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spencerreidimagines · 4 years ago

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Lovely Little Details

//Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

A/N: hey y’all, sorry for the late post!! This just a little coffee shop imagine that foreverrrr to get out of my head lol. Hope y’all enjoy! p.s. there usually is a read more link but I’m on mobile so this post is just gonna be left as is until I get my hands on a laptop :)

It was in a quaint coffee shop that Spencer had first laid his eyes on her. She was tucked into a corner, with her head low and her eyes steady. Her hands cupped a steaming coffee mug dotted with stars and hand painted constellations, as her eyes followed the wandering city-goers through the window beside her. A leather journal was splayed open before her; with a shift of her elbow, he caught a glimpse of the ragged manifestations of her thoughts.

He spotted lines and dots and creatures lining the side of her page, her sketches on the journal's edge were specific; definite. He followed along the coils and stray hairs that sprung from her high bun, the slope of her neck, the slight smile that rested upon her lips...

Spencer sighed and righted himself in his seat to face the nearly empty coffee cup before him; he had been staring, he realized. He clacked his fingers against the table as he silently hoped the splinted moment when they caught eyes hadn't been as noticeable as he felt it was.

A name was then shouted in the background, and through the bustle of the cafe he heard the soft kick of someones hasty steps. He'd held his breath as he ran through the incredibly slim chances that it might be that stranger from across the room, a slight knot curling in his stomach as he had no idea what to say to this woman if she decided to confront him. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, his face shriveled into a grimace before he fixed himself to face this stranger, his eyes soft and apologetic.

"I think this might be yours," a mild voice floated to his ears, "They handed me the wrong drink, then just gestured over here so..."

"Oh," he responded, surprised, before reaching to take the cup from her hands and nodding in thanks, which she waved away with an awkward smile resting on her lips.

"I also noticed you staring earlier," the beginnings of an apology began to push against his lips before she continued on, "Which normally would throw me off but, you're kind of cute, so I thought I'd just...invite you to sit with me for a while."

His brows shot up in surprise before he composed himself and checked his watch, thankful that he still had about half an hour before his lecture, "Sure," he responded as he began to gather his things.

"Alright," she sighed, donning an accomplished smile before she turned on her heel and crossed the room to return to her seat, nerves now beginning to fester in her core as she absently scanned over her notes to distract herself from the growing pit in her stomach.

‘what on Earth was I thinking?' she thought to herself before she stifled her thoughts as Spencer set his things along the back of the chair and sunk into his seat. He flashed her a courteous smile once their eyes met.

"I have to admit," he started, "I'm a little surprised that you'd invite me over here after you caught me staring."

“You know, I'm surprised myself," she admitted with a small chuckle, "I don't usually do things like this, but something about you caught my attention," She paused as her gaze flicked to his hands playing at his sleeves, he was fixing the watch to peek out of his tweed jacket, "do you have somewhere to be?" she asked.

“I have a, uh, lecture in half an hour," he responded, his voice stern and yielding against her open ears.

"You're a teacher?" she asked, brow raised in intrigue, to which he nodded with a shrug, "That explains so much about you."

"It does?" he asked, his head lightly cocked to the side.

"Mhm," she hummed, taking a sip from her mug, "You seem like the scholarly type." His eyes flicked to the side as he digested her oddly forward answer, "What's your name?"

"Spencer," he said before he quirked his brow to silently request for her own.

"(y/n)," her gaze wide and inviting, before she set her mug down with a soft clink, and rested her chin onto her hand, "So tell me about yourself, Spencer, there has to be more to you than teaching."

"I only teach lectures occasionally," Spencer flitted his eyes to the table, her unwavering attention slightly overwhelming, yet warm enough to keep his own tethered between them, "majority of the time, I work in the behavioral sciences unit, in the FBI."

Surprise and intrigue flashed across her features as she raised her mug to hide her gleaming smile, "Behavioral sciences unit, huh? So you study people?"

"That's actually a misconception," he began, "we investigate federal crimes through a behavioral lens. The creation of this department is actually a pretty interesting story," She nodded for him to go on, and as he spoke, (y/n) followed his hands as they fluttered about, "When it was first established, most of the general public didn't believe that serial killers could've had the capacity for compassion in their early lives."

"Well, in their defense, it's pretty hard to see someone as a compassionate human being after you've been a direct witness to the families that they tore apart," (y/n) responded, frankly, "So, what changed their minds?"

"The profiles started working," he said matter of factually.

(y/n) just nodded, a simple frown on her face as she digested his information, "It must've taken years for a turn around like that," she lowered her mug, "I can only imagine how hard it must've been to get that department off of the ground."

Spencer scoffed, "Yea, not many people liked to change their minds back then," he responded, accents of jest and spite dancing along his words, "So, uh, what do you do?"

"I'm an author," she responded, pride flashing across her features before melting into rested humility.

Spencer's eyes flashed before his tongue dashed across his lips, he could only imagine the worlds hidden away in her mind, "How long have you been writing?"

"Oh, I've been writing for years, and it was a challenge to find a way to get paid for it," she responded, dismissive yet firm with her voice, "nobody believed me when I said that I was going to open up the world through my words; make it seem more inviting and colorful than it's turned out to be."

He watched a storm roll across her gaze as she followed her rippled reflection in her mug, her finger lightly playing at the rim. "I know I probably just sound like every other starving artist out there," she chuckled, "but I've dreamt this big since I was a kid, so a couple of naysayers aren't going to stop me from doing what I love."

Spencer nodded, "I know how hard it is to be doubted by the people who are supposed to support you," an empathetic smile flickered across his lips, "it took my mother years to accept my career path."

"Oh, yea?" she asked, "I had no idea you could meet so much resistance in becoming an FBI agent."

Spencer chuckled, bashful, "Most of the resistance came from how young I was. The other training agents were nearly ten years older than me when I started."

(y/n) startled a bit, "Ten years? How young were you when you started working for the FBI?"

"Twenty two." He answered simply, and upon realizing her blase response, he quickly followed up with, "Most agents join the FBI in their mid-thirties."

"Oh, I see I have a genius on my hands," she jested, "somehow, that doesn't surprise me." She muttered wistfully, her hands interlocked under her chin. "The jacket, the hair, the wide intelligent eyes; you have scholar written all over you."

"You could tell that just from what I was wearing?" He asked, a mild wonder tinting his words.

"Mhm, writers study people too," she responded nonchalantly, "passers by present so many details of who they are on the surface."

He spared himself a glance as her eyes turned to the bustling city goers, drinking her in as much as he could. The white sheen of the snow covered sidewalks bounced off of her skin; she seemed to steep in the weak winter sun. He followed how her shoulders rose and fell with a wistful breath before she darted her gaze back down to her journal, her fingers caressing the page as kindly as the breeze that spins autumn leaves.

"That's how I make sense of the world," she started, "those little characteristics that no one pays any mind to make the world so bright for me, and I want to share that perspective with as many people as I possibly can."

Spencer felt the apples of his cheeks grow warm as he gathered the earnest hope held in her eyes while she cradled the page between her finger tips. Her drive to share her craft ran so deep; she was so open and honest.

Before he could get another word out, his watch beeped, drawing both of their gazes to his wrist; their half hour was up. The rising excitement in his chest deflated as he began to tuck his watch back into its place, “I hate to cut this short, but I have to go.” He said, apologetically, “When can I see you again?”

"I'm not going anywhere any time soon." An easy grin spread across her lips as she scanned her frenzied notes, “I like to come to this corner of the coffee shop whenever I have writer's block, and I usually don’t leave until I have a decent story on my hands."

Spencer's lips quirked up to a grin that matched hers, before he nodded and stood to gather his things.

"On the off chance that I do leave before you’re done lecturing," she started, grabbing a napkin and scrawling something across it, "Here's my number. I would love to see you again."

His grin widened as he took the napkin and pocketed it before gathering the rest of his things, “I’m glad you invited me over here,” he said bashfully with his hand gripping his satchel’s strap.

“I am too.” (y/n) responded, her hands cupping her mug once more, while she smiled softly, “now go before you’re late.”

With a curt nod and a gentle wave, Spencer turned on his heel, and made his way to the coffee shop doors, a slight bounce in his stride as he let his mind travel mere hours ahead of him when he could see (y/n) again. Her and her idiosyncrasies drew him in, and he could not wait to figure her out.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer fluff #spencer x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff

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k7l4d4 · 3 years ago

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 7 Part 2

Hello all, I’ve returned for another piece of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Scowling to himself, Hunter ducked away from the human. He… wasn’t supposed to be in Bonesburough, not really, but it was one of the few days off he got, so he decided to make the most of it with some research. Events had shifted. What before everyone would’ve laughed off as some kind of joke, or the words of a deluded fool, were proven true when a group of human rogues decided to raze the Covention, using magic!! Hunter wouldn’t deny, he burned to know how they did it, how did they overcome the biological limitation? If ever questioned, he could and would easily decry it as Wild Magic, something to be locked away for the heresy against the Titan it was… but in private, he craved that power for himself. Not for glory, or conquest, no! He wasn’t an idiot.

He wanted to be normal.

“Stupid human, thinking I would buy a cheap excuse like that.” He muttered. It burned, it truly did, that she somehow thought he would fall for a ploy, even if she had no clue who he truly was. ‘The Emperor’s most trusted agent, The Golden Guard himself!’ He puffed out his chest, smirking in pride at what he’d accomplished. And it WAS an accomplishment. Anyone who knew the truth of his situation would no-doubt cry about how he had it all handed to him by his uncle, and if they did he would have no problem laughing at the fools, behind their backs of course, no need to start a fight when he could finish one.

For as long as he’d been in his Uncle’s care, he’d worked and slaved to obtain his position. He’d studied, trained, honing his body and his mind to be the best. If someone crossed him, he found ways of getting even, and without even having to get his own hands dirty half the time. Seriously, he understood the need to maintain the Coven’s image of being the best of the best, but most of them were just stupid!! ‘Even Clawthorne.’ He scornfully smirked to himself. He was ecstatic at seeing the cocky witch being taken down a peg, especially by her own hand. The fact that it showed the Isles what she really was, a worm and a cheat who slinked her way to the top, made it all the sweeter, and not to mention that her actions unleashed the most dangerous Wild Witch in generations into the populace. He knew that’s not how it actually worked, but it was a convenient lie that people would reach of their own free will, and would make an excellent tool for getting her out of the way when she finally outlived her usefulness.

But that’s besides the point. He shook his head lightly, clearing his thoughts as he leaned against a bookshelf. The human was here, in the library, and that was an opportunity he wouldn’t let pass. He wouldn’t stalk her or anything, but he’d be watching, waiting, and listening to see just what exactly she intended for the Isles. The mad laughter of those maniacs who had been brought in echoed in his ears, his eyes hardening into stone at the memory. If she turned out to be a threat, he would destroy her. Even if he never gained the secret to the humans’ ability to wield magic, he would gladly sacrifice it to protect the Isles. He swore it.

“This place is both amazing, and kind of ridiculous.” Luz commented, having put aside any thoughts of that rude guy from before, determined to make this a good day. She ducked under a book flying overhead, glaring at it as it shrieked at her. “I wonder if anyone would be willing to help me navigate this place.” She murmured, rubbing her head at another near miss.

“I believe we can help with that!” A voice that seemed to mix charming and cheese together in a corny mess sounded out behind her. Turning around, Luz raised an eyebrow at what she saw. Two Witches, a male and a female, and by her guess twins, if the incredibly strong resemblance and similarity in age was anything to base her decision off of. The two were standing back to back, the boy shooting a cocky grin that he probably thought made him look “so cool!” beneath his deep green hair and golden eyes, his apparent sister tilting her head in a different direction, gazing off in thought, a mysterious look in her eyes.

Luz turned on her heel, already done with these two. “Yeah, if you’re trying to flirt with me, I prefer homemade food and some shopping,” She said, not watching as the two collapsed in shock. “Also, you guys kind of come across as desperate.” She added, turning her head back to shoot them an eyebrow.

“W-we weren’t flirting with you!” The girl shouted, face flushed, even as her brother sat in a heap, poking at the ground with his finger. She marched over, her flush fading as her look shifted from it’s brief moment of outrage to some measure of control. “We just overheard you saying you’d appreciate someone showing you around, and we happen to know someone. We’d be cool introducing you.” She explained, looking Luz up and down as she did so. She shrugged. “But yeah, we probably would flirt with you normally, but we don’t have time for that today. Ed!” She called, her brother raising his head in response. “Let’s go find Mittens!” Her brother nodded in agreement, still seeming a little dazed from Luz’s snark from before.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Luz rebutted, raising her hand in a halting motion. “Did I say that I agreed? Because I don’t think I did.” She said, crossing her arms.

The girl huffed, hands on her hips. “Do you have a reason to actually refuse?” She challenged.

Luz paused, thinking for a moment, before shrugging. “Fair. Okay, let’s go.” She stopped, causing the girl to groan.

“What now?” She asked.

“I just remembered I never got your name.” Luz sheepishly admitted.

The girl blinked, before chuckling, some of the tension in her face bleeding away. “Yeah, I did too.” She stuck out her hand in a shaking gesture, leaning forward at an angle that honestly looked a little silly. “Emira Blight, at your service.” She smirked.

“And I’m Edric!” Edric called out, popping up behind his sister.

Luz laughed. “Heh! Good to know! Since we’re formally introducing ourselves, not that I don’t believe for a second that you don’t know who I am,” She said, shooting the two a challenging smirk. They had the good sense to accept it with a shrug and a nod without putting on airs. “The name’s Luz. Luz Noceda.” She declared, shaking the slightly older girl’s hand. Her grin turned mischievous. “So, I’m assuming that Mittens is Amity?” She asked gleefully, leaning forward, even as the two siblings did the same.

“You know Luz, I think we are gonna get along just fine.” Emira declared, an equally mischievous smile on her face, mirrored by her brother. With that, the trio rapidly began plotting how to best fluster the composed youngest Blight. Hey, Luz more or less liked her, but she thought a little harmless goofiness would get her to destress some. Not too much though, she liked her head on her shoulders. The trio walked off, heedless of their watcher in the isles.

Boscha breathed out a sigh of relief. “They’re gone.” She muttered. Not only was she here, but so were Amity’s older siblings!? Yeah, she wasn’t gonna stay and get caught in whatever craziness those two decided to get into. With a spine-cracking stretch, Boscha pulled away from the Isles, pulling a book to her chest. She breathed in deep, sighing out, before freezing at the sight of flame licking out of her mouth. Clamping her jaw shut, she rapidly shifted her eyes back and forth, already feeling paranoid at anyone having seen that. She clambered off towards the checkout, the book white-knuckled in her grip.

The book’s title read “Mysteries of the Mind, and Other Dark Truths.” Maybe now Boscha will be able to get some answers.

Luz rounded the corner, arm slung over Emira’s shoulder, chatting away with the other girl. “-And that’s why I never date a girl with fire magic without asking if they are medicated or not first!” She boldly declared, completely unbothered by her own past misadventures. Admittedly, she and Azzie probably would’ve still been together, if she wasn’t head over heels for a childhood friend who ran away with the circus.

Edric sprayed out his drinking, choking on his laughter. “And she let you live!?” He asked incredulously, choking and wheezing all the while.

Luz sheepishly shrugged. “Yeah, maybe trying to tell her that I wanted to break up while she was waiting for her medicine to be refilled, and while she was practicing her spells to boot, wasn’t my smartest move.” She was SOOO lucky she dodged that initial attack, her butt still felt like it was singed at the memory!!

Emira gave her an amused smirk. “Oh, I wonder why?” She playfully ribbed the other girl. Her look of amusement softened. “You know, I was honestly all geared up to tear you apart at first.” She casually admitted, even as Edric stared at her in shock and Luz raised an eyebrow at her admission. “Yeah, after I got a rundown about what you accidentally dragged Mittens into, and trust me, I know you wouldn’t be able to stop her, I was totally prepared to dismember you and bury your corpse so you could never get involved with her again.”

“Eh, not the worst thing anyone’s admitted to wanting to do to me.” Luz said, shrugging the casual death threat off. Edric just wordlessly worked his jaw, somehow at a loss for words.

“But… as much as I want to blame you, I get that it wasn’t your fault, what went down. So I’ll be keeping an eye on you, but I’m not gonna try anything. Especially not now that I know how fun you are!” She finished, giving Luz a chipper wink, getting a friendly smirk in response. As the next area caught her eye, she perked up. “Oh! I think we’re here!”

“Finally!” Edric cheered, having gotten bored of the place a few stacks ago, with only Luz’s stories to keep him going. Who knew you could cause so much chaos with Cheese, a banjo, and a juggler!? He must find a way to top that…!

Peering around the corner, Luz’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?” She asked, her voice tight with awe and fervent hope.

“Yeah.” Emira squeaked, equally overcome.

Edric just raised his eyebrows. “I don’t get the big deal, but you guys do you, I guess.” He said, shrugging.

Before them sat Amity Blight, her normally stern look having fallen away, a look of innocence and kindness gracing her features, as she read from the book in her lap to the children surrounding her, Skara standing to the side with a happy smile of her own.

“‘What do you think you’re doing?’” Amity read along, keeping pace with her place in the book, her eager audience leaning in closer, with Skara sidling up too, a sheepish grin on her face at how captivated she was with the simple reading. “‘We’re your friends and we wanna help!’ said the Tin Boy with a yelp. Otabin smiled and paced the floor. ‘I’ve never had real friends before.’”

Luz suddenly found herself very much identifying with a children’s book character from a story she never read, just from that one line. She turned to the twins with starry eyes. “Amity reads to kids?” She stated more than asked, getting an enthusiastic nod from Emira and a playful smirk from Edric.

She watched in slight awe as Amity continued. “‘Then we’ll be your first.’ The Chicken Witch Clucked. Otabin couldn’t believe his luck.” She turned her gaze to the kids, eyes glowing in delight at this simple kindness she was performing. “So, Bookmaker Otabin, surrounded by friends, bound a book of friendship and that’s the end.” She finished cheerfully, the children cheering and applauding, while Skara threw an arm over her friend’s shoulder, which Amity playfully shoved off.

“Yay!”

“Thank you so much.”

“Goodbye.”

One particular kid walked up to Amity and hugged her legs, before speaking in a strikingly deep voice. “Thank you for the story Miss Amity.”

Amity gave the little demon boy a kind smile, reaching down to return the hug. “Ah, thank you Braxas. Have a good day, and give your dad my wishes while he heals up. See you next week.”

The little demon, Braxas apparently, cheerfully ran off, waving in reply behind him. “Okay!”

Skara gave a soft laugh, clapping her hands. “That was so sweet, Ams!” She cheered. She shot Amity a mock critical look. “And just why haven’t you shown this to me before?” She asked faux-haughtily, even as Amity snorted.

“I think what I do to destress is my own business.” Amity replied dryly, getting a sheepish laugh from Skara in response. Her smirk softened into a smile. “But still, I’m okay with you having shown up. The kids really liked you.” She gave Skara an appraising look. “I honestly didn’t expect you to be cool with something like this.” She softly admitted.

Skara gave Amity a stern look. “Amity, I get that I can be judgy, but I’m not gonna bust your chops for being nice to kids.” She said sharply, before shifting into a teasing smirk. “Still, you know that now you have to do something I like to do without other people, right?”

Amity spluttered. “I don’t remember agreeing to that!” She said hotly, her face flush.

Skara spun on her heel, pulling Amity along with her. “Ah, don’t be such a buzz-kill! It’s nothing illegal, and I promise, you’ll enjoy it.” She said, giving Amity a wink, prompting the other Witch to roll her eyes.

At that point, Luz decided that it was about the right moment to reveal herself. “Well, well, well! It looks like Hexside’s number one lemon drop has a secret sweet center.” She commented, stepping into view.

Behind her, Edric and Emira shared matching looks of glee, mouthing the words ‘lemon drop’ to each other in delight. Oh yeah, they liked Luz, for sure!

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #amity blight #emira blight #edric blight #braxas the owl house #skara the owl house #magic

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crashdevlin · 4 years ago

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Civil Warriors 7- Regrets (fin)

Civil Warriors Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version) Part Three of the Red Queen Chronicles!

Summary: An interaction in Africa reveals more of Cassie’s hidden past.

Word Count: 5063

Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC, Bucky Barnes x OFC

Chapter Warnings: mentions of torture, mentions of brainwashing, mentions of murder, actual murder, Bucky Barnes being suave, Cassie Campbell being suave,

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The sound of guns cocking woke the heroes. From the shadows being cast on their tent, they could tell they were surrounded. “Come out!” a deep voice with a thick accent called out. Cassie reached for her pistol, but the voices behind them caught her attention.

“They’re children,” she whispered.

The men sighed as she set her gun back down on her backpack. “We’re coming out,” Steve called as he unzipped the tent. There were a dozen young me with automatic weapons in their hands and a single actual man holding a large revolver. Steve and Bucky put their hands up as they stepped out of the tent and their arms were immediately grabbed by several of the child soldiers.

Cassie gave a defiant look as the man in charge stepped toward her, reaching his left arm out to grab her. “Do not touch me,” she warned.

He didn’t seem impressed in the least. Of course, who would be. A small blond white girl wasn’t exactly the epitome of piss-your-pants scary. The man continued to advance, grabbing her arm and yanking her forward. She stepped into the pull, putting a leg behind the large man’s legs and hip-checking his balance. She brought her elbow down on his head as he went down, then flipped, landing with her foot on his throat. The young soldiers looked at her in fear as their leader moaned beneath her boot. The old American soldiers looked just as wary of her actions. “Do any of you speak English?” she asked, her accent affixed to her words.

“I do,” a small boy of about twelve said, stepping away from Steve.

“Good,” she said as the man below her grabbed at her boot. “Tell your friends to let my friends go.”

“Why?” the boy asked, defiantly.

She smirked, a dark amusement coloring the green of her eyes. “Vell, zey do make zeir child soldiers fearless in Africa, don’t zey?” She put extra pressure on the throat of the soldier under her boot, stepping off as she heard the crunch and felt his bones give. She hummed as she pushed her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small, black pocket knife. “You see, child soldier, I feel your plight much more zen your...aferage vite voman. Zey took from your family...isolated you. Zey control you viz drugs and meaningless titles. Zey make you completely dependent on zem.” She licked her lips, chuckling as she flicked open the knife. “It’s not exactly how it happened to me, but...still. I understand. Do you like your bruzzers-in-arms, zough? I know you probably hated zis fathead muzzerfucker, but do you like your friends?” She nudged the dead man with her right heel.

The boy nodded slightly, obviously unsure of where Cassie was going with her line of questioning. “Good for you. I didn’t haf friends ven I vas your age. I vas all alone until I vas seventeen. It’s good to haf friends. Now, look into my eyes and know zee truz of my words.” Bucky could see a glimmer of hope in Steve’s eyes as Cassie bent down enough to be at the boy’s level. “If your friends do not release my friends, I vill kill you...but not before I haf made you vatch as I tear apart your bruzzers...viz my bare hands und zis dull pocket knife. I vill drown you in zeir blood vizout batting an eye. Do you zink it’s vorz it? Jus so you can go to the other side saying you didn’t give up?”

The boy looked into her eyes, shaking with terror, before turning to the others and speaking to them. They immediately let go of Bucky and Steve, stepping backwards. “Good choice. If I ver you, I’d take Fathead’s Jeep and go to some of zee refugee camps...see if you can find any family zey didn’t massacre ven zey took you. Don’t let me see you again, Child Soldier,” she said, bending down to pull the Jeep keys out of the dead man’s pocket and throw them at the boy. He picked the keys up and turned tail, his friends following behind him. Cassie turned to the tent, tossing their bags out on the ground before deftly pulling up the stakes and collapsing it.

Steve watched the kids pile into the Jeep, one of the older boys driving away. By the time he’d turned around to watch Cassie, she’d stuffed the tent back into the bag and attached it to her backpack. “Come on. Vee haf to go,” she said, not waiting before she started to walk away from the soldiers and the dead man.

“What the hell was that?” Steve asked, looking down at the body.

“Guten Tag, Junior,” Bucky said before grabbing his bag and following after her. “Hey. I know you don’t like letting that part of yourself out, but...thank you. Steve and I...we wouldn’t have wanted to��”

“It vas stupid. Vee nefer should haf gone to sleep vizout a lookout. Vee cannot ignore zee dangers just because vee are superhuman.”

“You’re right,” Bucky said, adjusting his bag. “We’ll start pulling shifts at night, okay?”

Cassie stopped and sighed heavily as she shook her head. “No. You are boz still healing from zee fight viz Stark. I vill do lookout.”

He scoffed loudly. “Sweetheart, you may not be a hundred years old and beaten up but you do need sleep.”

“No, I don’t. I took zis off zee fathead. I vill be able to continue vizout sleep,” Cassie said, present a baggy of pills to him. “Amphetamines. They use zem to control zee boys.”

“You’re not serious?” Cassie just stared at Bucky who shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said before pulling his arm back and punching her in her temple.

She came back up, her hand on her head. “What was that for?” she demanded.

Bucky shrugged. “Thought it would help. You were acting a little too Hydra for my liking. The accent, the ‘let’s throw pills at it’ attitude. I mean, we really don’t want a call-back to the Pervitan days.”

“I still think I’m the better choice for watch,” Cassie said, looking down at the bag of pills in her hand. “And if the best way to accomplish that is some...sketchy amphetamines, then maybe…”

“We’re gonna trade off responsibility on the night watch,” Bucky said, grabbing the bag and throwing it.

Realization seemed to come over her as Steve walked up. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, falling to her knees. She retched, her hands going to her stomach. “I killed that man.” She retched again, tears rolling down her face. “I told that kid I was going to drown him in his friends’ blood. What wa-” The remnants of her MRE dinner from the night before finally made their way up her esophagus and spilled on the ground in front of her.

Bucky was at her side immediately, running his hand soothingly between her shoulders. “It’s okay. Just get it all out.”

Her bag began to ring so Steve dug his hand into her backpack to pull out her phone and answer it. “Hello?”

“Give the phone to Miss Campbell, Steve,” Fury’s voice said.

“She’s a bit busy right now, Fury.”

“Puking her guts out all over the African landscape, I know. Give her the phone anyway,” Fury demanded.

“Nick Fury,” Steve said, placing the phone next to her head.

“I told you not to ask questions, Campbell. Why did you have to push it?”

Cassie grasped at the phone, pushing it into her ear so hard that it was painful. “You...should’ve told me...years ago,” she growled.

“What, so that you’d always hate what you see in the mirror? Or worse, like it? Aspire to be what Hydra wanted of you instead of fighting against it like you did? I found a confused little girl in the Alps, Campbell. A little girl with no name, no memory, who honestly didn’t know a damn thing about my missing agents. I hoped that the work we did on you would be enough and I think it would’ve been if you’d stayed out West with Coulson.”

“Loki would’ve found me anyway,” she cried. “Barton told him about me! About...my father, my past! He would have come for me. But...what’s...happening to me, Nick? I’m not just remembering her, I’m becoming her!”

“No. You aren’t. You won’t ever be her again,” he said, forcefully. “All of your experiences, that’s what makes you. The experiences that we hid from you when you got to the Fridge, they’re just starting to color your personality. And if you don’t freak out about it, woman, this may not be a bad thing.”

“May not be a bad thing?” She sat up straight, letting the pressure off of the phone. “I just killed a man.”

“Who was probably going to rape and kill you. Sometimes men need to die. You haven’t killed a good man since Agent Barker and you didn’t have any control of that.”

“Barker?” she squeaked. ‘Theodore Joseph Barker, SHIELD level five, 128-42-0724’ flashed through her head. “Oh, my God!” she breathed out.

“When you get done in Africa, Cassie, call me. There’s options here.”

“Options? There’s not...I’m exactly the opposite of the person I thought I was,” she said, dropping the phone and standing. She took off running, her bag and the tent thumping against her back as she ran.

Steve picked up the phone as Bucky took off after her. “She’s going to have to call you back, Nick.”

“You and Barnes need to keep a close eye on her, Rogers. She needs someone to pull her out of this or we might lose her. I can’t imagine how much of a boost it’d be for Hydra if she decided to give into her programming.”

Steve sighed. “It would be like her father coming back.”

“Exactly. The last thing we need is Hydra rallying around their legacy. You need to help her remember who she is. We don’t have Barton to do it this time.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t doubt that she is a good person, but...what just happened…” He ran his hand through his hair. “It was like watching Loki and...Natasha fight for control of her body. She killed a man, threatened a little boy...it was disturbing.”

“If you don’t think that you and Barnes can bring her back, let me know. I’ll have Phil swoop in and grab her. SHIELD can hook her up and get rid of those bad memories.”

“I feel like that’d be adding fuel to a fire.” Steve looked around to where he could see Bucky standing with Cassie, about a quarter mile away. “I’ll see what I can do.” Steve turned off the phone and looked down at it before starting over to join his companions. He wasn’t sure how to bring her back. Clint was the one who always knew her. Clint was the one who always pulled her back.

Bucky and Cassie’s voices carried easily to him as he approached. “This isn’t war, Sergeant, and I’m not supposed to be a soldier! I just wanted to be an Avenger, help people!” she shrieked.

“You do help people. You helped those kids. You sent them to go find their families!”

“After I killed their handler! I threatened to tear those kids apart and drown that boy in their blood!”

“You wouldn’t have done that, though. You-”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know me!” Steve watched from a couple hundred feet away as Cassie dropped her bag and pulled out a pistol, shoving it into Bucky’s hand. Steve ran forward as she looked up at Bucky, begging him. “You have to. I can’t be that. Please!”

“I can’t. You...I don’t want to kill-”

“Neither do I!” she cried. “The only way to keep me from killing anyone else is if you-”

Steve cut her off with a sharp slap across her left cheek. “Stop it!” he demanded as her eyes went wide. It wasn’t too extreme to slap her. He needed to pull her back. “You threatened the kid to avoid hurting him and his friends in a fight. It was graphic but it needed to be so he’d believe it. I know you wouldn’t have gone through with any of it.” He took a deep breath as she blinked at him dumbfounded. “The warlord you killed was an evil man who never would have let those boys go and is likely responsible for thousands of deaths. You can feel bad about the blood on your boots, Cass, but do not rid the world of one of the best women I’ve had the pleasure of knowing just because you scared yourself.”

Cassie gasped, closing her eyes and fell forward sobbing into Bucky’s chest. Steve sighed in relief as Bucky dropped the gun and held her close to him. “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be okay,” he whispered soothingly as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

Steve felt a little lost as he tried to think of words to make things better. “You’re...a good woman. You really are. I wouldn’t be your friend if I thought you were-” Steve sighed deeply, afraid he wasn’t getting through to her. “Damnit, Cassie, I wanted to date you.”

“‘Wanted’. Key word.” She pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “I keep crying on you,” she whispered, looking up at Bucky.

Bucky gave her an earnest look. “I’d rather you cry on me than bleed on me,” he whispered.

Steve rolled his eyes as he kneeled down next to her. “It’s not ‘wanted’ because you’re bad or because you changed, Cass, it’s because you chose Clint and I...moved on. Why do you think it’s so hard for me to watch you flirting with Bucky? Because if you changed your mind about Barton, then I just wasted the last year pretending we could be just friends.”

“What about your CIA dame?” Bucky asked as Cassie rubbed her hands roughly over her eyes.

“Sharon...probably got fired for helping me, but she didn’t go to prison for it.” Steve set his hand on her knee and squeezed gently. “Sharon didn’t travel halfway around the world to help me when she knew it would pit her against her mentor...the man who helped her realize her potential as a hero and nurtures her as a scientist. Sharon didn’t...stand up to an alien prince and tell him that she wasn’t going to be his puppet anymore. She’s strong, like Peggy was, but...I don’t know. There’s a lot of good in you, Cassie, and I hate to think you might hurt yourself because of some-”

“Hate to think of you hurting yourself at all,” Bucky interrupted.

She shook her head and looked at her lap. “You...really don’t think it’s...I mean...I’m a killer.”

“So are we. We’re soldiers. Back in the war, before the train...we killed Hydra agents by the dozen...and after the train, I rampaged against the ones that took Buck from me. It’s...it never stops weighing on you, but it’s necessary.” He reached out and gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You are not the one who killed those SHIELD agents. You aren’t her. You have grown and you’ve become something completely separate from what Hydra planned for ‘Project Kind number four fifty-two’. You aren’t her and if you’re remembering what she did, then...that is just going to help you avoid the mistakes you would have made if you were her.”

He swept his thumb across her jawline. “You are amazing and you are a good woman. Please, don’t do anything stupid. Just...don’t. I couldn’t deal with losing another…”

She blinked a few times before swallowing and nodding. “Cool,” she said, shortly. “Well, I’m...ready to get to Wakanda so let’s go,” she finished, hopping up and grabbing her pistol from the ground.

“Uh...what just-” Bucky looked at her from his spot on the ground, confusion filling him.

“I can’t do this again,” she explained, tucking her pistol into her bag. “So, I’m not gonna do this again. Let’s go.”

“Do what again?” Bucky asked, standing.

“The choosing. Steve’s still got a flame, you’ve got a flame. I’ve got...various fires. I just want to...not. Let’s go. We can make Wakanda in two days if we keep moving. No sleep ‘til Brooklyn,” she said, shaking her head and smiling tightly.

“What?” Steve asked.

“It’s a song? I think?” Bucky said, starting to walk away.

“Beastie Boys. Put ‘em on your list,” Cassie said, following Bucky.

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

The border of Wakanda was heavily guarded. They’d barely crossed into Wakandan territory when they were approached by a group of farmers. “We were expecting two American men. Who is the American woman?”

“I’m actually German if we’re being accurate,” she corrected with a smile. “Cassandra Campbell. I-I wasn’t invited, but King T’Challa has met me. I…”

The soldiers spoke to each other in their native tongue before one pulled out a communicator. After a moment, there was a response then they were led to a palace, where T’Challa greeted them. Cassie bowed her head to the king. “Miss Campbell, I was not expecting you to be with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. It is good to see you.”

“It is good to officially meet you, your Highness. This is a much better setting than the battlefield,” she said with a tight smile.

“Your Secretary Ross told me that you were with child and that you were sent home after you signed the Accords.” T’Challa offered his hand, which she shook.

She looked down at his hand and bit her bottom lip. “I lost the baby,” she lied. It was easier than the truth. “And I don’t really have a home...just people. I have people that I care about and I wanted to protect them on their journey. Thank you for allowing me entrance. It really is as beautiful as I imagined it would be.”

“Natasha said you are a scientist, Miss Red Queen.” He shook his head. “Not ‘Doctor’?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No. I’ve actually just finished my undergrad degree. Haven’t even walked the stage for my graduation yet. Probably never will.”

“Well, allow me to take you on a tour of our labs.”

The tour ended with T’Challa asking one of his men to escort the guests to their rooms, a trio of large, ornate doors. Another servant appeared as she was settling and delivered a dress for her to wear to dinner. She took a long bath to scrub the dirt of the journey off of her and stared at herself in the mirror after she’d dressed. The dress fit her perfectly and it was the nicest she’d ever worn, a black sheath dress that dropped below her knees. The neckline was a deep V, showing most of her scars. She bit her bottom lip, running a comb through her hair and pulling the strands across her shoulders to minimize the exposure of her damage.

A knock came to her door and she checked the mirror again before opening it to reveal Bucky, who looked similarly uncomfortable in his clean, borrowed clothes. His clothing contrasted her, white pants and a tank top against her black dress. She smiled. “I knew there was a man under all that blood and dirt,” she teased, letting him into her room. “What are you doing in my room, Bucky? Steve will blow-”

“He’s busy with the king. Discussing my fate, I suppose.” He looked around the room. “I’m here ‘cause I needed to-”

“Say ‘goodbye’?” she finished for him. She leaned against a vanity with a large, antique mirror. “I saw how you were looking at the cryo tank...like it was your salvation. You’re gonna have them freeze you again.”

He licked his lips and ran his hand over his lips. “I think it’s the only way to be sure I won’t hurt anyone else. There’s no way I can do any damage if I’m asleep.”

“No way to do any good either,” she pointed out, quietly.

“I wanted to talk to you about it...since you-”

“I’d understand? Better than Steve anyway. Have you told him?” she asked, her voice squeaking. Bucky looked away. “I mean, I understand. I do. I understand wanting to shut everything off and...being afraid of what will happen if you don’t, ya know, freeze. I…” A tear escaped her eye and she let it roll down her face. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m going to tell him tonight...and you’re safe here, Cassie. You and Steve can get rested up and go save your archer...and your friends.” She looked away at the reminder of her fiance as Bucky sat on her bed and looked at his feet. “I’d like to, before I get into the cryo tank...I’d like to have a beautiful woman in my arms again.��

“No,” she whispered. “Because if I kiss you, if I...if I go further...if I do what I’ve wanted to do with you since I saw you in Leipzig, it’s over. You’re gonna get in that tank and I’m never-”

“I’m getting in that tank whether you kiss me or not,” he said, standing and crossing the distance between them in three long strides. Blue eyes pierced her green ones. “But am I going to have the taste of you on my lips when I go under?”

Her lips quivered as she fought her tears. “I should say ‘no’. I’m supposed to be a good woman. A good woman would say ‘no’.” She shook her head, but couldn’t look away from his eyes. “I have an archer waiting for me and he thinks I’m a good woman. He thinks I’m-” She stopped speaking abruptly and reached up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his head down to smash their lips together. His arm wrapped around her, holding her close as her tongue slipped into his mouth. She pulled away, biting her lip as he licked his own.

“You taste like whiskey,” he whispered.

She smiled softly, pulling his arm off of her waist. “That’s weird. I haven’t had anything to drink.”

“Maybe it’s natural. Maybe you just remind me of whiskey because of how you make me feel.”

Cassie blushed deeply and went to her tiptoes to place a soft kiss to his lips. “Do you think...do you think I should go under too?” she whispered against his lips.

“The cryo?” Bucky asked, stepping back. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. That’s up to you. I know it’s the best option for me.” He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. “Do you think we could-”

“Miss Campbell? It is dinner time,�� came through the door.

“All right, I’ll be...I’ll be right there,” she called before looking at Bucky again. “Another time. You should go. She’ll be knocking your door soon.”

Bucky didn’t say a word, nodding as he slipped out of her room.

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

Dinner was nice, simple, and Shuri seemed very interested in how Hydra had created Cassie, but T’Challa cut that talk off when he saw how much she didn’t want to talk.

She was hoping that Bucky would come back after the meal, she was so preoccupied with their kisses that she couldn’t think of much else, but he never came back. The knock that woke her came as the sun began to crest the horizon. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles as she padded softly across the floor to answer. Steve stood in her doorway, looking completely forlorn despite the fact that he was obviously trying to hold his emotions back.

“Steve?”

“Bucky wants T’Challa to freeze him.”

Cassie nodded and stepped out of the way, gesturing for him to come in. “He told you,” she said, quietly.

“You knew?” Steve asked, a tone of betrayal in his voice.

She nodded. “I was hoping he’d change his mind or that you might be able to talk him out of it. Something.”

“I couldn’t. I tried to convince him, but...forcing him to stay awake when he’s got that kill-switch in his head...it’d be cruel.” Steve shook his head sadly. “What if we never find a way to fix what Hydra put in his head? What if I lose him forever...again?”

Cassie sat on the edge of the bed and patted the comforter beside her. Steve took the seat she offered and sighed as his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I know how...how much he means to you.” She put an arm around him and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know you’d do anything for him, but...this is what he needs to feel...secure in himself.”

“He’s such a...good man. I just want him to…” Steve’s words trailed off as his hand dropped to her thigh.

“I hate to say it like this, but...it doesn’t matter what you want, Steve. This is about Bucky, who feels like a stranger in his own body.” She covered his hand with her own and sighed. “He can’t tell what pieces of him are him and what pieces Hydra added. He can’t tell you half of what he did over the last seventy years and it terrifies him to think that someone can come along with a handful of words in Russian and turn him back into that ruthless...machine.” She bit her bottom lip. “It’s hard enough being a superhuman, international fugitive assassin without adding the wildcard of ‘God help me, I might wake up with a whole new list of people I didn’t want to kill’.”

Steve leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes. “I guess...I don’t have to like it but I don’t have much say, do I?”

“No. No, you don’t,” she whispered. “You gonna be okay?”

Steve kissed the top of her head, moving his hand so that his fingers twisted between hers. “Yeah. I think I will be.”

She stood and pulled him to his feet. “You should go get some rest, Steve. You look exhausted.”

“You know…” Steve started, resisting her pull for a moment as he looked down at her. “You’re stronger than you think you are.”

She smirked. “I know exactly how strong I am, Steve. I did tests at StarkTech Olympia,” she responded.

“You know I don’t mean physically. I’m constantly impressed by what you can do...what you can survive and how you can thrive under conditions that would crush other women.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” she dismissed. “Please, I’m not that impressive.”

“I’m losing my best friend in a few hours.” Steve shook his head. “I know you’ve gotten close to Bucky over the last couple weeks. I know you’re upset about Bucky going under, too...yet here you are, not letting yourself be sad so that you can comfort me. That’s impressive.”

“Go to bed, Steve. I’ll see you in a few hours.” She went to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, just under the contusion and bruising, before walking over and opening the door. She gently pushed him out into the hall. She sighed deeply and walked to the vanity, pulling a piece of stationary in front of her and setting to the task of writing a very important letter.

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

Cassie didn’t have any time to say ‘goodbye’ to Bucky in solitude so she stepped out of the way as T’Challa’s lab tech prepped Bucky for the tank. She watched from her place near the window as Steve and Bucky said their goodbyes. T’Challa walked up to Steve as Bucky froze in the tank and Cassie cleared her throat as she joined them soon after. “King T’Challa, do you...do you have another...one?”

T’Challa stared at her for a minute before he nodded. “Another tank? Yes. Why?”

She looked down to avoid Steve’s gaze when he stepped in front of her. She swallowed heavily and focused on his shoes. “What are you doing, Cassie?”

“It’s better this way,” she whispered, barely audible. “We can’t hurt anyone if we’re frozen.”

Steve’s hands were shaking as he tipped her chin up to look into his eyes. “I’m losing you and Bucky. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’re gonna...gonna go save Clint, Sam, and Scott from the Raft,” she answered, reaching into her jacket pocket and producing an envelope without looking away from his eyes. “You’re gonna give this letter to Clint when you do.”

“How am I supposed to explain to Clint that I let you freeze yourself?”

“The letter’ll do that for you.” She shook her head, sadly. “You have nothing to explain.”

Steve scoffed. “You say that, but-”

“Steve, I wrote that letter four different times. I made sure to explain everything and I apologized profusely. The letter will do everything. You just have to get him out of jail so he can read it. Please, do this for me.” He nodded sadly as he tucked the letter into his own jacket, but she smiled, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before she reached up and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. She pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his. As she pulled away, breathing heavily and blushing furiously, she looked down at her feet. “I didn’t want to regret it if I came back and I had missed the opportunity to-”

Steve cut her off with another kiss, holding her head and kissing her fiercely. She moaned as they pulled away from each other. “You’re right. I would hate to have missed out on that,” he breathed out.

She sighed and turned to T’Challa. “What do I have to do to get frozen?”

“My aid will help you.” The king nodded to his aid, who came over and grabbed her arm, leading her away.

She didn’t close her eyes until the moment the hypothermia-inducing chemicals flooded the tank so the last image she saw was Steve Rogers in front of her, a look of regret in his eyes.

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

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie Hero Tags - @atc74 @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld

#cassie writes stuff #marvel fanfic #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #ofc #red queen chronicles

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tarithenurse · 5 years ago

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Agent of Hope - 15

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: (Brock Rumlow x fem!reader), Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Dealing with trauma. Plotting. Hope. Hate. Angst. Fluff. A bit of everything, really. A/N: Might have messed up the official timeline a bit here, but meh. Thanks to all of you who like and especially reblog <3

15 - Kintsugi

Every day, though mostly when Natasha is there as support, you challenge yourself in the hope that the fears holding you in an iron grip will dwindle with each (preferably) positive experience. Obviously, it begins in the small like shaving your legs, putting on tighter clothes, one day even uncovering the mirror in the bedroom although you try not to look at it. I’m still me, you pray to whatever might listen even though you know that the “me” you want to be is gone and you need to find a new version.

The sun is shining today, and you’ve felt particularly bold and added makeup while using the small mirror that only shows your face. Natasha’s lounging on your bed, reading up on some of the older SHIELD cases for the hearings.

“Do I look okay?” You ask, biting your lip to keep it from quivering with sheer nerves.

Grey eyes studies your face before she closes the folder and comes to stand before you. “Come.” She holds out her hands for you to take and pulls you to your feet. “From an objective standpoint…the wounds have healed very well, leaving only the faintest scars it seems. You look healthy again…”

That’s not what you meant. Far from. But you can’t find it in you to explain, so you just nod silently and start to sit only for Tasha to tug you back up and into her arms. It’s safe there. She’s warm and strong and lovely and has held you almost every night because she agreed to stay either in the neighbouring room or even use an extra mattress on the floor next to your bed simply to be close enough to save you from the nightmares that haunt you. Now though, her hands aren’t on your shoulders or arms. They’re on your waist, and it makes you cringe inside.

“I’ll let go in a moment, but please listen to this,” the redhead urges sweetly, “I see your doubt and insecurity…the kindness and worry and brains you’ve got…” Her forehead rests lightly against yours, the tips of your noses meet. I’m safe here. “But I also see you as the sexual woman you still are…so I can promise you, what I see is more than just okay.”

The meaning of her words take a while to settle in and when it does, it makes you blush. “You…but it’s not…” Your brain doesn’t want to co-operate, so you just end up stuttering uselessly.

“Let me show you.”

Following her to the mirror, you worry about what she’ll do. It’s Tasha…she won’t hurt me. Obediently, you stand there before the cold surface, Natasha’s warmth against your back and her chin resting on your shoulder. You’re faintly aware of how hard you’re squeezing her fingers with yours, but she doesn’t complain as your body refuses to let go. The deep breath you take is forced and does little to actually calm you. Sweat is breaking out, stomach is a knot made of lead, and the heart is working overtime. All of it from the thought of looking at your dressed body in the mirror.

“Wanna know what I like so you can look at that first?” the sweet voice suggests. “I like your feet that ground you here with me.”

Feet? The surprise snaps your eyes open to look at the sock-clad limbs in question. The big toes have been pressed in towards the rest after ears of wearing shoes that are too narrow, but you have to admit that your feet are…fine.

“I’m always happy to see your ankles, the way they stretch over into the foot when you’re reading and waving your feet through the air.”

“Are you gonna go all the way through my legs like that?”

You can feel the smile against your ear. “Well…you do have both sexy and strong legs.”

You don’t like that word, sexy. Brock would say that when he rutted into you, squeezing you full of bruises with his hands. At least the way Tasha says it, it sounds a bit different – like an actual compliment – almost as if it’s spoken in a new language. A language you want to learn even if you know it will be difficult.

“They don’t feel…that. None of me does.”

“It feels broken, right?” You nod. “There’s a sense of sticky dirt left behind under the skin that just won’t come off and makes everything feel like borrowed clothes that are a bit too small or sit weird…and no amount of adjusting seems to make a difference, like you’re supposed to pretend it’s the same clothes as always –“

“But they’re not.” Oh.

You find her face in the mirror and your throat constricts. She knows. Not in the sense that she’s read a book or spoken to someone else, no. She knows because she’s been there, and the knowledge makes your heart hurt because even if you wanted someone to understand you…it wasn’t supposed to be because they’d gone through something like it too. There’s a shimmer in her eyes, a wetness that she doesn’t bother blinking away.

“I hate this body,” you confess.

A featherlight kiss on your temple and then a sniffle before she looks back at the reflection. “That won’t go away overnight. I love it, because it’s been so strong…it brought you through hell and made sure you came out on the other side. It’s a body that refused to give up. That’s why I love it so much even if it’s different now.”

“The scars…”

Tasha brings your arm up and studies the white lines cutting around your wrists. “Tales of courage and willpower. Beautiful.” You’re about to continue when she adds: “Both the scars I can see and the ones that are hidden. Rose gold gluing the pieces together and making the result unique and unbreakable.”

“Pretty image…”

“Then it fits, sweety.”

… Romanoff’s PoV …

Some days are still horrible for [Y/N] and generally followed by worse nights where reaching out to wake the woman from her nightmares is a gamble because the real touch induces worse panic attacks. There are also good days, though, and it seems there are more of them now if they keep in mind that everything is relative. A good day means a day with no sweater to cover the scars and body. A good day is the day that [Y/N] allows Sam to visit in the room (although he has to stay near the door and both Pepper and Nat are there). Later the same arrangement is used for the rest of the men.

“We’re still doing what we can to track Rumlow down,” Steve’s explaining, the long legs stretched out before him as he sits on the chair with hands folded over the challenged t-shirt, “we’ve found a few Hydra-places and taken care of them. That’s given some leads.” It’s just a matter of time. “We’ll find him, okay? We’ll make him pay.”

“Pay?” There’s confusion in [Y/N]’s face. “Like…you’ll kill him? Drag him to prison? How can anything fix what he did?” Neither Avenger has a good answer because there is none. “You know…I see him sometimes in my…my visions. See him killing…civilians or…or he’s travelling…I see him smile.” She has to pause to breathe deeply, steady the voice. “I’ve seen him hold my pictures…kiss them…”

Steve shifts on the chair, clearly uncomfortable with the imagery whereas Natasha remains still as stone. These visions are news to her, but they change very little as far as she sees things: the bastard’s got to go. Preferably in a slow and painful way.

“He’s demented, yeah.” At least the Dorito-man gets that much. “We won’t let him hurt you again.”

Hands find each other in the mess of the bedding, allowing the ex-Russian to squeeze [Y/N]’s fingers gently.

“I know…you’ll all keep me safe…”

…

The hearings have been going at a steady pace considering that some of the historical events involving SHIELD and Hydra can be confirmed by other agencies. Especially the CIA is able to provide records supporting what ex-SHIELD agent Romanoff explains because they’ve been busy analyzing every line of data dumped online, and their short representative is wonderfully bright, connecting the dots as the hearings progress.

“– which eventually escalated from attempts at destabilizing to outright interfering as seen in Libya and later in Iran.” Agent Ross calmly flips a page in the report, allowing the slower politicians to keep up on the timetable depicted there. “All spliced intel is labelled clearly with sources and you’ll find that those detailing Hydra’s activity coincide with the unauthorized actions.”

A slight cough announces the question that proves the person hasn’t understood anything. “So…SHIELD has harboured a military agency involved in terrorism and cold-war strategies?”

“If that is how you see it then, in turn, the US government has done so too and would be considered accomplishes to the same extend as SHIELD.”

Oooh, nice one. Natasha sends a small smile to the blond man with the efficient brain. There’s no immediate sign that he sees it, but a few minutes later Ross sends a smirk back across the wide space.

… Reader’s PoV …

Well…if I’m gonna do it, it might as well be this time. The structure of your days follows a perfect clockwork, and in 27 seconds Happy will be arriving with dinner which he will set on a little table out in the hallway after having knocked to your room. This time he’ll find the door open. Anytime now.

The slight shuffle can be heard from down the hall, and the leaden butterflies in your stomach are beating up a storm. He’s whistling an airy melody but stops when he notices the change in the routine. A few more steps, this time hesitant, and he peers around the doorframe.

“Oh…didn’t expect this,” he admits with wonder in the round face, “how’re ya feeling today, [Y/N]?”

Right now you feel like puking from pure anxiety. “I’m okay. Could...would you mind erm bringing the tray in here?”

You point to the desk not far from the door (still a safe distance from you), and Happy’s face lights up in surprise and then genuine delight. He’s an adorable man who’s done nothing but support you the best he can and to see him look so proud at your request makes you feel a bit giddy. Moving slowly, he enters and carefully steps over to the table where he adjust a few of the items on the tray before exiting the room once more. He only turns once he’s out the door.

“Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you,” Happy smiles, blinking rapidly to hide the wetness filling his eyes.

… Rumlow’s PoV …

Meetings with people in fancy suits has never been one of Brock’s favourite activities, but at least he’s only present digitally like several of the others attending. The screen shows glowing live feeds of people he knows of from files, several of which used to range further down the chain of command until the fall of SHIELD and subsequentially parts of Hydra…and that is the reason for the gathering. Leaders have died, but their organisation must survive, and in order to ensure that there’s got to be a clear leadership established once more. Brock gets that.

“Where are you on the Winter Soldier,” someone asks him.

Hiding a sigh, the scarred agent stares at the little camera before him. “There’s very little to go on, perhaps we trained him to well?” There’s a general ripple of amusement which he loves to kill. “We know he’s been to the Smithsonian, but after that he’s AWOL…not following any of the subprotocols. Roger’s focus has been divided between the Soldier, the Widow’s pet, and obviously unearthing any of our bases…as you know.”

“Any leads on Fury?” This time the one asking is a younger guy, one of the climbers. What was his name again? “I’ve not been able to get anything on his whereabouts from Coulson.”

Strucker’s monocle gleams. “But your cofer remains intact, yes?”

“Of course.” Ward! That was it.

The meeting drags on and Brock has to fight the restless sense of urgency because on the other side of the door there should be an agent with a status update on a certain ex girlfriend.

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juupajaa · 5 years ago

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💍Honeymoon phase:

Honestly honeymoon phase is something else. I wish there were more studies done on this whole thing bc it is so wild and honestly if I ever become a cool science gal, I will do this research myself. I’m pretty sure honeymoon phase is the whole root of why recovery is so hard and this is definitely the most cruel and twisted stage of eating disorders, even if it’s not the one that causes the most mental and physical suffering.

Ok so now your ed/de has latched onto you and it has a bitching strategy: make you feel like it is helping you.

In honeymoon phase, your disordered eating is working full time to make you feel better and in turn you are doing whatever it asks of you, in order to feel better. You are “willingly” taking part in disordered behaviour, and it feels like it is working. And you aren’t wrong, it probably is. There’s a good chance your behaviour is causing things to actually improve for you. Some might get compliments for their weight loss or attempts to eat healthier. Others might get more motivated to perform well and get praise from that. For some the new fascination is enough to make things feel better.

This is the part where your disordered eating is forming into the special cocktail, tailored just for you and your current needs. You try things out and see what works to ease your discomfort. Your de hasn’t fully shifted into a full blown ed yet, but by now it’s on it’s way if it is to come. Your behaviour isn’t the same forever though. It might change along the course of the illness or the events in your life, and if you relapse at some point in your life, your ed/de might be very different from the last time.

In my life, I’ve had four episodes with my ed and each time the behaviour was very different and usually it evolved from one thing to another during the episode, but mostly revolving around one thing. First time I was counting calories like my life depended on it and it evolved into purging over time. Second time was a big ole binge-purge galore, but it had a twist of five consecutive days of starving between binging and purging. Third time I was mainly restricting, but it evolved into food hoarding with a single item diet. Fourth time it was starving and insane food rituals, which evolved into uncontrollable binges. Each of these episodes happened years apart and they went through the stages independently.

Yet every damn time I fell for this shit like I didn’t know better. The first time, sure, I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but the second time? I was thinking: Oh, no I’m not gonna get into an ed again. I’m just throwing up a little, that’s all. The third time: Oh yeah, I’m not getting sick again, I just really like to hoard food. I’m not gonna eat any of it, but wow would you look at all this food! Fourth time: Yup, this time I got it. I’m gonna lose some weight and not be an idiot about it.

My point is that the honeymoon phase is so damn good, that even if you are fully aware that this might and will end badly, you’re going to go along with it, because it is working and you can’t deal with whatever is going on in your life right now. Here are some things you might experience during the honeymoon phase:

an increased interest/concern/fascination with food/your looks/nutrition

a sense of having a new hobby, interest, skill or even personality or a friend or a life-style

being in a better mood when you get to engage in your behaviour, and getting irritated or upset if you can’t for whatever reason

your days start to revolve around food, but it’s still manageable

seeking a sense of control, pride, accomplishment, pleasure or satisfaction from engaging in disordered behaviour

you start seeking out information about food/nutrition/weight loss more or less daily, maybe even get lowkey obsessed with it (I used to have a folder on my laptop, full of pictures of food that I would just stare at every day and I dedicated a lot of time in updating and keeping it in order. Hi, my FBI agent, why u didn’t help me out dude?)

During honeymoon phase, you get all the perks of an ed, without the suffering part and it is pretty rosy, not gonna lie. Whatever was worrying you so much before, it’s easier to handle. It feels like you’re doing ok, maybe even good, but at least better than before. You might feel like you’re in complete control of your behaviour and that it isn’t affecting you negatively at all. This is of course false.

The key element of honeymoon phase is that sweet, sweet denial. Some might go full blown actual denial, not even entertaining the thought that this is an ed/de. It might feel like a conscious change in lifestyle and since it isn’t hurting you just yet, it is easy to think so. Others might get something called optimism bias, which is very common among people in general. A common example of optimism bias is that we don’t think car accidents will happen to us. To others sure, but not to us. In the case of optimism bias in an ed/de, you might be fully aware that this isn’t exactly normal and you probably shouldn’t be doing these things, yet the rewards you get from your behaviour are good enough for you to dismiss your concerns. You might even be fully aware that this is disordered behaviour and you might know all about the health risks, yet you are convinced bad things won’t happen to you because you are “not really sick”. Again, false. You are sick and this is how eds/de are. I repeat: Yes you back there, thinking you’re not really sick, just a fake fraud who wants to lose some weight but are too lazy to do it healthily. Trust me, if you were healthy, you’d be losing weight like healthy people do. Your disordered eating is keeping you from doing it, making your relationship with food too complicated for you to lose weight by the books. Same goes for you, dude in the back, thinking you just really love food and it’s normal to hide your eating habits from others out of shame or guilt. It isn’t normal.

Another thing that might happen is that you develop an interest in eds. You start seeking out information and media, anything you can find. You might feel insecure about yourself and wish you could change yourself as quick as possible, convinced that it won’t lead to an ed, because you need to be something special in order to have an ed. This is all normal disordered thinking and don’t feel badly if this was you in your honeymoon phase. You didn’t bring your problems to yourself, even if it feels like it. People without disordered thought patterns don’t actively try to mimic eds. They get bored or tired of it after the first few days or weeks.

What is so cruel and twisted about the honeymoon phase is that it lures you in with promises of better quality of life, hooking you in and making you give your disordered thought patterns time to cement themselves properly. Yet once honeymoon is over, your quality of life will start to sink back down, getting possibly much worse than what it was before your disordered behaviour. And not only that, it also makes you doubt you are sick at all, because you “actively took part in it, so it must have been willful and conscious”, which too is false. It is such a cunt and I hate this bitch so much.

After the honeymoon phase, if your de will turn into an ed, it will, and if not, you might fall into a disordered eating cycle, and I will talk more about it in the next stage. While you can fall back from all the rest of the stages from this point on, honeymoon phase is something you can’t really ever return to during your current ed. Honeymoon requires you to be in some level of denial and once you slip out of denial, you can’t really fall back into it. This is of course very unfortunate for all of us, because this is the only point where our coping mechanism is actually helping us cope.

The good news is that this is still a very early stage of an ed/de and recovery is still rather quick and painless at this point. Should your situation improve and your coping mechanism to become useless, you might kind of just slip out of the de without any trouble at all. Or in case of other’s getting involved in the situation, the treatment is very effective, since your disordered thought patterns aren’t too strong. Yet.

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queenburd · 5 years ago

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and in the end; chapter 5

Alright: this chapter includes surgical procedures that happen on screen. No blood is mentioned, but the actions are still described, albeit clinically. I mean. Look guys. It’s Bonnibel, if you can handle that you should be fine.

chapter 5: let your dirty sadness fill me up just like a balloon

callbacks and references: The Arcadian Queen, Getting Better All the Time

[TRANSMISSION RECONNECTED. RELAYING...]

[PLAYBACK]

It was no secret that May loved flying. She found it very freeing, feeling wind push at her while she moved at great speeds, high above the heavy world. When she was small, she would move at such a rapid pace, flapping her little wings hard as she could and then catching the up-drift to take her further.

This form, she thought to herself, tilting gently as to not disturb her passenger while she adjusted course, was a rarer fit. No less her, but there was a greater power in these wings. These were wings meant for gliding on the highest winds in the atmosphere. These were wings powerful enough to soar through stars.

But enough about that. They were coming up onto the rendezvous. Slowing slightly, May called back to the little creature clinging to her feathers. “Okay hon! You hear me alright?”

With the wind pushing noise back, she could not hear a reply, but the kneading of her feathers under her skull was interpreted as an affirmative. That done, he resumed gripping them with all his strength, as though it was the only thing keeping him fixed to her.

Silly man, she thought fondly, continuing. “We're gonna be portal hopping in a second here, alright? First into Mab's Arcadia, then into Uuu after that. We're just trying to muddle up any tracking chips via the hops, and then we're headed to Bonnie's to get them out. But the jumps might make you nauseated, so hold tight to me. We'll get through it fast.”

If it was possible for Kass to go any stiffer on her back, then he accomplished it with ease. His knees, sharp little things, dug deeper into the curve of her neck. Had May the time, she would have worried more about his state, but as it was, a shimmering pink tear in the sky was forming just ahead of them.

Silently, she sighed in relief. With the time hunting through files and backtracking the site, she had felt increasingly concerned she was behind schedule, and she had just about rammed the gas pedal of the van into the ground trying to make up for it. Not only that, but coordinates were not quite the easiest to visualize. (As a bird, she had an innate sense of direction, but overshooting was still a concern.)

She slid through the rift, the pinks momentarily shifting into more colors than the human eye was capable of registering, and then they were in the Outlands.

Mab had told May about Arcadia before. She'd wanted to visit very badly, to see the two suns she'd heard of. Now though, soaring over the gray and dry landscape, she recalled the little she had been told of the edges of Mab's world.

There was little out here, but what was here radiated its hostility in waves. It reeked of death and desperate bids for survival. It made her stomach turn a bit.

There was no time to dwell. Another portal tore open ahead, in the angry dark sky. The disk that formed had a familiar blue-green sheen, and she soared into it with immediate relief. Again the colors swirled hard around the phoenix and her passenger, and then her vision was readjusting to cope with the over-saturated hues of Uuu.

Here, it was nearing twilight, and so looking for familiar markers on the ground was easier said than done. But Mab, ever the wonder, had been kind enough to set this final portal close enough to Bonnie's lab that, even in the fading light, May spotted it in short order.

She alighted on the soft grass outside of Bonnie's lab, and almost immediately Dib dived out of the doorway towards her. He was followed by the small peppermint fellow and Gunter, albeit at a slower pace, though May paid them no mind, choosing to lean her head low to help her passenger slide off her shoulders.

It took some doing, with patience and time, for Kass to stiffly slide down the side of her neck. He found no assistance in Dib, who was far too busy staring at the large creature leaning down in front of him. His eyes were wide and round, like saucers.

“Big..... bird,” he said, very eloquently.

“Yes, dear,” May said, almost laughing as she gently nudged Kass's side with the smooth curve of her beak. “Hey, hon. You alright?”

“I'm going to be ill,” Kass said quite matter-of-factly. Approximately 4 milliseconds later, he followed through.

Bonnibel had the lab prepared for a couple hours now, diligently cleaning her instruments and perusing her checklist for the forty-third time. She was, more than anything else, mildly excited to see her most familiar test su—patient.

Well. Maybe not the most familiar, that would have been Simon, certainly. But when Kass was around, Bonnie learned an exceptional amount. A whole new variety of curse words, for one thing. And he'd been the first human to undergo deep brain probing, which had provided her with a wealth of data she'd not had access to before.

She certainly held no real bitter feelings to the man—holding grudges wasn't really her thing, and really, Kass had already paid for all his bad behavior, she thought. To her, it was all water under the bridge.

For some reason, Kass did not seem to reciprocate the sentiment. When Simon and May helped him into the lab (really, carrying him, his arms draped over their shoulders and his own steps unsteady), Bonnibel could actively see him lose whatever little color was still in his face.

She smiled in what she thought was a pleasant manner, and then the smell hit her.

It was no secret that Kass was usually very, well, gross. Bonnie had registered this on most of the occasions they'd come into contact, from Foundation flunkie to freeloading cockroach. He was not what one would call a cleanly individual. Add to that the messiness that usually resulted from Foundation scrapes, and she could expect the disaster that was dragged into her lab.

This, however, was a new level of disgusting. She gagged and stepped back as Simon and May deposited the garbage disposal feigning as a human into a chair. How they could stand the scent of bile, she couldn't tell, and she was honestly rather grateful that they had not immediately set him onto the examination table to start.

May immediately dropped to her knees beside the seated patient, her olive skin also a paler shade, though it lacked the sheen of sweat that glistened on Kass like a film. Simon was already moving to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room to grab a bottle of water. Gunter and Pepbut made wiser decisions, the former grabbing a towel from one of Bonnibel's work tables, the latter grabbing a bucket in the likely case mister upchuck felt like having a round two.

May was taking the towel from Gunter to press at Kass's mouth and shirt when Bonnie sidled up behind her nonchalantly to take a closer look at the ex-agent (this time, holding her breath). Kass's eyes, while not the most focused or awake, were locked on the scientist's movements over the shoulder of his fussing rescuer. They were filled with the usual wariness and disdain, and, Bonnibel noted, a smidgen of fear.

She didn't necessarily blame him for not liking her presence or her lab, but she also didn't particularly care, either. Instead, Bonnie placed her fingers on May's forearm to try to convince her to stand. “Hey, maybe you should sit down and let me--”

“Dib,” May spoke over her, determinedly not moving from her position between scientist and subject, “hon, do you think you could run over to the house and grab some of his clothes? Sick of this stupid orange jumpsuit.”

Dib had been hovering in the door frame, apparently, seemingly at a loss at what to do. At this, he nodded rapidly, and seemed eager to leave them to their business.

May continued to wipe the putrid stuff from her friend's neck and front with care. She seemed rather unwilling to stop touching Kass, Bonnie noted curiously. Her hands were touching his face and throat lightly, without pause.

How she could stand to be near someone who reeked like Kass did, Bonnibel had no clue. But May had chosen to live with him, so she could only assume the bird had adjusted to the levels of stink, and put it out of her mind.

She huffed, still hovering over May's shoulder, and found the smell had improved marginally. “Well, I gotta give him a good non-invasive” (and here, she emphasized the phrase hard, recalling the dark look the bird had given her when she described the work needed to accomplish her goal) “scan before I can do anything else here, so he's gonna have to get up eventually. Preferably sometime soon, so we can get a move on.”

Kass muttered something unintelligible, then said again, louder, “'m right here.” Despite his caretaker's objections, he pushed himself up to stand, unsteadily, gripping the back of the chair to keep himself upright. Bonnibel resisted the urge to step back as another, weaker wave of smell hit her. It was his breath, she realized. “What scan. What's this about.”

“Well,” she began, squashing any frustrations she might have felt blooming (May hadn't told him?) to instead hold her clipboard up. “We gotta check for and remove any trackers the Foundation schmucks might have tried to plant in you, and,” she took on a bit more of a miffed tone, “take out my trackers in case they ended up compromised during your stay.”

Which she doubted, in all seriousness, but May had been very, very adamant about it, and it was very difficult to say no to a person looking at you the way May had looked at her. Better safe than sorry, anyway.

“So first, we'll have to do a scan,” she continued. “Comprende?”

Kass was grimacing as she said it, and without his glasses, it was easy to see the way his eyes looked, for lack of a better word, haunted. How much of that was traumatic flashback via Bonnie, and how much was exhaustion from being in the hands of some jerk parascience monster hunters for over a week, she neither knew nor cared.

He took the bottle Simon handed him, while May unfolded herself from the floor. He had already downed half the contents when she asked, rather hesitantly, “Can't he get some rest first? Get cleaned up? It's been a long day.”

Wasn't she the one who had demanded this? This whole thing had been her idea, Bonnie wanted to argue. Now she wanted to put it off?

Before she could, Simon had already cut in, ever the mediator. “It might be better to do this right away, especially if you know they're going to be looking for you guys. See, Bonnie's scanners don't have any problems tracking through portals.”

“Right!” The scientist grinned, pleased. “Magic doesn't really get in the way of that, especially when I've accounted for it. The tracker would just read where the person would be in that dimension. So, if they did hack my stuff, the tr--”

“They'd show up right over the house,” Kass interrupted hoarsely, surprising them both. He had taken the towel May had been using to clean him up, and was using the clean end to wipe the sheen of sweat off his face. Bonnie was pleased to note the smell had improved significantly with the water. “Okay. Let's just get this over with.”

“Kass,” his roommate said, as though to argue the matter. He waved her off, and then, in the sight of everyone present, took her hand in his and squeezed it.

“S'fine. Won't let you go through all the trouble just to stop now.”

“S'no trouble at all,” she was saying. Bonnie and Simon exchanged a look.

One scan later, Bonnie was discerning the trackers and marking them on a simple body diagram. “Oh, that's not too bad at all,” she said cheerfully. “Looks like they're pretty surface level, a wrist tracker and ankle tracker. That'll be no problem to get out, simple incisions and wire snips.”

She snickered. “Looks like they went the lazy route on you, dude. Those are some of the easiest trackers to get both in and out. Mine, though, those are gonna take a bit more work.”

She didn't bother to add that they were embedded so deep in places he couldn't access, he'd only be able to remove them with a medical professional like herself.

Well, it wasn't like she had had any plans on taking them out at the time!

Both Kass and May looked markedly uncomfortable, despite her good news. They were both seated, gripping each other's hands so tight the knuckles had gone white. Bonnie continued, unaffected.

“Don't get me wrong though, I can get them out no problem. He's just gonna—you're just gonna need to be anesthetized for it,” she corrected, talking to him directly. This only seemed to make him tighten his jaw further. “I get the feeling you don't want to feel me poking back into your head like last time, you big baby.”

Okay, that might have been the wrong thing to say. Simon was giving Bonnibel a near-horrified look at the casual mention, and the two in front of her were looking fairly queasy. Pepbut expectantly lifted the bucket to Kass's knee.

He scowled instead, shoving it back at the mint, and then glared darkly at Bonnibel like one might glare at a lion behind bars, 40 feet away, at the zoo. “If you think you're getting anywhere near me while I'm unconscious, you've got another thing coming, laffy taffy.”

Bonnibel grimaced, and May pressed her hand to Kass's forearm gently. “Kass...”

“No, I'm not arguing this whole damned procedure, birdy. I just want to be awake, I'm not letting her near me while I'm not cognizant.”

“But--”

“Nah, that's fine,” Bonnie cut in over May quickly, relieved. “I've got stuff that'll numb you out but leave you conscious, no biggie. Buuuuut,” she added, pressing her index fingers together, “you won't be able to move, and apparently being conscious but unable to control your body is pretty distressing to humans.”

“Yeah,” Simon said rather pointedly, as if to suggest he may have had some experience on the subject. Bonnie grinned, and shrugged at him innocently. She'd done it with consent, of course!

Kass looked away from her, back to the girl holding his hand. He was making an expression the scientist couldn't read, but May nodded as though she understood perfectly. “I'll be right next to you, the whole time. Promise. I'll make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“We all set, then?” When there was no argument, Bonnibel clapped her hands together excitedly. “Let's get started!”

Putting Kass under was no problem, and they could all see the way his body went fully lax without his control. Had it not been from the way his eyes were open, one could think he was asleep. With care, May pulled him onto his side to give Bonnibel access to his back.

The Foundation trackers were, as she expected, predictably easy to remove. As she worked around his long limbs, Bonnie would look up occasionally and find May, with her seat pulled next to the work table, staring intently at Kass's face at eye level with her own. She only let go of his hand to let Bonnibel remove the tracking chip from his wrist.

“That's all the small ones!” she said as she dropped the small deactivated metal rod onto the waste dish with her tweezers. “Just gotta stitch them up, and then we can get to the big guys.”

“Let me,” the bird said. Bonnie blinked and watched at the wounds pulled themselves closed, leaving only smooth skin with no trace of scar.

“Uh,” she said, a mix of surprised and confused, “I really wanna check that trick out sometime, if you don't mind.”

“Just keep going.” She didn't even look up, her thumb running small circles on the back of Kass's hand.

So Bonnibel kept going.

The next trackers, hers, were in more invasive places. Quickly, she cut open the back of his orange shirt up through the neckline. She heard the small shuddering breath May released, but did not look up, incredibly careful as she slit open the skin between Kass's shoulders and exposed the muscle beside one of his upper thoracic vertebrae. Hands steady and slow, she grabbed the small pulsating yellow light embedded into it with her tweezers, and slid it out to drop it into the waste tin with the others.

That done, she did not pause, instead moving up his neck to where it met the base of his skull. Here, she could see her old handiwork, helpfully exposed by the lack of hair. “Okay bud, last one! Hanging in there?”

Bonnibel expected no response, but she glanced up to see May's scowl, almost a mirror image of what Kass's usually looked like. Right. Empath. That would explain why she was clinging to the man unable to express his emotions through body language. “You weren't kidding about invasive,” she said, her eyes flicking from Kass's face to Bonnibel's.

“Nope!” she said quite cheerfully, quickly and easily parting the skin. This was familiar territory, and it was without hesitation that she pulled out the last tracker that was embedded into the tissue where trapezius muscle turned into tendon. Simon gave a sympathetic wince as she dropped it into the bowl, where it made a soft clatter.

“Okay!” Bonnie exclaimed with a grin, standing straight and rolling her own shoulders. “All the compromised chips are out! Now I'll just slip in the new ones and we--”

“No.”

She paused, her hand hovering over a clean pair of tweezers. “What's up?”

“No new trackers,” May declared, her voice steely. Her gaze met Bonnie's gold eyes cold. “No trackers from you, no trackers from Dib. You're done keeping tabs on Kass, you're not doing it anymore.”

“But I--” Bonnie began, but Simon was shaking his head. May continued, undeterred, in the same voice she had had when she had said I'm getting him back.

“No, Bonnibel. Kass has spent most of his life under surveillance. He's not your prisoner, he's not on probation, he's not some dog you have to keep track of in case he runs off.”

Bonnie didn't have anything to say to that, so the bird repeated, firmly. “No more tracking chips. No more experiments. We're done.”

“Booooo,” she finally replied, opting to pout. Well, fine. She'd already gotten plenty of data on Kass, it wasn't so big a loss. “Fiiiiiine, fine, lemme just stitch him up and then we'll be all set.”

May shook her head again, and this time Bonnie had to take a step back at the sight of the skin on Kass's neck and back doing things she had never seen skin do before. It wasn't like it was healing—it was like it was reversing, returning to net zero.

When she looked up, May was actively grimacing, her brow twisted in pain. A small noise escaped her, and behind her, Simon was getting to his feet, his eyes locked onto her back in horror. He was seeing something unpleasant, that was for sure.

“May,” he said in a voice that sounded genuinely upset, “You don't have t--”

But she was waving him off, her face relaxing. “S'done, Simon. It's fine.”

Later, Simon would tell Bonnie how he saw the skin at May's neck slice open and pull itself back, before immediately undoing itself. Bonnie's curiosity would grow and grow, and soon she would ask May to sit with her for some tests of her own. Now, though, Bonnie leaned over the table to get a better look at the bird's face.

“And they call me a weird one,” she said, but the girl didn't even seem to be paying attention to her. She was more focused on the man on the table, her fingers on his cheek.

“I'm fine, hon,” she said, more to him than to anyone else in the room. “Really. Just get some rest.”

Bonnie shared another look with Simon over May's head, and then Bonnie shrugged at him.

[TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED—RECONNECTING...]

#may writes #may loves teslaverse #And In the End #didnt realize there was no art for this one before i set it up on tumblr #woops

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quillsandcauldroncakes · 7 years ago

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I Won’t Give Up On You (Loki x PlusSize!Reader)

Request: Hi, i love your style of writing so much! 😍 Can I please get number 25 and 32 with Loki? Thank you so much ❤

Summary: The reader helps save Loki from Thanos’ control and becomes an Avenger.

Words: 1965 (woooooow)

Characters/Pairings: Loki x reader, Tony Stark, Thor, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Nick Fury, Eric Selvig

Warnings: Angst, character ‘death’, alien invasion

A/N: Alright guys so this is the last request on my list so please send me some more to keep this blog going!

“You want me to do what now?” She rose a brow at the man in the star-spangled suit. She leaned back in her plush armchair. Her gaze moved over to the long-haired blonde one and then over to the one in a fancy suit jacket and a Black Sabbath tee.

“We need you to look into my brother’s mind to find out what he is plotting.” The one with long hair said again. Her (e/c) were piercing as she looked at each of them in the eye, it was as if she was looking directly into their souls.

“Alright.” She shrugged, grabbing her knitted sweater. Their faces contorted in shock.

“That’s it?” The short one asked, looking put off by how easily she agreed.

“Well… Yeah. So, are you gonna show me the way or not?” She shouldered her designer backpack and waved her hand to her office door.

The man named Nick Fury and a woman by the name of Natasha led (Y/N) down a corridor to a large set of automatic doors.

“Be careful with this one, he’s a Master of Lies and Mischief, and he won’t hesitate to kill you given the chance,” Nick said as he pressed his hand over the scanner and the doors slid open. Inside a man dressed in green and, gold armor stood proudly.

“Not everyone is as they seem,” (Y/N) said as she entered the room, the door closing behind her. The clicks of her boots drew the attention of the god but he did not turn to gaze at her. Always the one for dramatics.

“Well, well, has Fury sent me a new toy to play with?” Loki finally slowly turned to face the woman who had seated herself on the chair just in front of the glass separating the two.

She was a plump woman with very nice curves that drew his gaze. Her hands were folded over her lap were a notepad lay. Her (h/c) hair was thrown up into an attractive messy bun that framed her round face nicely.

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), I’m a psychologist from New York. I was hired by S.H.I.E.L.D to talk to you.” She shifted in her seat, her skirt riding up ever so slightly. His eyes were instantly drawn to it.

“So, I guess I’ll start off by telling you a bit about myself. I was born and raised in a little town in Washington State, and I moved here to find better opportunities. I became a psychologist a few years ago. I have a cat and live in a small apartment in Brooklyn.”

He eyed her wearily, unsure of where she was going with this. She was hired by these mortals to find out what his plan was but not even the Widow had approached him in such a roundabout way.

“What is it you want from me?” He approached the glass, trying to read her. But as she sat there with a soft smile and an understanding look in her eyes, he couldn’t find anything worthwhile.

“I just want to talk. S.H.I.E.L.D hired me to find out what you were up to but honestly, I couldn’t care less. However, from the footage I saw from when you first showed up… I’m curious as to why you looked so horrid for someone claiming to want to take over our planet.”

Loki knew the answer of course, but he wasn’t about to divulge this girl in that story. He smirked and licked his lips.

“Oh? And how did I look?”

“Tortured. Like a man who had hit rock bottom and had only one option. To follow orders.” She spoke bluntly but softly as if to not set him off. But it was too late for that.

“What do you know? You don’t know what it’s like to be cast out! To be looked over! To practically be on your knees!” Loki’s rage suddenly broke free, he slammed his fist on the glass and glowered down at the woman.

“Don’t I?” She whispered, her eyes turning down to her hands. “Being the second youngest of five isn’t as great as it seems. Especially when your parents only want the best.”

Loki’s intense gaze softened as he listened to her.

“I was never the smartest, nor the prettiest. Everything I would do, everything I accomplished was already done by my older siblings… and my youngest would receive all the attention. It was as if I didn’t exist to them. It was all about my siblings…”

“…Did you hate them?” Loki asked, lowering his palm down the glass. She sniffed and shook her head. He rose a brow in confusion.

“No, no I didn’t. Well, at first, I did. I blamed everyone and myself for what was happening to me. I hated my siblings and my parents. But, as I grew older, I came to realize that even though my parents shunned me, my siblings always defended me, always praised me. I was blind to that because of my own self-pity.”

Loki didn’t know what to say to that. Suddenly, he was back on that rainbow bridge, his brother holding him up. He remembers feeling so lost as his father looked down on him in disappointment. He didn’t even glance at the anguished look in Thor’s eyes.

“Loki, no matter how hard the situation seems, or how alone you feel, there is always someone there for you.” (Y/N) smiled up at him as his body relaxed and he gazed back at her with damp eyes.

“I-I never meant for anyone to get hurt,” He muttered. She nodded, standing and walking up the glass and resting her palm on where his rest.

“We never do, Loki. But sometimes, we just lose sight of the path… We just need someone to lead us back.” Abruptly, the entire ship shook, nearly knocking (Y/N) off her feet. And like a spell was broken, Loki looked down at (Y/N) with that same crazed look in his eyes.

“Loki?”

“You think too highly of yourself, you quim. Did you really think you could help me? It’s too late!” He laughed as a group of agents burst into the room, leading (Y/N) away, telling her to get to a safer place.

“I’m not going to give up on you, Loki!” She shouted as the doors closed. She was shoved onto a chopper that took off immediately, dodging shots from a rogue quinjet.

She didn’t see him again until he was atop the Stark Tower. She had noticed the quinjet from her office not too far from the Tower. Figuring it was Tony and the others, she made her way there. How wrong she was.

“I already told you, it’s too late.” He scowled down at her, but at this proximity, she could see the desperation in his eyes. She had been discovered as she made her way up and was brought to Loki to decide what to do with her.

She had been trying to convince him to end this.

“Loki, whoever’s making you do this, we can hide you, we can keep you safe! Please!” She grasped his hand in hers. He tore his hand away.

“You can’t stop this, (Y/N)! Stop trying…” He looked up at her with defeated, tired eyes. “I have.”

She frowned and drew her hand back and cracked it across his cheek. “Enough! Stop with the tough guy act! Stop with all the damn self-pity! End this, Loki!” She growled in his face, pulling him closer by his collar.

His eyes were wide as she yelled at him, his cheek stinging. Some clarity returned to his mind. “Thanos will come for me. There isn’t anywhere he won’t find me.” He shook his head.

“Then die.” She shoved him away. His heart dropped at her tone. She was telling him to die, to let Thanos come after him… He studied her, hoping she would say something to let him know she didn’t mean it.

“He can’t find you if you’re dead.” Loki looked at her as if she grew another head. “Thor told me of how he thought you were dead after you fought… Just do it again.”

How can she say these things so bluntly and carelessly? He marched up to her, dropping his scepter and took her in his arms, too overcome with relief to care of how this looked.

She wrapped her arms around him. “Shall we?”

She and Loki called the newly assembled Avengers and explained to them what was really going on. Thor was as relieved as he could be when he learned this wasn’t his brother’s plan. But he was enraged when he heard of what Thanos had done.

The others were obviously doubtful but decided to trust Thor’s and (Y/N)’s judgment. And their plan was set into action.

Loki opened the portal, allowing the Chitauri to invade. Steve, Natasha, Clint, and Tony kept them away from the civilians while Thor fought Loki. Bruce was at the device where the portal was coming from, trying to deactivate it.

(Y/N) had knocked out Selvig by hitting him over the head with a fire extinguisher. Soon Thor had defeated Loki, taking the scepter. He flew up to where Bruce and (Y/N) were.

“Anything?” He asked, his voice strained. (Y/N) shook her head, watching as more Chitauri poured from the portal.

“What if this was all meaningless? They may still find another way here… We need to do more than just close the portal…”

“What do you have in mind, (Y/N)?” Tony asked over the earpiece they had given her.

“Something crazy…”

A nuclear bomb was indeed crazy, but it worked. The moment the main ship exploded, the soldiers on Earth all collapsed. From what she could hear, there wasn’t as much a there would have been had Loki truly been trying.

After all was said and done, Thor took Loki’s ‘dead’ body back to Asgard. The news was all about this Alien invasion and the people who helped stop it.

(Y/N) sighed as she gazed up at the stars. It has been weeks since then. The casualties of the battle were much lower than she had thought, but then again, Tony and the others were able to evacuate a lot of people before the portal was opened…

But, as happy as she was that it was all over, she felt a strange emptiness in her chest. What was Loki doing now with his newfound freedom? Did he think of her as much as she did him?

She turned to look at her new room. When Tony had finished repairs on the Tower, he invited the Avengers to live there, even (Y/N).

“You’re as much of an Avenger as the rest of us (Y/N),” he had said. She agreed eventually.

A knock at her door had her moving away from her window. She opened it, expecting to see Steve or Tony, but was shocked to see the dark-haired god that had ‘died’ weeks ago.

“L-Loki?” She covered her mouth with her hand. He didn’t say anything besides holding his arms open. She stepped into his arms, wrapping hers around his torso.

“You’re here… what happened?” She looked up at him. He smiled slightly at her.

“Odin thought it would be appropriate if I served my time here on Midgard to atone for my wrongdoings…” He brushed her hair from her face. Her soft body pressed against his own. This girl saved him. And he couldn’t be more grateful for her.

“Well, I’m glad that he decided that.” She rested her head on his chest. He nodded in agreement, dropping his head to rest on hers. “Hey, Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“Just hold me.”

“As you will never give up on me, petal, I will never let go of you.”

#loki x reader #loki #reader insert #marvel #grace writes shit #i dont like it #but whatever #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader

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straane · 7 years ago

Text

Motherworld (Ch.4/?)

Title: Motherworld

Author: strane-stelle

Fandom: Final Fantasy X

Central characters: Tidus

Rating: 12+

Chapters: 4/? Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Word count: 2172

Summary: “The fayth said it’s pointless to keep dreaming. The dream will disappear, he said. What did he mean?” After a long journey, Tidus finally gets to go home.

Warnings: Ton of OCs; drug references; mild implicit violence and some explicit, also mild

Other comments: credit goes to @shuyiin for the idea.(or virtually the star player himself @leviathkand)

Chapter 4 – Grateful

"Spira? Spira, as in...?"

Spira, as in the most miraculous place Tidus had ever known; and the most wretched. Spira, as in the tranquil waves washing over the smooth, hot sand; the long-fallen towers gazing wearily over the shore. Spira, as in men turning their heads away from the dance and picking up their hammers; children crying over the remains of their homes. Spira, as in pyreflies gathering over the rivers at nightfall.

Spira, as in a single searing tear rippling on the surface before dissolving into the cold, thick water. Spira, as in Yuna.

Spira, as in the truth; the harrowing truth.

"Spira, as in..." Tidus stuttered. Edge was still holding him by the collar, and a layer of his skin as well; and nobody could quite bring themselves to defend him any more than he could bring himself. Perhaps nobody wanted to. The undercurrents were still swirling wildly from the confrontation; and suddenly felt chilly to the bone, even against Tidus's water-resistant uniform.

"Tidus," Teri ventured to ask, "did you have something to do with... what happened?"

Tidus had no idea how to answer. Did he? Probably.

"...Guys, I don't know what happened, but I--"

Before he could finish, everyone suddenly turned their heads as the waters shifted directions again; in the wake of a swimmer making towards the team with strong, seasoned pulls and pushes. Tidus had barely recognized the distorted underwater image of his agent, before Leo had already separated him from his assailant with a violent smack; followed with another one for good measure; grabbed Tidus by the arm, and dragged him along towards the gate.

"H-hey, Leo, wait!"

"You don't have the authority!" Edge screeched after them, but only one of them was wearing the required machinery to hear him. Leo, in the midst of all his evident perturbation, even made a mockingly confused gesture upon hearing from Tidus's earphones what must have amounted to distant mutter.

Nobody gave chase; perhaps nobody wanted to.

A consistent stream of profanities washed over Tidus as he was being towed through the corridors by one rather distressed sports agent. Still unsure as to the benevolent intentions behind the action, Tidus tried to wriggle his arm free, but to no avail – Leo had done some serious swimming in his day. And what was the point of Bern, again?

"Leo, please -- I can explain -- or at least, I think I can --"

"Shut up. Just... shut up."

At long last, Leo stopped when they reached the office segment of the building; at what looked like the most unexciting door in the hallway. He wrestled with some keys for a moment, then got tired, cursed, and kicked the door open; to Tidus's mild amazement. He gestured towards the inside, suddenly in a very devil-may-care fashion, letting go of his protégé, finally; and granting him the choice whether or not to follow him. Besides agitation and fresh indifference, there was something else about his manner – something vulnerable; almost sad. Tidus nodded at his agent knowingly before entering – even though at this point, he doubted whether he truly knew anything at all.

Miraculously, the door was still unbroken enough to close. The air in the room was extremely stuffy, and the furniture was composed of nothing besides a shabby desk, two bookshelves (oddly enough stacked with relevant-looking titles), a moth-eaten carpet with the tacky retro Abes logo, a flickering holographic poster of Jecht, and random pieces of blitz gear and field equipment scattered around. Tidus's two guesses were either a forsaken storeroom or Bern's very current office.

“We don't have much time," Leo declared, circling the room; back to neurotic and vaguely aggressive. "Hirans'll be here any minute now."

"Wh-- wait a minute-- he's coming?" Tidus spluttered, sidetracking into indignantly wondering why no one ever told him anything. The last he'd seen of the rich buffoon, he'd showed up at a pre-Jecht Memorial Cup charity match, to get Tidus to sign a contract allowing him to sell either action figures or blitzball cards – his memory failed him here, he'd stopped collecting both when the fifth edition of the Jecht Superior series had hit the stores. He'd grudgingly signed, but Nella had not let their 'coach' off the hook so easily – she had pestered him for some game pointers and diet advice, and even opened up about some very imaginary women's troubles. Just thinking about it, Tidus still wanted to howl with laughter – and right now, cry. Cry like he finally had a good enough reason – for a very gloomy thought was looming larger and larger in the back of his mind.

"Yeah, yeah!" Leo barked in reply. "To discuss your future with the team, the entire board are on their way! It was all going fine and dandy with the evaluation until... well, you know." Tidus had never seen Leo so discomposed. It almost looked as though he was bursting out of himself, eyes first. "That happened."

"Listen," Tidus desperately began an explanation he had no idea how to accomplish, "I don't know what's going on, but--"

"I think you do, kid!" Leo fumed, now absolutely livid. Tidus's eyes grew wide at the extreme reaction, but even as he took a step back, he could tell – against his better judgement – that the agent meant no harm. And that – somehow – he was supposed to be here, at this very moment, having this very conversation with him. Even if Leo himself seemed to disagree, "On a side-note, where's your goddamn self-preservation instinct? That blasted press conference, not even trying to stand up for yourself just now... never mind getting kicked off the team, they would've--"

Tidus couldn't quite get the point of changing the subject and cut him short, "Leo, I know you don't wanna hear this, but I think those fiends are connected to Spira."

Tidus was going to try to give another shot at the ‘Spira, as in’ game, until he remembered that he had, in fact, told Leo everything – almost everything – and it was a miracle he had listened. And never in a million years could he have predicted what the man – who had grown oddly calm at his response – would say next.

"You think... we're all connected to Spira, don't you?"

Tidus froze completely. It was a borderline surreal sight – the way Leo looked as he uttered those words; confident in his assumption, yet confused and scared of his wits. And the words struck him like lightning from a clear sky – unexpected; even absurd, but undeniably powerful. "You said,” Leo impatiently continued, “Spira has its own Zanarkand, one that's been long destroyed. Well... what does that mean for us? Are we... are we long destroyed, too?"

Tidus could hardly believe what he was hearing, and was sorely out of answers. It was then that the notion; the one skulking in the back of his mind; finally registered: a truly horrifying scenario. He finally did have a good enough reason.

"Leo," Tidus began, a sweeping finger instinctively reaching towards his cheek, although his eyes were only dampening. "What if," he was almost shouting as the first droplet fell, "what if she went to the Farplane, Leo?!"

For some reason, Leo did not seem to require further elaboration.

"They told me... we were all just dreams. The fayth said... it's pointless to keep dreaming. The dream will disappear, they said. But the thing is..." No amount of wiping could help him at this point. "It was supposed to be me! I was supposed to disappear! I was going to go to the Farplane, I should... I should be nothing but a bundle of pyreflies by now!"

Leo was silent.

"And of course, I knew," Tidus went on, choking at every breath, "that you... my, my team... everyone here... that all of you guys-- the rest of the city-- that it would all fade as well, I knew! They told me my father... my mother, everyone; that we were all just dreams. That we would all disappear. Should I have... should I have been more sorry, should I have pitied you all more? Maybe... maybe I was too busy pitying myself, and this is how they punish me. By taking-- instead of--"

Drying his face, hands and chest on the top of his uniform, Tidus momentarily pulled himself together. "But-- why-- how-- since when have you believed me about Spira, anyway? What if... what if that was all smoke and mirrors just now, what if I'm... y'know... using?"

"You're not," Leo shook his head, "if you were, I'd know."

"What do you mean, you'd--"

"'Cause I was!" Leo snapped back, suddenly shouting again. "And old Niel took the blame! Said he was gonna retire anyway, blah blah, I was young and I had so much promise, that dense old fart! He almost killed himself with that stunt, 'cause it 'had to look real'! I didn't even make it to the game where he 'got caught', I was so... blitzed! And kid, I can tell you're just going through the motions, but you're-- believe me, if you were pulling what I was, I'd know!"

Tidus stared at him, wide-mouthed. But it added up. Even if it forever changed his perception of Leo; the former pro-blitzer who'd abruptly quit a steady career, citing a ‘desire to pursue other interests’.

"I think Bern believes you too, you know," Leo continued. "He followed you to your house the other day, after you tried to ditch him. And he saw... it, too. Of course, he thought it was just a--- but he told me, and I thought it was just a--" Leo made a long pause, and Tidus studied him; this new bizarre version of a person he thought he'd known annoyingly well. Leo held up his both hands in concentration as he stared into nothingness and spoke, "...Sometimes, I can feel it. It's like gravity. Like I'm... like we're being pulled. Not pulled down... but up. Pulled up... into existence."

Tidus had always felt it. He could still feel it.

"And I feel," Leo added, with a sudden sense of finality, "grateful."

He raised his eyes and they exchanged somber looks. And that's when, with a strident echo; the door hit the wall once more and they both jumped.

"See? I told you."

Apparently, someone had given chase; and had some impressive tracking skills, too. It was, of course, Edge; and Arret, by the looks of it – the self-righteous senior player had always had the somewhat impressionable goalkeeper under his thumb. The three other pursuers; Frion, Riona, and Leno; were standing in the back, still seemingly making up their minds about whom they were pursuing (but certainly doing their share in blocking the exit). Teri wasn't with the group.

"Where's... where's Teri?" Tidus demanded as he observed the fact, fearing the worst for a second.

"Seems to think Nella died of natural causes," Edge replied nonchalantly, with the air of a fearless justice-campaigning hero, "and who cares?"

"Died?" Tidus echoed, fearing a new kind of worst. But judging by Edge's dismissive reaction, he was just being metaphorical – or speculative. Leo tried to extend a protective arm in front of Tidus as he stepped forward from the back, but Tidus wouldn't let him. For the first time since his return, he felt far better-equipped to handle a situation than one of his babysitters.

"We just want to know what happened to Nella," Edge pleaded with him with faux civility. Tidus surveyed him for a moment. Something told him that asking whether he felt a "pull" or introducing the concept of the Farplane were not good negotiation strategies.

Suddenly something jumped out to him. It was the blitzball that Edge was carrying on one arm and hiding partially behind his back. Tidus had never seen anything like it – in this life. But he had in another. The ball had spikes on it.

"Edge... where did you get that blitzball?"

"Oh, this?" He spun the lethal instrument on his finger. "Found it in the changing room."

Tidus narrowed his eyes in disbelief. First fiends – and now objects from the other side?

“Relax," Edge scoffed. "I'll just be holding onto this until the police get here. Oh, and I sent Hirans away, hope you don't mind."

Tidus was starting to think perhaps Hirans was no longer a corporeal part of this world, either; what with his track record of showing up. He was also starting to get tired of this conversation. Perceiving something in his peripheral vision, Tidus quickly peered to his side and made an even quicker decision: it was time to go. He gave a slight shrug as he shot Edge an apologetic glance.

Arret seemed to notice he was up to something, and opened his mouth, but too late. With one well-timed acrobatic motion, Tidus brought his hands to the floor, kicked his legs over his body and flung himself sideways across the room and right past Leo's ineffectual safeguarding attempts; sticking a perfect landing on the desired spot, before diving headfirst for two retired pieces of crossbar on the floor, and tossing one into Leo's very reactive arms.

"A gift from me! I hope you know how to use it!"

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 8 years ago

Text

The brotp that stole our hearts [a Supergirl 2x22 tag]

The second the mechanism clicks to release a storm of lead, Lena kicks herself for not thinking to put the device out on the balcony. She holds her breath as particles sting her face and neck, and moments later the air inside her office calms once more. Her eyes lock with Winn’s, and as one they turn towards the door leading outside. Shoulder to shoulder, they crane their necks to try and see the effects of their work for themselves.

The streets below are devoid of life, and for a second, Lena believes she’s failed. Then, she sees a flash of light from behind the next building over. Another quickly follows, then another and another and for a good minute the afternoon sky is glittering with the transmat streams of every Daxamite groundtroop beaming back up to their ship.

Over their heads, the persistent thrum of the Daxamite engines changes pitch. The hum has been a steady constant since the ships first arrived, and Lena had forgotten it was even there. Now, as the ships prepare to leave, the shift in the continuous whine sounds desperate to her ears.

The glimmers of light fade, and the ships tilt upwards and surge into the sky, wobbling and dipping as their pilots choke for air. Lena’s eyes find the largest one and latch onto it until the ship that had been her prison disappears into the clouds.

When it’s gone, Lena’s breath leaves her in a quiet whoosh, her shoulders slumping as relief washes over her. Her actions had made the invasion possible, but she’s the one to end it. That had to count for something, right? As though the world ever judged a Luthor based on partial credit.

“Hey,” a quiet voice said. A nudge rocked her gently, and she lifted her head to meet Winn’s bright, effusive gaze. “We did it! Two for two!!”

He lifts his hand for a high five. Lena laughs in spite of herself, and lightly smacks her palm against his. His fingers curl over hers, and they embrace gleefully, giggling like teenagers. Now Lena feels it– the rush of success, the triumph over adversity… the thrill of knowing she’d done something even Lex hadn’t been able to accomplish (despite what Lillian had claimed that night in the vault, the device wasn’t finished; it was incomplete, and Lena had gotten it the rest of the way while the building shook around her).

And this time… god, this time she’s allowed to feel the pride and the victory, because Winn’s enthusiasm is so pure, so contagious that Lena almost forgets that the last time she’d done this the world almost ended.

When they pull apart, Lena can’t wipe the grin from her face. “I’m surprised you remember the generator,” she confesses, sagging against the balcony rail. She feels boneless now, and weightless, as though she could fly as high as Supergirl.

“Are you kidding?” Winn sputters happily. “That was the coolest thing I’ve seen all year! Right up until we did that anyway. It’ll be hard to top this.” He grins at her. “You were amazing.”

“You’re pretty cool yourself, Agent Winn. For someone who’s not field agent, you kept calm under pressure.” Lena sends him a devious grin. “If you ever get tired of a career in public service, let me know. I’d love to have you on my team.”

His eyebrows hike upwards, cheeks flushing at the prospect. “Wow, okay. Sure. Wow. I mean, I’m happy at the DEO, but yeah, if that changes I will definitely, absolutely let you know. Wow!”

Movement catches her eye through the window, and she sees Lillian inspecting the device further. Lena clasps Winn’s wrist briefly. “Excuse me a moment.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m gonna check in with HQ anyway…”

Her mother straightens as Lena steps back in from the balcony. The door swings shut behind her, insulating them from the outside world as calculating eyes study Lena from across the room.

“We did it,” Lena states unnecessarily. Lillian’s features already crease into something like pride. She’s never seen it before, but it’s almost how she used to look at Lex, and Lena’s stomach clenches painfully.

“You did it,” Lillian corrects. “You give too much credit to your lackeys. Always have. You saved the world today, Lena.”

Lillian closes the distance between them. Lena forces her breaths to remain even and steady, though her heart pounds so loudly in her ears she can barely hear her mother’s next words.

“I have never been more proud of my children,” Lillian says, taking Lena’s hands in hers. “In a way, the two of you worked together. But, oh, sweetheart… you outshone him today.”

Lena hates the way her heart lifts, hates the way her cheeks flush at the praise. It doesn’t mean anything. Lillian wants something, it’s the only reason she’s ever gentle. You let Rhea suck you in, now learn from it. She doesn’t have to wait long.

“Imagine what we could accomplish together,” Lillian urges. Cool fingers cup her chin, and Lena pulls away from the touch that is too much like Rhea. Bitterness climbs up her throat like bile.

“You must be joking,” she spits. She glares at Lillian, searching her face for hurt, for anger, but all she finds is calm acceptance. “Or do you think I’ve forgotten how you got that device in the first place?”

“Lena…”

“You abducted me! You forced me to open that vault and when your goon exploded, you just left me there! To die!”

“I didn’t.”

Lillian’s voice is so calm, so even, that it cuts through Lena’s rage like a knife. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t leave you to die,” Lillian repeats. Lena pulls her hands away, but her mother’s hands move instead to her shoulders, then one lifts to stroke her hair. And Lena, god help her, doesn’t pull away. “I saw the way Supergirl looked at you; I knew she’d get you out. And she did.”

Something sharp stabs at Lena’s chest. She tries not to think of the way Supergirl had barely glanced at her on the Daxamite ship, or the way Supergirl dodged her question about Kara Danvers and her boyfriend. Or the way Supergirl never once asked if Lena was okay.

“I know you trust her, Lena, but don’t let that blind you. She is not who she says she is.” Lillian looks her in the eye, and Lena can almost see something like concern. “You may not agree with CADMUS or what we do, but that may change. And if it does… I will still be here.”

Lena stares at her, and when she fails to render any kind of response, Lillian leans in and presses a kiss against her hairline.

“I will always be your mother.”

Lillian gives Lena’s hair one final pet before she slips away, gliding out of Lena’s office, leaving Lena and the device behind. Lena stares after her, stunned, until she hears the balcony door open.

Winn steps hesitantly inside. “Everything okay?”

The way the question pours out of him tells Lena that he knows, that he heard everything, and now he’ll hate her too. But Lena doesn’t care. She’s stretched too thin, and tears burn at her eyes even before she turns to face him.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Some family, huh?”

“Your family doesn’t define you.”

Winn’s voice is suddenly solemn, and when Lena meets his gaze his eyes hold more than sympathy. They’re hard with understanding, and his mouth–almost always smiling– is now a sharp line.

“Blood doesn’t make us who we are,” he tells her. “Our choices do. What we did here, today, and the field generator… that’s what defines us.”

Lena breathes, and in the quiet, her chest unclenches. “Yeah.”

“Now, I don’t know about you,” he says, brightening, “but I’m hot, and tired, and hungry.”

As soon as he says it, so is Lena. Her stomach growls, and the building lost power days ago, leaving them in thick, muggy air. “I know a place that does a killer ice cream sundae,” she offers, letting a smile creep over her. “Want to see if they have power?”

She knows she has him hooked when his eyes widen with excitement. “Hell, yes!”

As they head for the stairs after locking the device in Lena’s personal safe, it occurs to Lena that she hasn’t heard from Kara since their lunch at L-Corp. Supergirl confirmed she was fine, wherever she was, which came as a relief but didn’t dispel the anxiety that curled around her heart.

No doubt she’s learned of Lena’s role in building the transmat portal by now. It’s only a matter of time that Kara hears that Lena also built the device that either murdered or banished her boyfriend. Lena can’t imagine what Kara must think of her.

She wants to explain, to assure Kara that if she’d known the truth if Rhea’s intentions she never would have pursued the project. But every time she’s picked up the phone to call, her fingers still on the familiar numbers. If Kara wanted to talk, she would reach out. Until then, Lena can respect the unspoken boundaries between them.

She might have lost Kara’s friendship for good, Lena acknowledges as she and Winn begin the long trek down to ground level. The thought hurts more than it should. But even if this whole ordeal has lost her a friend… Lena looks at Winn out of the corner of her eye. Maybe she’s earned one too.

#Supergirl #finale #ficlet #tag #i wrote dis #lena luthor #winn schott #lillian luthor #bros before foes #mommy issues

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