the passing bits of rock and space trash, all leading to a foul-coloured planet directly in front of them.

“Jemma, where are we?”

The crew turned to face Jemma. She was stone-faced, no emotion showing.

“Kitson.”

“Réygtu mér reneeazan s’Ukptylykil takk, Fitz,” You asked. Fitz complied, handing you a small tinkering wrench.

“Éyg haf ekky hugmnyd um’ hvai í fjananyum ég er ay kera,” You said, receiving a grunt in reply.

“Fitz, please respond! I can’t carry on talking to myself, I sound insane,” You hissed. Fitz straightened, a bit of what you had dubbed ‘space slug grease’ on his cheek.

“I am trying to work!” He whispered back, eyeing the Sivian crew breaking behind you.

You nodded, holding your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. I’m just saying, they think I’m crazy, which means I’m the first to go if Viro gets in a mood,” You pointed out.

“Yu yrt brkalagyr,” He muttered.

You pushed his shoulder, exclaiming, “Hey! Am not!”

“What’s all the ruckus down here?” A drawling voice jeered over the engineers’ area. Your blood froze up. You counted your breathing, fighting not to collapse into shadow and just be done with it. You could easily take the whole crew, Fitz and Enoch would back you up. But you needed the crew’s trust, you needed safe passage to cryo chambers so you could save your team. Fitz leaned closer to you, pretending to inspect your work.

“Just thought you rats would like to know we’re passing through a solar storm. Lucky will need repairs when it’s over,” Viro’s voice drew nearer, his vile breath creeping over your skin.

“Make sure the snails survive, will ya, Earthling?” He drawled. It wasn’t a question.

Just like that, he was gone, and the rest of the crew began working again, off of their break.

“I knew I should have made you take the contacts,” Fitz whispered, “Daisy is going to kill me.”

You shook your head, now wasn’t the time. Though, you supposed your vibrant eyes were one of the reasons Viro picked on you versus the uniform white eyes of the Sivian crew.

Damn xenophobic aliens.

The crew got to work on the pressurization lines while you and Fitz stayed and worked on the water lines. The last solar storm had knocked them wonky, and Viro was breathing down your neck to get it done.

“Fitz, how’s Enoch doing?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” He whispered.

“Is there a stowaway on my ship?” A voice came from the shadows in the hallway. Viro had stayed to eavesdrop.

“Uhm, n-no! Not at all,” Fitz lied. It was blatant that he was hiding something. You quickly sprang to action, stepping in front of Fitz.

“He’s right. Enoch is my cousin, and Fitz here is the only one who knows how to contact him. He built a small radio out of scrap parts from Naro-Atzia,” Your story was smooth, but not smooth enough.

Viro growled, “Fine. I’ll pretend I believe you. But even so, your friend here shouldn’t have had the time to do anything extra with how busy I keep you. That means he’s slacking off,” Viro smirked maliciously.

“I don’t tolerate slackers.”

Viro gestured for two of the Sivian crew members to take Fitz and you by the arms. They complied, shoving you a bit harshly into the airlock.

“Wait! Wait! I’m useful! I’ve fixed more than the rest of the crew combined in just the past week!” Fitz pleaded, yelling through the window. Viro shrugged.

“Well, that changes everything,” He opened the door back to the ship, letting Fitz out, before corralling the rest of the engineers in and keeping you trapped. You could barely hear Fitz and Viro’s conversation, but judging by the look on Viro’s face, you were screwed.

Eventually, Viro left and Fitz started working on the keypad. He exclaimed every so often, whether out of frustration or excitement you couldn’t tell.

The Sivian engineers turned to you, apparently wanting answers. You just shrugged and kept leaning against the wall.

After about twenty minutes, Viro came back, having a short conversation with Fitz that was about eighty percent ‘You’re dead’ looks and twenty percent Fitz rambling before putting in the code to open the airlock.

You held your breath.

This is it. I’m going to die in space and never see Daisy again.

Out of nowhere, Viro fell to the ground, something shiny having struck him in the head.

Enoch appeared, stepping over what you assumed was Viro, and used the keypad with the code punched in to re-open the airlock. The engineers flooded out, shooting angry looks at Fitz and prowling in the shadows. Enoch dragged Viro into the airlock, locking him in and sending him out into space.

You ran over to Enoch, hugging him. He awkwardly patted your back.

One of the engineers in the shadows spoke up.

“Who is this?”

The voice belonged to a blonde woman with startlingly white eyes.

“I am Enoch. A sentient Chronicom from a planet that revolves around a star in the constellation you would ca—”

You interrupted his speech, “He’s Enoch. He saved you.”

You gave a pointed glare at the woman, who uncrossed her arms and came over to inspect him.

“Alright. But what now? You killed the captain. We’re mutineers,” She snarled, “That’s punishable by death.”

Enoch held out a hand, face as neutral as always.

“Not to worry, I have a plan…”

Enoch’s “plan” turned out to be selling out the crew and escaping on the grimy planet of Kitson.

“We need money. And supplies,” You pointed out, trailing behind Fitz and Enoch.

“Well, Fitz is very young and fit, he wouldn’t have a hard time making money in the traditional Kitson fashion,” Enoch said. You stared at him bizarrely.

“Are you suggesting we—” Fitz started, only to be interrupted by Enoch.

“No, not “we”, just me and you,” Enoch clarified. “Miss Johnson would have better luck in the casinos. Her powers of illusion and shadow would be a great asset.”

Fitz stammered in disbelief.

“Why don’t we all just go to the casinos?” You suggested, sure that Fitz was about to blow a vein.

Enoch shrugged, pointing up the hill to an extremely bright neon building with flashing lights outside.

“Then that,” He said, “Is the best place for us to go.”

Daisy jumped off the walk of the ship, wrinkling her nose at the smell in the street. It was like a cross between weed, rotten eggs, and sweat.

“Sorry, Jemma,” Daisy said, helping Jemma step off the ramp, “Is the smell too bad?”

Jemma whipped out a small vial of lavender and a mix of herbs that Jemma had found on one of the few friendly planets they had been to. The villagers had noticed her discomfort at the spicy smell of an alien ivy-relative, which they didn’t even notice, and lended her a few plants out of their garden that helped block odor.

“I’ll let you know if I’m not okay,” She said, taking off down the road. “I bet they went there.”

Daisy followed her pointed finger to a brightly lit building down the street, it’s colours and flashiness almost abrasive.

“What is it?”

“It’s a casino,” She said as if it was obvious.

“Right, well not all of us speak alien languages,” Daisy joked, giving Jemma a smile.

Jemma rolled her eyes, “I can’t speak any alien languages, not yet anyway, just reading and writing.”

As the casino got closer and closer, Daisy put herself on high alert. These streets reminded her of midnight in the dark alleyways of LA. Not pleasant.

“Hello, dear visitors! What fine attire you don. May I offer the most lovely ladies a most lovely snack?”

Daisy jumped in front of Jemma, turning to find what appeared to be a red panda dressed in a suit, holding a bowl of... marshmallows?

“Uhm, hello, we’re good, thank you though,” Daisy said, sidestepping the little greeting guy.

“Please, please, they’re on the house,” Despite the polite tone, Daisy almost thought the small critter was threatening them. Jemma stepped out from behind her, taking two from the bowl.

“Thank you... Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” She asked politely. The red panda suppressed obvious snickers.

“My name is Mister Moby Dick, regal Majesty of this establishment,” He said, an air of importance in his words.

Jemma raised her eyebrows at Daisy. Who crouched down to his level, forming a ball of quakes in her palm.

“You ever heard of baseball?” She paused as he nodded, “Well, I assure you, you get hit with this and it’ll hurt more than a pitch to the heart.”

She leaned closer, the small alien not backing down.

“And I can hear your heartbeat, which means I can hit the very small window of time in between heart beats with accuracy. Wanna keep making fun of us or do you want your heart to keep beating?”

Jemma stood behind Daisy, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. They were an intimidating pair.

“Fine, you can call me Torch. I’m the bouncer at Kitson’s Casino. How can I help you girls?”

Jemma responded before Daisy could. “If you’re the bouncer why are you out here handing out… What are these? Psychedelic drugs? Laced candy?”

Torch smirked.

“Wow, I didn’t know racoons could look so mischievous,” Daisy said, twirling the ball of vibrations around her fingers.

“I’m not a raccoon,” He muttered. “And anyway, your girlfriend is right. They’re like Earth LSD, but way trippier. Don’t worry, they aren’t grown here, they’re imported from Mardola. Not that that’s much better.”

Torch snickered. Daisy grew the ball, giving it more energy. Her hand was getting tired, but he didn’t need to know that.

“We’re looking for our friends. Two humans and a Chronicom. The Chronicom is really tall, bald, blue eyes. The man is blonde, curly hair, Scottish. The girl is unmistakable. She carries an aura around her, kinda like a halo?”

Torch nodded, looking around and leaning in to whisper to Daisy.

“Payment first.”

Daisy smiled sickly sweet, moving the spinning ball of pure energy closer to his head.

“How about I pay you by not knocking you into next week?” She threatened. Jemma shifted behind her, slightly uneasy. Daisy wouldn’t actually harm him, she knew this. But she was starting to draw the attention of a small group of guests leaving the casino.

“Right, well, they went into Kitson’s about an hour ago. Said something about money for supplies. The girl, what is she to you?”

Daisy narrowed her eyes, “Why do you want to know?”

Torch shrugged, “She got in a bit of trouble with some Betans. They took the fight outside, I don’t know what happened from there.”

Daisy glanced at Jemma. She looked frightened. She gave a slight shake of her head.

Daisy looked back at Torch.

“Where exactly did they go?”

“Well, lookie here, another Earthling,” A voice from behind you jeered. You didn’t turn from your spot in the corner, instead focusing on channeling the neon lights into reflections of the other player’s cards. Technically, all you were doing was creating a mirror, it was Fitz that was actually doing the cheating.

A scaly hand reached out to you, tapping your shoulder.

“Uh, I’m talking to you,” He said.

“I heard, I’m not interested.”

There was a chuckle from the group behind him. In the corner of your eye you could see their faces: red-tinted, scaly, sharp teeth, humanoid enough to know that you would find them annoying if they stayed any longer.

“Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m kinda in the middle of making sure my friend isn’t attacked by one of the many, many beings in this club that have been eyeing him.

Another chuckle from the group.

“She thinks she’s smart! Well, guess what, human, they aren’t eyeing your friend cause they want to attack him,” The lizard-man laughed, nudging you.

“How ‘bouts we go back to my ship, have a drink, on me?”

You kept your eyes trained on Fitz, fighting the urge to roll them.

“Not my type.”

“Wow, xenophobic!”

You sighed, turning to them. “Not xenophobic, just have a girlfriend. A very strong girlfriend who can break your neck with the flick of her wrist. Now please, kindly scram.”

The lizard-men did not take this well.

In a flash, you were in the midst of a very large bar brawl, the patrons of the joint taking any chance to engage in violence. You vaguely heard Fitz calling your name over the shouting, but you were too focused on pulling the shadows and bending the bright neon lights to gain an advantage over your opponents. Eventually, some sort of whistle was blown, one that seemed to universally freeze everyone.

You dropped your arm from where it had been blinding one of the lizard-henchmen in front of you. A small red raccoon was standing on a table.

“Everyone, out! Now,” It growled. You searched the crowd for Fitz and Enoch, not able to find them. Great, so stalling it is then.

When the crowd was mostly out, you stayed where you were, apparently unbothered.

“Hey, missy, you too. Out!”

You smirked, sashaying up to him.

“Sorry, I don’t take orders from raccoons,” You goaded, noticing Enoch peering out from a backroom. “On second thought, I’m good to go. I’ll stay close. Just in case anyone want to finish this outside!”

The red raccoon, which at closer look was a talking red panda, muttered something that sounded like, ‘Not a raccoon’, but he motioned you out anyway.

“Hey, Pabu!” You called over your shoulder. The red panda rolled his eyes, crossing his small arms.

“The name’s Torch,” He grumbled.

“Well, Torch,” You smiled brightly, “Thank you for breaking up this little skirmish. I deeply appreciate it.’

You walked out, waiting at the corner for Enoch and Fitz. A crunch behind you was the only warning you got before a blow to your head knocked you dizzy. Your reflexes kicked in, the shadows in the alley solidifying and forming small blades in the air. You spun, taking a pen out of your pocket and clicking it. It grew into a jagged dagger as you turned to fully face the lizard-man.

“Do I at least get your name before I trounce you?”

“We are Betans. And you are an Earthling. That is all you need to know,” He answered, taking a laser gun from his holster.

“Who’s xenophonic now?” You muttered, lunging at the leader with your dagger while conducting the shadow blades behind you. By the groans of the idiots behind you, and the fact that they hadn’t laid a single claw on you, you were doing pretty well.

You stepped back, leading the Betan leader away from the alley and into the streetlight. You crossed your hands, contracting the light in his eyes. This didn’t seem to phase him.

Light on your feet, you flipped off his bent leg and nicked his back, forming a wall of light between you. You could feel the heat from the lamp radiating off the wall. He didn’t move.

He can’t see me.

“Ha! Take that motherfu- AH!”

A shot from his laser gun narrowly missed your cheek. He can still hear me. Noted.

You adjusted the wall, making sure to side step any gravel. The henchmen were recovering from the shadow knives, which had lost form. There’s only so much you can do at once.

You quickly blinded the other two with hot condensed light, knocking one against the wall and stepping on his knee with the sickening crunch of breaking bones and landing a swift uppercut to the other's jaw. He took a few dizzy steps and scratched your jaw with his claw as he went down.

“Ouch, shit,” You muttered, reaching up to feel it and coming back with blood. You stomped on the second lizard-man’s arm for good measure, driving a shadow-blade into his knee. An icky blue blood creeped out of the wound, pooling onto the concrete. You glanced back towards where the…

Uh-oh.

“Rahh!”

You turned just in time to see the scaly monster jumping off of a garbage container behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut, forming a shield of shadow around you and flinging yourself to the ground. The impact never came, a loud warbling filling the alley instead. You slowly got up, the darkness dissipating. The Betan leader was knocked clear across the alley, unconscious at the base of the concrete wall. You turned around slowly, almost too afraid to hope.

“Daisy!”

“Y/N!”

You ran at each other, Daisy sweeping you into a bone-crushing hug. You would’ve cried if it weren’t for the adrenaline still coursing through you. You pulled away first, immediately kissing Daisy. She hugged you tighter, and you were home.

“I’d hate to ruin the moment here, but don’t you wanna thank me?”

You pulled away from Daisy to look over her shoulder, glaring at the small raccoon.

“Hush, Meeko, we’re having a moment here,” You turned back to Daisy, taking her in.

“You look... different. Good, definitely but…” You trailed off, the faroff sadness in her eyes alarming you. “How long was I gone? How are you here? You’re supposed to be in 2091?”

Fitz stepped towards you, holding Jemma’s hand.

“Well, uh, they were there. And they came back and saved the world,” He said carefully. You grinned, a shimmer of rainbows refracting around you.

“That’s great! That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” You exclaimed. Jemma had tears streaming down her face, and Daisy was still staring at you with the wonderstruck eyes of a widow seeing her wife again.

“We’ll explain back on Z-1,” Daisy said gently, hugging you back to her. You made eye contact with Fitz, still confused. He was smiling, but you seemed to be the only one not seeing the whole picture.

Enoch spoke up from the opening to the alley, “We must depart now. There are Chronicom Hunters approaching. I can sense them, which means that they can sense me.”

Daisy grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers like she used to. You missed that. You had a feeling she missed it more.

Back on the Zephyr, you reunited with a teary-eyed Davis and a laughing Piper. You had missed your little team.

“So, are we headed back to Earth? When can I see May? And Mack and Elena? What about Coulson? I would have thought he was with you,” You questioned, sitting down on a jump seat next to the cockpit. Daisy sat across from you, taking her eyes off you for the first time that night. Jemma and Fitz had immediately gone to the lab to ‘check for any damage and possible health risks’, aka they were going to make out.

“Uhm, so, that’s the thing,” Daisy started, not stopping until she had caught you up about your adventures in space, the Lighthouse, Hale and Quovas, Daisy handing the directorship to Mack, Talbot (No! But Talbot was always a friend…), Fitz and Coulson.

“I barely understand it myself. But since we saved the world, we couldn’t allow you to wander space for seventy years and then find nothing. It’s not fair to you,” She finished, coming to sit next to you. You sat quietly with your hands folded under your chin for a moment, absorbing everything she had told you. The time paradox presented several problems, with one simple solution. The logical side of your brain and the emotional side were at war; one side already knowing the pieces that Daisy had left out and the other wanting to spare yourself, to spare Daisy from having to tell you.

“I died, right?” You whispered.

Daisy bit her lip, tearing up and wiping the few that fell. She nodded, squeezing your hand.

“So I... I was there for Fitzsimmons’ wedding, Elena losing her arms, Coulson getting sicker? I came back from the future with you?”

Daisy nodded again, eyes fixed out the window.

“And then we... We went to fight Talbot and I got too close? I tried to save you and he overpowered me?”

Daisy was silent, unblinking. It was all the answer you needed.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. And I’m sorry I missed Coulson’s retirement party, and the past year…” You were tearing up now, thinking about how much loss your girlfriend (were you even together anymore?) had already been through, and how much you had put her through. “Daisy, I’m so sorry.”

“How did you get your powers back?”

Daisy brushed some of her indigo hair out of her face, sighing.

“I didn’t want them back, but there was a rift in the universe in the basement, so I asked Simmons to remove it. She got it out without any major complications, and you were there for my recovery. We closed the rift made by the monoliths and it wasn’t a problem after that.”

You could hear the edge behind her words, the way she hid her scar with her hair.

“Is that all?”

She nodded. “I just felt so guilty getting them back. I thought I destroyed the world. And I guess I kind’ve did. In the other timelines Talbot absorbed me, too, and used the gravitonium and my quakes to literally crack the world apart. I know you don’t remember this, but Kasius was terrible. He tried to make me kill you, then he made his sick excuse of a girlfriend do it when I wouldn’t.”

You smiled sadly. “I could never hurt you,” You murmured.

Daisy pulled her gauntlets off, flexing her fingers. You recognized the burnt edges of scars, having them yourself from when you couldn’t control your powers.

“You did,” She sighed. She reached up to wipe a tear from your cheek, freezing when you flinched.

“You didn't hurt me physically. You died. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt me, grief did. Coulson and you, at the same time… It was a lot.”

You sniffled, pulling yourself together as you felt Davis speed up. He was getting ready for a jump.

“You know, this is like our hundredth chance at being together, and we still haven’t said…” You shrugged, not quite able to say the words.

“Yeah. I mean, first Hive, then we were separated by seven decades, then we were separated by lightyears and lightyears,” She said, smiling wide and leaning in, “But what’s stopping us now?”

“We’re right here,” Davis teased, winking at you as you flipped him the bird, never taking your eyes off Daisy.

“Nothing, I guess,” You murmured, eyes closing.

Daisy’s breath ghosted over your lips, her nose bumping yours.

“I love you,” She breathed, almost too quiet to hear.

“Oh, come on, just kiss already!” Piper cheered. You grinned, wrapping your arms around Daisy’s neck and firmly planting your lips on hers. It was an unspoken promise: I love you, too.

Piper and Davis cheered as a jump rocked Z-1. You broke away and grabbed Daisy’s shoulder for stability. She pulled you to her, grasping your hand tightly and intertwining your fingers.

“I’m here,” You said firmly. You stood up to watch the stars fly by over Davis’ shoulder, Daisy coming up beside you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Yeah, you are,” She said. “And I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

You took a moment to study her in the ambient light of familiar constellations. Besides the hair dye and new suit, she looked older, more tired. She was paler from months and months in space than you remembered. You made a mental note to ask Mack for a vacation for the two of you, somewhere tropical. Maybe you’d have to see what all the hype was surrounding Tahiti…

Daisy caught you staring, a smile splitting her face. You tugged her closer to you as Earth came into view.

“We’re home,” Davis announced, getting up to let Fitzsimmons know that they’d be landing in a couple hours.

“Yeah,” You said, keeping eye-contact with Daisy, “We are.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

eeeeee this was so fun to write i love it! i hope you liked it!!

#request #daisy johnson x reader #jemma simmons #leo fitz #enoch #aos fic #marvel #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#agent piper #agent davis

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janeykath318 · 3 years

Text

The Avengers Zoo

“Since when did the Avengers compound become a zoo?” Darcy asked, flabbergasted to see a frog and a porcupine just chilling out while a hairless cat sat in a sunny corner relaxing. Jane had been summoned down to headquarters and she’d begged Darcy to come too.

“Since Loki showed up and decided to cause havoc, as he is wont to do,” Jane sighed. “Everyone is….not human right now.”

“Oh, dear,” Darcy sighed. “Have you figured out who’s who?”

“Getting there. Hawkeye and Falcon are obvious, The bald eagle has to be Steve, and Thor is a golden retriever, which I have to admit, is kind of fitting.”

A big yellow dog trotted over to Jane and sat at her feet, tail wagging and tongue lolling.

“Hey there, big guy!” Darcy greeted. Thor barked and doggy grinned at her.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, pal,” she returned, smiling at him. “Hopefully, we can convince your Bro to undo whatever he did.”

“We think they still have their human minds, but Leo and Jemma are running some tests to verify that,” Jane informed her, leading Darcy to another room, which contained a dozing black bear, a striking panther, an adorable floppy-eared bunny, and three large birds of prey.

Darcy’s jaw dropped and she saluted the bald eagle.

“Wow, Cap. It’s a good look on you,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. The eagle-Cap’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move a muscle.

Talk about majestic.

The sleek Falcon next to him let out a sound that Darcy took to be a birdish laugh and preened his feathers.

“Yeah, I see you, Wilson. You’re looking good, too,” she assured him.

Clint-Hawk flapped over to her and squawked a greeting.

“Hey, Clint. How’s the bird life treating you?” She asked, trying not to laugh. “If this wasn’t top secret, I’d have so much good blackmail material on you.”

Hawkeye gave her a birdie glare and shook his brown feathery head.

Darcy had to stifle a shriek when two large spiders suddenly dropped down in front of her. Of course, they were much bigger than any natural spider, but Loki had probably done that on purpose.

“Natasha?” She asked nervously, looking at the one with the red hourglass symbol on its body and thanking her stars she wasn’t arachnophobic.

The spider blinked at her and waved one of its legs, as if affirming her guess. The other spider was a solid black and much more wiggly than Natasha.

“Let me guess: Peter?” She queried, laughing at the younger spider’s antics as he shot around webbing everything in sight.

“Yep,” Jane sighed. “He makes such a mess.”

“King T’Challa looks every bit as regal in panther form as human form,” Darcy commented, watching the panther walking alongside one of the scientists, not making the slightest noise.

“He’s trying his best to help us figure this out,” Jane said affectionately. “He’s quite brilliant even in large cat form.”

The bunny rabbit hopped over to them and looked up at Darcy intensely. In a flash, she was given a mental image of the transformation moment and all the human identities of the animals.

“That’s definitely Wanda,” She informed Jane.

“She showed me who everyone is.”

One of the other scientists ran over eagerly.

“Ooh. Do tell,” he begged, looking like an excited puppy.

Jane rolled her eyes.

“Darcy, this is Leo Fitz. He’s helping figure this thing out. Fitz, this is Darcy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Fitz said.

“Other than the ones we already know, the cat is Dr. Strange, the frog is Bruce Banner, the porcupine is Tony Stark…” She cut off with a giggle and Fitz and Jane grinned at the hilarity of Tony the Porcupine.

“Anyway, Wanda is the rabbit, and the bear is Bucky Barnes, bless his heart.”

Darcy looked over to the bear, who was now awake and watching her with quizzical eyes.

“I’d stay away from that one,” Fitz advised. “He growls if anyone gets within three meters of him.”

“Poor Bucky really doesn’t like scientists,” Darcy told him. “He knows me. I’ll be okay.”

She walked over and sat down beside Bucky the Bear. He lifted his head, but didn’t growl or lunge at her.

“Hey, there, Bucky.” She told him. “Can you understand me?”

The big bear head nodded clumsily.

“Excellent,” Darcy beamed, then sighed, remembering their last very awkward encounter. “Now I can finally clear the air about us without you running off or interrupting me with self-flagellation.”

Bucky bear made a mournful sound, but Darcy kept on track.

“I thought we had a good thing going, Bucky. The flirting was top-notch and you had me completely wrapped around your little finger. Then we kissed and suddenly, you freaked out and avoided me like I had the plague. It’s okay if you aren’t ready, but I want you to know I’m not scared of you in bear form and I’m not scared of you in human form, either.

You’re a good man, Bucky Barnes. Believe it or not, you do deserve to be happy. Just think about that, okay?”

She could see Steve’s eagle eye watching them, and The Falcon and The Hawk were also gazing with interest.

The bear snuffled and looked up at her with soulful eyes that were ridiculously cute in a large beast like him.

Darcy had a strong urge to give him a pet, but figured it would be best to ask first.

“Do you mind if I touch you? That fur is really something.”

The bear didn’t seem to mind and Darcy slowly sank her fingers into his side and marveled at the feel. She gently ran her hand over his soft black fur, noting that Bucky bear had closed his eyes in bliss.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” She teased. “I bet your human self would too.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a commotion and Jane Foster giving a familiar mischievous figure a thorough chewing out. Loki was trying to be a smartass, but Jane was having none of it. Finally, he gave an exasperated huff.

“Fine! I have modified the spell to wear off in three days. There is no need for more threats. I am well aware of your expertise. You mortals have no sense of humor.”

With a poof, Loki turned himself into a snake and slithered away.

Jane sighed.

“Hear that everyone? You’ll be human again in three days. I have no idea what we’re going to do in the meantime.”

Turned out, Darcy added Avengers zookeeper to her resume during the next few days. She chatted to them, made terrible bird jokes, and helped make sure they ate. She got to watch Steve, Sam, and Hawkeye soaring regally in the air, which was a pretty incredible sight. Bunny Wanda liked to sit on her lap and nibble at lettuce while Porcupine Tony made ridiculous faces at Darcy and pretended he was going to poke Bucky with his quills. Bucky mostly snoozed at Darcy’s feet or watched the Birdy Trio flying around.

Kitty Strange slept most of the time and looked disdainfully at the others when he was awake, goblin like eyes eerily watchful. Thor of course, followed Jane around with his undying loyalty, and the spiders chilled out in their webs, amusing themselves by building more and more elaborate designs. Bruce was given his own private enclosure away from the chaos and he hopped about contentedly.

When day three arrived, they made sure everyone was in a safe location for a safe transition back to human form and waited it out.

Darcy got a text from Jane while on a coffee run that simply said, “I forgot how annoying human Tony is. I think I liked him better as a porcupine.”

The avengers were chattering and joking around about their antics as animals when Darcy got back.

“Lewis! I hear you’re switching careers to zookeeper!” Tony yelled. She flipped him off and ignored him. (She’d learned long ago this was the most effective method of dealing with him if Pepper wasn’t around to tattle to.)

“I have now dubbed you three the Birdy Trio and nothing is gonna change it, so get used to it,” she informed Steve, Clint, and Sam.

They all groaned and Darcy grinned in satisfaction.

Behind her there came a rusty bark of laughter and she turned to see Bucky grinning from ear to ear. His smiles were rare, but they were so adorable, Darcy’s heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t be smug, Barnes,” she playfully chastened him. “You’re gonna be Bucky Bear to me for the rest of your life.”

The smile did not diminish one bit.

“I hope that’s not the only thing I am to you, doll,” he said softly, making her blush.

Steve, observing their interaction, dragged Clint and Sam away to give them privacy and Darcy vowed to thank him later. Steve really was a good bro.

“You were right. I shouldn’t have run away like that,” he admitted, taking a tentative step toward her. “I’ve been kicking myself ever since. I’ve got more issues than National Geographic magazine, but if you’re willing to give me another chance, I’d definitely like to take it.”

Darcy smiled and grabbed his hands in hers: both of them. He looked surprised when he saw her grasping his metal hand, but he gently squeezed back.

“Bucky Bear, I’d love to. How about we start by catching up over dinner?”

“Sounds great, doll,” he said, beaming at her.

#the avengers #crack fic #wintershock #darcy lewis #bucky barnes

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

scorched | s.r. + b.b.

summary: “You utterly destroyed me, you know that? I loved you more than I needed to breathe and you just walked away. I lost everything and you walked away.”

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, violence, a post-endgame rant wrapped up as a fic pairing: steve x fem!reader, bucky x fem!reader word count: 7.3k

a/n: inspired by praying by kesha. written for @coffee-with-bucky and her 2k challenge! congrats lyn :) my prompt was “i failed you. i failed everyone.”and i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t inspired by @heli0s-writes and her series “as it was”. check her out! she’s one of my favourite writers on this site!

“She’s not at the compound,” Sam says, not at all surprised to see him and almost resentful, defensive. His phone is still in hand, screen alit from the text Steve sent him a few minutes ago. Everything he left behind is still here by the lake.

Almost everything.

It’s a ghost town.

“But she doesn’t want to see you anyway.”

“Sam—”

“Five hours for you was five, very long years for us,” he continues, but his tone softens when he catches sight of Steve’s face. Absolutely crushed, eyebrows weighed down, shoulders hunched forward, defeated. “She’s different, now. She’s not the woman you left.”

The mere mention of you makes Steve’s heart, already choked with dread, crack.

“And you shouldn’t go, man. It wouldn’t be good for her after all this time.”

Before, maybe Sam would’ve thought of Steve first, but there’s a distance, a yawning gap standing between them now. Sam was here for the bitter consequences of his departure—Steve wasn’t, and he knows they must’ve been shattering, terrifying, because by the way Sam is so cold about it, he doesn’t want to remember it.

“I made a mistake, Sam. I can’t let her go on thinking I don’t regret what I did.” He looks out at the lake where he passed the shield and mantle and responsibilities on to the man before him before he left, and the sun hits the lake so clearly that his breath nearly catches. You loved swimming, propelling circles around him in the blue-green pool at the compound, splashing it into his eyes. Laughing and laughing and laughing because you’re so limber on land but here you’re definitely a fish out of water.

Funny, funny, funny.

“She won’t care.”

“She has to.”

“Look, man. I’m trying to save you some pain.” Sam puts a hand out, hovering before his chest as if he stopped himself, as if he doesn’t even want to touch Steve, and the blond swallows the painful little knot in his throat. “It’s too late, and I know you want to think better late than never, but she’s changed. Things have changed.”

“That won’t stop me from trying,” Steve murmurs, walking around Sam to where a car is parked. His car. The damned car he drove to Tony’s funeral. He’s sure the keys are still in the cupholder beside your old coffee cup. He wonders who drove you home.

Sam? Bucky?

Who held a body with a heart that was tearing apart while he was chasing some fruitless daydream?

“Dude, the woman you knew is gone,” Sam calls, but Steve doesn’t listen. “You need to leave.”

“No, Sam. We made a promise to wait for each other.”

Okay, clause one: we wait for each other no matter what. Clause two: no matter what happens, we promise to work everything out. Clause three: this love is forever. Sign here.

I can’t believe you’re making me sign a fake contract for something we know won’t change, doll.

It’s a real contract because I wrote it, and it’s just for fun, anyway. I would never love anyone else besides you.

“That doesn’t matter. She’s fucking Barnes anyway.”

That stops him in his tracks. Blood freezing over in his body, he turns to look at Sam in his leather jacket and washed jeans, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes are impassive, severe, and dark with blunt honesty.

“Look, they’re happy. So can you just… leave? Go back to the forties. Settle down anywhere but here, because she is happy and so is he. Do you know how long it took for them to even think about trying to move past you?”

“Wait—” The word comes out ripped, hoarse, and he feels the blood drain from his legs as he takes a step back—

“You should just go.”

For a moment, Steve’s eyes, wide and impossibly guilty, shine with tears. At the thought of you with some other man—somehow the possibility never crossed his mind. In his mind, you are the girl who shelters underneath his arm when it thunders, who tucks her face into his chest when the movie is too scary, who peppers his faces with kisses and makes him lemonade after a good training session, who puts flower crowns on his head when they spend a weekend outside the city and makes apple pies so fulfilling he could cry, who would never love another man because you are so wholly, helplessly, in love with him.

And he left you anyway.

So he nods, because he deserves this.

He deserves this, and he leaves.

The wind is warm against his cheeks as he tries to think how he ended up here in Puerto Vallarta, although he does know. Sam dropped him off here with a mission that’ll hopefully lead to another, and you can build a new life for yourself, Steve. One without her in it. If you need something, you know you can call me.

An arms deal. He got a tipoff from one of his CIs that it’s happening tonight by the docks, because he needs his own resources now. There is no Ross, no Tony, no Natasha, no one on his side.

His body yearns for a fight, and he gets it when he hears a soft voice down the docks, speaking in British English, just barely over the lap of the ocean. Crouching behind a metal freight container, he tries to distinguish the voices. At least three bodies, all armed, and his target. One of the biggest arms dealers in Britain down here to make a deal.

Steve, darting out from his cover and to the fire escape by the warehouse, catches a glimpse of the silhouettes of the men waiting. Their shadows are long against the concrete of the dock. The metal clangs underneath his boots as he slowly climbs the steps.

“Where is this woman?” the first man asks roughly, impatience laced through his tone as Steve pulls himself onto the roof. Feet pattering over the metal roof of the warehouse, he keeps himself crouched as the warm, golden sunlight filters through the oily heat. He’s sweating through the kevlar suit he’s got strapped on, and droplets beads around his forehead as he adjusts the shield gauntlets along his wrists.

“She said seven, sir.”

“Tardiness,” the man tsks. “We should’ve known better than to deal with the likes of her. What did I say?”

“That you shouldn’t trust an American, sir.”

“Precisely.” Leaning over the roof, Steve spots the man in question speaking, his suit glowing from the lamplight he stands beneath and he grips the edge of the roof, frowning. The buyer and the seller in one foul swoop. A car door slams and he blinks, tearing his eyes away from his count of at least twelve men, three standing around crates and the other around the man complaining.

A woman steps out of the car, pocketing her phone as she walks towards the illuminated circle, and he frowns, narrowing his eyes. Her face is covered by hair that sways with her every step, but her figure is outlined by the fit of her pantsuit. Even through the clothes, he can see the curve of muscle, the purpose in her step.

A dangerous woman.

“Sorry for the hold up,” she calls out, her voice smooth, rich with confidence. Steve frowns as she stops just outside the circle of light, her silhouette illuminated by warm, rusty orange and cloaked in shadow. “You wouldn’t believe the legalities surrounding contraband in America,” she continues teasingly. “Let me see.”

The man jerks his head to one of his henchman by the crates who cracks it open revealing sleek black rifles, laser sights, silver canisters with a bar along the sides: EMPs, grenades of all kinds. “Is it to your satisfaction?”

“It is. I’m docked in bay four. My men will meet yours there,” she says and head honcho nods. It’s a sign for the three men to pick up one crate each and begin their slow trail up the docks. The crates are massive things, hard black metal that softly rattles with every sway and Steve’s ears prick as the woman steps closer, her heels sharp against concrete.

“I assume this concludes our business, ma’am. It has been a profitable few months. I hope you find your new treasures… helpful in your endeavors.”

“Oh, I’d love to keep communications open. You’ve been a wonderful seller, and as you know, I pay handsomely for quality goods.” Despite his previous irritation, the boss seems to straighten, smiling almost as the men around look at each other. Money. It all comes down to money.

“Of course. My London warehouse, as you know, is open to you should you find yourself across the sea.”

“Perfect. Pleasure doing business with you.” It is then that she steps into the light, and Steve’s eyes narrow at the glint of metal on her ears and in her hair as she reaches forward to shake the man’s hand.

And twist it behind his back, using him as a body shield between her and his henchmen. Her other hand goes to her head, pulling out the pin and digging it gently into the man’s throbbing vein at his neck. It sits comfortably in her palm, almost as if it is molded for her and Steve’s muscles tense, blood rushing to his fingertips.

“Shoot her, now.”

“Watch it, Fitz,” hisses the woman, voice low. She digs the tip of the pin deeper. In the washed lamplight, Steve can see the curve of the blade, the hoop her finger slots into. A throwing knife. “I want you out of this situation alive.”

The knife trails down his body to his thigh and she wraps her fingers tighter around the handle.

Schluck.

The man’s scream rings in Steve’s ears as she tosses the man aside, diving to a stack of wooden crates. Wood and stone splinters beneath the force of bullets following at her heels but she simply unclasps one of her earrings, presses a button and throws it over the crates.

There’s a moment of silence as the men stare at the device at their feet before there is an explosion of smoke. He watches as the woman vaults over the crates and sprints into the cloud and Steve leaps off the roof, pumping his arms to activate his shield gauntlets.

The first man he comes into contact with lets out a startled scream as Steve punches his lights out and his blood is singing. Smoke burns at his eyes and thickens in his lungs as he whirls around, spotting a shadow of a man and he runs toward him, sweeping out a leg to take him down before slamming his knuckles into his nose until he’s knocked out cold and there’s a painful grunt behind him, the resounding collapse of a body that has no intention of getting up again.

Bullets whiz past his face, slamming into concrete and flesh as something rushes past him and he grabs the charging man, swinging his whole body weight into his arms and bringing them both crashing into the ground. The smell of sweat leaks into his mouth as he shoves the curve of his shield into the henchman’s stomach. Once. Twice. Thrice.

The man is rolled over, eyes scrunched tight, when Steve gets off of him.

Eyes straining through the smoke, he watches as a shadow charges at two figures, latching onto the first man and striking the geezer behind him with a power kick to the chest with both legs. The second man stumbles back just as the shadow swings her legs back and brings the first man down to the ground.

Natasha.

That was something he’d seen Natasha practice a hundred times over.

The thought makes his blood run cold and he pauses for a moment, the smoke beginning to thin out as she rolls over the first man and takes down the second with two punches to the gut and a knee to the nose.

Natasha.

This can’t be real. No. Natasha is dead.

Unless they brought her back.

No, Sam would’ve told him, wouldn’t he?

He’s not sure anymore.

His throat cinches shut at the thought of the redhead, of the woman who’d been by his side for years, who encouraged him to fall in love with you. Maybe it’s Natasha’s ghost haunting him, taunting him with some lookalike spy, reminding him of his mistake, and he feels himself paralyzed. The memories, the smile of hers before they went back in time— He’d felt so exhausted at the responsibility of it all, the five years of his failure weighing down between his shoulders. It all rushes back to him: your wobbling lips, brave face on his brave girl, fingers digging into his suit, ordering him to come home safe, Natasha’s coy little smile.

See you in a minute.

Strong legs wrap around his abdomen and he lets out a grunt, yanked out of his dazed state as he wrenches the attacker off his back. The woman falls with smack but her fingers dig into his wrists. Her legs wrap around his arm, dragging him down with her.

Steve pitches forward, tumbling forward as she slams his hand into the concrete. His skull collides with the ground and he squeezes his eyes tight, pain blooming from the back of his head. A sharp knee digs into his other elbow and he sucks in a deep breath, eyes fluttering open to a blurry face.

“No.” The word comes out choked and he blinks against the streetlight, eyebrows furrowing together and the weight vanishes off of him. “It can’t be.” Sitting up, he feels his head swim in a dull ache, world tilting as the woman takes a step away from him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The words ring in his ears, cold, wretched, and he jerks his head up to see your face drained of blood, lips parted, eyes wide. Your shoulders are shaking, chest heaving for air and it rattles in your lungs. Steve can hear your heart pounding, your throat swallowing nothing but wet air.

“Y/N—” He soaks in your figure, the muscle, the confidence, the sharp lines where everything had been soft. You don’t even look too different—you just feel different. He used to sink into your arms thinking of golden sunlight and soft pillows. Now, when he looks at you, he thinks of serrated edges, ironwire bones. You’ve lost your heels in the fight, but you look taller than he’s ever seen you. “You’re… it’s you.”

“Steve.” For a moment, your voice is choked up and your expression softens as you scan his face, but then you tear your eyes away. Your hair is chopped shorter for practicality, just barely past your shoulders. It suits you. Suits the girl he loves, the girl he doesn’t know anymore. “Steve.”

“Are you hurt?” He reaches for you but you shrink back like he’s burned you. This isn’t who you are. You’ve never been a fighter, yet here you stand, pantsuit a bit scuffed but otherwise untouched, and his stomach twists into a Gordian knot. This is what Sam was warning him about. The snake in the garden come to life. “What are you doing here? You could’ve gotten hurt, doll—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t have that right anymore,” you spit, voice pure poison. He pushes himself to his feet just as something makes you pause and your eyebrows knit together, raising your left wrist where a watch is strapped on. His head is spinning from his skull cracking against concrete and the new revelation that the girl he knows is a stranger again. He wobbles for a moment, arms out to the side as he tries to regain his bearings but you don’t so much as give him another second of your attention. “Docks are secure, Fury. Fitz is ready for pickup. I’ll send London co-ordinates when I get back to base.”

Steve glances at the bleeding man still panicking about the knife sticking out of his leg, and you go over to him, hauling him to his feet. The man shivers, whimpers when he puts weight on his injured leg but you give no hint that you care. As if on cue, a helicopter swerves through the air, rotors sending powerful gales of air down to the ground as it lowers itself to the ground and you look at Steve with a cold disinterest, hand a fist around Fitz’s collar.

“Believe it or not, I’m not just Captain America’s pretty little girlfriend anymore.”

“I just want to talk—”

“There’s nothing I want to say to you.” Turning around, you lug Fitz into the helicopter with a strength Steve doesn’t recognize and you climb onto the chopper with a grace he knows didn’t exist before he left you.

Don’t go. Please don’t go. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I’m going back to the compound,” you say over the loud gusts of wind whipping at the ground. “You’ll find Bucky there, if that’s who you’re really here for because if I wasn’t enough for you then, then I certainly won’t be enough for you now.” Pulling back into the helicopter, you yank the door shut with a slam, and Steve watches as it rises, a steady ascension to a place where he can’t follow.

His stomach twists, his whole body wracked with a shaking agony as his heart pushes itself up your throat. Falling to his knees, he keens over and throws up, acid splashing between his hands. He vomits out his heart, every inch of warmth you’ve ever given him so freely, every smile he’s taken for granted, the taste of your smile after you’ve made those apple pies.

He’s left hollowed out, colder than death.

He wants to cry, but even his mind tells him you don’t deserve to cry for the woman you chased away, so he laughs. Laughs until they turn into tears, and even then they don’t feel real. His body is unwilling to yield to the possibility of defeat, and yet here he is.

It was a one in a million chance for us both to survive that Snap, Steve. And Thanos destroyed the stones. If we can’t find a way to bring them back… maybe the only thing we can do now is move on.

Some people move on. But not us... Not us

Take your ring and give it to the girl you really love because it isn’t me.

Steve’s shock. There was less of a protest, only your determination to stop your lip from trembling, the tears already falling from glassy eyes. Grief bit him in the stomach, but yearning tugged his heart toward the platform.

If all you could think about in the ten years we were together was Peggy, I don’t see why I should stop you.

Y/N, you know I love you.

Not enough.

The compound is different. Different plot of land, different inhabitants, different facilities. He pulls up in the lot where the Avengers sign is carved into the stone and he walks the grounds, grounds he used to know but this is different soil.

Another man’s grounds.

“Steve,” Sam says, cautious on the track. He’s wearing a tee-shirt and shorts, skin glistening with sweat and a water bottle in hand. He’s got a comm link in his ear and it glows blue for a moment before muting itself. There are a few recruits running a few laps and Steve eyes them wearily before approaching Sam. His beard was shaved two days ago, his hair chopped clean even though it makes him more noticeable now. He hopes no one says anything about the old Captain America pathetically dragging himself back to a place he tried to run from. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you came in.”

“Yeah. I… I just wanted to see Bucky.” Your name bites at his tongue and it takes all his strength not to confess what happened down in Mexico before Sam glances behind him to a building he doesn’t recognize. It’s connected to the main facility by a long tunnel but there are doors to the track as well, and they open just as Steve fixes his gaze on it.

Two figures stumble out of the building, a piercing shriek splitting the air with glee as one of them runs away from the other. Even from the distance, Steve can see the metal glint of Bucky’s arm, your favourite swimsuit strapped to your body. Bucky’s holding onto something as he chases after you and you barrel through the grass, towel cloaking your shoulders.

“They’re happy, man,” Sam murmurs lowly as they get onto the track and you’re still running but you’re no match for a super soldier. Bucky scoops you up, tossing aside his water gun and wrapping you in a huge hug from behind. “Even if Barnes wants to see you, do you think she does?”

“I already saw her in Mexico,” he utters softly. You’re laughing so loudly it makes Steve’s chest explode with light. You thrash in Bucky’s arms and he pretends to nip at your skin, growl into your ear as you tug at the towel around your neck. You’re… you. Just as he left you. Nothing like Mexico. “Why is she in the field, now? She’s not a soldier.”

“That’s for her to explain, not me. I don’t get to try to describe the hell you put her through, Steve.” Bucky puts you down and your feet in those strappy tan sandals sink into the grass as you spin around. You plant a kiss gently on Bucky’s lips, using the corner of your towel to wipe away drips from his hair before stealing another kiss. Steve’s mouth tingles, burning uncomfortably and he looks away. That used to be him, leaving the pool, smelling like chlorine and sweat and then popsicles to cool down because nothing screamed summer like fruit popsicles and swimming.

“Steve?” A tentative voice calls and Steve’s eyes refocus to the source on reflex. You’re staring at him, eyes narrowed into knife points and you hold Bucky’s arm to your chest, your fingers entwined with his as his old friend walks towards him. “Steve— you’re back? What are you… what are you doing here?”

“Guess the past isn’t where I belong,” he says with a forced smile that digs into his cheeks and Bucky lets go of your hand to hug him but his lips are parted, his eyes wide. He doesn’t believe this is real and when Steve meets your eyes over Bucky’s shoulder, your gaze is burning. Bucky’s arms squeeze around Steve tighter, tight enough that even he can’t breathe. He’s shattered in his arms, Bucky is, and Steve can only hold him.

“Let’s go inside,” Sam says, ever the mediator. Steve looks at him but his eyes are on you, and Bucky’s pulling back and then his eyes are on you, too. All eyes on you and your worried lip between your teeth. You’re tanned, toned, and your hair is shining underneath the summer sun as Bucky steps away from Steve as well. As if the euphoria of having his best friend is gone—it is. He chose a daydream over his family. “You guys need to get dry.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, eyes darkening as they linger on Steve’s face. Soaking him in, thinking a thousand miles a minute, trying to sort through whatever storm lingers in his head. His eyebrows hood his gaze as he lowers his head and Steve can see him slip away as you take Bucky’s hand, cup his face, and turn him away.

“Popsicles, yeah? Gotta get the last ones before Wanda steals ‘em away,” you whisper and Bucky’s nose brushes against your head before they begin to walk away. Bucky’s shoulders are hunched over and you’ve got an arm around his waist, and there is something sacred in the way his head brushes against yours, the way his arm drapes around your shoulders. The way his fingers play with the fluffy towel around you, bringing the corner of it to your wet cheek. The way you step in tandem.

Something tender, something hallowed, something not his.

You’d been sharp and scorched in Mexico. In Bucky’s presence, you are nothing but dewy grass and a gentle fire, and he sees the tension ease in your shoulders despite a knot lingering in your back.

Once you’d been soft like cotton clouds like it was your nature, eager to stay away from the fight. You were just the receptionist at Stark Towers and Steve had fallen first, so eager to protect you because you were kind, gentle, funny and you didn’t care about who he was. Just that he was Steve and you were you.

I can’t let anything happen to you. You can’t protect yourself against these guys, Y/N. They’re… they’re monsters.

And he left you to them anyway, in a world still struggling to find itself repopulated and alive—

I failed you. I failed everyone.

The realization devastates him. No matter how hard he tried to fix the world, he destroyed his life anyway.

“Come on, man. If you wanna talk, we should do it in private,” Sam says. Steve follows him numbly into a building he doesn’t know anymore.

You’re sitting with your legs bent and angled in towards Bucky, playing with a butterfly knife that flows too easily between your nimble fingers. Sam sits on the leather seat and Steve leans back into the sofa as you bite softly into your red popsicle. Strawberry. Your favourite.

Bucky’s sucking down a blue one but his face is placid, eyes burning into the glass table between them as Sam sits down with a cup of coffee he had offered to make for Steve. The blade flips over your index finger, and then back around again. Your hair is stringy and wet, tied away from your face as you set down the knife and turn to Bucky, eyes searching. You brush his hair away from his face even though it’s cropped shorter now and smile even though he doesn’t focus on you.

He doesn’t miss Bucky’s hand around the curve of your thigh, holding you to him as if you’ll slip away otherwise. He fights the nasty remark pounding against his teeth—that’s his girl his best friend’s got his hand on—but he knows it isn’t his place anymore. Steve watches you lick sweet strawberry melt from your lips, trail your fingers along Bucky’s head delicately and pull his temple towards you for a quick peck.

It’s almost as if Bucky wakes up at your touch, and he turns to you. He searches too, scans your gaze and Steve feels like he’s intruding on a moment so he looks into his lap.

“So?” Sam prompts, tearing everyone out of whatever bubble they’ve encased themselves in and pulling them back into harsh reality. “Who wants to go first?”

There’s silence where Bucky puts down his popsicle stick on the bowl brought out, blue melt sliding down the wood slowly as you bite down on the last of your own treat.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice is quiet, accepting already.

“I have so many things to say and I don’t even know how to say any of it, but I know to apologize,” the blond says after a moment of hesitation. His breath keeps catching in your throat and you lean forward to drop off your own stick by Bucky’s, almost a statement to his own words. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Sam asks for clarity, but Steve entertains the notion that maybe even his friend wants to draw it out of him.

“I didn’t know what I had until I lost it.” Steve makes a point to meet three pairs of eyes except you refuse to look at him, instead staring into Bucky’s lap like he doesn’t even exist, like you don’t exist either. “I should’ve stayed. Should’ve thought it through and realized that... everything I had back then is everything I had here.”

“Is that all?” Bucky stares at him with something like pity, something like jealousy, and Steve knows it has all to do with the woman in his arms. Ten years of conflict to push lovers together compared to five years of overcoming heartache because of one man. Steve would be jealous—had been jealous of Steve of 2012. 2012 Steve had a whole decade of love waiting for him and he has none. “Are you here to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“If you think you can come here and have everything that was yours just given to you on a silver platter, then you’re wrong,” you speak up for the first time and it sucks all the warmth out of the room. Bucky turns to you, hand raising from your thigh to brush a wet strand of hair away from your cheek and you clench your jaw, lips pressed together. “We built our lives without you in it.”

“Y/N.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees but you seem to shrink away from him, eyes tortuously meeting his.

“You leaving me was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me,” you whisper with a rage unbridled, unchained, just barely containing itself from exploding. “It made me realize how much stronger I am then you have ever given me credit for.”

“You weren’t that girl when I met you.” Soft girl with sunshine smiles and gauzy white dresses—lemonade pitchers, tulip gardens—you weren’t that girl, Steve’s mind protests but when you unwind from the couch, stretch every languid muscle in your body, he wonders if he ever saw you as anything more than someone he had to protect.

“I believed you when you said I couldn’t fight.” You stand, gazing openly at him and he swallows at the hopelessness residing in your gaze, still there after five years. “That I wasn’t enough like you to even try to help. All I ever was to you was some pretty little thing who was scared to fight back and maybe I was because you sheltered me for ten fucking years.” Your voice twists with pain, overflowing with a frustration of lost time and pure, pure sadness. “You leaving me made me stand on my own two feet again.”

Bucky reaches forward to take your hand when they all see it tremble but you simply roll it into a fist and step away.

“You put me through hell, Steve. I had to learn how to fight for myself because you weren’t there. Because you left me for some fucking daydream.” For a moment, he thinks you soften because your eyebrows fall and you close your eyes. The muscle in your jaw ticks, your nose twitches, and when you open your eyes again, they are glassy with tears. “You utterly destroyed me, you know that? I loved you more than I needed to breathe and you just walked away. I lost everything and you walked away.”

Tony. Natasha. Boss. Best friend. Colleague. Sister.

“How could you do that?” you whimper, blinking as tears scorch down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily with the heel of your hand. “How could you just look at me, look at Sam, look at Bucky, and think that there is nothing worth staying for?” You throw out your hand helplessly, waiting for an answer that won’t come and Steve chews on the inside of his cheek, throat swelling shut.

“It felt like minutes,” Bucky says at last, and the darkness in the room, the stifled feeling in Steve’s chest eases only a tad because Bucky is not nearly as thunderous as you are. You twist to look at him, arms crossed over your chest and Sam reaches to touch your arm, fingers wrapped around your bicep. You spare him a glance before looking at Bucky. “We died, we came back five years later, and it only felt like minutes.”

“Bucky—”

“You chose to leave what felt like minutes after I died, after Sam died, and when Y/N told me what happened… Steve…” A shuddering convulses down his throat and Bucky looks down into his lap. You unfold your arms and immediately go to sink into the couch, wrapping an arm around Bucky. Your eyes pin him down, red-rimmed with unshed tears, accusing: you did this to an already broken man.

“I’m so sorry, Buck.” The apology sounds plastic in his mouth with how many times he’s said it, thought it. “I’m so sorry.” He says it again anyways, and he directs it at the two other bodies in the room. You gauge his expression, watch him like he’ll vanish in a flash of smoke.

“I was happy for you if leaving meant I never had to see you again. I know you deserve a happy ending, Steve. You deserve rest more than anyone I know,” he says, “but you need to know what you want before you decide to risk it all. You can’t come crawling back for second chances because there are none. You don’t come back and have everything stay the same. There’s a price every time you give something up.” He looks up, eyes like clear water. There’s nothing angry in his old friend’s gaze, just drained. “If you’re here to stay, you better be sure that this is what you want in the end.” And then Bucky is up, rubbing at his face like he’s tired rather than an inch from crying. Steve watches him go—they all do—silently, and then you look at Sam who gets up to follow.

There’s a moment when you meet eyes with Steve and he can feel the love you swaddled him in for ten years, through the Snap, through the Accords. No matter where he was, you were there.

Then that love disappears.

“I want you to hurt like you made me hurt,” you begin softly, hands folded in your lap, t-shirt hanging off your frame, stuffed into your shorts. “Like you still make me hurt. I want you to wake up crying, I want you to rub your face raw, I want you to stay awake all night just wondering why this has happened. I want nothing more than you begging on your knees for something you can’t stop no matter how hard you try because somehow you just aren’t enough.”

He closes his eyes, lets your words devour him whole.

“Bucky was there,” you continue quietly. “He was there for me in a way you never were. He drove me home after you left. Told me that the best was yet to come. That I just couldn’t see it yet, and I didn’t believe him. For the longest time, I didn’t believe a single word he said.”

“Until you did.”

“Until one day, I looked at him and told him I know. That I know, one day, things will change,” you agree and something melts in your voice when you speak of Bucky. Kindred souls, the same heartache lurking still in chests just beginning to warm from love again. “Maybe it hurt less that day so I decided that I have to accept that this was my life now or maybe I was just so sick of crying that I told myself that this isn’t who I’m going to be. I don’t know. I just woke up one day, and he asked if I wanted to go swimming. First summer after everyone came back, and I wanted to say no, but I just had to say yes because it was swimming, and it was Bucky, and he was barely holding it together but here he was… taping and gluing me like I was some abstract project.” You chuckle, a wet sound, before glancing down at your knees. There is something you’re not telling him, and he knows it’s something secret to you and Bucky alone, so he doesn’t push it. Doesn’t ask—his chest already feels like it’s cracked open. “Some of the pieces won’t ever fit again.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, “did he train you?”

“Yeah.” Explains a Black Widow move. You sound proud, but not of yourself, of your own feats and talent, but of him. “He encouraged it. Said it was only right I knew how to fight.” Steve’s stomach turns and he looks down to swallow. Bile is burning in his throat. The threads of his heart are tearing.

“I know it’s all I’ve been saying, but I’m sorry. I… I just tried to protect you in every way I could.”

“I know.” Your words are soft against his battered ears, and he looks up at you sitting there, ramrod straight but a certain gentleness that reminds him of the past. “I know you loved me in the way you could.” Clutching, grasping, desperate not to lose another woman he loves. “When you saw Peggy, did you just decide that that was easier?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just felt like I was missing something. Something…”

“... you couldn’t find here?”

“Just something.”

You ruminate on that, eyes fixed on the popsicle sticks and Steve rubs his hands together, head bowed. The silence is terse but not hostile, and you pick up the butterfly knife on the cushion. You don’t flick it open, just run your thumb over the edge and Steve thinks you might cut him stem to stern before you place it down on the glass table.

“I used to stay up all night wondering where I went wrong,” you say it frankly. It’s not meant to hurt him anymore. You seem tired of being angry, but it’s still there, just there underneath your skin. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t eat unless Bucky made me. I would’ve rather starved than live in a world where you didn’t love me, but he said if he had to go on, then so did I. He never asked for anything in return, and I was just so fucking angry at myself that I listened to him just to spite myself. I cried all the time. I didn’t move from my bed for months. Yet, one little part of me,” you murmur, gaze rising to meet his, “always just wanted you to be happy. I wanted so desperately for you to make the right choice because then maybe this would’ve been worth it for you.”

It’s big. Your words hang on imaginary strings around his head, whistling in the faint air conditioned wind, and he clenches his jaw, unable to tear his eyes away from you. Although you’re barely holding yourself together before him, you’re deathly beautiful.

“I’m so glad that you’re so loved,” Steve intones quietly. “I’m so thankful that Bucky loves you.” He doesn’t need eyes to feel it. It’s a quiet thing, unshaking yet fragile as flowers and light as dandelion wisps.

“I didn’t think he did.” You lean back into the couch, tuck your feet underneath yourself and cross your arms over your chest. “It took me a long time to accept that he does, and now he won’t believe that I do, too.”

The confession sinks its teeth into Steve’s throat and threatens to tear his flesh.

“I tell him and I can tell he doesn’t believe me sometimes. No matter how much I want him to, it’s the one thing he can’t believe because…”

You were my girl, Steve thinks.

“He doesn’t believe he’s worth staying for. Worth choosing. You did that to him, you know? Did that to me.”

“I know.”

You stare at him and he looks at you, curled up on the couch. Your face is drying, but that torn expression still sits on your face as you run a hand over your middle, fingers folding as you close your eyes and duck your head.

His eyes trace the gesture, eyebrows knitting together, and then he looks at you because he knows. Because it had been their dream once, and when the fight is over, baby. The world still needs you, Captain America.

He had said, half joking, When will they ever stop needing me?

When you grow old and grey, and another Captain America is ready to take your place.

“Bucky’s?” he asks, body numbing. You nod, raising your eyes to his. “Does he know?”

“No. I only found out a few days after Mexico.” Three weeks ago. “I want to make it past a few more weeks, just to make sure.” You tuck your knees to your chest, arms folded over your abdomen and Steve tries to imagine it swollen with life. No longer lean with muscle but bountiful with a miracle. Blue eyes, blonde hair— no. Not anymore. “Just wanted time.”

Time. It’s all he’s ever wanted, and now…

“I know.”

Now he has none at all.

Your eyes meet his, fluttering and haunted, and he simply meets your gaze. There’s a quiet understanding in that moment as you bring your hands up to hug yourself, and he swallows, leaning back into the couch. His hands rest on his thighs, and your back sinks into the back cushion of your loveseat as he thinks of what to say.

Perhaps there is nothing to say.

Instead, his right hand goes to his pocket where a ring is still pinched tightly in between the creases. The diamond is sharp against his flesh, and he tugs it out carefully before setting it on the glass table between them. You stare at the thing, watch it glint. It’s mocking you, but Steve doesn’t want it and he doesn’t know what else to do.

“It’s always been yours,” he says, pushing it to your side of the table. The diamond scrapes against glass but doesn’t leave a mark. “It’s never been anyone else’s but yours.” The ring clatters against the gass. You’d worn that damned thing for years on end. First it was the Accords, then Wakanda, then the Snap, and he should’ve married you when he had the chance—he should’ve done so much more than what he did.

“Do you love me?” you ask quietly, eyes unmoving from the winking gemstone. The golden band is glowing in the pale lights of the compound as he nods.

“Yes.”

You reach forward to grab it, extend a leg to shove it into the pocket of your shorts, and then you’re sitting there, feet on solid ground again. You gauge him, study him, eyebrows down, lips curved into a soft frown.

“Okay.”

You stand and pick up the knife before grabbing the bowl as well. You clear your throat and look over Steve’s head, at the walls with photographs and paintings and a dartboard by the doorway, and then you look at Steve again.

Your futile attempt at a smile makes Steve smile, just barely, before you walk past him and head for the open kitchen. You set the bowl down in the sink before heading for the hallway, and Steve can hear your step, your off-rhythm breathing.

“Do you love me?” he asks, turning to look at you, and a sigh whispers past his lips as you pause. Your hand is in your pocket as you turn around, playing with the knife or the ring, he doesn’t know.

“You can’t ask me that, Steve.” Your voice is steel, your eyes unforgiving, and that soft girl is swallowed up by the scorched woman, burned by his absence. You haven’t forgiven him. You never will. “Look, I’m going to go find Bucky. We have… we’re going berrypicking in the afternoon, so…”

“Yeah, no, go. Don’t let me keep you.”

“See you tomorrow, Rogers.”

There’s an utter sense of finality to it. A chapter closing permanently and you’re already on the next page.

“See you.”

The door slides shut and you’re gone.

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trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

Oh For Fox Sake!

Michael didn't expect to be given a completely separate job besides the technician job he signed up for in Circus Baby's Pizza World. Now he's sitting in an office with animatronics hunting them down. One of the animatronics happens to be another foxy abbreviation. But this one...gives him many mixed emotions...

This fanfic was suggested by an anonymous person on Tumblr. Whoever you are: I hope you enjoy!

Also, I had no clue what gender to make Lolbit. So, I just gave Lolbit the pronouns they/them/it and followed it throughout. Please let me know if I mistyped anywhere! I'll try to fix it right away.

Michael was sitting in the small private office that had been hidden in the side of one of the PizzaPlex’s auditoriums. He had been working at the Pizzeria as a technician, and was just now given a few security guard shifts. This office was surprisingly a little bigger than the vents. It was also much more darker, and had PizzaPlex merchandise hidden on the table. It even had a black fan roaring away on the desk. Learning from general online rumors, every office that was built within every building made by Fazbear Entertainment, would have Fazbear merchandise and a fan. Some person named [Fitz-coward] on a public chat room called it the ‘Fazfan’. A few other people had given their own opinion on the ‘fazfan’ and even made jokes about it. It was kinda funny at first. But now that it had relevance on a personal level, it actually made sense.

It’s amazing what a few bouts of curiosity will lead you to find…And those poor guys...They’ve probably dealt with so much fear after that job.

Michael checked the tablet and checked the cameras that were available to him. He had to keep an eye on a couple specific animatronics such as Ennard, Funtime Freddy with tiny Bonbon, and Lolbit. Michael hadn’t even heard of Lolbit until this point. Who in the heck was Lolbit?! Only when he saw the orange animatronic staring at him through the hall camera, did he get his answer. It looked to be a twin version of Funtime Foxy. But was it Foxy’s brother? Or sister? What gender even was it? Now that he thought about it: What gender is Foxy?!

Michael heard sounds coming from the left hallway, and noticed that Lolbit was back with its jaw open and ready to crush. Michael bit his lip and closed the door on it. Out of this room! Begone! Scat! Leeeeaaave! He was not in the mood for Lolling around.

Hehehe...Lolling…

Michael looked at the hallways and groaned. Ennard’s broken body was on his way too. Wonderful… Michael kept his hand on the open door and made sure to leave some time to close it on the evil monstrosity. Michael looked over at the other hallway, and noticed that Lolbit was gone. So closed went the right door, and open went the left. Ennard was now locked out, and Lolbit was long gone.

Michael smiled and checked the right door to make sure Ennard was unable to get in. When he was sure, Michael relaxed slightly.

One thing Michael noticed was just how quickly the day seemed to be going. It was already 3:30 and the animatronics were being at least a little more behaved. It’s weird and usually worrisome whenever he does anything involving the animatronics. Whether it’s a loving animatronic like Funtime Freddy and BonBon, or a vengeful animatronic like Ennard, Michael didn’t wanna have anything to do with either. He’s seen enough of the animatronics behaviour to say “I’m out”.

And yet...here he was: back at it again with more shifts.

Hearing sounds, Michael closed the left door again. But suddenly, an ear-deafening bang overwhelmed Michael’s ears.

A few seconds later, another loud bang went off.

...And another.

One last bang filled his pain-filled ears as the huge metal door he closed earlier, started to fall in front of him. Michael shrieked and covered his ears, watching in horror as the huge door came crashing down just inches in front of him. Michael was visibly shaking from the super loud noises. His ears were ringing as well. It was like a gun just went off beside his ear multiple times!

Just as the metal sound slowly stopped echoing throughout the room, some loud and boyish laughter filled the office. “HOHAHAHAHAha! Now I bet you weren’t ex-xpecting ME, now WERE you? OhOHOHOhahaha!” a manic voice asked.

Michael widened his eyes in horror as he scooted to the corner of the room. “No...NO!”

“Oh YES! HAHAHAHAhah! You-u RECOGNIZE ME! DONTCHA?” They asked.

Michael grabbed his flashlight and started flashing it nonstop into the animatronic’s eyes. “Get out of here! This is MY private spot!”

Lolbit walked closer and hit the flashlight right out of his hands. “Su-Such a BAAABY…” Lolbit muttered out loud. “Hmmm...Maybe try ha-A-A-arder next time! HAHAhaHAHAHaha!” It suggested.

“I DID try harder! YOU’RE the one who broke the door down!” Michael argued.

The animatronic looked down and chuckled awkwardly. “O-Oh yeah! I forgot about tha-A-at!” It reacted.

Michael sighed. “Just please Lolbit...Go.”

The animatronic smiled and walked closer and closer to Michael just to spite him. “Since WHE-E-EN could you tell ME what to do? You’ve got qui-I-I-ite the NERVE!” Lolbit reacted.

“Yeah, I do! And I learned it on my own, thank you very much.” Michael added.

“My My! Such a ta-A-A-alker! I wonder: Does that mo-0-O-outh of yours have a benefit?” Lolbit asked.

“Sometimes. I could use it to lead you away so that I don’t end up dying tonight.” Michael reworded.

“HAhahahAHAHAha! Be ca-A-areful what you wi-I-I-ish for~!” Lolbit teased.

Michael raised an eyebrow.

Lolbit knelt down and picked up Michael by the armpits. Michael shrieked in horror and quickly started wiggling and fighting it. “HEY! GET OFF ME! LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!” Michael shouted.

“Haaaaa...And what will you do-O-O if I DON’T?” Lolbit asked with a sly voice.

“I’ll-I’ll tickle you!” Michael shot back without even properly thinking.

Lolbit widened its eyes and stared at Michael.

“Y-Yeah! I’ll do it! I’m not afraid to tickle you!” Michael added, adding wiggling fingers as he went along with it. “Unless you’re not ticklish…”

Lolbit stared off into the space within Michael’s eyes, and only blinked once out of awkwardness...Then, the fox full on dropped Michael where he was. Michael grunted as he landed on his butt onto the slightly dusty ground.

“Ow…” Michael muttered. “Wait, really?” Michael reacted suddenly. Lolbit turned right around and started to speed walk their way outta there. But Michael quickly pulled himself together and grabbed Lolbit’s foot. “Gotcha!”

“aAAA-A-A-AAAH! HEY! I LET YOU GO!” Lolbit yelled at him.

“Yeah, and that made me curious!” Michael replied. “I might’ve been originally joking when I said that. But the moment you dropped me and tried to run, I HAD to find out if animatronics were ticklish.” Michael told it. “Or, if they can simulate being ticklish.” Michael added. “Same difference in my opinion.”

Lolbit leaned against the wall and shook their leg. “Get off me-E-E!” it yelled.

“No way!” Michael replied. He took advantage of the exposed foot and skittered his fingers on it. “Tickle tickle~”

Lolbit shrieked with voice glitches in between, and threw Michael right off the leg with a strong kick. Michael went flying, and ended up hitting his back against the wall on the other side of the office. Michael groaned and laid on his back for a moment, trying to make sure he didn’t break his back or injure it further. When Michael could feel his legs and see his feet reacting to his movements, Michael sat back up and stood. “Ow...All that because you’re sensitive?” Michael asked.

Lolbit pointed at him. “Stop that!” It ordered. “O-Or I’ll get you back!” Lolbit warned.

Michael looked at himself and smirked. “Sounds like a sacrifice worth taking in my opinion!” Michael sprinted up to Lolbit and dove for them. Lolbit shrieked like a freaking witch, and tried to run away. But Michael had an unfair headstart and had managed to grab hold of its orange and white tail! “LE-e-ET GO-”

Michael managed to shut up the fox with a single squeeze to the side. It helped that Lolbit came with curvy, dented plates on both lower sides! Cause otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have been able to squeeze there.

“HEheheEHEHEY! HAHANDS OHOHohohOFF!” Lolbit yelled.

“Why would I do that when I have a ticklish fox in my arms?” Michael asked back. “This is fun!”

Lolbit shook their head. “IHIHIS NAHAhahaAHAHAT!”

Michael chuckled. “A little reminder that you kicked me across the room just a couple minutes ago. You are much stronger than me. So if you really hated it So MuCh…” Michael moved his fingers up to the middle ribs- “You could easily stop me.” Michael concluded.

“IHIHIT’S A-A-AGAINST MY COHOHODE TOHO HUHURT YOHOHOHOU!” Lolbit yelled.

“Is it now?” Michael asked. “It’s against my code to damage you even minorly! We both have the same laws.” Michael admitted. “And yet: you’ve kicked me already. So you would’ve already ‘hurt’ me. But notice this: no one gave you a controlled shock for throwing me. Therefore:” Michael moved to Lolbit’s orange belly. “Yooouuu kinda like it~”

Lolbit squealed and doubled over. Sensing they were gonna fall, Lolbit pushed Michael out of the way and allowed itself to flop onto its side. “Nohoho...Nohoho moho-O-ohore.” Lolbit begged.

Michael fell a bit backwards, but didn’t hit the ground very hard this time. He got up and looked at Lolbit with interest. “You...saved me.” Michael reacted.

“You’re a hu-U-U-uman! Of COURSE I saved you!” Lolbit opened its jaw. “Ihihi-I-I would be in big trouble if I-i-I damaged you under my care.” Lolbit admitted.

Michael smiled at that. “Thanks for saving me from being crushed.” Michael told it.

Lolbit giggled. “Are you ca-A-alling me fat?” Lolbit asked jokingly.

Michael widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “NO! NO WAY! I would never call you fat! ESPECIALLY intentionally!” Michael reacted loudly.

Lolbit bursted out laughing. “HAHAHAhahahahAHAHA! Yohohou’re so GULLiBLE! It’s HI-i-ILARIOUS!” Lolbit reacted, leaning over and laughing towards the ground.

Michael smirked. “You wanna laugh, huh? Alright! Let’s laugh.” Michael crawled back up to the fox and grabbed the ankle. Lolbit’s giggles quickly paused and were replaced with shrieked of artificial fear! “Wa-A-ait!” Lolbit yelled.

Michael started tickling the underside of the feminine-looking foot almost right away. Lolbit started kicking their other foot and covered its snout as it laughed with glitches in between. “HEHEHEHE-e-EHEY! NAHAHAT THEHEheheheHEHEHERE!” Lolbit protested.

“Why not? Ticklish foot, much?” Michael teased.

“Whahahahat dohoho YOHOhoHOU THIHI-i-IHINK?!” Lolbit shot back.

Michael gasped and paused for a moment. “You’ve got quite the NERVE!” Michael reacted, referencing Lolbit’s words from earlier. Michael even made his voice slightly scratchy and higher to make it sound similar to Lolbit’s for the next words: “Such a BAAABY…”

Lolbit bursted out laughing more. “AAHAHAHAHahahaHAHA! THAHAT WA-a-AHAS TEHEHERRIBLE!” Lolbit reacted.

“Oh! Was it now?” Michael reacted. He moved up to Lolbit’s cute, flat and decorated toes. “It couldn’t have been THAT bad, could it?” Michael teased.

Lolbit threw their head back and started letting out fits of glitchy cackles. “NOHOHOHO-o-o-OHOHOhohoho! TOHOHO-o-O MUHU-H-H-huhuHUHuch!” Lolbit yelled to him.

Michael just laughed with them. “Wohohow! Your laugh is going all over the place! It doesn’t know what it’s doing!” Michael teased, pausing his tickling to show them. “It’s up here! Then it’s down here! It goes from SO LOUD, TO super soft...soooo soft...And THEN IT JUMPS UP AGAIN!” Michael teased much more dramatically.

Lolbit shook their head back and forth and kept kicking their other foot. “IHIHI CAHahahahaAHAHAn’T HEHE-e-E-e-EHEHELP IHIhihIHIHIT!” Lolbit yelled back.

“Well duh! Of course you can’t help it! It’s like my snorting! I can’t help it either! But it’s still funny!” Michael added.

Lolbit gently pushed Michael away with its foot on his chest. “Ohohokahay, thahat’s ehe-E-ehehenough.” Lolbit ordered.

“Ey ey, captain.” Michael replied with a salute.

“Hehehey now: I ain’t the captain around here.” Lolbit sat up and looked at Michael. “Foxy is the legenda-A-ary captain aro-O-O-ound these parts!” Lolbit mentioned.

“Really now?” Michael reacted.

“Yeah! AhehEHEHEhehehe! Indeed he is! He’s a version of the original! A family of Foxy’s! I’m more of a-A-a second-in-command!” Lolbit admitted.

“You’re still important though. I think you’re still important.” Michael mentioned.

Lolbit’s ears perked up. “Hey! Thanks ki-I-id! You’re quite swell yerself!” Lolbit replied.

Michael smiled. “Thank you.”

The two of them sat in silence for a bit. It was a good silence, though a little uncomfortable. They just didn’t really know what to say. Lolbit’s break-in was a success, and Michael’s questions were already answered.

Though there was one last question…

“Hey Lolbit?” Michael asked. Lolbit looked up at Michael and lifted their ears up a little. “How come I haven’t seen you until now?” Michael asked.

Lolbit’s ears and snout both fell at that question. Lolbit tapped their orange fingernail on the ground as they came up with an answer. “Well...Foxy wa-A-as adored more by kids. Kids L-L-loved a purple and pink fox better than an orange fox.” Lolbit replied.

Michael’s curious face morphed into a hurt expression.

“And I didn’t mat-AT-atch the other guys.” Lolbit added.

Michael frowned at that. “Well, Circus Baby doesn’t match the general aesthetic either.” Michael added.

Lolbit looked at Michael out of the corner of its black, void eyes. “Circus Baby is-s dangerous. She-E broke the rule. She no-NO-no longer entertains.” Lolbit admitted.

Michael hummed curiously. He began to wonder what exactly Circus Baby did to get so badly in trouble. But, knowing his father and his motives…

Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t know the specifics.

Lolbit looked back up at Michael. “I ha-A-ave a question.” They told him. Michael looked up and gave Lolbit his full attention. “Is it tru-TrUE that you snort when you laugh?” Lolbit asked.

Michael’s eyes widened as he processed the question. Oh no…

Michael quickly tried to scoot back and run away. But Lolbit was one step ahead of him. Lolbit had grabbed Michael’s ankle and had pulled him closer. “Hey now! HAHAheheheHaHA!” Lolbit put their hands around his waist. “You’re not go-GOing ANYWHERE! HEheheHEHEHEE!” Lolbit declared, laughing themself silly as they used their dark eyes to scan for tickle spots. “You had your at-AT-attack! Now it’s MY TU-TURN! AHUHUHuhuhUHUHUUU!” Lolbit declared proudly. Lolbit immediately started out with quick scratches on the belly. “Tickle tickle s-security guard~” Lolbit teased.

Michael squealed and covered his mouth in an attempt to prevent any laughs or snorts from coming out. Lolbit noticed this and immediately pinned one of Michael’s arms above his head. “AhahahaHAHAHAAA! No che-CHE-cheating on my watch!” Lolbit declared. “And just for that:” Lolbit started tickling in Michael’s now vulnerable armpit.

Michael threw his head back and LAUGHED! “BAHAAAHAHAHAhahaha! NAHAT THEHEHERE! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!” Michael yelled.

“Oooooh! Why not? HEHEHEhehehe! Ti-TI-ticklish armpit, much?” Lolbit teased, saying the same thing Michael used on him. “I guess you could sa-say THIS ticklish spot is u-UNDER investigation~” Lolbit said as the fox poked its finger further into Michael’s armpit.

Michael whined. “Thahahat Whahahas TEHEHEHERRIBLE!” Michael complained.

“Wo-Would you say it was punny?” lolbit asked. Or maybe…” Lolbit poked Michael’s shoulder- “Huuuumerus~?”

Michael shook his head and pushed against his snout. “STAHAHAHAP!”

“Wow! I didn’t know my jo-jokes were so…” Lolbit moved their fingers to Michael’s ribs and started digging and skittering. “Riiib-tickling~! AHAHAhahahahaHUUUU!”

Michael threw his head back and cackled loudly with snorts mixed in.

“Oh WOOOW! You really DO SNORT! You-ou must be the life of the PARTY! Or maybe even the life of the PORKY~?” Lolbit teased.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!” Michael shouted at him.

“HAHAhahaHAHA! Why would I do that when I could ke-keep making animal jokes?” Lolbit asked rhetorically as they moved their metal nails up and down the ribs. “Be-Besides: Fazbear Entertainment should have made me-ME a parrot! Cause I am a HOOT! I KEET you not!” Lolbit teased.

Michael growled and shook his head. “IHIHIHI HAHAHAHATE THEHEHEM!” Michael shouted. “THEHEHEY’RE SOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAD!”

“Hate them?! But look!” Lolbit poked his mouth. “You‘re smil-iling! And you’re laughing at them! And tha-that with your piggy snorts mixed in, is a real tweet~! Ahahaha!” Lolbit joked.

Lolbit narrowed its eyes and brought its snout closer to Michael. “Ohoho...Excuse me- does it look like I ha-HA-have a black beard to you?!” Lolbit reacted all sassy. Michael giggled more at the fox’s reaction. “Ooooh...You’re trying to toy with the robot! I seeee says the blind man!” Lolbit reacted. Lolbit started tickling Michael’s sides this time. “And I feeeel your fingers, says the nerveless Nellie~” Lolbit added.

Michael yelped and groaned through his new fit of laughter. “HEHehehehey! *snort* THAHAhahahat’s nohohohot- *snort* hohohow ihihihit gohohohoes!” Michael protested.

“Ohoho alright. Ihi-I suppose that pun was a bit of a stretch.” Lolbit decided before finally letting Michael go.

Michael went limp and started panting right away. There were still phantom tickles plaguing him, causing him to giggle and squirm through his shallow breathing.

“I suppose I should be band from funny boneville?” Lolbit finished off.

“Ihihi will shohohock you.” Michael warned with an uncontrollable giggle.

“Ohohoho! How enlightening! Perhaps even frightening!” Lolbit teased.

Lolbit finally stopped with the puns the moment Michael squeezed their sides. There were just too many puns all at once. Perhaps they would be all over now…

No fox were given during the making of this Fazfan-fic. Are these puns bad enough for you, anon? XD

#fnaf sister location #other mentioned animatronics #fluff and humor #ticklefic #switch!michael #switch!lolbit #puns & word play #horrible puns #michael afton needs help

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lizamango · 3 years

Text

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 2/?

A/N: Hi everyone! I’ve decided to call this fic Finding You, just to inform you for future chapters! Getting my second vaccine tomorrow!! 😁🤩

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies

Word Count: 2345 (this is so fucking satisfying omg)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Warnings: Just curse words, rewrites are hard but it’s kinda like shifting but through fanfiction??

Chapter Summary: Steve Rogers doesn’t trust you very much

Chapter 2: BUT YOU KNOW BETTER

On our way back, the STRIKE team is on celebration mode while Rogers is quiet. It won’t be a surprise if he goes to see Fury about the side mission I was assigned without his knowing. As we land on the Triskelion landing pad I watch as Captain Rogers leaves without a goodbye and heads to, undoubtedly, Fury’s office.

I tune into Fury’s communicator.

“Heads up, Fury. Angry Cap on your way. He found out about my mission.”

“Batroc?” he asks.

“He got away,” I answer regrettably.

“I’ll have international agents on high alert. You’ve done your part. Just leave the drive with me after Rogers.”

“Yes sir.”

I put all the weapons into the cache and go to clean up, changing out of my stealth suit and into a SHIELD hoodie and sweats that I keep in the locker for after missions. I wait by Fury’s office doors and he finally emerges from the elevator without an angry Cap.

“Gave him a little tour of Project Insight,” he says as he unlocks his office.

I walk in behind him. “That’s brave of you.”

“He didn’t like it.” He takes a seat and so did I.

“I’m sure he didn’t.” I fish out the hard drive and put it on the table. “One super secret hard drive for Nicholas J Fury,” I announce like a waitress.

“Good job.”

“He didn’t think so.”

“I want you to keep an eye on him. Just make sure he doesn’t do anything, alright?”

“What could he possibly do?” I raise my brows.

“He isn’t on board. I need you to get him there.”

“Don’t you already have an agent assigned to him?”

“Agent 13 is for when he’s off duty. You will be there for when he’s on.”

I scoff. “Have you met the guy? That’s all the time.”

“That’s an order, Agent.”

I nod. “Fine. Have you heard anything else on HYDRA?”

“The last reliable intel we have is three years old now, Y/N. It’s hard to track them down.”

“I don’t understand why you had to take me out. I was getting close to something. Someone. I don’t know.”

“Finding the world’s greatest soldier just took precedent. You weren’t getting anywhere for a whole year. Whatever it was, they packed it up tight.”

“Because it was something big,” I defend. “I still think you made the wrong choice. Captain America doesn’t need two babysitters.”

“Well, you try being asleep and waking up 70 years after to a whole new world and see how you feel. You’re dismissed. Get some rest. Make nice with the old man.”

I get up and leave his office. Make nice…. How do I do that when he doesn’t trust me anymore?

I get a ride home from Fitz who congratulated me on completing the mission.

“So what was he like?”

“He doesn’t like me very much,” I chuckle.

“Why not? What did you do?” he asks in an accusing tone.

“Me?!”

“He’s the perfect man, what could he have done?”

I roll my eyes but don’t answer. We arrive at my apartment and I thank Fitz for the ride back.

Unlocking my door I go straight to the bathroom for a bath. I run the water to the perfect temperature and add a bath bomb that turns the water a glittery lilac scented with lavender. I also light a candle that crackles like a fireplace that emits a subtle smokey French vanilla. A girl’s gotta treat herself. After a good long soak I get out and decide to rest up not wanting to do anything for the rest of the day.

I wake from my nap to the ringing of my phone. Reaching over to my bedside table I read the screen which has nothing but the number 1212. Well, that can’t be good.

“This is L/N,” I say.

“I need you to find the star. Keep your guard up.”

Shit, I think as I jump out of bed and get dressed in something inconspicuous. Black trousers, leather combat boots, a Kevlar vest under a back hoodie, two pistols on my belt and a knife tucked in each boot. I pick up a grey Von Dutch trucker hat on my way out.

Walking is the safest option so I navigate toward Steve Rogers’ DC apartment that he was relocated to after the New York Invasion as he decided to become a full time SHIELD agent.

I arrive outside his apartment and see Sharon on her way out.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Mission. Waiting for the Captain,” I say. I look at her scrubs. “How you liking the infectious disease ward?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Well it’s just a uniform. I guess it’s better than people shooting armour piercing bullets at me.”

“I’ll see you ‘round, Kate,” I wave, using her alias.

I track Steve’s whereabouts on my phone and see that he’s at a counselling centre for veterans. Fair enough, it’s good to admit you need help.

What do you want me to do here, Fury? I wonder to myself. I decide to do a perimeter check for any bugs, wire taps or double agents.

I reach an alleyway and after peering into it I hear the scraping of a manhole against the ground. I reach for my gun and keep it to the side as I slowly approach it.

I hear a grunt and raise the gun.

“Agent,” I immediately recognize the voice as Fury’s. “Stand down.”

“Shit, Fury.” I holster the gun and help him out of the manhole. “What happened, who did this?”

“Not safe,” he says in pain.

“W-where do we go? Rogers isn’t inside.” I inspect his wounds. “Looks like you have multiple fractures on your left arm and abdominal bruising-“

“Car ambush,” he utters as he approaches the fire escape. “Stay out here, keep a look out.” He pushes a phone into my hand, I don’t recognize it as his day to day. “Anything happens, secure line 0405. I have to… get to Rogers. Do not engage unless enemies fire first.”

“Fury-“

“That’s an order.”

I put the phone into my back pocket and stay behind as he climbs up and through the Captain’s Window.

The sky is starting to darken so I make my way through the perimeter again. Sharon returns and shortly after that, Rogers arrives, weary but alert. Just as a soldier would.

I hear some 40s music coming from the walls of the Captain’s apartment. I suppose he heard it too and got suspicious because he exits his apartment building to climb up the very same fire escape that Fury did.

My eyes follow him up and survey the roof of the building for any suspicious activity.

Suddenly three shots are fired right into one of the apartment building’s walls.

“Fuck!” I whisper, looking for the source.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs,” I hear one of my comms come through. It’s Sharon’s voice.

“Do we have a 20 on the shooter?” a dispatcher responds.

Before I know it, Captain Rogers is jumping out of his window and into the building the shots came from.

“Captain Rogers is in pursuit,” Agent Carter says.

I follow the Captain as he runs through a building following the shooter while he runs on the roof. They don’t fight but Rogers manages to throw the shield at him and does what some would say impossible as he catches it and throws it back just as hard. I stop where I am and just observe which is what Fury wanted me here for. The shooter jumps from the building and it looks like he catches himself using his… metal… arm. I look up and see Rogers standing at the edge of the rooftop, looking back down the shooter is out of sight.

“Transporting Foxtrot to BridgePoint Hospital Capitol Hill,” the dispatcher says from my comms. After sweeping the place one more time for any sign of the shooter and coming up empty I decide to take a cab to the hospital.

I put out an arm but it’s not a cab that stops in front of me.

“Get in, L/N.”

“Hill?” I get into the passenger’s seat and she starts to drive. “You’re supposed to be –“

“Fury called.”

“He was shot.”

“I know. Ballistics will tell us more at the hospital.”

“He’s gonna be okay,” I say but it’s more for my comfort than hers.

We arrive at the hospital and Maria takes a phone call while I find his room number, viewing the operation through the glass. Rogers is already there.

“Is he gonna make it?” I ask the Captain.

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me about the shooter.”

“He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.”

“Ballistics?” I ask, knowing he can hear Hill’s conversation outside.

“Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable,” he answers and looks at me.

Hill enters.

“Soviet-made,” I add as I put the picture together in my head.

“How did you know?”

I don’t get to answer her as the surgeons and nurses say that Fury’s in V-tach and rush to solve the problem.

“Fuck’s sake, Fury,” I whisper. “Don’t do this.” My hands start to shake as they lose his pulse and can’t bring him back. I notice that I’m mumbling something repeatedly but I can’t realise what.

I feel Rogers leave as the team gives up.

“Time of death, 1:03am,” the doctor calls.

I watch them wheel him out as Hill goes too. Taking a deep breath, I walk outside into the hallway.

“How did you know they were soviet-made?” Rogers asks, following me.

“Do you trust me?” I ask him, turning to face him.

“No. How did you know?”

“Why are you asking me when you don’t trust me?”

“Why are you dodging the question?”

“Cap!” Rumlow calls. “They want you back at SHIELD.”

“Give me a minute.”

“They want you now.”

“Okay,” he replies irritated.

“You’re not gonna ask me what Nick was doing in my apartment?” he asks.

“I know what he was doing there. Do you?” I raise a brow and turn on my heel, walking away.

I see Maria in the viewing room with Fury’s… body.

“I need to take him,” she says. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, alright?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not a child, Maria.”

“Do you want a ride anywhere?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“What, you’re just gonna hang around here until Rogers comes back?”

Yes that’s exactly what I was going to do. “No.”

She chuckles and walks away. I wait for all the SHIELD and STRIKE agents to clear out of the floor to go back into the waiting area. I go to the vending machine to pick up a snack and notice something that shouldn’t be there… the drive I gave Fury with SHIELD intel hidden behind three packets of bubble gum. Frowning I buy out the stack until the drive also falls to the dispenser. I take a seat, waiting for Rogers.

I don’t realise when I fell asleep until someone shakes me gently.

“I heard.”

I look up and it’s Sharon. “Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t you have an assignment debriefing to give?” I reply.

She shrugs. “That can wait. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Did you wanna know what Fury was doing at Rogers’ apartment too?” I ask, suspicious.

“Do you know?”

I nod.

“Then that’s all I need to know.”

“Fury trusts – trusted him,” I correct myself. “That means we have to.”

A beeping comes from her wrist communicator and she sighs. “I have to go. I’ll keep you in the loop about what happens at the Triskelion.”

I frown. “Why would I need to be kept in the loop?”

“Because I know you’re gonna be on the run, soon. With him. To find that shooter. Pierce won’t like that you’re after him outside of mission directives…”

“I know. You be careful, Sharon.”

She smiles stiffly and I know it’s because she’s worried about me. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were being careless and rash.”

“But you know better.”

She chuckles softly and turns to leave. I get up walk around to stretch my legs. Where the fuck is Rogers?

An hour passes and I’m back where I started but I see the man of the hour stop in front of the vending machine. I pop a strip of gum in my mouth and walk up behind him, blowing a bubble.

His face sharpens and he sighs then pulls me by the arm and takes us into a room.

“Where is it?”

“Safe.”

“Do better.”

“Fury trusted me. I’m on your side if he trusts you.”

“He doesn’t trust anyone. That’s the problem. That’s why he’s dead,” he says harshly.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Rogers sighs and pulls away. “What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I bet you knew Fury hired the Pirates didn’t you?” he accuses.

No, no I didn’t. Stunned, I blink at the news. “Made sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

“How did you know it was Soviet-made?” he repeats his earlier question, losing patience.

“I know who killed Fury,” I say. “The metal arm… I knew as soon as I saw it. 2009, Natasha had a mission in Odessa. Someone shot out her tires and killed the engineer she was protecting by shooting right through her. Soviet slug, no rifling. Metal arm. The intelligence community call him The Winter Soldier. I’ve heard him as the Asset. That’s who killed Fury.”

“How do we find him?”

“He’s been credited with two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years, Rogers. You don’t go after him. I’ve tried.”

He looks up at that, as if surprised. But he doesn’t know half the shit I’ve been through while working for SHIELD.

“So he’s a shadow.”

“Was.” I pull the drive out of my pocket and hold it up to him.

“Let’s find the Asset, then.”

💖

Thank you for reading! I’ll update once I’ve finished Chapter 4 but I am busy this weekend!

Chapter 3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #slowburn #enemies to lovers #steve rogers x platonic!reader #captain america #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers fic #reader insert #rewrite #series rewrite #marvel #mcu

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softsebnbuckystan · 3 years

Text

Soul ties - Part 5 (Bucky Barnes au)

“And I'll use you as a focal point

So I don't lose sight of what I want”

"Oh! I didn't expect you so soon after the wedding," Bruce Banner said as you walked into his lab. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course, thanks for asking, though. I just ran into Steve, and he said you'd actually found something while I was gone?"

A spark lit in Banner's eyes as he went around all his papers and tablets, searching for the information he wanted to share with you. Working with someone who was as passionate about science as you were was delightful : there was never an unproductive moment. You two were always thinking, bouncing off each other's ideas and coming up with useful inventions. You'd once helped two S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists, Fitz and Simmons, design "icers". They were non-lethal guns who could knock out theoretically anyone.

"See, we were talking about neural termination restaurations the other day. We thought it was next to impossible, since neurons are gone forever. But I was thinking..."

And off you started... It would be hard to get you two to stop before dinner time. You were so caught up in your work, lab goggles over your eyes, that Bruce had to tap on your shoulder to show you someone was there. You shot your head up, ready to say you were busy, but your body froze as you saw Bucky. You didn't expect to run into him so quickly.

"Hey! Need anything?" you asked as he leaned against the door frame, hands in his pockets.

"No, I just... You guys are impressive."

Bucky looked all around the lab and his mouth didn't seem to be able to close.

"All this...is you two?"

You let out a small laugh. "Stark helped out a lot, we have to admit. He provides us with the tech, and we handle the other sciences, you know."

"What's your area?" he asked, his eyes coming back on you.

"Biochem and astrophysics."

"So like...planets and stuff too?"

"Yeah, basically."

At the other side of the room, Bruce was trying not to smile : he could only imagine how hard it was for you not to get carried away by details and explaining how amazing and compelling constellations, solar systems and galaxies were.

"I love that stuff," Bucky breathed out.

"Alright, since you're not alone, y/n, I'll go grab some lunch."

"Lunch already?"

Bruce nodded and left the room after making sure you'd be up to work again in the afternoon. You most certainly hadn't seen time go by and a sudden soreness in your eyes made you aware of what time it was.

"I should probably take a break as well," you admitted. You fiddled with your fingers, a little awkward now that you weren't busy working, before a brilliant idea came to your mind. "Do you want to see something, like...really cool?"

"Obviously I do."

"Okay, follow me."

You instinctively grabbed Bucky's hand and jumped with surprise at the texture of it. You lowered your eyes to look at it and he immediately moved his arm away from you. It was...metal. Well, you didn't expect that, but who cared?

"I didn't know you had this," you said in a what wanted to be a casual tone.

"Yeah, long story." His elusive answer proved he wasn't ready to tell you about it.

"I'll hear it anytime," you said with a smile to reassure him before grabbing his hand again. The last thing you wanted him to think was that it scared you off. "Let's go now."

He didn't pull back this time, and you dragged him a few floors down, taking the stairs so you didn't have to wait for the elevator. You were walking fast, impatient as the thought of showing Bucky your passion made you. You ended up letting go of his hand to open a big door and hurried him in.

"What is this room, y/n?"

Ignoring the sound of your name in his mouth, you closed the door, plunging the room in pitch black.

"Don't move, I just have to grab the remote."

You easily found it, then carefully made your way back to him. Hearing his breath picking up, you laid a hand on his back.

"Breathe. I promise you'll love this."

With the press of a button, billions of stars surrounded you, lightning Bucky's face as he stared in amazement.

"I told you you'd like this," you whispered.

"This...wow." Bucky was speechless. He'd been staying here for a while and had never seen this room before, apparently.

You went to sit on one of the bean bag chairs you'd brought yourself and Bucky decided to follow you, unable to take his eyes off the fake sky in front of him.

"Are those...real constellations?"

"Absolutely." This was your time : talking about this always made you happy. "See the ones that are kinda forming a V? If you look closely, they form the Capricorn constellation. Right above it is Aquarius. And on the left, that's Cernus, the one that looks like a whale. And then...sorry. I talk too much."

"No, no. Keep going."

Bucky leaned back in his chair, still looking up. A huge smile split your face as you kept on telling him about constellations, showing him well known ones as much as others, less famous. You had no idea how long it had been when you got out, and a glance at your phone told you it'd been over an hour.

"I'm sorry if that bored you," you told him while closing the door. "When I start talking about stars..."

"Not at all. I get that. I could have listened for five more hours."

You chuckled nervously and gulped, joining your hand in your back as you walked along the hallway to the elevator. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've got to get back to work, but if you want to see the stars again some time, you know where to find me."

---

"I'm eating at Brad's tonight. I think there's pizza left in the fridge."

You'd been looking at Darren's text for five minutes : what were you supposed to say to that? At least he had the decency to warn you...thirty minutes before your usual dinner time.

"You okay there?"

You looked away from your phone screen and gave Steve a bitter smile. "Not really. Darren bailed. Again."

Steve shook his head. You could tell he was angry at him. It's not like they had ever been wonderful friends, but you'd hoped Darren would make efforts to get to know Steve and the rest of the gang. They'd done their part ; Darren just never seemed to deem it necessary.

"I'm sure Wanda will be available for a pizza and movie night. You can stay here as long as you-"

Your ringtone interrupted Steve's sentence : Darren was calling you.

"Hello?"

"It's me, honey. Just wanted to tell you I'm staying over at Brad's. We had a few beers so I don't want to take the risk to drive."

"Oh, huh... Yeah. That's safer."

Your friend rolled his eyes – a thing he rarely did as bitterly.

"I'm not home either anyway," you said, hoping it would get a reaction out of him.

"Really? Where are you?"

"At the compound." You heard Darren make a mocking noise.

"I don't even know why I asked. Of course that's where you are."

You let out an angry breath and decided to end the phone call.

"I don't know what time you'll get home tomorrow, but don't worry if I'm not there. I'll probably come back late in the afternoon. Bye."

"By-"

You hung up. You didn't want to hear his voice any longer. Steve grabbed you by the shoulder to comfort you.

"I'll get a room ready for you."

"Thanks, Steve."

"This guy is such a dick."

And that was your sister's reaction as she walked in, learning what had happened from your mind. She sure was less civil than Steve, but have someone be as upset as you helped you understand that you were right to be mad at Darren.

"I'm sorry, I know you married the guy, but-"

"No, you're right," you interrupted her as she sat at your other side. "He is behaving like a dick."

Wanda laughed as she pulled you in for a warm hug. "Men are the worst. Don't feel like it's your fault."

"You know I'm here, and a man, right?" Steve joked.

You and Wanda shot him fake ferocious looks and he held up his hands as a sign of peace.

"Fine, fine, men are the worst," he said solemnly.

--- Thanks again for the support y'all gave to the 4 previous parts. I hope this one is good! :) Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list ^^

Tag list

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #tfatws #cacw #catws #captain america and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #self insert #x y/n

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adsosfraser · 3 years

Text

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Four

Read on AO3

cw: medical trauma/abuse

They stripped her to the bone and prodded her towards the corner with the spigot about a metre above her head. Their eyes were focused intently on her every move, calculating each misstep. One of her guards called out into the hall and the water surged down in high pressured spurts. She had been naked with strangers before. Had been dressed by them. Bare and vulnerable. Mrs. Fitz came to mind. But this was not anything like that, it felt demeaning, dehumanising. It was intended to humble her.

The other guard threw a bar of soap which Claire fumbled with and fell to the floor. The grime on the floor had built up for years and mould dotted the edges of the shower. She scrunched her nose at the thought of picking the soap up from such an environment, but the stares of the guards burrowed deep into her skin.

“Two minutes.”

Claire carefully traced the spot above her heart. It stung less than before when she was weaned off of the pain medication. Claire was heavily sedated for those six days in hospital. She felt like she had when she returned through the stones, a crushing weight bearing down on her body. And she was all alone. Her injury was monitored until she could be properly transferred to Danvers State Hospital, or rather the Danvers Lunatic Asylum, where they placed her unceremoniously in her cage-like room. The pounding force of the shower left a dull pain, almost opening the wound on her breast again. She scrubbed the dirt, the pain off of her skin until she felt she had no skin left.

Claire was soon in the plain cotton uniform they provided everyone. Her hair flew wildly above her head because she was unable to comb through her curls. They at least deemed her safe enough to not need restraints on top of the guards that flanked her. How kind. Those were reserved for the more violent afflictions.

She watched as her tangled curls floated down to the tiled floor around her feet. Her hair was shorn to about her chin to conform with the other patients.

The institute had yet decided what to do about her condition, which they concluded was melancholia and the hysteria which accompanied it. All unnecessary consequences of her female persuasion.

“I assure you, sir, I am perfectly fine. Now if I could just speak to my husband.” She forced herself to put out the last word.

“He is still considering the terms of your release and treatment. You gave Mr. Randall quite a shock.” Doctor Lionel Brown quirked his eyebrows at his patient, placing the pairs of his pointer and middle finger against his lips in thought.

“I know. Now if you’d just-“

A knock sounded at the door.

“Mr. Anderson you may come in.”

“Mrs. Randall, this is Mr. Anderson, our specialist in mood disorders. He’s shed some insight with me earlier about what may be best in order for you to be released. If you don’t mind, Mr. Anderson.”

“I think our electroshock therapies would be very conducive for her recovery. When repeated twice a week, these treatments help ease pain and reduce memories that are hard to pass on their own.” Anderson glanced at Doctor Brown and continued. “Another option if the treatments are unable to hold and improve your condition is the transorbital lobotomy which is guaranteed to permanently improve it. I can assure you ma’am this avenue has been thoroughly researched and our patients report a calm demeanour within weeks of the operation.

“I highly doubt that’s necessary sir.” Claire scoffed.

Claire slumped in her chair and considered for a second. She could be free of the pain, of the man who haunted her every waking moment. She could stop mourning her husband, her family at Lallybroch, and her children. Maybe she would forget and finally be able to return to Frank as Jamie had intended. But she could never forget Jamie, no matter what happened to her. Her mind may forget but her soul would always keep him within her.

It was four doors later that she reluctantly followed one of the nurse’s in the ward down the dreary halls. No matter her reluctance to it, her treatments would begin according to the doctor’s schedule.

Claire was instructed to take off her shoes as she entered the room. She glanced around the room only to be met with unfamiliar faces. She had comforted the woman who went before her who was convulsing and writhing on the treatment table. Claire tried to soothe her and soon her breathing evened out and a dazed look took over her face. There was no fighting this. If Claire refused to comply, it would be much worse. The woman slouched to the floor and began her walk away from the machine.

The orderly wiped off the metal table from the woman’s sweat and perhaps even a small amount of urine: the reactions to the terror. He sighed and wrote on the chart, detailing exactly how the patient’s body handled the treatment. He pointed to the table, not even sparing a glance at Claire. One. Two. Three. She thought as she forced each step. Her back and limbs arched away from the shocking cold of the metal and her muscles tensed reflexively.

The nurse placed a flat wooden stick in her mouth and instructed her to bite down. Her arms and legs were strapped down before she could change her mind and start thrashing against her jailer. Two firm ovals suctioned to her temples and a strap ran around her head securing the device to her head.

Perhaps it was her indifference that led them to choose this method of torture. She would be sure to smile and have all the warmth of a womanly countenance when she next met with Doctor Brown. Her fate depended on her first husband, and the doctor that held her hostage within the suffocating walls of the institution. She had made her feelings quite clear to Frank, and perhaps he was enacting his vengeance this way.

As the first wave of electricity passed through her body straight to her heart and mind, her body convulsed under its strain. After the base time of thirty seconds for her treatment, her body slumped back down onto the cold surface that sent chills down her spine. She was left disoriented and stupid, waiting to gain back her senses.

“Who’s this, Smiley?” Claire’s mind could barely discern the shape of the figure hanging on the doorframe before her. The glum nurse who was addressed was the farthest thing from smiley.

“Mrs. Randall, your newest neighbour.”

“Oh, how exciting!” The girl who couldn’t be more than fourteen slipped something into the nurse’s pocket. “I think I’ll call you Miss Curly Wig.” She grinned and eyed the mess of curls fanned out around on the silver surface enviously.

The orderly nonchalantly slipped a lollipop into the girl’s waiting hands and a piece of gum, payment for whatever she had smuggled in for him.

“You’ll be just fine Miss Curly Wig.” The girl who was barely a teenager patted her shoulder in comfort. Claire couldn’t do more than stare blankly at the girl, no words appearing on her tongue. “Sure the first one is a bit of a shock. But you get over it. Your brain is like cotton the first few days, and you look as dumb as ever, but if you comply, they shorten it to every three weeks instead. I haven’t gotten the shock in four weeks now because I’ve been on my best behaviour. Haven’t had the urge to steal in months. Isn’t that right Smiley?”

Smiley grunted affirmatively in a way that reminded her of Murtagh while he put away the equipment from the day’s treatments. Her heart ached along with her head and tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

“Can I escort her back to her room Smiley? You are done here for the day, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Emily.” The nurse clearly was uncomfortable straying from protocol.

Claire walked back in silence to the plain white room, filled with only a white metal bed and mattress. Emily patted her hand on the sheets and Claire plopped down on them. The rambunctious child flitted out of the room, excited to find a new face in the dreary and tedious schedule of the ward.

Claire laid back against the stiff pillow of her twin bed. It was impossible to get comfortable here. Her brain was buzzing and her fingers felt tingly, like the static from the radio. In the night, when the other patient's cries filled her mind, she traced the fading scar on her palm where he cut her. The rings, sgian dubh, pearls and her old clothes were the only physical proof it had been real. Now she had none of them. No tangible proof in her grasp. The only reminder was the memory of the slight pain when he marked out the flesh into a J.

“Milady!” Fergus screamed into the empty air of the great room. His body curled up into one of the velvet chaises by the fire and his whimpers woke Jamie, who rested his eyes on the floor beside the inconsolable child. Jamie had almost drifted off to sleep himself, but his mind buzzed with thoughts of his wife. He rose and gathered Fergus in his arms, hushing the boy.

“Milady.” The tears renewed themselves and tumbled without end down his cheeks. Jamie stroked the hair from his son’s face and cursed when his hand felt the hot and sweaty skin.

Claire woke up shaking on the sweat-soaked sheets. “Fergus.” Her guilt of leaving him, her family was insurmountable. But she felt deep in her bones something terribly awful. A dread that squeezed at her heart. Just like any other person could feel the earth shift under their feet, before possessing the actual knowledge of what happened to their loved one. A fellow war nurse once told her of her premonitions, and the next day she was sent an impersonal letter declaring his death in battle.

She pressed the pillow against her ears, trying to block out the vivid visions of the young French boy.

Emily became an ally to Claire in the short amount of time she had been in the B ward. She followed her constantly like a lost puppy and accompanied her to the electroshock therapies every week. Claire supposed the girl had deemed her the sanest out of their fellow patients, so she must have felt more at ease in her presence. The girl had even taught Claire a neat trick, how to pretend to swallow her medicine and then spit it out later.

At night, the faces in the flecks of the popcorn ceiling above taunted her. Every move of the shadows was a demon reimagined in her mind. Of her family and those who wished her harm. They all played an equal role in the play stretched out before her. Two straight lines and a curve mixed together into one evil, Black Jack Randall and her husband. Her mind drifted to the sight of her son, curled up and shivering in his sickbed. She was stuck between the tormenting images in the ceiling or the all too real feel of Fergus’ small body pressed against her in a tight hug.

“Miss Curly Wig!” It took her a moment to recognise her young companion, the thoughts seeped slowly through her mind like molasses.

“Where on earth did you get these?”

“I filched them from Doc B when I was snooping through your files. I was going to trade them to Smiley, but I thought better. Hide them in your bra, they never look there.” The child winked at her.

“Thanks for the advice.” She slipped the silver down her shirt and was about to scatter the gold across the wooden boards of the floor when she thought better; it was a valuable chunk of money. “What do you want in return?”

“Nothing yet. But those locks of yours sure are pretty.”

“You want a lock of my hair?”

She stared at the child dumbfounded. Hers easily rivalled Claire’s, the fiery red waving around her ears and growing slowly towards her shoulders. What harm was there in giving a child a piece of a muddied brown curl? She gripped a strand of her hair from the base of her head and held it taut. Claire ripped the piece just below the hold her hand had on it so it wouldn’t be plucked directly from her scalp. Her palms opened, gifting the rare thing to the adolescent. Her face visibly brightened and she snatched it immediately. She tucked in safely within her shirt like Claire had done with her rings and skipped down the hall towards the dark wood staircase.

Claire plastered a sickly sweet smile as she sat on the plastic chair. Dr. Brown shuffled some papers on his desk and ignored her. He licked his finger to card through the pages and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He cleared his throat before finally acknowledging her.

“Ah, Mrs. Randall. And what, might I ask, lead me to the pleasure of seeing you in my office today?”

“As you can see, Dr. Brown, the treatments have worked splendidly and I would very much like to return home now. I see no need to be kept here further.”

“I’m sorry ma’am it’s just not how- oh looky here! Your husband signed for your release when he visited me yesterday.”

“Great, so now this has all been sorted.”

“Just hold on Mrs. Randall.” He emphasised her proper name. “Yes, he’s clearly signed your release here, but we’ll need to keep you here for an observation period of at least three more days. Make sure you’ll do no more harm to yourself or others. But, you’ll be glad to know we have seen an improvement from your treatments, and your last one will be this Friday, a day before your release.”

She bit her tongue to hold back the avalanche of defiant words and insults she wanted to fling at the man who held her fate in his hands. Finally, she settled for a simple, “thank you,” and left back to the empty halls.

The bastards in the hospital had made zero progress in truly helping her. If she was asked, Claire knew she wouldn’t be able to recall any detail at all about the last few months of her life. If she could call it that, she was dead living. The therapies only added to her already failing memory. Emily was the only bright part of her day, and now she was leaving the poor girl in the hands of these people alone.

Her final night, when her brain sludged forward through its thoughts, a consequence of her treatments, she finally allowed herself to relax back into her bed fully. But that was a mistake. Fergus sat before the fire at Lallybroch, playing soldier with some chess pieces. The sight of the son of her heart pierced through her chest. He turned around and smiled at her softly.

“Come back, Milady, please. Milord needs you. I miss you maman.” He had never called her maman before, only Milady.

On closer inspection, his eyes were wide with fear at the apparition before him. He knew Milady would never harm him, but there was something otherworldly about her appearance now, much different than her usual strange demeanour. Sensing his trepidation, she kissed his forehead gently, taking the pain and fear into herself from that small point where her lips met his curl that dangled there. A tear dripped down the edge of her nose to his cheek. A flash of red and blue entered the dream, but by then she was already awake.

#outlander fanfiction #adsofraser writing #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #jamie x claire #frank randall #insane asylum #fergus fraser #canon divergence #jamie fraser #medical trauma #I am inflicting pain onto my characters because I can #outlander fanfic

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

Text

Just a Friend

Sorry you’ve had to wait a few more days. i had a much needed few days holiday in Devon. And I realised it was the first time since February that I’d travelled more than 20 miles from home!

Anyway, we’re on to chapter 7. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta.

AO3

Chapter 7: From Feedback to The Force

I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye. A converted barn, situated at the end of a leafy country lane, surrounded by fields full of cows and maybe a horse or two. Jamie’s office will be at one end— all exposed beams with classic mahogany and leather furniture. Perhaps chickens will be roaming around outside as tractors pull up to deliver vegetables straight from the neighbouring fields.

This image begins to fade as I follow my Sat nav instructions and take the next junction off the motorway. Country lanes look to be few and far between in this urban sprawl. Signposts along the tarmacked road point to a series of industrial estates. At the fourth such sign, I’m instructed to turn left and in three hundred yards will have reached my destination.

Having parked up, I make my way towards the large, uninspiring building which resembles some sort of aircraft hangar. Its grey concrete and corrugated iron walls match the overcast sky and the roughly surfaced car park. The only colour in this landscape is provided by the bright orange FraserFood logo emblazoned above the loading bays.

There’s a single door to the right with an intercom. I press it and wait a few seconds.

“Hello, there.” A cheery voice greets me. “Can I help ye?”

“Yes. Hello, I’ve an appointment with Ja— Mr. Fraser, Jamie. It’s Claire Beauchamp.”

“Aye, come on through. Jamie is expecting ye. Down the passage and third door on the left.”

I step into a long corridor, painted an unoriginal white. Fluorescent strip lights hanging from the ceiling cast a harsh brightness. The floor is covered with grey carpet tiles.—the same as in thousands of other working offices across the country.

What sets it apart and brings character to the otherwise anonymous environment is the artwork. Colourful photographs line the walls — a bowl of strawberries, their red glossiness accentuated by the white porcelain; a perfect corn on the cob, rivulets of melted butter flowing around the kernels; a plate of steaming tagliatelle, the parmesan shavings falling gently onto the pasta. Then, as I move further towards the office, the photographs change to a series of images that I instantly recognise, La Boqueria, one of the food markets in Barcelona.

I pause for a moment in front of a picture of one of the stalls selling spices. Strings of different chillies cascade down from the metal frame of the stall. The vibrancy of that market was intoxicating, the noise, the colours, the aromas. I remember wandering from stall to stall snacking on fat, juicy olives, slices of spiced ham and wedges of refreshing melon, just soaking up that atmosphere.

My stomach automatically rumbles at the memory just as Jamie steps into the corridor.

He laughs at this unconventional greeting. “And good day tae ye too. Ye found us alright then?”

“No problem. Sat nav brought me straight here. It’s—“ I stop myself before I say any more, but, as usual, my glass face gives me away.

“C’mon. What is it? It’s no’ what ye were expecting, is it?”

“No— yes—no. It’s fine. It’s just, well, I was expecting something more, er, rural… rustic, you know.”

He sighs, but I can tell that he’s not offended. “What, ye mean like on a farm? Wi’ chickens running around? And tractors bringing the vegetables straight from the fields?”

I nod, feeling not a little bit foolish.

“And down a wee winding country lane, that yer lumbering great vans and lorries have tae drive along? Wi’ no easy transport links fer all the deliveries? And having tae deal wi’ all the food hygiene standards in some great old barn?” He laughs. “Trust me, it may no’ be photogenic but it’s the best place fer the business.”

He takes my arm. “Let’s go intae ma office and I’ll make ye a cup of coffee.”

My stomach rumbles once more. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any of those lovely Spanish biscuits too, have you?”

*********

The display of colourful photographs continues in Jamie’s office. I don’t recognise the scenes, but, I’m guessing these are more local— fields of corn bordered by old drystone walls, hedgerows bursting with dark jewel-like brambles. I pause at a picture of an ancient stone mill, the calm water of the mill pond reflecting the rundown building perfectly.

“That’s a bonny picture, is it no’?” Jamie’s voice is low in my ear.

I turn around. He is standing behind me, gazing intently at the picture.

“It is. Where is it? I’m guessing it’s somewhere here in Scotland.”

“Aye, it’s the old mill at Lallybroch.”

“Where you grew up?”

He nods. “Generations of ma family used that mill tae grind flour fer them and their tenants. It’s empty inside now. The wheel has long since rotted away. Jenny and I would escape there whenever chores were tae be done. She took the photo, weel, most of the photos here actually.”

I study the photograph more closely. “She’s very talented as a photographer. Is that her job?”

“She’d love tae have done that, but once she married Ian and the bairns started appearing, she hasna got the time. Mebbe one day.”

He moves past me towards his desk and I catch a hint of his musky cologne. I find myself comparing it to the slightly synthetic cologne that Frank always favoured. I decide that Jamie’s is preferable. It’s more real, somehow, earthy and, well, more masculine.

“... does that sound ok?”

I realise that whilst I was considering male scents, Jamie had been asking me a question. “Er, sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?”

“Am I really that boring tae ye?” He laughs. “I said I would make ye a coffee and invite Rupert tae come in and join us. He’s our Head of Product Development. Will ye no’ take a seat?”

I sit down on one of the chairs arranged around a circular meeting table and take a good look at the office while Jamie makes a phone call. The walls and ceiling are the same uninspiring white, livened up by all the photographs. There’s a couple of framed photographs near Jamie’s chair that seem to be more personal. I’m too far away to be able to see clearly, but they look like children... his nephew and niece perhaps?

Jamie’s ‘L’ shaped desk is made of grey wood, as is a tall bookcase and this meeting table. Simple, but clearly a considered purchase, no haphazard grouping of random furniture. The desk itself is remarkably free from clutter— just a laptop with two huge screens and a black leather document wallet. The contrast to the clutter on the desks in my office and home couldn’t be greater. Not that my clutter isn’t important to me—a collection of pots and dishes from my uncle’s archaeological digs plus a paperweight and letter opener that I remember, as a young child, at my parents’ house. Then I realise, looking at the family portraits surrounding Jamie’s desk, that he doesn’t need to gather mementoes from the past. He has a living, breathing close knit family creating memories all the time.

I’m well aware that most of my friends have more of a family than I have, or have ever had, and generally I’m fine with that. But every now and again it hits me right in the gut—this pang of...not loneliness, but more of being disconnected, rootless.

Before I can dwell on this, there’s a faint tap at the door. It opens immediately and a woman stands in the doorway. She’s easily past retirement age, quite short and… is sturdy a polite descriptor? Well, short and ‘motherly’ in appearance.

She’s very smiley too. Her eyes crinkle as she grins broadly before speaking. “Jamie, lad. I’ve come tae see if ye both want a coffee. I dinna mind making it. And mebbe a few biscuits?”

Jamie steps away from his desk. “Ah, Mrs. Fitz, how d’ye always ken what I want? Coffee would be grand. And fer ye Claire?”

“Coffee, please. Lovely. White, no sugar. Thanks.”

She looks at me for a moment before Jamie makes the introduction. “ Claire, this is Mrs Fitz. She’s worked wi’ me since I started and I dinna ken what I’d do wi’out her.”

He reaches across and pats her arm gently.

“Mrs. Fitz, this is Claire, a friend of mine. She’s been trying out our Spanish dinner party menu and has come tae meet wi’ Rupert tae give him her opinions.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitz.” I hold out my hand.

She takes it in both of hers. “And it’s lovely tae meet ye too, Claire.”

She turns away and heads out the door.

“Right-oh. Two coffees it is then,” she says clearly, then carries on muttering under her breath as she leaves. “Friends, is it, then? A bonny lass, sure enough…”

Jamie smiles apologetically. “Mrs. Fitz can be a bit, weel...she’s been working with me a long time. She’s like a second mother tae me…”

He leaves the sentence unfinished, but I know what he’s thinking. Why can’t people understand that we’re friends, that’s all?

*******

Rupert is a complete delight, but somehow not what I was expecting. He rushes into the office just as Jamie and I are drinking our coffees. Nearly as tall as Jamie but quite a bit broader with a large beard, like an overgrown teddy bear, and clad in a sweatshirt and baggy ill-fitting jeans, he looks as if he would be more at home on a rugby pitch rather than in a development kitchen. With Jamie now standing next to him, the office suddenly feels rather small.

Jamie makes the introductions and we settle once more around the table. Rupert places his notebook and pen on the table.

“Ye dinna mind if I take a biscuit or two, do ye?” He asks, with a smile. He knows how tasty they are.

Jamie and I shake our heads and Rupert reaches out and takes two in his large, fleshy hand. He starts to eat, sprinkling crumbs all over his notebook.

“Ye canna take me anywhere,” he says as he tries to sweep the crumbs into his hand.

Jamie laughs and playfully punches Rupert’s shoulder. “Weel, ye can… but only the once, mind.”

There’s an easy camaraderie between the two of them. I’m guessing that Jamie has worked with the same people for quite a while. It’s good to see.

Rupert swallows, picks up a tissue and wipes the stray crumbs from his beard. “Right-oh. So, Claire, thanks fer doing this—“

“No, I should be thanking you. It was a great meal.”

“Weel, glad tae hear that, but I would appreciate any improvements we could make. Is there anything we need tae change?”

I’ve been racking my brains all the way here, trying to think of something constructive to say rather than just reeling off a list of compliments, nice as that would be for Rupert and Jamie. And, honestly, I don’t know what more I can add. The food was excellent, the wine matched perfectly and the olives were a thoughtful addition.

I tell them all this and Rupert solemnly notes it all down. Sitting there, side by side, elbows almost touching, they look for all the world like two proud parents being complimented on their child’s talents. But they have every right to be proud.

“And nothing else?” Rupert persists. “Nothing we could do better?”

“Well, a couple of tiny suggestions. Maybe a few more pictures with the recipes would help. I’m not the most gifted cook.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jamie trying to suppress a smile. He’s never seen me in the kitchen, maybe he’s imagining me as some sort of culinary disaster area. I vow to prove him wrong at some point.

“And,” I continue as Rupert scribbles in his notebook. “Perhaps add a couple of suggestions to complete the Spanish night. I made sangria to start the evening. Could you add a recipe for that?”

Rupert closes his notebook with a flourish. “Right then. Thank ye sae much fer that. Glad yer friends all enjoyed the food.”

He stands up, shifting the table as he does so.

“Weel, bye then, Claire. Lovely tae meet ye. Hope tae see ye again.” He shoots a quick look across at Jamie before leaving.

“Rupert’s a lovely guy,” I comment as the door shuts behind him.

“Aye, he is that,” Jamie shifts in his seat. “Listen, I need tae ask ye a favour.”

“Another one,” I joke. “Wasn’t the dinner party enough?”

I add a sigh, purely for dramatic effect.

“Ye can say no if ye want tae,” he continues. “But I was wondering… weel... Ian, that’s Jenny’s husband, his rugby club is having a charity dinner dance a week on Saturday. Jenny’s bought two tickets fer me and a plus one. D’ye fancy it? It would help me out of a wee bit of bother with ma sister.”

Now I’m intrigued about his “wee bit of bother” with Jenny. I don’t want to end up in the middle of some sibling squabble.

“How so?” I’m not giving an answer straight away. At least not until I know what the bother is.

“Jenny bought the two tickets fer me a couple of months ago. I think she was assuming I would bring Laoghaire. But ye ken what happened there. Anyways, she asked me yesterday about it, and ever so casually suggested I might bring Kelly— that was ma date the other night.”

The pattern of Rupert’s crumbs on the table appears to suddenly be of great interest to him. He studies them intently as he talks, his ears turning slightly pink as he does so.

“And?” I prompt him.

“And, I told Jenny that after Laoghaire and I broke up, I didna want tae disappoint her about the dinner and so I’d already asked ye tae come along. As a friend,” he hastily adds the last part.

So, what do I decide? I do love the opportunity to have a bit of a dance and rugby club dos are usually a bit of a laugh, in my experience. And of course, I know Jamie is offering as a friend, so I’m not worried about that.

“Why don’t you want to ask Kelly then?” I want the full story before I give him my answer.

“She’s a nice enough lass but I didna think we had any spark. Plus she was trying too hard. Fer example she asked me what films I liked, then when I told her, she was all ‘no way, they’re ma favourites too’.”

He adds gestures at this point, to demonstrate Kelly’s actions, one hand flapping excitedly, the other resting on my sleeve, lightly stroking through the fabric of my shirt. It feels—

“Apparently we have exactly the same taste in films, music, food, drinks, television and holidays,” he continues as he sits back and folds his arms.

“Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.” I joke. I can still feel the sensation of his hand on my arm.

He looks up at me and frowns. “I’m no’ joking. Ye would be helping me if ye came as ma plus one.”

“Ok then. I do know that I’m not on call. I can come and be your wingman, if you like. Just one question. What are your favourite films?”

“Star Wars.”

This wasn’t the answer I was expecting. He doesn’t seem like a typical fan. Maybe he has a dark side that I haven’t yet seen, with a secret stash of Star Wars figures and multiple light sabres.

“I’ve never watched any of them.” It’s true. I seem to be in the minority but I just don’t get the appeal.

“And I can tell from yer face exactly what ye think of them. But they’re classics, weel most of them, anyway,” he starts to enthuse.

I shake my head. I can’t see that he will ever convince me.

“Well, Sassenach, have I got a treat in store for you!”

And, worryingly, it seems that he’s up for the challenge.

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Just a Friend #James Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Chapter 7

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

Text

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 10: The Reconnections

word count: 8.6k

chapter summary: So many things just went wrong, now Sophie and her friends have to pull themselves together and help each other process it, otherwise they'll never figure out what to do next.

warnings: mentions of blood/injury, brief mention of bodies (non-human), general distress and confusion, suppressing emotions, panicking, crying, swearing, purposeful misuse of grammar, a lot of caps (not in an angry way, just excited yelling), and I think that's everything

taglist: I’ll reblog with it. let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Hello! Ten chapters! We're in the double digits now! To celebrate I'll be posting a deleted scene from the earlier chapters, so if that sounds interesting to you, feel free to check it out! Now, I know you're probably eager to find out what happens next, so I'll stop !!

ao3 link here or read below

Everything froze.

The world was silent.

That little girl looked at her, tears streaming down their face, fingers clenched in that creature’s fur, nearly tearing it apart. They stared at her, and Sophie stared back.

Her friends were arranged in a circle around them, stumbling from the rubble, slipping in the carnage, trembling forward. Everyone’s eyes wide, mouths agape, dust clinging to their skin.

Eyes on the girl.

The girl wouldn’t take their eyes off Sophie. There were ten of them arranged in a perfect circle around them like some sick ritual from a human horror film.

Their mouth fell open, salty tears clinging to their lips,

and

they

screamed.

Cracks and tremors exploded their way through the rough ground cascades and shock waves of terror and sheer power ricocheted through the pathways of earth travelling along hidden roots and sending the whole world into a frenzy and it was so so so so unbearably loud.

Sophie clapped her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth as she tried to stop her very brain from rattling about in her skull. Her eyes closed for one moment but that was all it took.

The girl was gone when she opened her eyes.

There was a bag in her hand. Heavy, stuffed with metal pieces and tools and things she didn’t understand. Someone was holding her hand. A cloak had been draped across her back.

People were asking so many questions. What to do. Should they leave? Was Sophie’s shoulder okay? Was anyone else hurt? Would their parents try and come back? They couldn’t, she had their pathfinder. Should they just leave the bodies here?

Because there were bodies everywhere. Flattened into the ground, entrails strung between crumbled buildings like streamers. Thick, gleaming rivers of blood filled the cracks in the pavement, inching ever closer and closer, turning the claw marks and paw imprints in the ground into puddles, into drenched ground and soaked soil.

There was a dandelion growing between the cracks, petals now completely, entirely red.

She couldn’t see through the glass on the building to her side, but she could see her crimson reflection in the sheet of blood running down it, the drops drying like wax to the side.

It vanished, feathers blocked her view.

Deep browns spattered with gold and teal, a grey so dark it looked black, and--blue. A deep, rich blue.

Fitz, Keefe, and Maruca stood at three different points, a triangle amongst the ten of them, wings spread as the entire group faced inward. Blocking everyone’s view.

“What--what now?” Biana whispered, face drained of all color. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, bite marks in her lips.

“Who was that?” Keefe asked, grimacing, his hands held awkwardly at his side, like he couldn’t figure out just what he was supposed to do next.

Her fingers tightened around the pathfinder to the point of pain. Sophie just wanted this to be over. She’d been fighting so many people for so long. She didn’t want to anymore. She wanted to take a break, to go to the beach at midnight and push her friends into the water. To tend to a garden because she wanted to and not because she’d die without it. To listen to music on a blaring speaker without the looming terror it would draw something terrifying, something unnaturally scarier than her.

Twirling the pathfinder rhythmically beneath her fingers, she sighed. “Let’s just go.”

Keefe looked to her, alarmed. She didn’t care.

“Anyone have any last minute errands to run while we’re here,” she said, much too lightly. She couldn’t see the carnage through the feather barrier, but she could see it, knew what it looked like. The image was burned blisteringly detailed into her mind, and would remain for the rest of her goddamned life.

“Um...no,” Wylie answered, a bit confused, scratching at his head.

Sophie rubbed at her face; it felt like there was something stuck to her skin. A layer of filth and grime and wrong shuddering through her cells that refused to go away. She gasped, stumbling slightly--her shoulder. The movement jostled her shoulder. Throbbing aches thrummed their way through the surface of her skin, melting her nerves into rivulets of illusory, constant stimulation. Trembling, she exhaled.

Fitz reached out to steady her, frowning as he pulled her in to take a closer look. She didn’t let him. Covering it with her good arm, she tried to sort through her thoughts.

The sight of that little girl again…

“Then let’s just go.” Sophie looked up, startled. Linh. That had been...Linh. Her arms were crossed against her body, brow furrowed. Tam hesitantly placed his hand on her shoulder, seeming to convey something no one but her could understand. Linh shrugged in response and his expression only darkened, fingertips noticeably darker when he dropped his hand.

Almost reluctantly, they all linked hands. Like they were uneasy leaving this place the way it was. But what choice did they have? What could they possibly do?

Run away. That’s what they could do.

Again.

She couldn’t get it off. She couldn’t get anything off. The dust and grime from that haphazard city stuck to her skin like pollen and her clothes were damp with sweat and suctioned to her body and those wings were stuck to her back and she wanted to rip rip rip them off and set them alight and dance through the flames.

But there was dirt on the porch and she needed to sweep it off.

There were flower petals on the couch and she needed to clear them away.

There were wires and metal plates and parts to be sorted.

So she pushed it away. Pushed it down. Took a deep breath. And got back to work.

Unnerving quiet crept through the cracks of the wood planks beneath her feet. Too quiet. No wind blew through the canopied trees, no animals chirped in the forest. Everything had...paused. Or maybe that was just her, unaware of the world around her as she methodically plucked flower petals from the seat of the chair, tossing them out a window.

Everything she did pulled against the bandages wrapped haphazardly around her shoulder. She’d popped a few pills when she’d gotten back, human medicines she’d grabbed with Tam, rinsed the wound off, poured an antiseptic over the top--it’d stung like a bitch but she’d live--and wrapped the thing up. She didn’t want to deal with it anymore than she had to.

Attempting to clean her wound had disturbed some of the neatly wrapped bandages from Elwin--which was surprisingly difficult with all the pollen. But her right arm was still good and covered, the other good from about the elbow down. Right now, she could probably pass as one of those haunt actors in a human haunted house, some kind of resurrected mummy.

As she wandered around, she passed by friends moving, living their own lives, shadows trailing behind them, marring their faces. Biana and Fitz had disappeared somewhere the moment they’d gotten back, tears trailing down their cheeks. Linh had vanished too, arms crossed and expression tight, Tam right behind her, apprehensive, unable to deduce what was wrong.

What wasn’t wrong? That would’ve been a better question.

They were living just to the left of where they should’ve been. They were all together, everyone was alive, but everything was just slightly off. This was not right. They weren’t supposed to be like this. What had happened to them? Was it still happening? Who was that little girl?

She found a closet in one of the empty houses, a broom and some lengths of handmade rope, flowers curling out from a handful of the woven vines. That...didn’t seem like how rope was supposed to exist, but she also didn’t know much about making rope. Or anything about it.

A broom sat in the corner of the closet, which she made sure to note. She’d need that.

Slinging the length of rope over her good shoulder, she carelessly tossed a throwing star from hand to hand as she made her way through the village.

The bridges needed repair.

Just ahead, one of the bridges had snapped off entirely on one side, dangling over the edge and into a sharp drop much in the way those comical action movies had shown from when she was little.

Thunk. She’d set the supplies near the edge of the platform, but she didn’t care.

Tossing her legs over the edge, she braced herself; this would take a level of control she wasn’t sure she possessed--especially not right now.

Pressing off with her hands, she lowered herself into the air, just like when she’d lowered herself into swimming pools as a kid. Not the time to be nostalgic, Sophie. But she couldn’t help it. The sun had been overwhelming, the air muggy and humid. A beehive had started to form under the water slide and her and her sister would always plunge beneath the chemical surface when a bee flew near, or even just the sound of those wings approached.

The very same sound her own wings were now making, holding her gently in the sky as she urged herself forward, muscles in her back tearing at the scratches, the mite marks in her shoulder. Grabbing the frayed ropes and hauling them back to the platform she’d jumped from, she used her body weight to anchor it down while she tied and wove and cut the fresh rope--that’s what the throwing star was for. She didn’t think there’d be any scissors in an abandoned village, but she was open to surprises.

Actually, no she wasn’t. The unexpected oh so frequently came begging alongside disaster and terror, singing a sweet song of promise only to rip it to shreds as soon as you let it in.

Testing the strength, she tentatively walked across the planks, bouncing in the middle. She probably shouldn’t have been walking on it if she was unsure of its stability, but she wouldn’t fall if it broke. A dangerous mindset to play with and she knew it, but she didn’t care. Either way, it held. Good. Something was fixed. Something was better now.

She did it again. Time ticked passed, the supply of rope slowly dwindled, knot after knot slipping through her hands, fixing bridges until her fingers were raw and red and the muscles in her back were threatening to pop out. Her shoulder stung, the entire area burning as if set alight, but she didn’t dare take more than a minute’s break. Anything more would snap her out of this zone.

Back to the closet, then. She grabbed the broom. Anything, anything to keep her body moving, physical labor to numb her mind.

Dust showered over the edge, tumbling towards the ground far far below. She could watch it touch the ground if she wanted; instead, she let her mind disappear. Letting herself live in her own body would lead to circles and circles and circles, coming back to everything and anything she’d ever said.

Each mistake she’d made. There was nothing she could undo, but her mind could replay the possibilities over and over and over again. What if she’d tucked the wings inside her shirt instead of relying on just the cape after they’d escaped that creature. What if she’d agreed to meet in a different city, let Mysterium be just a mission for Dex, contacting their parents separate.

She should’ve tried harder, fought stronger. Should’ve. She hadn’t. An infinite cascade of what-ifs and maybes were drowning her, shoving her head under the water and there wasn’t a drop of energy left in her to scream.

Bristles brushed against the wood, precise. Methodic. She worked her way out from the inside of the platform, moving the dirt to the edges to watch it fall away.

Realizing there was grime inside too, she entered her little home. When had she come back to it--she could’ve sworn she was out further. Shifting the rug out of the way, she efficiently swept the floor. Kicking aside furniture with barely half a thought, holding a couch up with one hand, careful to avoid stepping on the stained glass littered about the floor. Bare feet didn’t mix well with glass, and her body was too bruised to torment further. Not that it was stopping her.

There was so much to do, so many tasks to complete.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react, she knew that much. She had quite possibly just permanently severed her connection to her old life. Had maybe seen her father for the last time. He’d seen her, knew there was something wrong.

And she stood here with a broom she’d found in that empty home, sweeping rivers of dried dirt off the wood floor, watching it shower all the way down to the ground below.

She didn’t remember how she got back here.

She didn’t remember what she was supposed to do next.

She didn’t remember her name.

“Hey, you,” he said, gently, approaching hesitantly from behind. She still flinched, muscles tensing. Keefe took the broom from her hands, setting it to rest against the side of a nearby wall. That--that wasn’t her wall. When had she strayed so far from her cottage?

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving.

Almost like he was afraid he’d break her, he pushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear, the ones that were obscuring her face. Hiding the trails of tears crying silently down her cheeks.

He inhaled softly, eyebrows creasing with concern as his other hand came up to rest on the other cheek, holding her in his hands. She hadn’t even looked at him and yet she could still picture every minute detail of his expression.

“You okay?”

She didn’t know if she was physically capable of responding. Softly, her own hands covered his, savoring the warmth of his skin against her own, pressing her eyes closed in a futile attempt to dry her eyes.

Sophie leaned forward, her forehead pressing against Keefe’s chest as his arms widened around her, caught off guard for a moment before his hands slowly settled on her back, careful to avoid the wings.

“O-oh. Okay. We can--we can do this, then. If you need.”

She did need. Desperately. Tilting her face to the side so her cheek was pressed to his chest instead, she held him close. And let him hold her. They didn’t talk. Just stood there, bodies flush.

Eventually, he raised one of his hands from her back, brushing it through her hair, chaotic and tangled from the style she’d hastily torn out. She felt his fingertips combing through the strands, ghosting across her scalp as he pulled at the knots, untangling it with his fingers the best he could. His fingers slid against the back of her neck, lifting the strands stuck to her skin. Gentle. He was oh so gentle with her, like she was a porcelain doll and one wrong move would shatter her into pieces.

“You doing alright, Sophie?”

Sophie pulled back and nodded, smoothing out his shirt, pulling it back down and pointedly avoiding eye contact. He wasn’t having it.

Keefe held her chin, slowly directing her to look back at him, his skin warm against the dried salt on her own.

“Are you okay, Sophie? Please talk to me. Or anyone. I know that mission didn’t go well and--”

“Stop,” she whispered, and he shut right up. It was so so much harder to talk than she thought it would be. “I can’t. Not right--I can’t. Too much. Everything. All at once. I can’t.”

He was nodding, the wings at his back shifting slightly, readjusting themselves, a deep charcoal grey. Her fingers tightened into fists in this shirt before she realized what she was doing and released the fabric, stepping back, exhaling.

Today had been absolutely awful and she hated everything about it. From pushing her old life even further away to accidentally revealing the wings to the little girl on that intelligent monster down to the chill in the air that morning.

But Dex had gotten his supplies. He’d had everyone help carry everything back--though he tried to get her to let them all handle it, what with the shoulder. And they were all still here. And everyone else had been taken back to the underground unharmed. Those were wins. They were positives. They were good things but she just couldn’t focus on them.

“Do you...want a distraction?” Keefe asked, hesitantly waving a hand in front of her face to bring her back to reality.

She nodded, running her hands down her face. It was too much. Too many things had gone so wrong so quickly and she’d wanted to bury her imparter beneath her mattress because it was exploding with messages and hails and just the thought of reading them made her so nauseous her knees had buckled and she’d had to lay on the floor for several minutes.

That’s when she’d remembered how disheveled the place was. So she’d started cleaning and hadn’t stopped. Not until he’d come to find her.

“Okay,” he breathed, hands combing back through his hair as he squinted off into the distance. Thinking. He hadn’t had anything planned and was thinking on the fly. He glanced to her.

“You stole Grady’s pathfinder, right?”

“No need to rub it in,” she grumbled, patting at various points all over her body, trying to remember where she’d put it. She’d thought she’d tucked it into her waistband, but it wasn’t there. “I think I left it inside.”

He pulled at his lip with his fingers, lost in thought. “Okay. Cool. Where?” She gestured for him to follow her, leading him across a few bridges, some she’d repaired and tied back into place, others they had to take a route around because she hadn’t fixed them yet.

She ducked her head inside, scanning the space, the little tables. There. She jogged inside, snatching it off a chair and returning back outside, holding it out to Keefe.

Taking it from her, he began to spin the facets, a new pattern emerging. It seemed familiar, although she could never quite understand how the crystals worked.

He smiled slightly to himself, glancing. When he saw her looking back he quickly averted his gaze, cheeks turning red. Tilting her head to the side, she watched him hold up the pathfinder to the afternoon light.

Lacing their fingers together, he looked over his shoulder at her. “I don’t think you’ve ever been where we’re going, but it’s not the location that’s important. Got it?”

She shook her head, but he didn’t elaborate further, pulling them both into the light.

Purple grass had never made much sense to Sophie. Foxfire had purple grass, but no one bothered to explain why. It was one of those elvish things that hadn’t been deemed important enough for her to learn.

This grass wasn’t just purple, but varying shades of seafoam greens and delicate blues as well. Tall, reaching to about her knees, some adorned with flowers.

That was all. Grass, as far as she could see.

Keefe sighed next to her, then rubbed at his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if this place would be clear or not.” Clear of monsters. Taking a chance, coming here without scouting or defense aside from their new mobility and Sophie’s strength--not that she was in great shape at the moment. Perhaps the others had strange new traits too, not that she’d ask. Fitz had been staring off quite a lot recently, but she didn’t know if that meant anything.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, looking around. There was...nothing. Nothing was good. Nothing meant they were safe. Nothing meant this place hadn’t been overrun or corrupted just yet. But it also wasn’t like Keefe to do nothing.

Tucking the pathfinder away, he ran his fingers through his hair, standing slightly taller, pulling himself together. “Okay. Look around. What do you see?”

“Grass.”

“Yeah, there’s grass. Who do we know who likes grass and fields and streams?” He was trying to lead her somewhere but her brain had turned to lead. Wait. A stream? Huh, now that she thought about it, the faint gurgle of something wet rushing by could be heard. Water pouring over rocks.

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but he just smiled back. Okay. Grass. Someone who liked--

“Oh!” She could feel her eyebrows shoot up, putting the pieces together.

Keefe full on grinned now, but she shut her eyes, sinking to her knees amongst the foliage, deliberately ignoring the light, tickling brush off the blades against her skin. .

Bracing her, holding her steady just in case, his hand rested atop her shoulder as he came to stand behind her.

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she transmitted her query across the world. Hello? Are you there? Over and over and over again, unsure which direction to send the message so sending it everywhere, a full 360 around her body, waves of power rushing from her mind that no one but people like her could sense.

Finally, her message was answered.

SOPHIE! HELLO! FRIEND!

Silveny’s exuberant shouts filled her mind and she barely even grimaced. Apparently maintaining the mindbubble so often had built up her resilience to pounding noise inside her head.

Yeah, she responded, leaning back into Keefe. Do you want to come visit? Me and Keefe?

FRIEND! VISIT! KEEFE!

Sophie nodded her head, then realized the glittery horse couldn’t see her. Yes. It’s safe. Well--yeah, we’ll go with that. Safe! Just a really quick visit, okay? I don’t want to put you in danger.

Keefe was fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, unrolling the parts that had gotten bunched up.

VISIT! SAFE! SOPHIE!

Yes...that is...that’s what I said.

WHERE! WHERE! WHERE!

“I’d like to contact whoever designed alicorns and file a formal noise complaint,” she grumbled, and she could faintly hear Keefe’s snickering before her attention was too far gone to process anything anymore.

I’ll show you, she said, gathering up an image of the place. That must’ve been why Keefe had asked her what she’d seen, to ensure she had a clear visualization before reaching out. Hadn’t he come up with this on the spot? Why was his attention to detail so casual?

Almost immediately after sharing the image, Silveny severed their connection, still mulling over and looking at the details Sophie’d provided.

Groaning, she sat back up, realizing she’d been leaning practically all of her weight onto Keefe, who’d sat down behind her at some point during that conversation--it must’ve lasted significantly longer than she’d realized.

“So?” he asked, shaking his arms out and stretching a bit, rolling his wrist and straightening his shirt.

Sophie blinked a few times, the fading light still too bright after her eyes had been closed for so long “She cut me off. I showed her where we were and then she severed the connection, so whatever that means--”

Crackling thunder rolled through the air, making them both jump as a hole tore itself through space, several sparkling winged alicorns emerging, prancing their way through the sky as they circled down to land a ways away, trotting over to where they both sat in the grass.

“Hey, Glitter Butt,” Keefe whispered, stroking her face, brushing the icy strands of hair out of her eyes. She snorted and butted his hand in return, pressingly firmly into his hand. His smile was infectious, the wings at his back a near blinding white to match the alicorn before him.

KEEFE! KEEFE! KEEFE!

“She’s sure excited to see you,” Sophie told him, rubbing at her temple; Silveny was even louder in person.

Meanwhile, she was surrounded on either side by two little foals bumping up against her thighs, trying to knock her into the grass so they could play. But their movements were...disjointed. Erratic. Colored with fear and panic.

“They’re anxious,” she realized, frowning. Keefe’s expression had darkened slightly too, his wings shifting back to grey.

“Are you, mama?” He consoled, pressing up close to her neck, petting her all down her side. She didn’t know why she’d bothered to say it aloud--he could already feel it.

Sophie relented after a particularly brutal push from Wynn, sinking to the ground once more, letting him curl up in her lap, trembling beneath her fingers as she stroked his mane. Luna took more to Keefe, pulling at his shirt with her teeth, nearly tearing the fabric, pressing her wet nose to his skin, making him jump slightly.

He laid back in the grass, wings spreading behind him, Luna curling up beside him and laying her head atop his stomach. It was in this moment, the wind gently stirring the pastel grass cushioning their bodies, the intertwining feathers, the way his eyes closed and he leaned back, hand tangled in Luna’s mane, that Sophie yearned to be an artist. To capture this moment right now and make it real somewhere else, to allow it to exist outside her mind.

What she wouldn’t give to preserve this moment, this reprieve.

KEEFE? KEEFE? KEEFE OKAY? Silveny interrupted, blasting her thoughts into Sophie’s mind, hopping about anxiously, refusing to settle. Greyfell stood a little ways back, wary eyes observing the environment.

There’d been no news of anything catastrophic that Silveny had shared with her, nothing alarming or dangerous. But she’d kept secrets before. What had they seen? What had they met that made them so skittish?

Wynn butted his head against her side, demanding more cuddles and attention.

Yeah, Keefe’s okay. Why?

Silveny had pressed in closer, stomping at the ground. She tried to grab him by the shirt, pull him closer to her, but he ducked back, holding up his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re fine. It’s okay. Calm down, mama,” he whispered, gently stroking her head, trying to calm her. It was only marginally effective; she stopped her stomping, but her eyes were frantic, darting between Keefe and the ground and the area surrounding, sniffing the air, exhaling heavily.

Keefe glanced to her in question. Asking what was wrong.

Silveny. What’s wrong?

MONSTER! KEEFE! PROTECT!

I--what? What are you talking about? To Keefe she said, “Something about monsters. I think she’s trying to protect you.”

SMELL! MONSTER! PROTECT KEEFE!

Turning towards the panicked alicorn, he smiled slightly, nervously. “Thanks, but I’m good. You don’t need to protect me. You need to protect yourselves and your family. I’ve got other people to have my back.”

Silveny wouldn’t relent, her motherly concern boiling over and exploding from within her too-caring heart. Pressing forward, she tried to snap at Keefe’s wings, biting at the feathers.

They pulled back, snapping shut behind him just before she could reach as he sat up fully, backing away from her.

Oh.

Keefe.

Monster.

He was the monster she was scenting.

Silveny didn’t seem to understand anything Sophie tried to explain. Not until she told her that biting those wings, the monster, would hurt Keefe. Then she stopped trying.

But she didn’t give up, convinced there was something she could do to protect him from some creature, not understanding it was him she scented.

“I didn’t realize just how much our scents had changed. I mean, I know Ro told us but--” he cut off, still slightly shaken, expression drawn. Luna still curled around him, but the wings were tight to his back now, significantly darker. More shadowed. Haunted.

Silveny refused to leave his side, pressed close to him in the grass. Sophie had kept her own wings tucked in close, flat against her back. It felt unnatural, like they wanted to remain spread, but she could do it easy enough. Keefe’s were so much more obvious, that’s what’d tipped the alicorns off. Hers could be hidden, discreet. Anything to prevent more disruption, to worsen that aura of hurt lingering around Keefe, the one he was trying so hard to pretend didn’t even exist.

Sophie couldn’t think of anything to say, instead staying silent.

Distraction. They needed a distraction. That’s why they’d come all the way out here, although she didn’t know where that was. To have fun. Relax. Ignore everything else for just a single moment.

You know what? Fuck it.

Hey, Silveny? Want to fly?

Head perking up, her eyes focused on Sophie.

FLY? FLY? FLY?

She nodded, debating how she was going to navigate this. Yeah. Fly! Her shoulder could probably take it. She’d regret it tomorrow, but it wasn’t tomorrow yet.

“What are you saying to her,” Keefe hissed, leaning back a bit as Silveny’s wings began to flap slightly, rising from her sitting position to towering about the two of them sitting before her. Even Sophie felt as though she could feel the waves of excitement radiating off her, and she wasn’t even the empath. Keefe’s eyes were slightly clouded, like he was sorting through something before coming back to himself.

Sophie brushed him off. “You asked me to trust you when coming here, now it’s your turn to trust me.”

“That is so unnecessarily cryptic, Foster.” She stared at him. “Okay, alright. Point taken.”

Silveny bent down, expecting the two of them to climb atop her back, but Sophie shook her head. Keefe’s eyes widened and he slowly turned to look at her, mouth comically agape, like he was questioning whether her mind still worked properly. Probably not.

No. We’re gonna do this a little differently this time, okay? Trust me.

DIFFERENT FLY? TRUST? DIFFERENT FLY?

Shaking out her hands, trying to dispel the nerves, she nodded. Yep. Trust us. You go ahead and we’ll join you.

It took a minute or two more of explanation, but finally the stubborn alicorn relented, her family following behind. Taking off into the sky, the four of them began to circle a few dozen feet about the ground, moving around the two of them left on the ground.

“Are you serious? You’re really--are you sure?” he asked, hands on either side of his head, fingers digging into his scalp as his eyes remained oh so open, scanning her from head to toe.

She shrugged, turning away as she straightened her clothes out; the fabric had bunched and remained full of grass. “Want to join them or not?”

“Well--uh--you know--ah--we can’t--why…” Sophie looked to him over her shoulder, realizing he truly was stunned. Entirely at a loss for words.

“Hey, you don’t have to, you know. You’ll be fine either way. Nothing will happen.”

He rolled his eyes at her, insulted. Of course he would follow her, he just couldn’t believe who she’d become. The decisions she made so casually that would’ve sent her spiraling into anxiety before. Part of her didn’t believe it either, pretended nothing had happened at all.

Crouching down slightly, she gathered her energy for a moment before leaping into the sky, wings snapping out behind her. Steadily, she made her way into the sky, turning back to see Keefe.

His wings beat steadily behind him--he must’ve practiced, she realized with a start. Light grey feathers shivering in the wind as he caught up to her, color staining his cheeks already.

“See? Everything’s okay,” she whispered, unsure whether she was comforting herself or him. Either way, he smiled in return, chaotically bumping into her with his shoulder, nearly tumbling out of the sky in the process. Hiding her wince, she smiled wider. Yeah, that injury did not like all this movement, but she’d never been known to listen to her body.

“Yeah. Okay. We’re okay.”

With each beat, it grew easier. The tightness in her chest eased, her smile gradually felt true. Every time she took to the sky she landed more skilled, more aware of her own body. They worked in tandem, the two of them. Her and the wings.

SOPHIE! KEEFE! FLY!

The impatient alicorn had darted down and was now flying in concentric, tightening circles around the two of them, whining in excitement.

Yeah, Mama. Fly. Silveny let out a shriek of excitement, tumbling through the air, her two little trouble makers coming up beside them to butt into their legs, testing their balance.

Sophie moved much more sporadically than the five of them, rhythmically shifting in the sky while they moved steadily; something about their wings having feathers and hers being insect-based, she assumed. But she didn’t want to do any thinking right now.

Right now there were four alicorns and someone she loved right beside her, laughing and intertwining and dipping through the sky.

Keefe waved frantically, drawing her attention. “Foster! Look!” Wynn hovered beside him in the air, and on some unknown signal both of them snapped their wings shut, gravity taking them by the hand and dragging them down head first, dozens upon dozens of feet rushing past in a few moments as the ground grew nearer and nearer.

At the last possible second, they both opened their wings, pure white feathers catching the wind as they pulled a sharp turn, skimming the top of the grass before the momentum sent them rocketing back into the sky, looping around to come to a mostly steady pause in the air.

“Why? Why would you do such a thing,” she managed, clutching her chest. She’d trusted him, but watching him drop headfirst, unprotected, had ignited some visceral panic, adrenaline humming through her veins, making it slightly more difficult to maintain her position in the sky.

KEEFE FLY! KEEFE FLY! KEEFE FLY! Silveny cheered in her mind, but Sophie tried to ignore the pestering. Greyfell seemed to be occupying most of her attention anyways.

“Aww, what? Do you care about me or something?” he teased, circling back around to her, squishing his cheeks between his palms.

Swatting at him, she glitched back a little, wings buzzing and failing to hide her grin. “Unfortunately, I’m invested in your physical and mental well-being, you dumbass.”

Keefe scrunched his nose up at her, pressing in close and grabbing her by the wrist, drawing her away slightly, leading her through loops in the air. He let go eventually, realizing it was much more difficult when holding on to someone, the same way running was so difficult when holding someone else's hand.

She missed the warmth of his skin, though. Missed it desperately.

Music. In a human film, there’d be soft, soothing music playing over a montage of the two of them whirling through the sky, the sound of their laughter cutting through when Sophie’s shirt rode up and the fabric got bunched on her face, when Keefe tried to stay low and fell from the sky, instead ending up rolling through the grass.

Everything was okay, just like they’d said. Like they’d promised. All she could hear was Keefe’s voice, his ringing laughter, and all she could see was his smile, the blinding, near glow of his bone-white feathers.

They let the time pass.

They stopped trying to stop it.

Hey--where are you? Fitz interrupted her as she darted around an alicorn wing, testing her own agility.

Hmm? she replied, startled.

I asked where--

Oh. Mind processing what he’d said a few seconds later, she interrupted him. I don’t know. Keefe took us here.

She could’ve sworn Fitz was mentally trying to strangle her, shake some sense into her. Sophie took the brief moment of silence to slow down, coming to a hover as she closed her eyes, focusing on the conversation. It was hard to escape her body with the pounding in her shoulder, but she managed.

Alright, he said finally, clearly distracted with something on his end. Can you come back, please? Did you even tell anyone you were leaving? What are you even doing--you know what? Later. Just...I need you. Please.

Wings rushed rhythmically beside her, Keefe having noticed her distraction and coming to make sure she didn’t tumble from the sky. How considerate.

Are you okay? Heart skipping a bit, she resisted the urge to pull at her eyelashes. It was that brief moment before disaster, that poignant pause where the next few words would determine whether the adrenaline kicked in in full or her panic would waiver and they’d laugh about it later. Those few seconds before it set in where you tried to figure out if it was real.

He hesitated. I--I don’t know. Is it even possible to be okay right now?

Okay, okay, she consoled, instincts kicking in. Give us a few minutes and we’ll be there, okay? I promise. Don’t do anything stupid, please. We’re coming.

Yeah...okay.

The connection cut out and she opened her eyes, disoriented for a moment. Keefe was grimacing, shaking his hands out, trying to dispel something.

“What’s got you all anxious, Foster?” Ah. Right. He could feel the sudden souring of her mood.

Moving away from him, towards the alicorns, she called over her shoulder. “We need to go. Fitz asked for us to come back and he sounded really upset.”

Keefe started for a moment then followed after. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. But he wants us back so we’re going back.”

“Okay, yeah. Yeah let’s go.” he repeated himself a few times, and Sophie swore if she were an empath she’d feel the same waves of dread and anxiety rolling off of him as he felt from her.

Silveny, Keefe and I need to leave. You and your family need to go back to wherever you’re safest, okay? I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.

KEEFE! SOPHIE! STAY! She begged, sounding like she wanted to kidnap the two of them and steal them away permanently, convinced she could protect them.

She shook her head, curled up in the air beside the alicorn, cradling her head between her hands, pressing their foreheads together. We can’t, mama. But you need to stay safe. We’ll see you again soon.

SEE SOPHIE SOON!

Yeah! We won’t wait so long next time.

SEE KEEFE SOON! Silveny playfully bumped into Sophie, circling away to do the same to Keefe, who said much of the same as she had, wishing her well and promising to visit sometime.

Neither of them knew if they’d be able to keep that promise.

Wynn and Luna butted against them too, demanding a few last pets and snuggles before they followed behind their parents, Greyfell unexpectedly brushing wings with Keefe in farewell before they vanished into the void with one last message.

SOPHIE SAFE! KEEFE SAFE! STAY SAFE!

It was useless to wait here any longer, but they both hesitated for a single moment, long enough to take a breath. To watch the grass shiver in the breeze, the pollen dance through the air.

Offering Keefe her hand, Sophie conjured the clearest image she could of the gnomish village, the way it looked from up above. Their fingers intertwined and Sophie stopped beating those wings, letting herself fall into a dead drop just as Keefe had, but this time they didn’t catch themselves: they plummeted into the void.

Humidity condensed into clouds, obscuring her vision. Apparently her best image of above the village was from that dragon fight, much higher than she realized. The two of them descended in slow, coiling circles, both of them wishing they could go faster but not sure if they should risk it.

Wylie waved at them as they landed from a bridge a little ways away, so she waved back.

We’re back; where are you? Hand dropping back to her side, she resolved that if he didn’t respond within the next fifteen seconds she was tracking him down.

She reached ten before his voice filled her head.

My...house, he said, unsure what to call it just like the rest of them.

Biting her lip, she glanced to Keefe. “Do you know where Fitz is staying?”

He nodded, taking the lead. A stab of guilt threaded its way through the lining of her stomach, coiling around her ribs and squeezing tight. How shameful that she’d gotten so caught up in her own life, her own troubles, that she didn’t even know where he was staying.

Leading her through a series of bridges and turns, a cottage came into view, slanted and twisted around the side of a tree, a spiral of stairs leading towards a splintered door left agape, a pattern of slashes in the front that she forced herself to remove from her mind.

It was the highest building in the village, roof open to the sky.

No creaks or groans came from the stairs as she practically ran up them, imagining the worst of possibilities, heart lagging behind, stumbling with dread. Keefe was only a moment behind, cursing as his feathers snagged on a tear in the railing.

Tentatively, she knocked on the door, but when no response came she just pushed inside.

“Fitz? You alright?” she called out, glancing around the area. Gasping, she let the door swing behind her. The room was in chaos, papers strewn about the floor, his bag discarded near a beanbag chair, spilling empty vials and snack bars onto the ground.

A shuffling came from upstairs--there was an upstairs? Fitz tumbled into the room a few moments later, disheveled, like he hadn’t realized they were actually coming.

Keefe let out a low whistle. “Okay, buddy. What the fuck.”

Fitz was picking at his lip, distracted, frantically scanning the papers on the floor like he was looking for something. “Hmm. Yea,” he responded absentmindedly.

Sophie was too busy scanning him from head to toe, searching every inch for sign of injury or distress. His knuckles were red and raw, his hair sticking out in every possible direction like he’d been running his hands through it, pulling at it.

“What did you need?” she asked, voice soft and gentle. Something was wrong. Something was eating eating eating at him enough that he’d asked her to come.

Fitz exhaled heavily, reaching up to run his hands down his face, then dropped them to his sides. “I don’t know,” he whispered, clenching his jaw. “It doesn’t make any sense.” he was picking at his lip again, arm shaking.

She tried again. “Well, maybe if you tried describing it, we could figure--”

“No.” He had turned around, lowering himself to the floor, collecting the papers and starting to place them in some sort of order. Where had he gotten paper? He glanced at her guiltily. “Sorry. That sounded rude. I didn’t mean--I’m sorry. I don’t mean that I don’t know what the problem is, the problem is that I don’t know. I don’t understand this. I keep--I keep going over what we know, organizing it into notes and sections and treating it like a goddamned homework assignment but I just...the pieces don’t fit together. And there are so many loose strings and things to tie up and come back to and I can’t get that information, which just makes it--”

“O-kay, babe. Let’s slow down there for a hot second,” Keefe interrupted, lowering himself next to Fitz. Fitz slumped, all the air rushing out of his body seemingly at once, expression softening into delicate pain.

Sophie just stood there for a moment before shaking herself out of it, kneeling on the floor beside him, taking the papers from his hand. It was just pages upon pages of notes, scribbled diagrams besides carefully organized and sectioned observations, notes about the wings and the creatures, notes about the little echo and the way Tam’s eyes had changed.

“Here,” he said, handing her a book on top of it all. “That’s what I’ve been working on.”

Oh. It was the book. The monster book. The journal they’d all started who knew how long ago, a collection of notes and things known about the various creatures they’d encountered so far. Their behaviors, their traits, the noise they made if any.

She’d forgotten they’d brought it along.

He clearly hadn’t.

“Okay,” she said, trying to collect herself. “What is...what have you been working on?” His thoughts were so disjointed, something occupying his mind so intensely he wasn't speaking clearly. Hard as she tried she couldn’t make sense of it.

Fitz gestured like it was obvious. “I’m trying to solve it. The wings.” He scooted closer to her, reaching out to flip through the pages to a new section.

A section...about all of them.

It felt so very wrong and off-putting, seeing themselves beside all those horrid things in that book. But she shook it off. Not now.

“Solve? What do you mean ‘solve?’” Keefe asked, leaning in closer to see the pages, quickly turning away when he caught a glimpse of a few sketched feathers, all in various shades of grey.

Fitz groaned, rubbing at his face again. “I can’t--I can’t explain it, okay? It just--it doesn't want to make sense. I swear it makes sense. There’s just--I’m just missing something and then I’ll figure it out and--there’s an explanation somewhere. If I just find it then we can--”

“We can what, Fitz?” Keefe asked, painfully soft.

He went quiet. His fingers curled, nails digging into his face until Sophie reached out to pull them away, lacing her fingers through his own. The movement aggravated her shoulder but she ignored it, letting out only the smallest sound. It didn’t matter. He was crying.

Keefe moved closer and began rubbing his back, the space between the protruding wings, telling him to breathe, the instruction accompanied by a wince of his own as all of Fitz’s...whatever it was hit him, flooding through his mind, visible on his face. But he just shook it off, continuing the slow circular motions.

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to do,” he laughed, hollow. His fingers tightened around Sophie’s before relaxing, falling into his lap. “We’ve already messed everything up. There’s no coming back from this. I don’t even know why I’m trying.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sophie said, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “We’re still trying. We’re always going to try--it’s what we do, right? Together. All of us. That’s how we work. That’s us. I like it that way.” She had no idea what to say.This was so...unexpected. Out of nowhere. Or maybe she just hadn’t been paying as much attention as she should’ve been.

He hummed half-heartedly in response, cheeks flooding red. Keefe absentmindedly reached up to brush a stray piece of hair from Fitz’s forehead, bumping him lightly with his shoulder.

“You should listen to Foster; she knows what she’s talking about most of the time.”

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but Fitz was smiling slightly. “Yeah...she usually does. I guess that’s why I asked for you.”

“You don’t need a reason to ask for me,” she reminded him, letting go of his hand to flop back against the hard wood of the floor, the sound of something clattered to the ground accompanied it. But she didn’t notice, flinching as she hit her shoulder, staring towards the sloped ceiling, the veins of vines curving around the roof. Like the ones that had trapped that creature.

A pang of guilt overwhelmed her for a moment, almost enough to take her breath away. She still hadn’t told anyone about that. But she turned her attention back to the situation at hand. Keefe was looking at her funny, but he shook himself off and turned away.

Fitz shifted forward, flopping down on the floor beside her, wings spreading beneath him to accommodate for the shift. She couldn’t imagine it was comfortable, but he seemed fine.

“I know,” was all he said.

Keefe frowned. “Well now I feel a little left out. Do I get to join the cuddle session?” Fitz laughed, a real laugh, patting the open space to his right, inviting Keefe in.

When Keefe joined, Fitz was sandwiched between the two of them, the three of them looking off at nothing, pretending they didn’t notice the way their skin brushed against each other. No one spoke, the echoing of their heartbeats more than enough to fill the passing time.

They had responsibilities, yes. But this mattered more. Her friends, her family, would always matter more.

Fitz’s breathing evened out, the tension draining from his muscles. Whatever distressed frenzy he’d been in when they arrived started to ebb, his pulse slowed.

Sophie counted each beat, the three of them combined, still unnerved that she could even hear their hearts. Fitz’s hand was playing with her hair, rearranging it around her face as he lay beside her, oh so careful not to jostle her shoulder, the bandages. They’d shifted at some point, Sophie now more atop his wing so she could be closer to his body, Keefe the same on the other side. He was fiddling with Fitz’s hand, pulling at his fingers and tracing the lines with his palm.

“Thanks for coming,” Fitz whispered, breaking the long silence.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t have to come,” he explained, not looking at either of them. “But thank you. I..I needed this. Someone.”

Keefe rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at the two of them. “We’re always going to be here when you need us, Avery.” Fitz rolled his eyes at him, smiling.

“Just…” Sophie began, pausing and restarting. “Thanks for reaching out. Instead of dealing with it on your own. Thanks for letting us in.” He blinked, like he hadn’t thought of it that way before.

Keefe pushed himself up further, looking over at something, drawing both of their attention. “Hey, uh. Foster? You’re getting some messages.” Her imparter--oh, that must’ve been what the noise was. It had fallen from her pocket, discarded somewhere on the floor--she’d turned off the vibrations and sound so she wouldn’t hear it if someone said anything. It was stupid, she knew, but she hadn’t known what else to do.

Exhaling, she closed her eyes. Yeah. She should deal with those now. Nodding to herself, she pushed herself into a sitting position, bearing her weight on her good arm. Keefe lowered himself back down next to Fitz.

One thing at a time.

Reaching over, she grabbed her imparter, bringing it to her lap so she could see it better.

Her mouth fell open. Fitz was watching her carefully, messing with Keefe’s hair and trying to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t observing her every move, gauging her reaction.

“How bad?” Keefe asked, head resting on his arms.

Sophie didn’t even respond, sitting up straighter and thumbing open the device, going straight to her messages. The most recent ones.

“Elwin--he messaged me.” She blurted out, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

They both stopped moving.

“He says he wants to meet up. Secretly. Just--just with him.” Trembling, she turned the screen around so they could read it.

Sophie. I don’t know what’s going on with you or your friends, but please let me help. I want nothing but the best for you and I can’t help you if you’re hidden. I’m not asking you to reveal your secrets, but let me in just enough to patch you up. I don’t need all the answers, but I won’t sleep well until I know I’ve done everything I can. You have injuries left untreated.

But it was the last part of the message that really stunned her.

No one knows I’m sending this, so don’t let them know. We can keep this just between us. You’re a strong, independent young woman, but I hope you’ll accept my help.

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i-love-side-characters · 3 years

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker Characters: Sophie Foster (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Fitz Vacker, Biana Vacker, Alden Vacker, Grady Ruewen, Tiergan (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Other KOTLC Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Human, Blood and Violence, ahem- gae Summary:

“Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die.”

― Herbert Hoover

Tag List: I might be missing some of you, I’m sorry!

@bronte-deserves-better @councillor-bronte-is-best-boy @cadence-talle @an-absolute-travesty @bookwyrminspiration @keefeinnit @mallowmeltz @ultralazycreatorfan @everyonehasthoughts @mistythegenderqueermess @imaramennoodle @rainbowtay-11 @we-need-more-empathy @catboyruy@we-wont-dissapear @we-have-no-bananas-today @loverofallthingssmart @a-lonely-tatertot @never-ever-too-many-fandoms @enbies-and-felonies @xonar-verse @beautifuldaysahead @jadenightthewriter @alabestrine @sunlight-in-a-bottle @illavarasi @completekeefitztrash

Other:

This is really important to me because my “friend” really messed me up, and I really was considering not writing anymore so thank you guys <3333

This is chapter 3!

Read under the cut as well!

It was far too easy to slip out of the castle.

My feet thudded against the ground as I flew over the damp cobblestones. It had stopped raining, mercifully, but it was still dark. Perfect for a very illegal meeting.

I pulled my hood low over my head, peering out at the empty courtyard. Wind rustled the trees bordering the stone square. Water rushed in the fountain basin, the only noise in the quiet. I crept along the edge of the courtyard and slipped through the shadowed greenery.

“Who are you looking for?”

I spun around, drawing my dagger. It was hard to keep a straight face as the boy smiled at me as his periwinkle eyes glowed in the dark. It was an unconscious move, our hands twisting into a handshake perfected over years of our friendship.

He laughed quietly, punching my arm. “How are you?”

“Good.” It wasn’t a lie. “You?”

“Alright, I guess.” His eyes darkened slightly. “Rex didn’t make it.”

I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped my throat. Rex, sweet Rex, was dead. Another body on the king’s head. I glared back at the castle, my hands shaking. “I’m so sorry, Dex.”

He shook his head. “You’re good. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t, Miss Foster.” I hadn’t even noticed the tall man under the willow tree. He stepped out, his dark blue eyes filled with sorrow. I bit my lip, shaking my head. “You’re wrong, Leto. If I’d―”

“You can’t change the past, Sophie.” His voice was soft and caring. He patted my shoulder, looking up at the tall spires of the castle. “So?”

Metallic blood filled my mouth, my teeth cutting a tear in my lip. “Everything’s going fine. I can kill that so-called ‘king’ anytime, General. Just give me the word.”

“Not yet.” He sighed, leaning back against the tree. “Tiergan― that is, King Tiergan to you― doesn’t want you making any moves against Eternalia. And certainly not King Alden. It’s not the time.”

I could feel my blood boiling. He had killed so many of us, and our king wanted to spare him? “You― the king― sent me here, to Eternalia, to kill King Alden, and how he doesn’t want me to? Doesn’t he see what pain Eternalia has caused us? What they’ve done?” I spat out my words, each word coated in venomous rage.

Leto’s lips twitched into a smile, a rare sight for the old general. “You mistake Tiergan’s motives, Miss Foster. He wants you to wait, because he has a plan. However, it’s not time to act yet. Which means that you need to stay put and keep your head. I can already see you losing your cool. Control yourself.”

I glared at him, turning to Dex instead, his expression telling me that this was the first he’d heard of the change on plans as well. “You’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely not.”

The words were surprisingly comforting, but I still wasn’t satisfied. “Why do we need to wait? I can finish this.”

“Because the king said so.” Leto replied calmly.

My jaw tightened.

Dex frowned slightly, kicking at the loose earth. “I think we should listen to him, Sophie. If anyone knows what they’re doing, it’s King Tiergan.”

“But―” I started, then bit down on my tongue. Dex was right. So was Leto, which I found rather hard to admit since I’ve been doing my best to annoy the stately general ever since the day he chose Dex and I to be his apprentices.

“So?” I sighed, turning back to him. “What does Tiergan have in mind?”

“King Tiergan, Miss Foster.” His dark eyes twinkled softly in the dark. “And he has a very interesting plan. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Winnowing Ball?”

I frowned and nodded. I had heard about it, actually. From what I’d caught from snippets of conversations, the ball was an annual event in Eternalia. The highest of highborns attend, with King Alden himself present. Basically every snobby person in the kingdom comes to compete on how high they could stick their noses in the air.

“That’s when we’ll attack.”

I blinked. “What?”

“That’s when we’ll― or you, I suppose― will kill the king. And others. Hopefully.” Leto repeated slowly.

“But that’s… so simple.” Dex stammered slightly.

“Simple plans are often the best.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, tapping my foot against the cobbles. Shadows shifted around the courtyard, clouds obscuring the bright glow of the moon. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll wait until the ball.”

Wind rustled the bushes as Leto stared around the shadowy courtyard. “We should leave. I’ll send you more instructions soon.” He gaze fell onto me. “Remember, Miss Foster. We see. We listen. We hear. We serve the king. We are the King’s Blade.”

I shivered slightly, nodding. Dex offered me a slim grin as he pulled me into a tight hug. “See you soon, Soph.”

“Yeah.”

I was vaguely aware of watching their silhouettes slip through the streets, vaguely aware of running back to the castle and stealing back through the servants hall. Moonlight paled the deep red carpets and cast gorgeous coloured lights through the stained-glass windows.

I hurried through the hall, my footsteps dulled against the carpets. My breath came out ragged as I skipped up the stairs, light on my feet. I frowned. Every hall looked the same. I frowned again and, and went right.

“Your Majesty?”

King Alden looked haggard, dark circles around his eyes. Behind him the old wooden doors to the king’s rooms where slammed shut, small rays of light shining from under the door. Fitz looked just like his father, his own sleepless circles darker than the king’s.

The king scowled slightly, looking me over. “What are you doing awake, little girl?”

I pursed my lips and dipped into a bow. He didn’t even remember me. I was just another servant to him. I gritted my teeth and straightened. “I was feeling a little under the weather, Your Majesty. I just slipped out for a breath of fresh air.”

The king nodded, his gaze gliding over me. He seemed distracted, almost. I shot a look at Fitz, who shook his head and held out his arm. “I’ll escort you back to your chambers, Miss.”

He nodded again and ran a hand down his face, watching as his son pulled me out of sight.

“Fitz, what’s―”

He shook his head, dragging me down the hall. Cool wind hit my face as he pulled me outside, around the courtyard, behind the castle. Green vines were draped all over the ancient marble statues, flowers and ferns shooting out of cracks in the ivory stone.

“Where are we?”

“Royal Gardens.”

I glanced at him, taking in his rumpled tunic and red face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s― Nothing.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that.”

He bit his lip, looking back at the tall spires of the castle, the same way Leto had looked at them earlier that night. His eyes were filled with tears, dripping down his cheeks and onto his shirt. “My mom― The queen―”

I raised my eyebrow. I knew the Queen, if only from her brief meeting with my own king. “What about her?”

“She― She’s dying.”

“What?”

“In battle. The Battle of Oblivionmyre. She was stabbed―” His eyes sparkled with tears.

I remembered that battle. I didn’t fight, but I remember the cheers that echoed around the palace that night. But he couldn’t know that. He was his father’s son, and his father was a monster, and his father was the one who hurt my people. “What happen?”

Almost as if a switch had been flipped, the tears were gone from the young prince’s eyes. They blazed with anger, his fists clenched, knuckles white. “Them. It was them. King Tiergan’s soldiers. They did that to her. They’re monsters, and murders.”

Blood pounded through my head. “What?”

“They’re monsters.” He spat, glaring around the garden. “That’s all there is to it.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. “I― I have to go.”

“No wait― Sorry.” Fitz ran a hand down his face, sitting on the marble ruins. “I just get so angry. They’ve hurt my kingdom so much. I hate it. I wish this war would just end.”

“Same.” My words were a whisper, gently carrying on the wind.

Fitz smiled sadly, kicking around the pale stone debris. “And if this war doesn’t end soon then... I suppose,” He swallowed hard. “I’ll be king. And then, well I don’t know.”

He stared up towards the twinkling sky, sighing deeply. His eyes were pricked with tears again. “I don’t know whether she’ll survive.” He whispered. “But I don’t what I can do except end this war.”

We both watched the stars shimmer brightly against the dark night sky, the wind ruffling in our hair. After a few minutes, a creak of a door echoed through the night, accompanied by the soft sound of feet on grass.

It took me a second to recognize the general from the day before, he was out of armour and wringing his hands as he held out his arm for the prince. “Your Highness, your father asked me to come get you. It’s late.” He smiled at me, if only a little sadly.

Fitz nodded and pulled himself to his feet. “Thank you General Ruwen. I’m so―”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He assured him quietly. He dipped his head to me and gestured towards the castle. “If I could escort you back, Miss?”

I shook my head, gazing at Fitz. “I think I’ll stay out her a little while longer.”

Both men dipped their heads into polite bows, walking back to the shadowy palace. I watched them leave, brushing the dirt off my dress.

I thought the prince was different.

I thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be as blind as the rest of his people.

My eyes narrowed as I watched soft candlelight go out in the castle windows.

Oh well.

Like father, like son.

#my ao3 #my writing #all is fair in love and war #sophiana #sophiana fic #kotlc

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queercapwriting · 3 years

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I haven't seen a good Fitzskimmons in a while, so if we could get something with them Cap that'd be great. Maybe juggling the holiday traditions Fitz and Simmons are used to with the desire to create new ones for Skye/Daisy whose upbringing didn't really lend itself to great holiday memories?

It was her first Christmas season with the team, and she felt more out of place than usual.

“Why is Fitz...” Skye tilted her head, unsure how to finish her question. Apparently, Simmons didn’t find that unusual. Of course she didn’t - completing someone else’s sentences was completely normal for her. And there she went.

“Locked in his bunk with a great big Do Not Enter sign on it, blasting heavy metal Christmas music?” Simmons supplied.

Skye squinted and bit her bottom lip. “Yes?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him. It’s just something he does every holiday season. He used to transform his room in the Academy into a little Santa’s workshop. The things he invents during the holiday season... One year, he made me a self-sustaining...”

Skye lost track of Simmons’ excited stream of words and stories and memories.

She didn’t have anything like that. And Fitz-Simmons already had their own holiday traditions, it seemed.

May and Coulson probably did, too.

Best if she just left well enough alone.

So she smiled and nodded and acted suitably impressed when it seemed appropriate.

Skye didn’t realize that Simmons noticed. No one ever had before, so why should anybody now?

Skye didn’t realize that Simmons cracked the holiday lock on Fitz’s door (she might be biochem, not engineering, but she knew how to apply Skye’s algorithms when she needed to) and sat on his bed, patiently ignoring his red face and stammering so she could explain that they needed to make extra sure that Skye feels welcome during her first Christmas on the bus.

And Skye had no way of knowing that Fitz’s eyes had lit up, because he was already on it.

She had fully prepared herself to wake up on Christmas morning in a certified mood. Fully prepared herself to put on a fake smile as she watched everyone else do their thing, then throw herself headlong into some assignment that could definitely wait, but that she’d treat like it was the most urgent thing on the planet.

She had not, in any way, prepared herself for Fitz-Simmons to wake her up by pounding on her door, shouting about Christmas and Santa Claus before rapidly descending into a loud discussion of the physics of reindeer-led sleighs and faster than light travel.

She yanked her door open, not caring that her hair was a mess, not caring that her t-shirt was rumpled from sleep, not remembering that she had only boy shorts, and no pants.

“The one day off we’ve had in centuries, and you’re waking me up because - “

“Because we have all these presents for you, Skye!” Fitz said, Santa hat yanked down over his ears, remote controls in his hands, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jemma tugged her into a tight, full-bodied hug that made Skye gulp and - she couldn’t help it - rest her cheek on Jemma’s shoulder, just for a second, just for a moment.

She didn’t know what to say as Jemma took her hand - she gulped again - and dragged her through the bus to where Fitz had set up a massive tree overnight, stacked high with gifts, a full quarter of them for Skye.

A fully functional, impeccably accurate model of her van. (From Fitz, with proud support and car nerdery assistance from Coulson.)

The most souped-up laptop she could ever imagine (and she imagined a lot), completely customized to her, down to her preferred typing patterns and with a keypad molded to her own hands. (From Fitz, with enthusiastic input from Simmons.)

A perfectly rendered painting of what the night sky(e) would look like from LA, without all the light pollution. (No one took credit for this one, but May actually smiled, like fully smiled, when Skye looked at her with tears in her eyes).

“You’re part of the family now, Skye,” Fitz told her when he tugged his own Santa hat off her head and placed it on hers.

“No escaping it now,” Simmons added.

She spent a good part of that morning crying alone in her bunk. From happiness, for once.

+++

It was another few years before they were all able to celebrate Christmas together again.

When Jemma first came home from Maveth, she’d hardly been up for a romantic dinner alone with Fitz, let alone a whole Christmas celebration with the family.

On Christmas Eve, Simmons shared a quiet glass of wine with Daisy, and whatever else she and Fitz did to commemorate the evening, Daisy had no clue.

She had fun with Hunter and Bobbi and Mack - it was warm and it was sweet and it was family - but she missed Simmons. She missed Fitz.

She wondered, though she tried not to, if their first Christmas together had also been their last.

If the universe had been so cold to Fitz-Simmons that they’d only ever be each other’s warmth. If Daisy had no other part in it.

But then the next morning came. Christmas morning.

The knock on her door was soft and tentative.

Jemma.

Daisy almost tripped over her blankets to answer quickly. She could never get to Jemma quickly enough.

“Daisy,” Jemma said, the name still feeling new on her lips. But Daisy had meant what she’d said - Jemma really could call her whatever she wanted. “Merry Christmas.”

She held out a mug of cocoa, topped with so much whipped cream that Daisy couldn’t help but smile. Even with everything that had been going on, Jemma must have noticed how much more into sugar Daisy had found herself, after everything with her parents.

“Merry Christmas.”

Daisy thought that maybe their eyes lingered together for a moment longer than they normally would, a moment longer than someone else might consider appropriate.

“I made Christmas pancakes. For you, and for Fitz. Do you want to come back to our room? Share them with us, before Fitz eats them all?”

For you, and for Fitz. Our room. With us. Daisy’s head spun.

She cleared her throat. “What are Christmas pancakes?”

“The greatest pancakes ever to exist, Daisy!” Fitz called from down the hall.

Jemma giggled softly. Once again, she held out her hand for Daisy. Once again, Daisy took it.

Once again, Christmas felt like it could be... home.

+++

“My father didn’t believe in holidays, not really,” Fitz told Jemma and Daisy. After the Framework. After all the torture and all the death and all the... all of it. “Celebrating was a womanly activity,” he said. His eyes were far away.

Daisy met Jemma’s eyes. Tears were burning there - Fitz was learning to talk about his father, but slowly. Slowly. Jemma’s hand absently traced the spot on her leg where Leopold - where Fitz - had shot her.

Fitz noticed. He knelt, immediately, and replaced Jemma’s fingers with his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Daisy had lost track of the number of times he’d apologized.

“I was only in there for a day, and I did terrible things too, Fitz,” she reminded him.

She brought her fingers to his chin, tilted his head up so he would look at her. She glanced at Jemma - she was still new at this. At all of this. At figuring out where she fit in their relationship, in their love. She’d been especially nervous about it, around the holidays. Figuring out where she fit, how she fit.

Was Jemma the only one allowed to comfort Fitz, like this? But Jemma smiled and took Daisy’s free hand.

Fitz looked up at her like his life hung on her next words.

And maybe they did.

But he didn’t let her speak them. He’d told her and Jemma, so many times, that comforting him wasn’t their job. Not about this.

They tried, anyway, and they did, anyway.

But he tried, too.

So he tilted his head so his lips kissed her palm.

“It’s Christmas, Daisy,” he smiled, with his eyes more than his lips. He kissed Jemma’s leg once more before he stood, and offered them both his hands. “My point about my father wasn’t to get lost in the past. It was to a build a future. Our future. He didn’t believe in holidays, but I do. Because you deserve them, Daisy. For yourself. And with us. So...”

He led them both off the Quinjet. He and Jemma had refused to tell Daisy where they were going, or why they were dressed so damn warmly.

Daisy gasped when he opened the bay doors.

He and Jemma had brought her... Christmas.

An immaculate igloo, big enough to fit Daisy’s entire history of crowded rooms with no real connections, complete with a smoking chimney that spoke of a warm fire inside. Two massive evergreen trees on either side of it, all strung with softly glowing white lights. A field of uninterrupted snow, as far as her eyes could see.

She didn’t ask how he’d managed to engineer it all.

She didn’t ask why he’d done this for her. He’d already said - he thought she deserved it.

When Mack emerged from the igloo, mugs of cocoa in his hands and Yo-Yo and Flint trying to get reindeer antlers on his head, May and Coulson next to them, it occurred to Daisy that FitzSimmons - her FitzSimmons - weren’t giving her anything she didn’t already have.

The three of them made a family together long ago. They just wanted to make sure she always knew.

Fitz held her hand while Jemma kissed her lips. Deke whooped from somewhere behind Mack. Flint snapped endless photos mid-laugh, because he’d never gotten over the whole idea of cameras. May tossed a snowball at Coulson, who promptly fell into a heap of fresh snow.

Home. FitzSimmons had brought her home for Christmas.

And for maybe the first time, she didn’t question it.

#fitzskimmons #fitzskimmons fic #bioquake #aos fic #my beautiful little angels

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councillor-bronte-is-best-boy · 4 years

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Random things I've noticed throughout KotLC that could possibly bring theories in the future:

The entire council would trust Alden with their lives except for the two that care about Sophie the most. It has been said outright that Bronte doesn't like Alden (and the Vackers have been taught to not like him) (Although his treatment toward them in Book 1 wasn't very nice). Oralie has shown signs about not trusting Alden (including refusing to let Sophie live with him to the point where she got Bronte to defend her)

Mr. Forkle said that Sophie's enhancing was a surprise that came from her genetics and no one pointed it out

Alden's role has gotten smaller and smaller in the books as the Neverseen have become more of a threat (I don't think he even showed up in Legacy) which is kind of a parallel to how Mr. Forkle shut down Foxfire so he could be head of the Black Swan

Gethen's role has slowly gotten bigger, and he is the only villian we got to see in pretty much all of book 1 (Why would Shannon put him in there that early unless he becomes important?) Even in the King's Path he was front and center of the hallucinations ASKING FOR A HUG . And in Flashback he's the main voice and look of the monster (He's definitely her dad but that's for another time)

The Sophie x Keefe and Jolie x Brant parallel is destroying me

Bronte's role has been kind of consistent throughout the series other than a side change but??? He somehow gets mentioned in like every scene throught the series. He'll definitely have a BIG role in the upcoming books and I'm scared

Every time Ro has went up against Gisela she has failed and Shannon has mentioned that she's going to kill off some of the body guards *loud coughing* and Ro seems to be the most determined to fight Gisela (I think you all know where this one is going)

It's been hinted at that Bronte and Grady have known each other for a long time several times throughout the series so I want to know more about that

Dex is basically Keefe now and I want it to stop. MAKE IT STOP

It's been hinted at that Terik is actually very old. And amcient? Idk. But he's old

Sophie acts so much like Bronte it's ridiculous (It may be hard to tell but they are annoyingly similar)

Mr. Forkle has hinted at Amy being "something I've never expected" so that's scary. Amy probably got some leftover moonlark genes 👀

Fintan is impressed with/likes Linh (Marella says this in Legacy) so uhhhh.... What ya planning there buddy?

The only people Sophie could remember on the King's Path are Dex and Bronte (The two people I've theorized are going to die) even though she was holding Bronte and Grady's hands

Tiergan and Gethen are pretty much the same person

The council always meets up at Havenfield so I guess something big is going to happen at Havenfield

There's a bit of a Terik-Fitz parallel starting to happen as the series goes on.... And if my theories about both of them are correct, that is NOT a good thing

We still don't know what Livvy's ability is????? Even though Sophie enhanced her???

Fitz and Forkle also act a LOT alike

The fire and ice analogy is used a lot throughout the series. I'm not quite sure what that could symbolize but ice usually beats fire when it isn't inflicting...

Cassius has been starting to get a much bigger role.... Ew

STOP IT WITH THE BRONTE-GETHEN PARALLEL

Wraith is supposedly the only person who knows Tinker's real identity but how hard is it to identify the only wild red-haired tallest-elf-she'd-ever-seen technopath that wears metal all the time? That just seems like Forkle doesn't want Sophie and Dex knowing who she is

Fintan has no set motive other than "make pyrokinesis legal oh and also expose the entire neverseen while I'm at it" so uh, what??? Is he doing exactly?

Alina gets in a fight with someone no matter what scene she's in or who she's with

Even though they did help expose the Vackers and frequently hurt the kids, did Ruy and Gethen ever actually harm any of the kids physically? It even looked like they were trying to help the group in Everglen. ALL of the Neverseen members are obviously on different pages here

I'm gonna stop here but I'll add more later

#long post tw #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #yeah im not even going to attempt to tag all of this #can you tell im obsessed with gethen lol #caps tw

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cadence-talle · 4 years

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Dream of Endless Shadow

a dark!Tam AU, written to go along with @lemontarto‘s dark!Tam drawing. Make sure to go look at it if you haven’t seen it yet!

Wordcount: 2,274

Trigger warnings: Death, non-graphic violence

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess, @diamond-dreamerr, @we-have-no-bananas-today, @an-absolute-travesty

Laughter floats through the air and up a sweeping cliff, gathering around a pair of figures standing at the edge. Linh glances back at her brother, hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She’s smiling- she’s always smiling. Tam wonders sometimes how she can be so happy, looking at all they’ve lost.

“Come on,” she says, holding out a hand. “You’ll be fine.”

Tam quirks an eyebrow. “You can’t guarantee that.”

Linh raises a hand in the air, and the water below them rises with it, a huge shimmering bubble. She grins at Tam.

“Yes I can. Just jump.”

The sun beats down on his back as Tam stares down at the ocean. It’s safe- he knows it’s safe, but he can’t stop his fear. Linh is always the brave one, anyway.

She charges ahead while Tam stays behind, rushing around corners before he’s made sure it’s safe. He doesn’t understand, really- how she can be so happy, so fearless, so Linh.

“Come on,” Linh says again, grabbing his hand. “On three, okay? One…”

She’s amazing.

“Two…”

She’s powerful.

“Three!”

And Tam knows that they’ll be fine as long as she’s by his side.

He takes a deep breath and jumps.

-/-

Tam glares down at the dark streets of Atlantis, eyes tracking barely-visible figures on the ground below. He could probably see better if he dispersed the shadows, but that would blow his cover- and besides, he can see well enough.

Well enough is pretty much all he’s getting, these days. He can see well enough, he can sleep well enough, he’s eating well enough.

Well enough isn’t good, of course, but Tam doubts he’ll ever be good again.

Finally, the person he’s looking for exits the shop underneath him. Tam was a little surprised when he found Ruy Ignis in a flower shop in Atlantis, but he supposes it makes sense; it’s not like anyone knows what he looks like. Tam only recognized him by his voice, and even that took a couple visits to figure out.

Ruy turns the corner and enters an alleyway to the side of his shop, humming something under his breath. With a quiet grunt, Tam wraps shadows around the man and drops to the ground a few feet away. Ruy makes a sound of surprise and summons a forcefield.

“What-”

Tam releases the shadowflux he’s been holding in his hands, and it slinks through the forcefield to wrap around Ruy’s neck, hovering just a few inches above the skin. The man’s eyes go wide as he scrambles to get away. Tam clenches a fist and it moves closer to Ruy, shrinking little by little until it’s a hair away from the skin.

He chose shadowflux not because it was easy for him, but because it hurt. Tam wants this man- all of the Neverseen, really- to feel pain, to feel what he’s been feeling for days now. This hurt, this ache, always there but never healed. Not really. Tam forces the shadowflux closer, and-

“Tam!”

Sophie and Biana rush into the alley, both clad in dark tunics and capes. Biana has a throwing star in her hand, but she’s not looking at Ruy- she’s staring right at Tam.

“What are you doing here?” Tam growls, relaxing his hands just enough to let Ruy breathe. Sophie narrows her eyes at him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says. “Where have you been, Tam? We’ve been worried sick!”

“I’ve been out,” Tam replies. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Biana says slowly. She turns to Sophie. “Can you bring Ruy back to the Black Swan? I’ll stay here.”

Sophie nods, shooting Biana a quick smile before grabbing Ruy’s arm and leaping away. Biana turns to Tam.

“This is what you’re up to?” she asks. “Trying to kill people?”

“They deserve it,” Tam answers. Biana shakes her head.

“Maybe so, but we don’t do that, Tam. We don’t kill. If we do-” her voice breaks slightly, and Tam can tell they’re remembering the same thing. “We’re just as bad as them.”

“Then I guess I’m bad.” Tam responds, curling the shadowflux back into his palms. He sighs. “I just want to avenge her, Bi. I want to- to destroy them as much as they destroyed me. As much as they destroyed her.”

“Linh wouldn’t want-”

“Don’t pretend like you know her!”

Biana takes a step back, eyes wide. Tam only realizes how loud he’s shouted after the fact. “You didn’t know her,” he adds more quietly. “No one knew her like I did.”

“Maybe not,” Biana says slowly. “But I still loved her. She was amazing. Kind, talented, fierce.” She looks at Tam, staring straight into his eyes. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to be sad. She would have wanted you to keep living, not take other lives away.”

“I-” Tam shakes his head. “No. I can’t. I have to- to do this.” To do anything, he adds in his head. Biana lets out a long breath.

“Okay. Just- promise me you’ll be safe, okay? You shouldn’t have to die for her.”

“I know,” Tam says, because he does. “I promise.”

It might not be a promise he can keep.

-/-

This was supposed to be standard.

They’d received word of trolls being attacked in the woods off Brackendale- and while, of course, no one had gotten hurt, Sophie had decided to check it out anyway. Something’s been shifting lately, some sour wind sweeping into the Lost Cities and bringing with it the smell of death. The Neverseen are braver, now, and they need to be careful.

They weren’t careful enough.

They’re ambushed almost immediately when they move into the woods. Black-cloaked figures drop down from the trees, surrounding them on all sides. Next to him, Tam hears Linh growl, pulling water from the air and forming it into a ball, ready to attack. Marella summons fire, Keefe and Fitz grasp throwing stars, Dex readies his newest gadgets and Sophie gets ready to inflict.

This time, they’re not going to lose. Not again.

And for a moment, it seems like they’re winning. Most of the Neverseen are already on the ground, unconscious or held down. Tam can’t recognize most of them- he thinks one of the only ones left standing is Gethen, but he can’t be sure.

It’s odd, for the Neverseen to be taken down so easily, but Tam chalks it up to their little group simply being stronger now. He turns to watch Linh, swinging water in a sweeping arc and knocking a woman to the grass beneath their feet, and smiles slightly.

And then-

It doesn’t happen in slow motion. Tam doesn’t see the throwing star coming, doesn’t hold out a hand to try and stop it. Linh is upright, and then she’s not- she’s fighting, and then she’s lying on the ground with a piece of silver metal embedded in her neck.

Linh is alive, and then she’s not.

Tam doesn’t even get to say goodbye.

-/-

The first few days were the worst.

He didn’t do anything but sit on the couch in Tiergan’s living room, staring blankly at the wall as he relived that moment over and over again.

A flash of silver, a small cry cut off too soon. Blood staining the grass and getting on Tam’s hands as he rushes to her, too late.

Too late. He’s always too late.

Nightmares and sleepless nights bleed into empty days, and Tam doesn’t care. He feels time slipping away, feels himself get weaker (he’s not eating. what’s the point, when she’s gone), feels shadows wrap around him.

They’re shockingly cold, but at least feeling cold is feeling something.

So he falls backwards into the shadows, letting them surround him, crush him out of the half-dead state he’s been in and back into his own body. And slowly, the sadness recedes. It’s not gone, it’ll never be gone, but Tam has managed to cover it up with something else.

Anger.

Rage is what gets him off of the couch, what gets him to eat, what gets him out of the house. Anger is what makes him track down each and every member of the Neverseen and kill them.

Or, try to. Someone always shows up to stop him.

At this point, Tam is sure they’re tracking him somehow. Sophie, Biana, Keefe, Dex- someone is always there, telling him to slow down.

Stop, they’ll say. You’re going to hurt yourself. This isn’t safe.

And Tam knows it’s not. He can feel the shadowflux creeping through his veins; a cold, tingling sensation. It doesn’t hurt, not yet, but it will eventually.

It’ll take over, eventually.

Tam doesn’t care.

He’s standing on the edge of the cliff again, the one he and Linh used to come to when they went swimming. It’s clouded, today, the water below gray and upset. No more sunny blue days.

Sunny blue days disappeared a long time ago.

Tam came here to find some long-lost part of Linh, to remember, but all it does is hurt. Hurt and hurt and hurt again, and it never stops.

It never stops. It’s never going to stop. The only way is-

The water below is dark. It won’t catch him this time.

Tam takes a shaky step forward.

A flash of silver, a small cry cut off too soon. Blood staining the grass and getting on Tam’s hands as he rushes to her, too late.

And a laugh. High and cackling. Tam knows that laugh.

“Gethen.”

And he turns away from the cliff.

-/-

They’re at a human picnic spot, sharing a piece of fruit the gnomes gave them for lunch. Linh’s laughing at something Tam says when a screech echoes through the air.

A hawk has just picked up a mouse in its talons, carrying it through the air and towards a tree branch. Linh gasps and stands up, but the humans on the other side of the clearing are faster- one grabs a rock and hits the hawk in the wing. It goes crashing to the ground, and the mouse scurries away.

The humans leave, laughing, as Linh rushes over to the bird.

“It’s hurt,” she says, gently lifting a wing that is bent in a way no wing should ever be. “We need to help it.”

“It was going to kill that mouse,” Tam points out. “You didn’t want it to do that. Why are you helping it now?”

“Because it’s hurt,” Linh says, glaring at him, “and it was just trying to find food. And even if it wasn’t-” she shakes her head- “it’s a living thing. If you can help a living thing, you should.

“If you just leave it, it could die. No one deserves that, no matter what they’ve done.”

Tam sighs, crouching down next to her. “Fine. How can I help?”

-/-

The security at Gethen’s prison cell isn’t very good.

The goblins at the door didn’t even give him a second glance as Tam moved through the door- although, to their credit, Tam is pretty sure he still has a reputation as “Sophie Foster’s friend.”

Still, he doesn’t get any questions as he moves through the stone-lined walls and stops in front of a chilly cell. The man inside gives him a sharp smile.

“Tam Song,” he says. “I’ve been wondering when you would come to visit. Last time we talked you seemed a bit… unstable.”

“Last time we talked I tried to kill you,” Tam says bluntly. “Now I’m here to finish that.”

He summons shadowflux, ignoring the chill that runs through his whole body. He’ll deal with that later. Right now, all that matters is his sister’s murderer.

Gethen laughs. “You always were stronger than the rest of them,” he shrugs. “I’m not surprised to see you’re the one who went insane.”

“I’m not insane,” Tam growls, pushing the shadowflux closer to the man. “You killed my sister. Now you’re going to pay.”

Gethen’s eyes glint and he starts to say something, but Tam pushes the shadowflux into his skin and whatever he was going to speak is lost in a scream.

A flash of silver, a small cry cut off too soon.

Tam narrows his eyes and forces the shadowflux closer, pushing it into the man’s brain.

Blood staining the grass and getting on Tam’s hands as he rushes to her, too late.

Gethen’s body goes limp, but his eyes are wild and Tam knows he’s still in pain.

A laugh. High and cackling. And-

Gethen falls to the floor, his chest no longer heaving. He’s gone.

He’s gone, and Tam should be happy. Linh is avenged. She can move on now. She can be satisfied.

Linh wouldn’t want this, Biana’s voice whispers in his brain. It wasn’t for her. It was for you.

“No,” Tam bites his lip so hard he tastes blood, falling against the cold stone wall. He’s so cold- everything is so cold. “No, no, this was for her. This was for revenge.”

But he can see Linh, leaning over that wounded hawk. She looks up at him, straight at Tam, and her brow furrows.

No one deserves to die, no matter what they’ve done. She says, shaking her head. She stands up, moving toward Tam. What have you done, Tam?

“I just wanted them to hurt,” Tam whispers. “I wanted them to die.”

Linh frowns sadly and the memory dissipates. Tam sinks to the floor, head in his hands. The floor is cold, the walls are cold, he’s so cold-

Shadowflux moves toward him, burrowing under his skin. Tam lets it, lets it move through his bloodstream and into his heart.

Everything is cold.

#lynn rambles #my writing #tam song #linh song #angst

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