#and spy is a stick figure that hates me personally and also is french and Fucking Reeks of cigarettes and cologne. Do Not Hug

[theintelligentfool]

sniper, the guy who throws bottles of his own piss at other people? yeah i wonder why even Sniper Fans don't want to physically hug the man,

[midnightartemis]

Chapter Five 

Read Me on AO3

Dun Mhuir, The Isle of Skye, Mid-1700s

Two Days Since the Stones...

The castle awoke as we dismounted from our horses. I was so sore and chaffed that I could barely walk without grimacing. And it seemed that Kylo was in no better shape.

“We need to get that wound patched up better.” I rush to steady him, but he shoos me away.

“I’m fine, lass. Away with ye.” His mood had darkened considerably the moment we passed through the gates of the castle. The soft looks of appreciation I sometimes had gotten from him were vanished and replaced with a stony exterior and hard, uncaring eyes. I watched as he limped away with our horse and made plans to check on him later.

“Dinnae fash about him. He’s a strong lad.”

“Even strong lads can die of infection.”

“Aye.” The giant stops to stand beside me, looking me over with suspicion. “I suppose I owe you a debt for saving mo mhac.”

Mo mhac? The word was familiar, but I had to think hard for it. It was difficult enough to understand the modern mix of Scottish Gaelic and English. “Son. He’s your son?”

“Nae, but he’s the closest I’ll ever have. Family, ye ken.”

“Do I get your name for my debt?” I ask.

“No need to throw away a debt for a name, lass. Cù Buchan. Chewie, if ye will.” He offers me his hand and I take it.

“Rey Niima.” Every step I take feels like a test here.

“Where come you from?”

“London.” I was still trying my best to stick as close to the truth as possible.

“And how did you come to the Highlands?”

“With my husband.” I had the whole trip here to come up with a plausible story and yet I had failed to do so. I had been too preoccupied with escaping and making sure my captor didn’t die.

“And where is ye husband now?”

“He’s gone. Dead,” I say quietly. In a way, that was the truth as well.

The men around me are all dealing with horses and speaking in Gaelic as they had been the whole trip. Probably so that I would not understand them.

“My apologies.”

I shrug half-heartedly. He wasn’t even dead, yet... Born, yet. I close my eyes and try to wrap my mind around my adventure.

“Ye werenae fond of him?”

“I barely knew him. But he was my husband. And I loved him.” I tried to formulate my story quickly. Something that would explain what I was doing out in the middle of nowhere. “We were attacked on our way back to Inverness. He died and I ran and I kept running until I ran into Captain Snoke and his men and they mistook me for a whore.”

“It doesnae take much for a Sassenach to mistake.” The way he calls Captain Snoke a Sassenach is much different than when the men refer to me. There’s a bite to it, more like a curse. “Though yer claes are peculiar.”

I look down at my clothes which are barely dry and covered in mud. I’m thankful for stopping to change, as the thick pants and my trusty bomber jacket have likely saved me from freezing in the Highlands once more. “They’re… French.”

“Aye. French.” He eyes me like he doesn’t believe me, but he understands the strange habits of the French. Some things never change.

The horses have all been lead to stables and the courtyard is beginning to wake. A door opens near us and a small woman with sharp eyes steps out. She instantly spies us. “Mo m' eudail! Good to see ye. Who’s the lass?”

“Rey Niima. Sassenach we picked up near Inverness. Laird will want to speak wi’ her.” Chewie claps a hand on my shoulder. “She’s a guest of Clan Adharled.”

I scoff. A guest. It was a strange way of saying prisoner. But if it kept me from being locked up in a cell, I would begrudgingly accept the position. The woman seemed to come to the same conclusion so she reached out a hand and I took it. “Cannae ‘ave ye goin’ to the Laird lookin’ like that.”

She introduced herself to me as Mavis Kent-Amos, the keeper of the house. “Though if ye call me anything but Maz, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!”

I didn’t quite know what that meant, but I was sure it involved a good knock to the head. I let Maz drag me through the kitchens which were already filled with a flurry of activities. She shouted orders at the maids as we passed by and they hurried off. We left the kitchen for stone passageways lined with tapestries and flickering candles. There were doors leading to different rooms and a set of turning stone stairs that took us to the floor above to another passageway. This time, we went through a door and I found myself in a small bed-chamber. There was a tub on the floor, just barely big enough for someone to stand in, and a warm fire already crackling in the fireplace. I quickly knelt beside it and held my hands out to feel the warmth as Maz fussed with the bedsheets.

“There’s a man that was shot on the way here. I stopped the bleeding, but he’ll be needing fresh bandages and something to help with the infection. Kylo, he said his name was?”

“Kylo?” Maz gives me a strange look.

“Er… Large, broad shoulders, very tall. Black hair. Big ears.”

“Och aye, ye mean Benjamin. A send him some things. Can hardly get tha lad to tak broth wi’ a cauld.” She finishes with the bed and moves on to stoke the fire beside me. “Ye ken medicine?”

“Some,” I say, and she waits for me to explain further. “My husband… My late husband was a physician. In London. I used to help him some.”

Lies. More and more lies. It was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with for my medical knowledge. Before Maz can ask any more questions, there’s a soft knock on the door and a group of women comes hurrying in shortly after. Two of them carry what seem to be large pots of water and place them near the fire. The other two are handling a large chest, which they leave at the foot of the bed. Maz inspects their work with her hawk-like eyes and nods tersely. “Verra well. Rose, stay to help.”

One girl stays and the sight of her confuses me. She looked to be of Asian descent, which stood out in the sea of Scottish faces I had seen recently. She quickly fell into helping Maz with the water and I could tell that she was trying to not look at me and gape. We were two strange features of this place, I was far from my time, and she was far from her home. I gave her a little smile as she caught me watching her and she smiled back.

The tub was filled with water, some cold, some boiling so that when it all came together, it was a pleasant steaming temperature. I had expected the women to leave me to bathe, instead, Rose stood in front of me with her arms out to take my jacket. I slowly remove it, along with the rest of my clothes, feeling slightly uncomfortable as I stand naked in front of them. Neither of them seems to care, and I had shared enough powder rooms with women that I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but this was the first time that all the attention in the room was on me.

I climb quickly into the tub and have but a moment to sigh at the relief of the hot water before Rose and Maz were scrubbing my skin clean. The hot water quickly turned a muddy brown. Rose set upon my hair, pulling the pins out and staring at them curiously.

“They’re French.” I almost cringe at my own excuse.

The girl pulls out the rest of my pins that held my hair in place in the two victory rolls that I had perfected during my time in the army. My hair falls against my shoulders. “Are the gals in France wearing their hair short now? With strange waves?”

“Er…” I really needed to stop using that excuse. “No. Just personal preference.”

“Ye have bonnie hair, miss.”

“Rey.” I smile at her just as a bucket of water is dumped over my head.

“A kent the English hated the French, no?”

More tests. It seemed that Maz was in on Chewie’s plan to find my true intentions as a spy as well. “My husband was French.”

“Ah… A French Physician?” Maz chuckled, though I wasn’t sure what the joke was. “Weel, the Scots are friends of the French, lass.”

“Bonnie Prince Charlie.” The thought occurred to me suddenly.

“Wheesht!” Maz hisses. “A wull have none of that Jacobite talk here.”

How close were we to the Battle of Prestonpans? Culloden? Were there people here who were buried beneath my feet only just a few days ago? Did they know that the end to life as they knew it was coming?

Maz stood and grabbed a robe to dry me with. I guess my bath was over. I stood and let her wrap me up in the cloth. Already I felt a hundred times better than before.

In the rush of maids bringing the trunk and water, I hadn’t noticed that there was also a plate of food waiting for me. I dug in eagerly as the two women unpacked the trunk. For the most part, all I could make out was a pile of tartan cloth and cream-yellow undergarments. Maz noticed me watching. “Old dresses of Lady Leia’s. They should suit ye, with a few adjustments.”

I finished my food and stood for them to dress me, suddenly thankful that I was not alone. I was sure to make some sort of dressing blunder that would make them more suspicious of me than they already were. A shift was pulled over my head, then stockings tied below my knees. A surprisingly comfortable front lacing set of stays was tied on to me next, not too tight, but enough to give support. Two layers of woolen petticoats, followed by the tartan skirt that kept out the chill. I slipped my arms through a matching jacket that covered the rest of my stays. The sleeves only came down to my elbows, so Rose added woolen arm warmers. I sat for shoes that were soft and worn from their previous owner. Though I would have preferred my own boots, they were still soaked from the mud and rain.

Rose worked with my hair, pinning and tying it up into what must have been an acceptable hairstyle for me. And when I was done, they stood back to admire their work, nodding their approval. I felt incredibly silly like I was playing a dress-up part.

“Rose, go see if the Laird is ready to see her.”

“Yes, Maz.” The young girl ducked her head and hurried out of the room. I sat down stiffly in the bed, trying to control my breathing. I knew little about the hierarchy of the clansmen, but I knew enough to understand that the Laird was the most important figure in a clan. He made all the decisions, solved all of the problems. I was determined to not be a problem. He needed to decide to send me back to Inverness, and I had to be the one to convince him. I had to play the part of an Englishwoman married to a Doctor who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Rose returned, and I was carted off through the halls once more. I hoped that this would be my final round of questioning, though I knew that my hopes were far too high.

The room I was led to looked to be an office more than anything, though unlike any I’d seen. Books and papers and trinkets and items from around the words were scattered everywhere. Tapestries and grand paintings hung from the walls. The entire room and its contents dripped with history and I could only imagine what my husband would be saying if he were here right now. My heart breaks at the thought of him.

I had to get back.

Even if I had to fight tooth and nail to get there.

A throat clears and I jump, suddenly noticing the ghost among the ancient items of the room. The man is greying, with a long beard and blue eyes that have seen ages pass before him. He looks as though he has become part of the room itself, a specter against the grey stone.

I bow my head. “My apologies. I did not see you there.”

He grunts a laugh, “Yes, well, I’ve been told I would make a wonderful hermit.”

He’s been carefully tutored, but I can still hear an echo of Scottish brogue in his words. I fold my hands in front of me, trying to look far more relaxed than I felt. I was unsure if I should speak, or if I should let him continue. He gestures to an empty chair in front of a large wooden desk. “Please, Miss Niima.”

So, he’s already spoken to Chewie. I sit, and the moment I do, tea arrives. I graciously take a cup and breathe in the rich scent. I hadn’t known how much I wanted a good cuppa.

“I hope that my men were not too rough with ye. I would like to formally offer the apologies of Clan Adharled and extend our heartiest welcome to our guest.”

Stay awhile, so that we can watch you.  

“Thank you, Laird Adharled. I would like to ask you about finding transportation back to Inverness.”

“Do you have family there?”

“No. I assumed that I would be able to find transportation to London from there.”

“Yes, that is where Chewie said you were from. We can write to any family you may have there to assure them of your safety.” The Laird raises an eyebrow.

“I have no family. I was an orphan. And Henry, my late husband, has no family either. I would be returning to our home in London.”

“Henry?” Adharled drew out the last symbol, looking for a last name. It caught in my throat as the flash of Henry’s eyes that were not his own watched me from the darkness.

“Deschamps. Doctor Henry Deschamps.” Deschamps was the name of my commanding officer, the first French name that came to mind. I refused to give into filling the silence between us.

“I am sorry for your loss, milady.”

“Thank you.” I took a deep breath. “And I would like to thank your men as well, for finding me and saving me from the Englishmen. They were nothing but gentlemen to me. And I would like to thank you for your hospitality. My only wish is to return home to mourn my husband in peace and take care of his affairs.”

My eyes meet his and I find that we’re in a battle of the wills. I’m toeing around politics that I have no knowledge or understanding of. After a minute of considering, he nods. “Who am I to keep a grieving widow from laying her husband to rest? I am afraid that there aren’t many going from here to Inverness at the moment, nor straight to London. I believe that a merchant usually passes through here on his way to London. He should arrive in a month or so.”

All the air rushes from my lungs.

A month.

It’s already been a few days in this lifetime, and I’m longing to grasp a hold of anything to make sense of this all. I force myself to take a deep breath and smile. “Of course. Thank you, Laird Adharled.”

“Please, my guests may call me Luke.”

Read Chapters 1-5 On AO3

[constantwritingblock]

Stolen Worlds 3

Queen of Thieves: Takes place just after the MC breaks up with Nikolai.

Avengers: Takes place during The Winter Soldier, but with additional characters.

Unknown!Nick Fury x reader, (previous) Nikolai Stirling x reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x reader, (eventual) Steve Rogers x reader.

Some statements: 

1. Anything that’s spoken in another language will be in bold and English. Saves bad translations.

2. Any text messages will be in block capitals and bold.

Summary: The Poppy have finally found out where Y/N is. But do they finally see her after over a month of searching? Meanwhile, Y/N is making progress with Bucky into coming to grips with reality and having control of himself once again after almost 50 years of brainwashing. Natasha is beginning to get suspicious of the girl that has caught the attention of Captain Rogers.

Chapter Three

It had been over a month since they landed in Washington DC, but the Poppy had yet to figure out where Y/N was. Apart from the two sightings in some random coffee shop, she had been off the grid. They still didn’t know who had taken her, but Nikolai wasn’t going to lose hope yet just yet. The Thief Lord was determined to find her as was the rest of them, he just had more reasons why. The turmoil was building up inside of him, his regret, the pain of their breakup. It was a cliche, the saying; you don’t know what you have until you lose it. How true could that be right now. Nikolai loved Y/N and he was done denying it. Once he found her he was going to apologise profusely about not letting her in.

A knock wrapped onto his door. Jett poked his head through the gap. “Hey, we know where she is living.” Slamming down his papers onto his desk he ran out of the door there wasn’t a moment to waste when it came to Y/N. All Niko wanted was to talk to her, find out how he can bring her back home. Though, with how most of her background was hidden courtesy of Fury, he never caught on that he never knew the real Y/N.

—

“Agent Z, I’ve heard you made a lot of progress on the Soldier. He’s not resisting anymore to orders. Always ready to comply and listen. What’s your secret?” Laughing at his obvious joke Y/N shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you sir. I guess all he needed was a pretty face to get him to listen. Perhaps he was bored of just seeing men.” A roar of laughter echoed through Pierce’s office. In truth, she was right to Bucky. The more he listened and cooperated with her, the less people came into the room when she went to speak with him. She had already told him the basics of himself, leaving out important details like his real name. The Soldier knew she was holding back information, he guessed it was out of fear of him losing control of himself and turning violent, attacking her.

“Hmm… perhaps you are right, a pretty face was all he needed. You are certainly making a name for yourself within Hydra. I’ve never been happier for someone to join our cause.” Smiling to herself in success, she couldn’t resist. He’s hooked, I’ve bought and proved my way through the ranks to be trusted. The meeting soon ended. Y/N was in a very good mood. Now all she needed to do was, arrange a meeting with Steve and lie to him some more about her. She really hated this. Even more so as she began to realise her increasing attraction towards the man. But you’re still getting over Nikolai. It wouldn’t be fair to him if he was a rebound.  Her mind swirled with doubts, countless thoughts of the one that broke her heart. Boy, this was gonna be a long day.

Her phone pinged as soon as she switched it on. A message from Fury came through, though it was under the ruse of her uncle in case anyone looked over her shoulder.

DON’T GO BACK TO MINE. THIEVES HAVE COMPROMISED IT.

Well shit.

—

Since his second meeting with Z, she told him she preferred to be called that, Steve had Natasha run a background check on the woman to see if she had any links to Hydra or any other enemies. As she was doing that, he decided to see if another accidental meeting was in order, or to try and arrange something to see if she cracked. He understood the spy’s trepidation with everything now that they are on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D. and can’t trust anyone, but did he really listen to Fury’s advice?

The man was dead and all he had was some USB stick with vital information to help them hack into the system. Rubbing his hands over his face as he waited in a nearby park, under a tree, Steve stuck to his hat and glasses disguise in hopes of no one finding him. Hey, it worked before so why not a second time? Though, he was caught off guard by an amused voice.

“So, do you just like hiding or something?” Jumping around to see Z, he smiled. “You can never be too careful.” Greeting her with a goofy grin on his face made the woman laugh. “Well, mister careful, I’m glad we got to meet again.” Something was off about her this time, she seemed to be more cautious of her surroundings also. Pushing his thoughts to ignore it, he tried to keep up a conversation. It worked in the long run until a ping on his phone signalled a message come through. When he chose to ignore it, Z was rather curious about why.

“If it’s important, they’ll get back to m-” He spoke too soon as more messages started to flood through. “Sorry excuse me.” Was all he said as he stepped away from the woman to look.

NO KNOWN THING ON Z.

NO INFORMATION.

NOTHING.

TREAD WITH CAUTION.

I AM SUSPICIOUS SHE IS HIDING SOMETHING AND IS COVERING HER TRACKS.

VERY SKILLED IF SHE IS.

Letting out a sigh, he couldn’t believe his luck. Texting a quick response to Nat in thanks he headed back to see her acting looking around more obviously. She’s clearly avoiding something. “Hey, you alright? You seem a bit jumpy today?”

“What? Oh, sorry. I’ve been getting texts from an old ex… he was… abusive, but I refuse to let that stop me from having a good time.” It seemed like a fair answer and if she was lying he, she had no tell for him to spot.

—

Heading back into her office space, Y/N went to collect the rest of her belongings that she needed for the day. Though what caught her eye was a letter addressed to an Agent Z. A sticky note was attached to it stating it had been checked for any signs of tampering. Slowly, she picked it up. Slitting the envelope open to see the sender was none other than Casimir. Why is Nikolai’s cousin writing to me?

Letting out a sigh as she read the contents of the letter she was surprised to hear what he had to say. Something’s not adding up with me here… of course Nikolai writing me out of his letters was something, but the man never told me he was still in contact with the lunatic for one. And two, how does Casimir know I’m not with the Poppy? And how does he know my alias? Oh shit.

Pegging it out the door, Y/N realised that there was only one person that would have blabbed…

         —

Facing the barrel of a gun was more what Fury was used to. It came with his job. Though, he was expecting a Nikolai Stirling not a copy of him. Perhaps his message to Y/N to not come back here was a regret of his. One of very few. “Where is she?” Was all the man kept repeating to him. He just remained silent. Fury wasn’t stupid, like he’d give up where Y/N was, especially if this man could possibly an enemy of hers from her time in the Gilded Poppy.

The sound of rustling of another person came from the door to the apartment. Tufts of light brown hair came into view before a person did. Remy Chevalier, the conman. Was the instinctive guess from a debrief by Maria. But why no Nikolai? That put him off his game slightly, surely he would’ve been the one adamant to see her from his guesses from Y/N’s behaviour whenever the man was brought up in conversation, or well lack of mentioning. An apparent French accent filled his ears, “Why not put the gun down, I doubt attempting to strike fear in the man will make him talk willingly.” Gentle coaxing wasn’t going to budge the other man, whose hand holding said weapon was beginning to shake. He’s losing his stability. That’s not a good sign. A sudden calmness washed over the former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director, a grin crawling its way on his face, while the other two looked on in confusion...