#I’m on team Bloom but friendly fire is welcome | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tuanyiems · 4 years

Text

Bambam and Bonbons

Yugyeom x Reader (f) fluff x smut words: 3.4k plot: the two of you get into a fight and you see your boyfriend mad for the first time…it’s an interesting discovery for the both of you, established relationship!au warnings – dom!yugyeom, sub!reader, light bondage, oral (f receiving), denial, a fight is involved…kinda not really lol they are simps for each other it’s pretty gross a/n – part of Le Chocolatier drabble series, which you can find the masterlist for in my blog. feel free to read this as a one-shot or part of the series, in any order you want <3

You nibble on your nails, ruining your fresh manicure. Your self-destruction goes unnoticed though as you stare at the round clock on Yugyeom’s wall. In exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds it will be 7PM and his friends will be walking through his doors. 46. 45. 44…

“Will you stop? You’re making me nervous too,” Yugyeom laughs, pushing your hand away from your mouth.

When you look at him, distraught is written in every arch and wrinkle of your features. Chuckling, he leans in before pressing a teasing thumb to the center of your forehead. You whine as he proceeds to smooth the worry lines away.

“Gyeom,” you cry, pulling his hand away and wrapping your fingers through his instead.

He answers you with his smiling eyes. “It’s just a friendly get together, Y/N. My friends aren’t scary, just stupid. It’s nothing to be nervous about.”

You can only sigh and nod your head. His response doesn’t help at all, but you can tell in the way he rushes back into the kitchen to check on dinner that you’ve been annoying him. You don’t mean to be annoying. As much as you want to believe in Yugyeom’s reassurances, history has taught you better.

It doesn’t help that today of all days is Friday the 13th. Not that you’re a superstitious person, but it surely doesn’t do anything for you. And you’re going to need all the luck you can get if you’re going to meet your boyfriend’s friends for the first time.

How could you not worry? It hasn’t even been a full month since you two started dating and you know from how much Yugyeom talks about them, that their opinions really do matter.

And if your meeting tonight goes anything like how you first met Yugyeom, you’re not sure his friends will be as kind as your boyfriend. To be honest, you’re still not sure what anything you did could have attracted Yugyeom to you, but at this point, you’d rather not ask for fear he might realize his mistake.

You feel a squeeze over your hand, pulling you out of your stupor.

Yugyeom is smiling down at you. “They’re here. I’m going to ring them up.”

Quietly, you nod, watching as he makes strides towards the intercom at his doorway. Swallowing your anxiety, you rise from your seat to fix at the creases of your black dress.

“Y/N,” Yugyeom calls for you, a line of men behind him. “Let me introduce these clowns to you!”

You laugh nervously as four handsome men towered over you. Handsome people really did travel in pack, huh? You raised your head, neck straining. And apparently tall men too.

“This is Bambam, Jungkook, Jaehyun and Mingyu,” Yugyeom introduces.

“Y/N,” you smile shyly.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Bambam greets you, reaching out for your hand. You shake it hesitantly. “Blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”

You blink in surprise, flustered, and the guys break out into laughter.

“Hey!” Yugyeom complains, pushing past his friends. “It’s too early for your jokes, Bambam!”

“I don’t know,” Bambam gives you a friendly look. “Hard to believe you got a girl like Y/N voluntarily.”

You can only laugh, shaking your head in dismay.

“She blinked twice and is shaking her head now!” Jungkook points out, his eyes round and shining.

“It’s not too late, Y/N,” Jaehyun smiles at you kindly, dimples deep in his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Mingyu nods his head, reaching his arms out like a bodyguard to push Yugyeom back. “We’ll hold him back while you escape!”

You laugh at their playfulness, eyes turning to Yugyeom. He smiles back before turning to push his friends into the living room. And as you follow behind, you can’t help but feel a warmth blooming in your gut.

Maybe you were worried for nothing after all.

You smile gratefully when Yugyeom bends over the couch, handing you another cold bottle of beer before taking a seat on the floor by your legs.

“I still don’t understand why I’m partners with Mingyu,” Yugyeom grumbles, jokingly pushing Mingyu’s shoulders.

“You should’ve won at rock-paper-scissors then,” Bambam taunts. He pulls at your arm, bringing you closer to his side of the couch, much to Yugyeom’s disliking. Bambam smiles before whispering in your ear. “I’m the best at Taboo, we’re gonna win this!”

You chuckle, nodding your head.

“Whatever,” Yugyeom rolls his eyes at his friend, organizing the deck of cards. “Let’s just start.”

Unlike Yugyeom’s tone though, when the boys begin playing you are amused to find how intense they become. Jungkook and Jaehyun quickly come out of their shells, their competitive natures apparent as both their voices fill the apartment with shouts. Soon you are laughing so hard you wonder if you might be buzzed already.

“Okay, Y/N!” Bambam jumps up from the couch, shuffling superfluously. “Final round, we have to sync okay?”

You play along, pointing your two fingers from his eyes to yours. “Telepathy caps on!”

“Oh my god guys, just start already!” Yugyeom complains, which only succeeds in making the both of you laugh harder.

“Fine, if you want to lose faster,” Bambam shrugs his shoulders, making you snort, and the rest of the room roll their eyes collectively.

“I’m turning the hourglass!” Jungkook yells out.

You sit up, hands fisted and ready to play.

“Okay!” Bambam yells. “This is a…uh thing you like to consume! Um, self-care-”

“Chocolates!”

“What kind?”

“Uh,” you glance around the room before landing on Yugyeom. “Peppermint?”

“Ew, no what?” Bambam makes a face at you but Yugyeom smiles back, sends a wink your way. “It’s a circle. Usually filled with something. Sounds like Bambam!”

“BONBONS!” You yell out, ignoring the heat rising to your ears under Yugyeom’s gaze.

“Yes!” he cheers, throwing the card to the floor. “Okay, what do you use if you’re an off—a person of the law!”

“A cop?” you arch your brows. He nods eagerly, gesturing his fingers for more.

“What does a cop use?”

“A gun!”

“What else?”

“A baton?” You look at him questioningly.

“No!” Bambam waves the card in the air, practically jogging in place. “You can use this in bed too!”

“Handcuffs!” You yell out. “Oh my god!”

The guys around you laugh but Bambam waves his new card your way, breaking you out of your mortification.

“Consensual bondage in the bedroom is healthy, Y/N, ignore them!” Bambam shouts, not helping with your embarrassment at all. “Okay, next one is easy. Keep your head in the bedroom.”

“Oh dear,” you flush, glancing at your boyfriend before turning back to Bambam.

“When he cums, you?”

“SWALLOW!” You shriek, covering your eyes in embarrassment just as Jungkook yells out time.

Bambam laughs, settling back down next to you on the couch.

“Really?” he asks you teasingly making you pout. He grins. “Well aren’t you a good girlfriend.”

“And that concludes probably the most epic win of Taboo ever,” Jaehyun laughs, raising his beer in congratulations.

“And that’s the last sexual innuendo Bambam is allowed to say for the rest of tonight!” Yugyeom adds, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You chuckle, feeling his hands squeeze your hips.

“Good thing the night is over,” Bambam laughs heartily, clinking his beer bottle with yours. “We make a good team, Y/N!”

“We do,” you agree, drinking your beer with him. “But seriously, you could have said a type of bird or something. Anything else, really.”

“But would you have gotten the answer as quickly?” Bambam challenges and you can only roll your eyes because he’s right.

“Maybe she could have,” your boyfriend answers for you. “You really didn’t have to make the game so dirty.”

You turn your head to Yugyeom. Was that tension you heard in his voice?

“That was fun though,” Mingyu cuts in. “Best game we’ve played in a while.”

“For sure,” Jaehyun agrees, beginning to clean up the cards on the floor. There’s a shift in the room that you’re certain is coming from Yugyeom. You’re not really sure why though. You were all having so much fun just a moment ago.

“Well, I guess we better head out soon,” Bambam winks at you. “Don’t wanna overstay our welcome.”

“Yeah, I promised to come home early tonight,” Jungkook adds, getting up from the floor.

“You’re whipped man,” Mingyu teases, but Jungkook only answers with a bunny smile.

“Hey, at least he’s got someone to be whipped for,” Jaehyun defends.

“And now that Y/N’s here, it’s just you and me man!” Bambam stretches his arms out towards Mingyu dramatically, making you laugh.

“Thanks for coming everyone,” you add, rising from your seat on the couch. “I had so much fun—”

You watch in slow motion as the beer bottle in your hand slips out of your grasp, spilling all over Bambam’s pants.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, automatically bending to wipe at his pants.

“Woah, woah,” Bambam grabs your wrists, cheeks flushed.

“OH MY GOD!” You gasp even louder, your face on fire at the realization of your hands on his crotch. Pulling out of his hands, you look mortified as you apologize.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles easily. “Not the first time a girl’s made my pants wet.”

“So much for no more sexual innuendos,” Mingyu snickers.

Yugyeom groans from the couch and you wince inwardly.

“Let me get you cleaned up in the kitchen,” you say, ushering Bambam into the next room over.

Alone, Bambam laughs at your flushed face. “I’m just teasing you, Y/N. You’re almost as fun to tease as Yugyeom.”

“Still,” you sigh, handing him a kitchen towel to wipe himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” he grins. “Gyeom warned us you were clumsy.”

“He did?” you frown.

“It’s a good thing,” Bambam reassures you, but you look at him like he’s grown two heads. It makes him chuckle and he pats you on the shoulder. “He really likes you. As his best friend, you can trust my judgement.”

“Then, as his best friend, do you approve?” you look up at him hopefully.

“As long as you’re my game partner next time.”

“Deal!” you smile, shaking his hand.

Feeling your spirits lifted you walk towards the kitchen door until you hear a loud tear. You feel a tug on the end of your dress and when you turn, Bambam’s eyes are wide with shock.

Slowly, you look down at your body. A fresh split runs up your thigh, showcasing your bare flesh and as you look up, the evidence of your torn dress hangs from his Cartier bracelet. The two of you gape at each other in shock.

“What’s taking you so…long?” Yugyeom enters the kitchen, a scowl on his face that only deepens when his eyes land on your disheveled appearance.

“Dude,” Bambam chuckles awkwardly, waving his wrist with the torn garment. “It wasn’t me, it was the bracelet.”

“I-It really was an accident,” you stutter out, face so hot you think you might actually explode this time.

Annoyance is written all over Yugyeom’s face and you can’t help but feel sick in your stomach. The worst case scenario was really unfolding in front of you. You just embarrassed yourself in front of all his friends and now he was going to want nothing to do with you. Why would he? You were out here spilling drinks on his friend’s crotch and ripping your dress in half.

You wouldn’t want a girlfriend like yourself either.

You should just be grateful you lasted a month.

Clenching his fist, Yugyeom finally lets out a sigh. “Mingyu’s waiting outside for the Uber. You two are sharing, right?”

“Oh, right!” Bambam smiles, glad for the opportunity to exit.

Shuffling out of the kitchen, he laughs one last time as he slips your torn dress piece into Yugyeom’s palm before running out of the apartment.

And then it’s just you and Yugyeom.

You wait for him to say something, yell maybe, anything…but instead he leaves the kitchen without a single word. The minute you’re left alone in the kitchen, your heart leaps to your throat and it hurts to swallow. Your eyes wet but you hold yourself together, fisting your torn dress before exiting the room.

When you enter the living room, Yugyeom is cleaning up the empty bottles and putting away the board games. He doesn’t spare you a glance, but like a scolded puppy you don’t know what else to do but stand there until he says something.

Yugyeom can see you standing there in his peripheral and he knows you’re waiting for him to speak. It’s a little hard for him to pretend like he isn’t annoyed though. How could he not be? He pretty much spent the whole night watching his girlfriend and his best friend flirt with each other. And yeah, he knows you weren’t flirting, you were just being yourself, but somehow that makes it worse. As if you and Bambam have chemistry so good that you don’t even have to try. It was just plain annoying!

“Gyeom,” you break the silence first. You utter it so softly he almost thinks he imagined it.

That all changes when he finally looks at you.

Yugyeom’s eyes widen with surprise when he sees you, your cheeks shiny with fresh tears. All annoyance is quickly replaced with panic. Dropping the empty cans back onto the floor, he rushes to meet you.

“What’s wrong, are you hurt?” He holds your face in his hands, thumbs brushing at your tears.

Fresh droplets fall as he brushes at your cheeks and your vision blurs, but you continue, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

“Of course, you aren’t,” he whispers, his chest tightening. In the back of his mind, he wonders about the old relationships you had glanced over. Which one of your exes placed those words in your mouth?

When you push his hands away, it brings him back to the present. He can’t care about your exes right now. He’s making you cry right now. That thought feels like a punch to his gut.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, rubbing your tears with the back of your hand. It smudges your makeup down your eyes. “I embarrassed you in front of all your friends. I even ripped my dress!”

At this, you flail at your bare thigh and Yugyeom knows you’re being serious, but you look so adorable, he can’t help but laugh. When you hear it, you look at him with surprise.

Yugyeom steps closer, bringing his arms back around your waist. “I think you were the only one feeling embarrassed, Y/N.”

Your wet eyes shimmer as you arch your brows in confusion. “So…you’re not mad at me?”

Yugyeom lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “I’m the one that should be sorry. I was a little annoyed, but not because of you.”

“Really?”

“I would never get mad at you over your butterfingers,” he chuckles, one hand coming to cup your cheek. “It’s part of your charm.”

You look at him hesitantly, still unsure. “You’re really not mad at me? I can still be your girlfriend?”

“Are you kidding me?” Yugyeom pulls you to his chest as if you might run from him otherwise. “You’re not getting away from me that easily!”

Finally, you break into a smile and wrap your arms around him. Pressing your face into his chest, you breathe in his warmth.

Squeezing him, you giggle, pulling away just enough to look at him. He lifts a brow, amused.

“First you’re crying and now you’re laughing?”

“We just had our first fight,” you snicker.

“You’re a rollercoaster, you know that?” Yugyeom laughs. He gives you a once over, eyeing the slit of your thigh. Tongue in cheek, he looks at you mischievously. “You know what comes after a fight?”

You blink, shaking your head.

Smirking, his hands come around your dress, “Make-up sex!”

And then you hear a loud tear. You gasp, your body on full display for Yugyeom now.

“I’ll buy you a new dress,” he replies easily, licking his lips.

You barely notice the flimsy material slipping off your body as Yugyeom captures your lips with his.

Pulling away, he looks you over and smirks. “Are you up for some consensual bondage?”

You feel a shiver run down your spine. Lifting your arms above you head, you smile innocently up at your boyfriend. “I think I need a little punishment.”

“God,” he exhales, rolling up your dress to wrap around your wrists. “How are you so perfect?”

“I have a good teacher,” you whisper, feeling a thrill when he tugs to secure the knot. Smiling down at you, he presses a chaste kiss to your temple, inhaling the sweet aroma of your shampoo. And then you feel a hard slap come down on your ass.

You gasp in surprise, pressing your knees together as arousal shoots straight to your core. Rubbing circles over your lace panties, Yugyeoms sooths the blow as he places kisses from your tied wrists down your arms. He sucks along your neck, marking your skin pink. You can’t help arching at the sensation, legs buckling when he licks at the sensitive skin of your ear.

His breath is hot and heavy at your lobe when another hand comes down on your ass. It brings an audible moan out of you that makes Yugyeom groan. He grips your ass in his hands, kneading your soft flesh between his fingers.

“You pretty little thing,” he mutters into the crook of your neck, fingers coming to undo the clasp of your bra. His hands come under the now loose material and he squeezes around your boobs. “You make men go mad and don’t even know it. Makes me want to ruin you.”

Your breath is heavy, looking at him through fluttering lashes as he pulls your bra up and over your arms. He chuckles, pinching a nipple. It makes you whimper.

“Ruin me, Gyeom,” you utter, breath heavy as if you had been running.

He frowns at you, lifting a brow. “Gyeom?”

You swallow. “S-sir.”

Yugyeom smirks, pulling at the ends of his shirt, he throws the cotton material onto the floor. “That’s better.”

You can’t help eyeing his bare skin, his tattoos rising along with each of his breaths.

“You look so pretty like this,” he groans, hooking his finger through the sides of your panties. “And all mine.”

In one swoop, Yugyeom pulls your underwear down to your ankles and bends to his knees. You barely have time to blink before he is pushing you against the arm of the couch and spreading your legs.

“Oh!” you gasp when Yugyeom licks a strip up your folds.

Eyes on you, Yugyeom sucks at your clit and watches as you fall apart. It feels too good all at once and you don’t know what to do with yourself. You preen at every roll of his tongue, fingers clutching at the knot around your wrist in an attempt to keep you tethered to reality.

But when he thrusts two fingers, curling into you and sucking at your clit, you are lost entirely to the pleasure.

“Yugyeom!” You cry out, leaning completely on the couch now. You squeeze your thighs around his head, shaking with desire.

He groans into you, fingers fucking faster into you as you tighten around him.

“R-right there,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut. You feel lightheaded as your core begins to tighten. It feels so good, you can barely breathe. Almost there…

Yugyeom lifts his head, your arousal glistening over his lips.

“Gyeom!” you whine, thighs flexing in an attempt to bring back the already fleeting orgasm. His hands hold you firmly in place though.

“I thought you wanted to be punished,” he teases, his smile widening when you moan, this time with displeasure.

You pout, sitting up to hang your arms around his neck. “I think that was enough punishment. Let’s have real make-up sex now, okay? Please?”

You press a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Since you ask so nicely,” Yugyeom smiles, hands coming under your thighs. He stands up, lifting you up in one swoop as you hang onto his neck. “Prepare yourself, baby, I’m not letting you sleep tonight!”

#got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 imagines #kim yugyeom #got7 smut #fluff #fanfiction #got7 series #le chocolatier series

109 notes · View notes

lobster-tales · 4 years

Text

Baking/Domesticity - Azulee

Day 2 of Winter ATLA Femslash Week. This work is also available here on AO3.

Prompt: Baking/Domesticity or Angst with a Happy Ending

Five years had passed since Azula last saw Ty Lee. She was prepared for anything, except forgiveness.

Azula had never been so cold, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. A frigid breeze wafted from the ocean behind her. The evergreen trees resisted the wind, their ice-encased needles clinking. Around the base of the wooden building, snow piled a foot high. The entire scene was like a painting; wintery and pristine. Azula ignored the cold beauty around her, though, instead training her eyes on the green door hanging.

She heard movement behind her. Azula instinctively tensed, though she knew the approacher was friendly.

“Azula, you’re shivering,” Katara said, pausing at her side. “Come on, let’s go in.”

She said nothing, only fought the shudders that came with the temperature.

Katara leaned to see her face. “Everything okay?”

Again, silence.

“Look, Azula, I know it’s been a while, but-”

“Five years.” Azula heard herself speak. “It’s been five years since I’ve seen Ty- …” The name felt like lead in her mouth. “... Her.”

Katara smiled reassuringly, an expression she seemed to wear daily around Azula. “She’s excited to see you again, I promise.” She reached out and moved the door hanging aside. Warm air spilled from the opening.

Azula kept her eyes forward. She inhaled deeply, stepping over the threshold.

The training room was filled with girls in their early teens, each wearing the red, black, and white makeup of a Kyoshi Warrior. Azula noted that some of their paint was smudged or uneven, and she recognized them as new recruits. Their voices hushed as the newcomers entered and removed their parkas. Azula felt out of place, like an exhibition.

“Katara!” A warrior taller than the rest ran forward, embracing Katara. “You’re here!”

“Hi Suki!” Katara squeezed her once before stepping back. “You remember Azula?”

Azula saw a flicker in the warrior’s lilac eyes. The concern was replaced by a cautious warmth. “Of course,” Suki said, halting as if she was unsure whether to bow. “Ty Lee’s been asking for you.”

Azula scanned the room with her eyes. Though the girls were all wearing makeup, she knew she would have recognized Ty Lee among them. “Where is she?”

“She thought you would be here later.” Suki grinned at Katara. “Usually when Team Avatar says they’re on their way, we expect at least a two day delay.”

Katara chuckled. “That’s only when Aang is with us. There’s always some landmark or kitschy shop he wants to visit on the way.” She nodded towards Azula. “But this one runs a tight ship. She even had our bathroom breaks scheduled.”

Azula straightened her back. “I make it a habit to be punctual.”

Suki exchanged glances with Katara. “So Aang won’t be joining us?”

Katara shook her head. “He’s doing business in the Fire Nation. He let us borrow Appa so that we could come visit Ty Lee.”

“Where is she?” Azula realized her tone was sharper than she intended. She met Suki’s curious gaze with an apologetic one. “That is… I’d like to see her. Please.”

“... She’s this way.” Suki shot a glare at the gawking Kyoshi Warriors. “Break time is over. Dance of the Bear, now!”

Suki led the guests out of the room as the girls scrambled into position. They moved down a narrow hallway, past paper walls. “She’s been spending a lot of time in the kitchen lately. Before she came here, she’d never learned to cook. And trust me, it showed.” Suki shook her head fondly. “At first, you couldn’t pay any of us to try her food. I mean, you can’t blame her for being a rich ki-” Suki paused, aware of Azula’s presence. “Uh, well, a Fire Nation noble.”

They both glanced at Azula, who kept her mouth shut. Truthfully, she wasn’t insulted. Rather, she felt unsure how to express that without making some social error, as she so often did with these things. Everyone always acted like they had to walk on eggshells around her.

Suki continued. “But she’s improved a lot! Her favorite is dessert.” She chuckled. “In fact, she makes so much that we have to lock our cabinets up at night so the new recruits won’t get into them!”

Katara laughed, but Azula’s mind was elsewhere. Every step down the narrow hallway took them closer, and she still had no plan. Rarely did she go into a situation without strategizing first, or at least having a speech prepared. She tried to think of something, anything that would be enough to cover the five year absence. Her heart pounded as they rounded a corner, into the kitchen.

The light filtered from a window above, illuminating the flour particles in the air, it’s brightness shadowing Ty Lee’s form. She had her back turned to them and was singing to herself, badly and off key, but paid no mind. Azula peered at her through the sunbeam. She wished she was invisible, wished she could disappear and spend the rest of the day just watching Ty Lee from a distance.

Suki called, “Ty Lee! You have a guest.”

Ty Lee froze. She faced them slowly, wiping her hands on the apron as she stalked through the sunlight. The beam illuminated her features, and Azula held her breath at the sight. Ty Lee was unscathed, her cheeks round and full, eyes still bright and inquisitive.

She stopped a few feet away from Azula, searching her face. “Azula? Is that really you?”

Azula didn’t blame Ty Lee for not recognizing her. She often didn’t recognize her own reflection, with her hollow eyes and gaunt features. Rehabilitation had humanized her from the ghost she’d been five years ago, but healing takes time, and the deepest scars don’t live on skin.

“Yes,” Azula said, a cobbled together speech forming in her head. “It’s me. Hello, Ty Lee, I know it’s been- ah!”

Ty Lee pounced on her, throwing her arms around her shoulders and crying out, “Azula!” She buried her face in her neck. “I missed you so much!”

Azula had prepared herself for the worst, for Ty Lee to run in fear from her, yell at her for putting her in jail, throw things if that helped. She was ready to be chastised, hated. It was what she deserved.

She knew deep down that Ty Lee would forgive her. Azula spent so long convincing herself it was false hope, that she needed to expect disappointment. Those hours of breaking down and reconstructing her walls, lost, as those same walls crumbled around her heart.

Azula began to cry, and knew from the wetness on her collarbone that Ty Lee was crying too. In the years of being Ty Lee’s friend, Azula had never hugged her back. It was improper for a princess to embrace anyone, even a nobleman’s daughter. Now, Azula cinched her arms around Ty Lee’s waist, refusing to let her go.

“Azula?”

“Yes, Ty Lee?”

Ty Lee raised her head, smiling apologetically. “You’re… gonna… break my ribs…”

“Oh!” Azula released her quickly, taking a step back. “Forgive me.”

Ty Lee laughed, using the back of her wrist to wipe away the tears on her face. “Don’t worry about it.” She gazed at Azula, when horror began to creep across her features. “Oh no!”

Azula felt a twinge. She knew it, something was wrong. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what she’d done wrong.

Ty Lee darted to a sink, wringing out a soaked rag as she rushed apologies. “I’m so sorry Azula, I didn’t mean to- I should have taken the apron off-”

Blinking once, Azula glanced down at her dark red robes. A layer of white flour had settled where Ty Lee had pressed against her. The powder was thick enough that she knew her clothes would need to be washed to get it out.

Azula avoided messes when she could. She’d rarely so much as have a hair out of place. As a princess and leader, she was expected to keep up appearances.

A sound filled the room. Katara and Suki stood near the door, mouths gaping at the giggles coming from Azula. The sound escalated, and Azula threw back her head as laughter poured from her throat. Ty Lee’s shocked expression bloomed into a smile.

Azula held her arms open wide, and Ty Lee leapt into them, welcomed. They held each other, mingling laughter, tears, and flour. There was no more appearance to keep up. Azula was no longer a princess or a leader. She was just happy to be Ty Lee’s friend again.

#winter atla femslash week #azulee #azula #ty lee #atla fic #femslash #my fic

7 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

Text

Fic: City Lights and Cactus Forests

AU-gust Day Eighteen: Bodyguard AU Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Pairing: Scorfuma

Rated: G

Summary: Scorpia is tasked with protecting the princess of Plumeria on a state visit to Scorpia’s home city. She does not expect to find herself with a crush on said princess.

City Lights and Cactus Forests

“As you all know, Princess Perfuma of Plumeria is arriving tomorrow for a five day stay in the city. Most of her time will be spent in the palace with her parents whilst the treaty negotiation is taking place, but there will be several official visits as well.”

Scorpia looked around at the rest of the security team, most of whom were looking as if they wanted to be anywhere except where they were right now. The Plumerian royal visit had been the only thing on anyone’s minds for longer than anyone could care to remember; absolutely nothing was allowed to go wrong, which was a daunting prospect in itself without the problem of there being several things that could go wrong. Quite a few factions in the city were not on friendly terms with the Plumerian government.

“Agent Scorpia!”

“Yes, yes, sorry, what, yes, sir!”

The head of security raised an eyebrow but said nothing concerning her abstraction, placing a folder down on the desk in front of her.

“You will be acting as Princess Perfuma’s personal bodyguard throughout her stay here. You will stick to her like glue, you will not leave her side, and if she ends the visit with so much as a stubbed toe or papercut, you will be fired faster than you can say Plumeria.”

Scorpia gulped. “Yes, sir.”

She looked down at the file in front of her, which contained all of the information they knew about Perfuma. She flipped it open and was immediately non-plussed by the photograph inside the cover. The Plumerian princess was notorious for shying away from the press, so she was rarely seen in public. The last time she had made an official appearance, she’d been fifteen years old, and Scorpia wasn’t sure why she had not factored in the passage of time when thinking about the princess. She was no longer a gawky teenager. She was an extremely pretty young woman in her twenties.

Scorpia continued to stare at the photo for a long time. Oh, this was going to be very interesting.

Princess Perfuma was just as lovely in person as she was in her photograph, and unfortunately, it was a lot harder to be inconspicuous when you were staring at a real person rather than a piece of paper.

“Agent Scorpia!”

Scorpia snapped out of her stupor as her boss hissed in her ear.

“Sorry, sir. I’m fully present now, sir.”

“Honestly, I’m beginning to regret having given you this assignment now.”

“No!” Scorpia was slightly embarrassed by how desperate to keep her assignment she sounded. “Everything will be fine. I promise, sir.”

The head of security gave her a look that showed that he plainly was not convinced by her words, but he did not say anything, instead going over to greet the princess.

“Welcome to our city, your Highness. I hope you enjoy your stay. This is Agent Scorpia, she’s been assigned to protect you for the duration of your time here.”

“Pleased to meet you, Scorpia.”

It took Scorpia several seconds to remember that she had a tongue in her head and she really ought to use it.

“I’m pleased to meet you too, your Highness.”

“Please, just call me Perfuma. If we’re going to be spending all our time together, I’d like to think that we could be friends.”

Scorpia nodded enthusiastically. Yes, she was definitely up for that idea.

The atmosphere was somewhat awkward as they made their way to the palace. Scorpia occasionally pointed out landmarks of note as they drove past, and Perfuma seemed to be genuinely interested in learning about the place and its history, but Scorpia was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the task at hand when she had a thousand and one scenarios running through her head of how this week could go wrong. And how it could go right. She’d always been a closet daydreamer, positive thinking getting her through some of the worst days.

Everything was going to be fine. Nothing was going to happen to Perfuma, Scorpia wasn’t going to get fired as a result, and she and Perfuma would be friends.

Oh, she should not be developing a crush on the person that she was supposed to be protecting. Not already.

Once they were inside the palace and the head of security had left them to it, the atmosphere eased a little. Perfuma was no longer putting on her official royal persona, and she chatted much more animatedly as Scorpia showed her to her room and got her settled in.

There was nothing on the official itinerary until the welcome dinner later that evening, and there were a few hours to kill. Although Scorpia had assumed that Perfuma would be tired after her long journey, she seemed as bright and bouncy as anything as she looked out of the window over the city’s heights and lights.

“Maybe you could take me on a tour of the city?” she suggested. “I mean, if you’ve lived here all your life then you must know where all the best spots are.”

Scorpia nodded, immediately running through a very long list of all the city’s hidden gems that she would be only too happy to introduce the Plumerian princess to, but then she shook her head on remembering that at least half of the places weren’t really suited to visiting royalty.

“You’ll be having the official tour tomorrow,” she said.

“I know.” Perfuma sighed. “Official tours don’t really offer a true experience of a place, I’ve always felt. They only take you to the nice, sanitised parts of the city that have been cleaned up and deemed appropriate.” For all her brightness and lightness, Perfuma had a cheeky little smile. “They never take you to the nice green places. I like exploring nature in a city. It reminds me of home.”

Scorpia racked her brains to think of a green place in the city that she could take Perfuma to. Their climate was arid and dusty and didn’t really lend itself to greenery.

“There’s the cactus forest,” she said tentatively. “That’s sort of green. Actually, some of the flowers will be blooming now, so it’ll be orange and pink as well.”

“That sounds perfect! I’ll just get changed so that I look a bit less conspicuous. I always prefer to do these things incognito.” Perfuma looked Scorpia’s uniform up and down. “Is there any chance that you could be slightly less conspicuous too?”

Scorpia considered the request for a moment. On the one hand, she really wasn’t supposed to, and she didn’t know what her boss would think. On the other hand, she was supposed to be keeping Perfuma safe and happy, and if this was what made her happy, then so be it.

“I would still have to wear my body armour and bring my gun in case something happens, but I can try for incognito.”

“Great!” Perfuma clapped her hands together. “This is going to be fun!”

Scorpia would never before have classed a visit to the cactus forest in the middle of the city as fun, but Perfuma’s excitement at seeing it definitely made the trip worthwhile.

“I never used to like cacti,” Perfuma was explaining as she wandered through the plants, touching their soft flowers. “I’ve always found them hard to care for. A lot of people say that they’re easy because you can just leave them to their own devices, but I can never tell how much I’m supposed to water them or not water them. I’ve grown to love them though, and these ones are so majestic. They must have such impressive roots.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever really given cacti that much thought,” Scorpia said. “But I guess you’re right.”

Presently the sounds of shouting and running footsteps caught their ears, and Scorpia’s security instincts and training kicked in at the flip of a switch. One moment she was trailing along after Perfuma, watching her enthuse about plants and wishing that she didn’t have so much of a crush on her, and the next, her reflexes were dialled up to eleven and she was pushing Perfuma out of the way behind a cactus.

“Get down!”

“What’s going on?”

There was a thud as Perfuma went flying and Scorpia landed heavily on top of her. The commotion passed them by completely but being too careful was never a bad thing.

It was only after the noises had faded into the distance that Scorpia realised she was squashing her charge, and she got up.

“I’m so sorry, are you hurt anywhere?” She helped Perfuma to her feet and started patting her down for injury, before realising that she probably shouldn’t be manhandling a royal personage like that and then realising that in her quest to stop Perfuma being injured and herself fired, she’d probably just guaranteed both eventualities in one go.

“Scorpia, I’m fine.” Perfuma’s hands caught Scorpia’s, but she didn’t push them away, just standing holding them for a moment. “Everything’s fine. Thank you for being so worried about me.”

“Well, you know.” Scorpia could feel herself blushing and she really wished that she couldn’t. “I am your bodyguard, after all. All in a day’s work.”

She looked away, embarrassed, but when she forced herself to look back, she saw that Perfuma’s cheeks had gone a little pink as well, and then she noticed that Perfuma was still holding her hands.

“We, erm, we should probably get back to the palace,” she said. “Don’t want any more near misses.”

Perfuma nodded, gradually letting go of Scorpia’s hands. “Yes, you’re right. Don’t tell my parents that I snuck out, will you?”

“As long as you don’t tell my boss that I nearly squashed you.”

“Deal.”

The walk back to the residence was a quiet one, but there was nothing awkward in the silence this time. Some kind of unspoken understanding had passed between them, and little looks and smiles were exchanged the whole way back.

“You know, Scorpia,” Perfuma said once they were back inside, “I think I’m going to like it here.”

Scorpia knew that she was definitely going to like Perfuma being there, too.

#SPOP #SPOP fic #She-Ra and the Princesses of Power #Scorpia #Perfuma #Scorfuma #Worry does AU-gust #AU-gust #Bodyguard AU #Fic: City Lights and Cactus Forests

6 notes · View notes

hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

To Keep You Safe

Title: I don't wanna be the one to have the sun's blood on my hands

Chapter: 19/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn't have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Graphic depictions of violence, brief mention of previous torture, blood, language

~~~

“Loki Odinson was under the control of an outside force and coerced into his misdeeds in the 2012 Invasion of New York. After the incident, he served time for his crimes in solitary confinement on his homeworld of Asgard. He has since returned with his brother, King Thor Odinson of Asgard, to make amends for his previous actions. He has assisted the Avengers on several missions to better the safety of our fellow man. His presence here is fully supported by myself and the rest of the Avengers. He is not a threat to us.”

Tony was a natural at press conferences. Even when reading a pre-prepared speech, which he would hopefully stick to this time, he seemed completely at ease with the stressful situation and stiff legalese. Only those closest to him would notice the tension he held in his shoulders or the worry he hid behind his glasses. Loki was going to be a hard sell, and by proxy, so would I.

I had stood on the sidelines for countless press conferences and events acting as his assistant. I was comfortable in that role; my job consisted of just waiting to step in if it went south or if an urgent matter came up that I needed to get Tony out of there to handle. I was much less confident in my current position. I was the subject, or at least a good part of it, to be discussed in front of a hundred reporters who would then publish or broadcast it to millions of people. All eyes were on me and the Asgardian by my side, scrutinizing our every twitch and breath. A wrong move would not end up in just my firing from the company, but with the very real possibility of my arrest. It wasn’t a relaxed atmosphere, to be sure.

Loki, on the other hand, looked as poised and calm as ever. It was easy to picture him as he would’ve been on Asgard, standing dutifully to the side as Odin rambled on and on about some issue that he would most definitely handle differently. There wasn’t a crack in his apathetic gaze as he stared out at the crowd, looking as if he belonged there in his dark gray three-piece suit. Tall and proud and wholly above the proceedings, I felt very small in comparison.

“Many of you have seen her before, but the newest member of the Avengers is my former assistant, Jennifer Thompson. She has been a huge asset to the team since she joined several months ago. We have nothing but positive things to say about her and her abilities.”

All of the heads and cameras in the room swiveled to direct their attention to me. I wanted to shrink away into the shadows beneath their intense scrutiny. I settled for dropping my eyes to the floor. Loki shifted on his feet enough to brush his arm against mine, and I flicked my gaze over to him. He lifted his chin slightly higher and took a deep breath in through his nose, directing his eyes to settle just above the reporters present. I took the hint and fixed my neutral gaze just beyond the onlookers. With my hands clasped behind my back and my chin lifted proudly, I could almost pull off looking as stately as him. Almost. My quickened breathing and ashen face had to give my nerves away.

“Now, I know that you’re all here because of the incident that occurred last night. Loki and Ms. Thompson had been out on a mission for us when they were attacked by terrorists. They handled the situation as best as any of us could have, without any civilian casualties. Rest assured that we are working on finding and eliminating this terrorist cell permanently. In the meantime, we ask for your patience and continued support. Thank you.”

Of course, his clear-cut dismissal and retreat from the podium didn’t stop the barrage of questions hurled in our direction.

“Are Loki and Ms. Thompson dating?”

“Who were the terrorists?”

“How can we know that he’s changed?”

~~~

“I’m not wearing heels, Nat,” I refused, scowling at the black strappy stilettos of death she held out for me. “Besides, you won’t be able to see them in this dress.”

I wasn’t wrong. My black floor-length gown completely hid my bare feet as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Thankfully Pepper had listened when I asked for some sort of sleeve to hide the scar on my shoulder, but chose to ignore the request for a dress with a back as well. The intricate lace that began above the deep-V of opaque fabric at my chest continued up to the collar at my neck and down both arms, but it didn’t extend to the very open and low back. The dimples at the base of my spine were visible, for goodness sake. If anyone tried to touch any part of my back tonight they would just get a handful of my skin. Awesome.

The tangled web of scars stretching across my middle and upper back were out for all to see, as Nat had insisted that the dress was meant to highlight them for a reason--to show the world what I’d faced and overcome--but it just sounded like I was some freak put out on display. She insisted that leaving my long hair down would be a waste of such a beautiful gown; the elegant bun pinned to my head with far too many bobby pins was much more fitting, in her opinion. I didn’t argue, but maybe I should have. It would only give the people who were coming just to see Loki and me in public another thing to speculate about, but it wasn’t a battle worth fighting. Whenever Nat was in control of my styling I just let her go to town. She knew what she was doing, and my nerves were pulling my thoughts in too many directions to even begin to formulate a decent argument.

“C’mon, Jen! Grow a pair and wear the damn heels. It won’t kill you and it’ll make your ass look great,” she replied, tossing the shoes at my feet so she could strap into her own slinky stilettos.

I ignored her, going to my closet to select and step into a simple pair of black flats instead. “My ass already looks great,” I countered, painted plum lips pulling into a smirk.

“His ego is rubbing off on you.” She rolled her kohl-rimmed eyes, checking herself out in the mirror before heading to the door. “C’mon Princess, we don’t have all night.”

I rolled my eyes and followed her out, my snappy comeback dying on my lips as I got an eyeful in my escort for the evening waiting outside of my room. All of the air rushed out of my lungs. Loki had no right to make a tuxedo look that good. I stopped dead in my tracks, ogling him appreciatively before he took notice of me. Leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets and his head dropped to stare at his shined black leather shoes, he could have walked out of a movie. His slightly curly hair was tucked back behind his ears to accentuate his sculpted cheekbones and chiseled jaw, and his emerald green bowtie brought out his penetrating gaze when finally looked up upon our entrance. My heart stuttered in my chest as our eyes met; he was the most stunning man I had ever laid eyes on, and he was all mine.

I blushed under the heat of his perusal as he languorously traced every curve of my body in the tight dress with his penetrating gaze. He sauntered over to offer me his arm with a leering smile. “You are ravishing, love,” he whispered into my ear, lightly setting his hand over mine when I slipped it into the crook of his arm.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Asgardian,” I replied warmly as he led us downstairs. Nat had made everyone wait for us--perfection couldn’t be rushed--but she claimed they wouldn’t mind when they saw what they had been waiting for. From Loki’s darkened eyes and wolfish grin, I’d have to agree with her on that one.

Our entrance was welcomed with a wolf whistle from Sam which triggered another deep blush to bloom on my fair skin. Loki tensed up, either from jealousy or possessiveness, and I stroked the inside of his arm with my thumb to soothe him. That side of him was never going to go away, no matter how much I proved my loyalty to him. Truthfully, the less civilized part of me enjoyed his desire to keep me for his own. I hazarded a look around the room, which immediately made me feel inadequate. It was a little intimidating to be reminded that the people you lived and worked with could all pass for models and movie stars.

Thor, immaculately dressed in his own tux, came forward and clapped Loki on the shoulder. “Well done, brother,” he said loudly in that resounding voice of his that echoed around the large reception area. I couldn’t help but smile at the implied compliment and received a wink for my efforts. While the eldest Odinson wasn’t my type--I couldn’t believe that I had thought he was at one point--I could understand the easy, confident appeal that he had as he chatted idly with the man holding me securely to him. Loki also seemed to appreciate the hearty endorsement, as he stood a bit taller and cast a proud smile in my direction.

“Natasha, Sam, Steve, and Thor, you’re in the first car. Jen and Loki, you’re in the second car with Tony and myself. Wanda and Vision, you’re with Bruce in the last car. We’re late, so let’s get a move on,” Pepper called, walking in from outside and pointing everybody in the right direction. Tony was apparently already in the car, as he was nowhere to be found.

Loki and I followed Pepper, climbing into the black SUV assigned to us and settling in the back row. Tony was, as I guessed, sitting in the row in front of us fiddling with something on his phone. He didn’t even move at our entrance, and only briefly looked up to kiss Pepper on the side of her head when she sat next to him and told the driver to head away from the Compound.

Several minutes into the ride, Pepper turned around as best as she could in the seat so she could face us. “I have to tell you this even though you probably know it, but you both need to be on your best behavior tonight. Nobody really knew you as Tony’s assistant, Jen, and they’re going to want to get under your skin. Loki, Thor assured me that you have been to many events like this on Asgard and that you would know how to act properly?” She paused, waiting for Loki’s quick nod of agreement before continuing, “You both need to consider how you want to present yourselves. Jen, you know how it goes. You saw the spotlight that fell on us after we went public. Just,” she looked pointedly at Loki before meeting my thoughtful hazel eyes, “think about how you want it to go, okay?” She offered us a sympathetic smile before turning around, going back to whatever work she had to do on her smartphone.

“What is she referring to?” Loki asked quietly, probably not wanting to be overheard by the couple diligently working away just in front of us.

I shook my head and tried to muster up a reassuring smile but I could tell by the frustration written on his face that it wasn’t successful. “I don’t know. Probably nothing important.”

His steady gaze turned to steel and he leaned toward me slowly. “Do not lie to the God of Lies, little one. It never works out well.”

I suddenly became very interested in a piece of lace detailing on my sleeve, picking at it with my nails to avoid looking at him. That didn’t work for too long, as he delicately grasped my chin with his long fingers and lifted so I was forced to look at him.

“Tell me what she meant,” he ordered, his low voice brokering no room for argument.

I knew exactly what she was implying, and I also knew that he wasn’t going to take it well. But if I didn’t tell him, his irritation was going to get the best of him and that wasn’t what we needed right before spending several hours playing nice in front of people desperate to see us crack. “Besides what happened last week, I’m relatively unknown to the public. I have a small reputation as Tony’s assistant, standing in the background while he conducted business. There press and paparazzi are going to be there, digging for whatever they can find to publish in the tabloids and trashy magazines. Which wouldn’t be so bad, but…” I stopped, tugging my chin free from his hand so I could direct my quiet words at his chest. “If I present myself as your partner, it,” I sighed heavily, “it won’t look the best for me. She was reminding me that appearing in public with you, as your partner, is going to make your reputation rub off on mine. It’s going to make it all much more difficult.”

He visibly stiffened, shifting farther away from me in the seat as he regarded me with a feigned air of cold indifference. His spindly fingers laced together on his lap. “Ahh, I see. Is that what you want? To no longer be tied to me and my negative past deeds?”

“No!” I said loudly, earning a quick concerned glance from Tony and Pepper. I smiled awkwardly until they gave up on their curiosity and turned around. “No. I’m not going to abandon you just because tonight is going to suck. This will, however, be our moment to publically come out as a couple. So, we need to decide if we want the world to know about us or not. We will be closely observed either way. What do youwant?” I asked, my stomach threatening to come up through my throat at the sudden onset of nerves raging inside of me. I couldn’t stop my hands from wringing together in my lap if someone paid me.

“I am proud to have you by my side,” he replied, the hurt he managed to hide from his stony expression creeping into his otherwise clear voice. “But it is your decision on whether or not you feel the same.”

“We will be the most hated people there…” I cautioned. He needed to be prepared for what we were about to face, whether we did it together or not.

“I have spent the majority of my life as the most despised person in mixed company. Their opinions do not matter to me.” He frowned. Vulnerability reflected in his eyes for a brief moment before he turned to the window. “It would, however, make this ordeal much more bearable if I did not have to face the criticism alone.”

Really fucked that one up. Good job. I slouched backwards, deflating as I stared out my window. I didn’t know whether I was more upset at Pepper for bringing it up or at myself for even making the suggestion that we might go it alone. I knew about his deeply rooted trust and abandonment issues and I had just played into them handily. Words weren’t going to make it any better. He was the God of Lies. He knew that words meant little compared to actions. The only option I had was to show him that I wanted to stand by his side through it all.

Because that’s what I wanted, right? I couldn’t imagine facing all of this alone, and I certainly didn’t want him to have to do it either. He, more so than anyone tonight, was going to be watched like a hawk at this event. He hadn’t yet proved to them that he wasn’t the same man that they had last seen. I couldn’t throw him to the wolves like that. We made each other stronger in all situations, and this was more nerve-wracking than any mission for the Avengers. We’d both be much calmer if we could lean on the other in our weaker moments.

The car pulled up outside of the venue for the night, an impossibly large museum, and stopped right next to the red-carpeted stairs. Through the heavily tinted windows dozens of paparazzi lay in wait to get pictures of the Avengers and other celebrities as they made their way into the charity gala. And, by some twist of fate, I had been lumped into that group.

Pepper and Tony exited first to a chorus of shouts and cheers. Loki, ever the gentlemen when it concerned me, gracefully withdrew from the car before turning to offer his hand to assist me. Apprehension settled in faint lines on his fair skin as he waited, illuminated from behind by the flashing bulbs of tabloid reporters waiting to get the perfect shot of our entrance. With a grateful smile, I took his hand, carefully easing myself out of the car. Loki’s stricken face studied me, waiting for my next move to indicate how we would go about the evening.

I released him to smooth down my dress with shaking hands and his face fell instantly, but only briefly; his mask of apathy slipping over his face with practiced ease. He began to walk away, adjusting his suit jacket stiffly, and I just barely managed to snag his wrist before he made it too far. He turned on his heel to see what I needed and my heart panged in my chest at the hint of betrayal shining in his eyes.

My hand drifted down his wrist to lace my fingers with his and pull him into my side. “You can’t leave me alone with these sharks. It’s not very Prince-like of you,” I teased with a hopeful grin.

A relieved smile spread across his face, showing his teeth and wrinkling around his eyes. Bright flashes from the cameras pointed at us blinded me as he left a lingering kiss on my forehead. His pleased hum vibrated through my skull. The tension left his body with heavy exhale of relief. “Please excuse my poor manners. It will not happen again.” He brushed another kiss on the back of my hand before straightening up to face the screaming paparazzi head-on.

“-you two together or-”

“-side of what happened last-”

“-she a good la-”

“-Tony not good enough so you had to move up-”

“-with an Asgardian Prince like?”

“-do we know this isn’t just another trick-”

Loki’s head tilted slightly to the side as he fought to catch each sleazy and lowball question. With a quick wave at the yelling silhouettes behind the flashing cameras, I tugged him along the walkway. Now wasn’t the time to give them any attention that wasn’t necessary, and I told him so.

“A number of those questions were out of line,” he muttered, shooting a glare back in their direction while I guided him inside of the building.

“They want to get a rise out of us; it sells their shitty magazines. Don’t stoop to their level,” I replied, leading him down the cordoned-off pathway. My sure steps ground to a halt just outside of the hall where the gala was actually taking place. A lead ball had fallen into my stomach and my heart thundered in my chest.

Loki took in my anxious face and pulled me off to the side, allowing the small crowd of people we had been blocking to continue inside unhindered. He stooped down until all I could see was his face. “Do not tell me that you are afraid to go into that room filled with harmless mortals?”

I laughed weakly. “I’m not afraid of the other mortals. I just don’t want to go in there, big difference.”

He rolled his eyes at my bluff. He straightened up and pressed his hands over the front of my shoulders so that I dropped them back to mirror his impeccable posture. Before taking my hand once again, he nudged my chin upwards with his calloused fingers. “If they will not give you the respect that you deserve, take it from them. Show them the fierce woman that I know you to be.”

Bolstered by his confident assurances, I followed him into the crowded room. I fixated on his thumb rubbing against the thin skin of my knuckles. I forced myself to not focus on the hush that fell over the space as soon as we entered or the eyes that watched our every move as we made our way over to the bar. I didn’t pay attention to the hushed utterances of our names as I downed a glass of red wine and then clutched onto my second. I was one-hundred percent not paying attention to them at all.

Right.

The only saving grace, besides Loki’s continued quiet presence at my side, turned out to be his brother. We had managed to find an area along the wall where I could keep an eye on everyone and stay out of the way, hoping not to be bothered. Thor had other ideas, as he strolled over to us with a beaming smile and held out his hand to me.

“Right now you are both a terrifying sight, ghostly in black as you stare people down. Come, dance with me, my lady,” he offered, directing the words to me but his attention on Loki.

“He has a point,” I conceded, also looking up to the imposing man at my side. He definitely had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going on, but in a much more menacing manner than the saying usually implied.

To his credit, he extinguished the small flicker of doubt that reflected in his eyes down enough for him to nod at us both. “They do seem to have taken to you, brother. Go on, then.”

Loki took my proffered half-full glass of wine and I stood on my toes to quickly kiss his cheek before I took Thor’s hand. He was determined to make our revelry known, as if all eyes weren’t on us anyway, by stationing us at the center of the dance floor. The live band hired for the event played a catchy, upbeat tune. Thor put one hand on my back, shockingly warm compared to Loki’s, and took my other hand, swinging us around to the beat. It was impossible not to give in to his infectious joy as he danced, looking more carefree than I’d seen him in ages. It took only a few turns and ridiculous dance moves from Thor before I was laughing so hard that my face ached. He wasn’t ever really that uptight around the Compound, but it wasn’t every day that the King of Asgard let loose so completely.

After my dance with Thor was over, Tony smoothly cut in. He made sure to be respectable with his hand resting on the middle of my back, avoiding my scars, the other holding mine lightly.

“Rock of Ages doesn’t look too happy over there,” he said, glancing behind me.

I peeked over my shoulder to see Loki standing where I had left him, arms crossed as he carefully monitored us. The high arch of his brow dared Tony to try anything untoward. I turned back to Tony with a shake of my head. “He gets a little…”

“Possessive? Jealous? Dramatic?” Tony offered with a smirk.

“Concerned,” I supplied, silently agreeing with Tony’s offering. “I don’t mind it.”

Loki couldn’t help it, though. Everything good in his life had been ripped from him, and while we hadn’t discussed it, I knew that Thor had reminded him of the grim fact that my days with him were numbered. The hazards of my position in the Avengers only added another layer of danger to my life. If I were him, if I had suffered as much as he had over those that he cared about, I’d keep me as close as possible, too.

A tall black man dressed in a monochromatic black suit approached his, a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes plastered on his face as he held out his hand for Tony to shake, which he accepted after releasing me. His eye--for he had an eyepatch covering the scarred socket of the other--only glanced at me before settling back on Tony. “Mr. Stark, so glad to have you come with the rest of your team! I haven’t been introduced to the newest member,” he said jovially, clapping Tony on the upper arm briefly before turning to fully face me.

“Ah, of course. Nick Fury, this is Jennifer Thompson, my former assistant and newest member of the Avengers. Jen, Fury is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the man that I’ve been speaking to about our current situation with Hydra.” Tony made the introductions politely, but the tightness around his mouth hinted at a tension that he couldn’t disclose in mixed company.

“Pleasure to finally meet you.” His large hand grasped mine for a strong handshake just teetering on painful.

I pulled it away as soon as possible, discreetly folding my hands together in front of me so as to deter any further physical interaction. “The pleasure is all mine, Director Fury.”

“Would you care to dance?” he asked without a smile. The emotion behind his offer was completely opposite to Thor’s earlier. While the golden god had been jovial and bright when he offered, Fury leveled me with a calculating stare that did nothing to hide the evaluation he was bestowing upon me.

I didn’t see how I had a choice in the matter. Not when it came to someone in a position to drastically help us or hurt us, as he saw fit. I plastered a smile on my face that didn’t reach my eyes and settled my hand into his. “Sure!”

If nothing else, I was grateful that Fury followed Tony and Thor’s lead and placed his hand just beneath my ribs on the bare skin of my back, and that his rigid arm held us at a reasonable distance away from one another. All I had to do was get through this dance and then I was heading back to my partner so he could scare off any more threatening men who just felt off in some odd way that I couldn’t pinpoint.

“You have caused quite a ruckus, young lady,” he commented, looking down his nose at me as he led us in slow circles around the dance floor.

“It wasn’t intentional,” I pointed out, doing my best to keep my voice calm and polite. It was working, so far.

“We at S.H.I.E.L.D. have been very curious about what makes you so special that Hydra would want you so badly.”

Exasperation creeped out of where I had poorly tucked it away, “If you ever find out, let me know.”

He turned me out of his arms and then back into him again, pulling me close enough that our chests touched lightly with each breath. I stiffened, but without making a scene I was stuck until the dance was over. “It is odd, if I may say so, that you were just an assistant for Tony and now you’re a member of the Avengers.”

My blood ran cold at the unspoken accusation beneath his words. “What exactly are you trying to say, Fury?”

He dropped his hands from me and shoved them into his pockets with a shrug of his shoulders that didn’t match his icy tone. “Only that it is peculiar for a nobody such as yourself to be thrust into this world, join the Avengers, cosy up with a villain like Loki, and become a target for Hydra all in the span of less than a year.”

I flexed my fingers by my side, and an empty champagne glass flew into my waiting hand without my consciously calling on it. His eye widened as he watched my fingers tighten around it before he smoothed a knowing smirk back onto his face. “Strike a nerve?” he asked, looking far too pleased with himself.

“No,” I tilted my head to the side and stared up at him with barely-restrained anger, “but I could strike one of yours.”

He leaned forward until I could feel his breath on my face, eyes flicking down to the glassware clenched in my fist. “Do it,” he challenged. “Prove to them that you’re the villain I know you are.”

My blood boiled and I was highly cognizant of the power that coursed beneath my skin. He straightened up to fully tower over me with a pleased grin. I clenched my jaw, fighting against my desire to drag him into an abandoned room and make him regret this unsettling conversation when a hand wrapped around my waist and turned me away from Fury.

I jerked my head up, ready to give whoever was holding me a piece of my mind when I realized it was Loki who was quickly leading me away. He brought me to a more crowded area of the dance floor, erasing the lingering feeling of Fury’s hand on my back with his own cool touch, his other pulling the glass from my hand to make it disappear before moving my now empty hand to perch upon his shoulder. Satisfied with how I was positioned, his hand ghosted up my back and the other curled around mine away from our bodies. “They’re watching every move you make,” he cautioned me softly, tracing his concerned gaze over my frowning face.

He guided me around the room in a slow, elegant waltz. It was all I could do to keep up with his graceful movements without stepping on his toes. Thankfully he had enough experience to compensate for my lack of dancing experience. We had both proven our prowess at grinding on each other at the club, but here, he shined. Like this, he was regal, graceful, powerful as he commanded the floor. Warmth filled his eyes as he stared down at me with the barest hint of a kind smile. With his hand cupping my shoulder blade and the other holding mine firmly, I was swept away into the measured rise and fall of our bodies. Somehow, staring into his eyes, trusting him to lead me in the unfamiliar steps, breathing the same air as him in front of so many people, this felt more intimate than any dance we had shared amongst sweaty bodies and thumping bass.

“And how is this any different than them watching me put Fury in his place?” I asked petulantly.

He chuckled and shook his head lightly. “Because that will surely not convince them of your nauseatingly good-natured personality, which I need to use to further my positive reputation among those who wish to see me locked away in prison for all eternity.”

I smacked his shoulder with a laugh.

The mirth fell from his features. His eyes warmed once again with sincerity, and I would’ve sworn up and down that my heart skipped a beat. He spun me away from him fluidly, only to pull me back into his arms with a quick tug on my hand. When I twirled back against him he kept still. His free hand tucked a bit of hair that had fallen from my bun behind my ear, and it curled around the side of my neck to caress my jaw. “In all honesty, I was going mad watching you in the arms of other men. You are the most exquisite woman in attendance tonight. Your impeccable waltz with a dashing prince?” He bent down to leave a tender kiss on my parted lips. “Let that be fodder for the pathetic press.”

How was I supposed to respond to something like that? Thank you for loving me so completely? My fingers rubbed at the smooth fabric of his tuxedo jacket, and after opening and closing my mouth several times hoping that a response would tumble out, all I could manage was, “My Loki.”

Pride raised his chin minutely and the most breathtaking smile tugged on his lips. A pleasant glow flooded through my body and I knew that I had to look like some lovestruck fool beaming up at him, but I didn’t care. The answering adoration shining in his eyes was all that I needed. The clicks of cameras were barely audible over the live band as he gathered me back into his arms to resume the dance.

The intensity of his words lingered in my mind, providing a welcome distraction from the unpleasant conversation with Fury, but not a lengthy one. At the song’s end, he brought us to a stop in the center of the now-deserted dance floor. He maintained eye contact with me as he brought my hand to his lips, brushing a delicate kiss there before bowing at his waist before me. Was he for real? I lowered my chin to my chest in response, curtsying seemed a little too much, and when I lifted my head I caught Fury watching us from behind Loki’s shoulder. He stood out like a sore thumb--analytical and alarming-- among the rest of the crowd that had stopped their mingling and dancing to watch the spectacle of the newest Avengers sweeping across the floor.

I squeezed Loki’s hand and closed the distance between us as another song began, opting for the more comfortable dancing position of high schoolers at prom everywhere, draping one arm around his neck and shifting back and forth on our feet. “I have a bad feeling about him.”

“Did he threaten you?” he questioned darkly after he slowly turned us around to see who I had been referring to.

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure,” I replied hesitantly, inching closer to him so that I could rest my forehead in the crook of his neck. I just wanted to soak up the comfort of his presence for a moment of peace, even if it was just a single moment.

He shifted my hand to his chest so that he could place both of his on my back, stroking the scarred skin with his thumbs as he held me close. I tensed up at the contact on my sensitive marred flesh. He swept his hands up to cover the majority of the scars, his touch gentle but unyielding. “They are part of you. They show your strength.”

“That’s what Nat said,” I muttered, lost in thought. I closed my eyes and willed the sway of our bodies and the beat of his heart to banish the crawling of my skin from the talk with Fury. Surely if Tony had been working with him to track down Hydra he couldn’t be all bad? Maybe he was like the rest of the onlookers and was trying to see what made me tick. He was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and he would want to know more about me as such. He had to protect the people from any threats, and I wasn’t out of the woods on that front yet. Plus, my abilities were still not well known, and the public was itching for more information about me.

They were already getting plenty of details on my relationship with Loki, if him rescuing me from that conversation, leading me in a stunning beautiful waltz, and cradling me close to his body as we swayed back and forth were any indication. He wasn’t known for public displays of affection; he had a reputation as a stone-cold badass to uphold. But Fury wouldn’t care about that, except for what it meant concerning Loki’s alleged redemption and my role in it.

My train of thought was derailed when Loki stopped swaying and dug his fingertips into my skin roughly. I opened my eyes and craned my neck to look up at him. The rage and alarm that burned in his eyes as he stared at something behind me set my heart racing in my chest.

“Go find Thor and stay with him,” he commanded, storming off quickly towards the exit.

I was never one to follow directions to the letter. I looked around the room, spotting the big muscled man talking to someone pleasantly and holding a beer. Not wanting to waste time closing the distance between us I reached out, curling my fingers toward me so that the beer left his hand and flew into mine, dodging people and sloshing a bit of the fizzy liquid onto the floor on the way. He looked up in alarm and traced its path to see me watching him urgently. I set the drink on the tray of a passing waiter and jerked my head in the direction that Loki had gone before walking as quickly as I could after him. Best not to make a scene, even if we were stealing the limelight for most of the evening.

Thor caught up with me before I’d even reached the exit. “What is wrong?”

I didn’t slow down. If he wanted to have this conversation he was going to have to speed walk and talk with me. I only barely caught sight of the heel of Loki’s shoe as he turned the corner. Damn, he’s fast. “Loki told me to find you and stay with you. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“I do not believe this is what he had in mind,” he reasoned. His hand encircled my wrist to stop me from rushing after Loki.

I whirled around to face him. “Whatever he is chasing is obviously dangerous if he wants to keep me away from it. Now, do you want to leave him to face it alone or do you want to come with me to see what it is? I will go through you to get to him if I have to,” I threatened, flexing my hands just enough so that the metal supports around the windows behind us creaked in response. He may be almost a foot taller than me, a god with the power to smite me down where I stood, and a man I was beginning to call a friend once again, but I would fight him tooth and nail to get outside to stand by Loki’s side in whatever he had gone off to confront. “I’m not leaving him.”

Indecision warred on his face, his blue eye flicking between me and the exit to the building several times. The choice was made for him, however, when a great roar followed by a flash of green light came from outside, lighting up the large room through the windows.

“Loki!” he bellowed, sprinting outside.

I did my best to follow, but my legs were restricted by my long, tight dress. Frustrated, I snagged a glass from a woman as she walked by and smashed it on the floor. I used one of the shards to cut a slit on both sides of the dress, ignoring the cuts it left on my hand as I ripped at the slits until they reached my knees.

It was such a pretty dress, too.

Not what’s important right now. Focus, idiot.

Now free to move, I bolted outside, my eyes straining to find Loki. I barely heard Tony fly up behind me; the jets of his suit were a mere whisper against the blood rushing in my ears as I searched the darkness.

There. He was kneeling over the body of a man, his leathers covered in blood and growing dirtier with each powerful blow of his fist that he slammed into the man’s face. Thor was at his side in an instant, wrapping an arm around him and tossing him off and away from the man. He put his arms around Loki’s chest when he lurched to his feet to go back to his brutal task.

“Unhand me, brother!”

Trusting Thor to keep Loki contained, I ran over to the still figure on the ground, falling to my knees by his side. His face was an unrecognizable mess of blood and tissue that made me gag. I was forced to look away to compose myself. My watery eyes fell upon the cane the man held limply: thin, black, with the Hydra symbol along the side. A muffled groan came from the man below me, blood bubbling from his mouth as he tried to speak.

Kneeling on a cold concrete floor. Flashes of never-ending pain as a cane whipped across my back again and again. This man ordering my torture as he held it at his side.

Malfoy.

I snatched the cane from his slack hand, bringing it behind me and then bringing it down against the side of his head with it with all of my might. A feral cry between a sob and a scream tore through my painted lips. The sickening sound of wood meeting pulverized flesh would forever haunt me. But it wasn’t enough. I snapped the cane in half over my thigh, and with another agonized cry, shoved both jagged ends into his chest.

I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt warm arms wrap around me. A tiny part of my brain told me not to attack Thor as he pulled me away from the grisly scene. Loki stood in front of me, wiping away my tears with his thumbs as he cradled my face in tender blood-stained hands.

“It’s over, love. It’s over,” he soothed, gently drawing me away from Thor to cradle my head against his chest. The blood on his leather armor seeped into my thin dress and raised goosebumps on my skin in conjunction with his cool touch, but I didn’t want to pull away. His presence was a balm on the overwhelming emotions swirling within me.

“Guys, now’s not the time,” Tony warned, landing heavily next to us. I looked up from where I had been staring blankly at Loki’s chest to take in the gathering crowd of people watching us with horrified expressions. Even worse were the photographers pushing their way through as they did their best to get a picture of the dead man and his murderers.

Shit.

“Can you conceal this?” I questioned quietly, leaving his arms to stand in between the crowd and the corpse behind me. As if that was going to help anything.

“They have already seen it,” he answered, staring down the throng coming closer with a wary expression in his eyes.

“You two get her out of here,” Tony instructed, flying forward to stop the incoming crowd before it could get any closer.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught the rest of the gala guests spilling out of the building, including the rest of the Avengers. Oncoming sirens sounded through the roar of the shocked crowd as news of what we had done traveled through them. I stayed silent as I fought to remain present. Even when forced to face the reality of having killed a man in cold blood, it was a better alternative than to descend into painful memories that Malfoy’s reappearance attempted to trigger.

Loki’s right. It’s over.

White-hot fire tore across my bicep. My shocked cry pierced my ears and the world moved in slow motion as my heart rate kicked up a notch in my chest. I looked down to see blood pouring down my arm, staining my alabaster skin red beneath the black lace. Arms wrapped around me, cushioning my head against wet leather as we tumbled to the frigid ground. Screams and gunshots sounded into the night. I tilted my head to see who had pushed me down, only to meet Loki’s narrowed eyes with my own.

The pulsing pain in my arm brought me back to reality, and Loki knelt over me, daggers materializing in his hands as he quickly took in the chaotic situation. Bullets whizzed passed us; the few that hit their mark bounced off of his armor uselessly. He needed protection. My searching eyes landed on the marble facade of the museum. It was difficult sprawled on the ground, but I grunted and arched my back with the effort of ripping a piece of thick stone from the wall, following the natural fissures of the rock to lessen the strain on my powers. I directed it in front of the largest concentration of civilians to deter any wayward bullets as they fled the scene. My flexed arm held it in place while I traced the bullets back to their source, barely able to make out dozens of men coming toward us from the shadows, the Hydra symbol barely visible on their bullet-proof vests.

“For fuck’s sake!” I yelled, getting to my knees beside Loki. It wouldn’t do to try to fight this fight prone beneath him.

“Get the civilians out of here!” Steve yelled, jumping into the fray.

After that, I was forced to focus on myself as another bullet lodged itself in the meat of my thigh. I let out a shriek of pain, pulling the marble previously used as a shield for long-gone bystanders over to protect myself and Loki. Peering from behind it, I could make out even more Hydra men approaching; the glint of their weapons caught the incoming blue and red emergency lights.

With a low groan, I strained all of the muscles in my body and ripped a deep hole in the earth beneath a small group of men advancing on Wanda and Vision. I didn’t watch as they fell into it, moving onto the next batch, but I heard their screams suddenly cut off as I closed the hole back up.

They wouldn’t be shooting at me or anyone I loved anymore.

Nat shouted out somewhere behind me, and I could only hope that she was okay as a man charged me from the darkness to my left. A green-lit dagger pierced his chest courtesy of Loki who was standing to my right. There was no time to thank him as several men ambushed us at once.

Loki’s savage grunts sounded in my ears as he went to work dispatching two men at the same time, the whirl of his cloak moving quickly in the night. I reacted on instinct to the first man who charged me, reaching out and clutching his gun in my bleeding fist just as it fired. I barely registered the burn it left on my hand and the bullet that barely missed my ear as I willed the metal to distort and meld together beneath my touch. I used the now-useless hunk of metal to hit the man in the temple, knocking him out cold.

My brain shut down and I became a machine. Each punch, kick, and use of my powers was done without thought. I sent men falling into deep chasms that I ripped into the ground, crushed them beneath broken hunks of marble, and pinned them beneath thick tree roots under my command and twisted bits of metal rent from police cars and nearby benches. The scent of iron filled my flared nostrils and screams of pain and gunshots rang in my ears. Each flare of agony throughout my body was ignored because if I gave any of it even a second of my attention, it could very well be the very last thought I had.

Above it all, I picked up on the piercing wail of a child. I searched for the cause frantically. There! Passed Wanda, who was throwing a man away from her in a wave of red light, was a little boy, crying as he huddled behind a bush. Casting one glance around to pinpoint where the majority of the Hydra agents were, I sprinted away, my hands twisting in the air as I willed the bush to grow and wrap around him. Seconds felt like an eternity until I was sliding to the ground before him, tearing up my knees and shins on small rocks and twigs. The branches parted for my grasping hands so I could pull the boy ensconced within free. He hung onto me desperately, burying his face in my neck as he sobbed. I curled my torso around his as best I could, remaining crouched as I pressed my back into the building and looked around for whoever he belonged to.

“It’s okay. You’re safe, just close your eyes. You’re safe with me,” I chanted into his ear, my hands protecting his head and supporting his bottom.

Finally, I spotted a frantic man shouting around the edge of the building. Nobody without a severe hero complex would risk such danger unless they had a damn good reason. Taking a chance that my instincts were right, I ran along the edge of the wall until I got to him.

He ripped the tiny child from my arms to hold him to his chest. “Timmy! Thank goodness!” he sobbed, meeting my eyes in a quick show of gratitude before dashing off into the night.

That issue resolved, I needed to find Loki. I scoured the battlefield lit up in a constant strobe of blue and red emergency lights, and white lightning for my dashing god in black and green. When I finally found him, battling gracefully against two men, it was just in time to watch a third man dash up behind him.

He drew a large knife from his thigh, quickly reached around Loki, and impaled it into his stomach.

Loki ripped the knife from his body and shoved it into the neck of the man in front of him with a feral snarl, letting loose a torrent of blood from them both. And then he fell to his knees, one hand clutching at the hole in his abdomen while the other threw the remaining two men back with a burst of green light.

I barely registered that the anguished scream that echoed throughout the night came from my own raw throat. My arms shot out to my sides, sending a shockwave through the ground that expanded out from me in a fast-moving circle. It knocked down all who were still standing as it reached them. When the wave came to Loki I threw my hand out, using its momentum to rip the ground beneath his knees away from the rest of the soil and hover in the air. I pulled my arms into my chest, sending the circle of thick soil--and the man on top of it--soaring to my side. My hands rose above my head and a wall of dirt as high as my waist shot up around us, shielding us from harm.

Loki struggled to stand, but he was too weak and fell back against the dirt wall with a pained cough. He trembled as he fought against blood loss and pain. “It seems… that I-I am injured,” he said, trying to smile but failing as his lips twisted to release a shaky gasp.

I dropped to my knees at his side, gathering his hands and holding them over his wound. Were they always this cold or had he already lost too much blood?

“You’re okay, you’re okay. It’s fine, you’re okay,” I stammered, tears thick in my throat and clouding my vision as my hands pressed against his to try to stem the bleeding.

“Battle suits you, l-litte one,” he choked out, a drop of blood spilling out of his mouth to roll down his chin. “What a shame-”

“Nope, cut that shit out. I’ve got you. I’m not allowing you to die, remember? Just hold your annoying ass on,” I commanded, refusing to let him say anything that even remotely resembled a goodbye. He wasn’t dying. I wouldn’t let him. He could stop bullets and one blade was what finally got to him? Unacceptable.

I fought the fear clawing at my chest, standing up from behind my barricade. I allowed myself one last moment of weakness to glance at Loki slumped against the barrier, breathing shallowly with his eyes closed, his brow furrowed.

Anger unlike anything I'd ever known slammed into me, setting fire to my blood and causing an electric green light to glow in my eyes and over my clenched bloodied fists.

It was easy enough to summon a jagged piece of metal from a broken street sign. Easier still to send that makeshift dagger through the neck of the nearest man. And then the one nearest to him. And again and again. I moved in an intricate dance above Loki until the only men left were fighting my fellow Avengers. Once I helped dispose of the last man Thor had been fighting--conductive metal plus lightning does quite a bit of damage--I screamed his name into the night, bringing the God of Thunder running to my side.

“No. No-no-no-no,” Thor cried, sliding one hand behind Loki’s neck and placing the other hand over his, applying pressure to the large wound in his midsection.

With one last burst of energy, I knocked down the wall of dirt that I had constructed so that the others could easily see us. Tears slid down my dirty and bloody face and sobs tore at my throat as I knelt back down beside Thor who was clutching Loki to his chest. My right hand tangled in his raven hair and my left pressed over Thor’s in what felt like a futile gesture.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t do anything besides stare down at the ashen face of my love.

Please, please, not him.

#to keep you safe #violence tw #blood tw #language tw #torture tw #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #im so sorry

42 notes · View notes

psychosistr · 5 years

Text

Friendly Four Verse- Meetings Part 2: Bushroot

Summary: A few months into the dynamic duo’s heroic partnership, Megavolt and Quackerjack encounter a rather interesting, if a bit grumpy, plant mutant by the name of Bushroot. Is the poisonous plant-duck really as bad as he seems, or is there potential for friendship, and more, to bloom from their encounters?

Notes: As stated in the previous chapter, this one’s going to be a bit longer and go into the three character’s backstories a bit more. Enjoy!

Also, quick trigger warning because there is a scene that briefly deals with child abuse.

-First Chapter-

Megavolt and Quackerjack ran into Bushroot three times before they convinced him to join their little team.

The first time was at an old gardening supply store that had been out of business for years- thanks to the heavy pollution in the air, as well as a strict “no flowers in the city” law enforced by Negaduck and his goons, places like that were the hardest hit.

Still, even if it was a long-dead hobby, it seemed that some people still saw fit to loiter around the dilapidated building. This led to a rather noisy conflict that caught Megavolt and Quackerjack’s attention one day while they were out on patrol. When the pair followed the sounds of destruction and violence, they found a group of local thugs lying sprawled out in various states around the building- one face-first in a trashcan, one bent over an old bench, one shorter man hanging from the shop’s busted door, and another tied up with a gardening hose.

Following the noises into the building, Megavolt keeping one finger charged and Quackerjack priming one marble between his thumb and forefinger in preparation for a fight if they had to, they found another member of the gang from outside currently engaged in battle with what, to their surprise, appeared to be some sort of mutant plant creature.

The mutant plant creature was once a duck, its bill clearly giving that much away. It seemed rather thin, with thorn-covered vines for arms and a cluster of three oblong and lightly-pointed leaves of varying sizes (two large ones and one smaller) at the end of each arm to form its hands. The thorns lessened the closer they got to its shoulders until they reached its torso, which was a solid mass of green the same shade as its vines and actually seemed slightly fuzzy with fine hairs that were visible all over its upper-half. Halfway-down its torso, the green color gradually faded to brown where the fuzzy texture lessened and the texture became woodier, giving it hips and legs that looked like branching, vine-like roots woven together to form the lower appendages in a facsimile of a regular duck’s feet (if slightly more jagged due to the branching off roots here and there).

What caught the heroes’ attention the most, however, was its head: It was green like the rest of its upper body, but with surprisingly bright blue eyes. Or, rather, they assumed both eyes were blue, as one was covered by a large flower petal that fell over half of its face. Sprouting from the top of the mutant’s head was a giant flower that seemed to serve as a sort of “hair-style” for it with five main petals- one curled downward to cover its face, as well as two a little further back that were half-way between drooping at the same level as the one in the front or standing up parallel to the top of its head like the last two on the back of its head- and a cluster of much smaller yellow petals that stood straight up to cover the center of its head.

While they’d encountered quite a few mutants during both of their time as superheroes, this one definitely caught both Megavolt and Quackerjack by surprise with how colorful it looked in comparison.

“Look..this is the last warning I’m gonna give you.” The plant mutant said in a voice that spoke volumes regarding his (they could tell by the voice now) irritation. “Turn around, walk back out to your friends, and LEAVE. ME. ALONE.” Oh yeah, he was definitely irritated and ready to hurt whatever set him off next.

Which, unfortunately, seemed to be the punk currently trying to pick a fight with him. “Ha! You think THOSE chumps are my friends?! Those losers ain’t got nothin’ on me!” He flicked open the knife in his hand and charged at the mutant plant-duck with clear intent.

Quackerjack and Megavolt were about to intervene and break up the fight, when, with a tired and irritated sigh, the plant-duck raised one of his leafy hands and made a snapping motion (no snap came of it, though, because of the texture of his hand, merely a rustling sound). “Spot.”

All three other occupants in the room were briefly confused by the gesture and the seemingly out-of-nowhere word…until they heard a barking sound and the heavy “thump thump thump” of something approaching on multiple limbs.

When the sound got close enough, everyone but the plant mutant was shocked to see a giant purple pitcher plant the size of a mini-van running around on four vines like a large dog. Actually, comparing it to a dog seemed to be pretty accurate, since it opened the top-leaf that served as the upper portion of its mouth and let out a barking sound when it arrived at its master’s side. “Woof! Woof!” As it ran in a circle around its master, Quackerjack and Megavolt could even see a happily wagging “tail’ covered in small white flowers growing out of a green spot on its back.

The plant-duck gave the overly excited pitcher plant a pat on the head before pointing a leafy finger at the current source of his irritation. “Go play, Spot.”

The pitcher plant let out another happy bark before running towards the punk that tried to pick a fight with its master. “Woof!”

Seeing he was clearly outmatched by the giant plant monster, the thug screamed and ran away in fear. “AAAAAH!”

“Uh, Quackerjack..we should probably do something to stop this, huh..?” Megavolt finally asked once the bizarreness of the situation had a chance to settle in his mind.

“Huh?” Quackerjack blinked, finally being brought out of his own state of disbelief. “Oh! Yeah, right, right! You take Dr.Plant-little and I’ll go play with the dog, deal?”

“Works for me.” Megavolt nodded his agreement, the two doing a quick back-handed version of a fist-bump before running off to face their chosen enemies. Megavolt ran over to where the mutated duck was now grabbing a wheelbarrow and filling it with dusty old bags of plant food. “Hold it right there!” He pointed dramatically at the frustrated foliage-themed fiend.

The response he got was an irritated groan when the mutant allowed the plant food in his arms to drop roughly into the wheelbarrow. “What?” He shot Megavolt a glare that, were it tangible, would probably strangle him or set him on fire.

“Acts of violence and thievery are not welcome in this town!” Megavolt pointed at the wheelbarrow accusingly.

“Gee, could’ve fooled me. You DO realize you’re in Saint Canard, right?” The irritated mutant asked sarcastically with a cocked brow and a scowl on his face.

Megavolt scowled slightly himself when the plant-duck brushed him off after that comment and went back to filling his wheelbarrow. “Just because a few people choose to commit crimes doesn’t make it right! If you don’t surrender now, we WILL be forced to subdue you!” He shot a small spark of electricity at the ground near the rooted-feet of his enemy to show he was serious.

Blue eyes momentarily glanced down at where the spark hit before vine-shoulders shrugged indifferently as the rest of the arms continued their work. “You can try- won’t make a difference.” He finished his task and turned his head to call his pet. “Spot, let’s go!” When he didn’t receive a response right away, he started looking around for the giant plant. “Spot?”

Megavolt smirked triumphantly and folded his arms over his chest. “My partner is taking care of your wicked weed as we speak, villain!”

He received a glare from that comment, the irritated plant-person about to say something back to him, but they were interrupted by the loud “thump thump” of the approaching plant-beast.

“Down, boy! Heel!” He heard Quackerjack shout over the thunderously loud footsteps.

Tilting his head to get a better view, Megavolt spotted the clown-hero being dragged behind the pitcher plant by a length of neon-green jump rope tied to the beast’s legs. He could also see that the dog-like mutant’s other feet sported similar ropes of varying colors that had apparently been broken off from whatever they were tied to before.

Megavolt managed to grab onto Quackerjack when the excited plant ran by, helping him up onto his feet. “You okay?”

Quackerjack shook himself briefly to get rid of some of the dirt and dust that had coated the front of his costume. “Yeah..gotta say, I prefer walking the dog with a yo-yo…”

Their attention returned to the pair of purloining plants when the pitcher-dog leaned down and opened its large mouth expectantly. “Try not to eat all of it, okay? Save some for the others.” When the plant nodded to show it understood, the smaller mutant rolled the wheelbarrow directly into its gaping maw. “Alright, let’s head home.” He patted the beast’s head once it closed its mouth. Just as they were about to leave, though, their path was blocked by the colorful heroes, making the former-duck roll his eyes. “Seriously? What are you even gonna do? Arrest me? If you haven’t noticed, there aren’t any prisons around here…well, except for the ones Negaduck uses..”

Megavolt and Quackerjack picked up a bit of loathing in the way the mutant spoke of their town’s dictator, but didn’t have time to question it as the giant dog-like pitcher plant tried to run past them.

Pointing a finger at the plant’s path, Megavolt fired of a bolt of electricity that startled the giant mutant and made it back up a few feet. “!!”

Megavolt stood in the pair’s way, his voice strong and full of conviction while his face was set in a determined glare. “We may have nowhere to send you..but that doesn’t mean we can just let criminals continue to do as they please.”

“This town won’t change unless guys like us MAKE IT change.” Quackerjack was instantly at his side, his baseball bat gripped firmly in his hand and clearly ready for a fight.

The plant-duck looked down slightly after they delivered their lines, a bitter scowl on his face that felt…kind of sad, honestly. “Hmph..what a bunch of sentimental garbage..” He did the snapping motion again. “Spot, head home- I’ll catch up with you.” The pitcher plant started to whine at him, but he gave it a firm glare. “NOW, Spot.”

The plant whimpered, but did as it was told and tried to run past the heroes again.

Once again they prepared to stop it, but, this time, they were the ones who were stopped. Specifically, they were stopped by a pair of leafy hands that stretched over and grabbed each of them by one of their arms, tossing them aside as if they weighed nothing at all.

Megavolt landed on top of some old planting pots (plastic, thankfully, not clay or ceramic) and garden hoses, while Quackerjack managed to right himself in the air and flip over on top of an old gardening tool stand. “!!”

Since Megavolt was a bit disoriented from hitting the pots and tangled in the rubber hoses, Quackerjack was the first one to fight back. He reached into his handy toy-pouch and pulled out a handful of his brightly colored exploding marbles. “So, what should we call you?” He asked while jumping off of the stand and shooting the marbles at the plant mutant one after another using his thumb. “Flower Power? Creep Vine? Poison Ivy- wait, that last one feels copy-righted-”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” To his credit, the plant man was pretty quick on his feet. He was able to dodge all of Quackerjack’s attacks by running serpentine through the store. What was even more impressive was that, when he ran into obstacles, the roots that formed his feet would detangle and spread out to allow him to climb over anything with ease. At one point, he vanished from sight behind an old shelf full of seed packets. “And I already have a name..” His voice echoed through the store, making it hard for Quackerjack to pinpoint his exact location…until the voice came from directly above him with an irritated sneer. “It’s Bushroot.”

“!!” Quackerjack looked up in alarm to see the plant duck hanging from the rafters by his completely unraveled lower half. He brought his hand back, a different colored marble situated between each finger, and prepared to throw them. However, before he had the chance, something green wrapped around his wrist and restrained it. “Huh?!”

Turning his head, Quackerjack saw that he was being held back by what appeared to be a bunch of dandelions. Following the trail of long stems and flowers, he saw that they originated from a torn-open packet of seeds by the shelf that Bushroot had vanished behind earlier.

“Quackerjack! Look out!” He heard Megavolt calling to him from the other side of the store.

Looking up, he saw Bushroot dropping down from the ceiling as his legs reformed. He landed right in front of Quackerjack and managed to smack the bat out of his other hand before the clown had time to react. With his main weapon gone and his other hand unable to access his backups, Bushroot was able to hold Quackerjack still long enough for more dandelions and various other plants now growing from the wall of seeds to wrap around Quackerjack and fully restrain him.

“Never was a fan of clowns.” Bushroot mused as he looked over the tied-up harlequin. “Except for mimes since, you know, they don’t talk.” He pinched Quackerjack’s beak shut with one leafy hand to prove his point and a tomato vine wrapped around his mouth to effectively muzzle him. And, apparently because either Bushroot, the plant, or both had a sense of humor, the vine sprouted a big red tomato right on the tip of his beak in a mocking gesture. “There, much better.” He grabbed the vines around Quackerjack’s torso and tossed him behind the long-unused register counter. Right afterwards, though, he had to duck to avoid a bolt of electricity that nearly hit him in the face. “Oh yeah..almost forgot about you..”

Megavolt glared at him, now standing up and free of the rubber hoses that had bound him earlier. “This ends now, Bushroot.”

“Wow, talk about cliché.” Bushroot scoffed with a roll of his eyes, one hand resting on his hip and the other doing a lazy “come on” gesture. “Alright, Sparky, let’s get this over with.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.” Megavolt charged electricity down to his hands to prepare his attack, opting for a close-range assault since Quackerjack’s distance strategy offered too many ways for the sneaky creature to escape or hide. “The name’s Megavolt!” He clenched his hands into fists and ran at the plant-hybrid, swinging the charged appendages at the surprisingly agile duck.

Much to Megavolt’s annoyance (and mild amazement), Bushroot was able to dodge every single one of his punches by either using his agile feet to side-step away, or by bending his body at unnatural angles since he seemed to lack bones that would hinder his movements. “You guys are really serious about this whole ‘hero’ thing, huh?” His upper body bent and twisted sideways to avoid a blow to his head. “Word of advice-”

Megavolt felt something wrap around his ankle and looked down briefly to investigate. “Wha-?!” He saw plants, similar to the ones that had caught Quackerjack earlier, grabbing his leg.

“In this world, nice guys ALWAYS finish last.” Bushroot finished his sentence right as the dandelions lifted Megavolt off of the ground and started taking him up towards the rafters.

“Dang it!” Megavolt turned his still mildly-charged hands on the vines and reached up to grab them. Passing the current in his hands into the green stems and leaves, he freed himself by burning the plants holding him captive. That, unfortunately, caused him to start plummeting to the ground. “Woah!” Thinking quickly, he magnetized his shoes and was able to catch himself on a rickety old rack of chicken-wire- the springiness of the light-weight wires able to cushion his landing.

Recovering from the fall, Megavolt rushed to get back up onto his feet, preparing himself for whatever attack was about to come next. To his surprise, though, there was no attack waiting for him.

Instead, he saw Bushroot holding out his hands so that the burned plants could fall down from the ceiling into his waiting grasp. “Shh..it’s okay..” He soothed the slightly quivering flowers by patting them gently with two of his leafy fingers. He then carefully started pinching off the burned pieces of the plants until only the green was left. Once it was clear, he rubbed the raw edges of the stems to soothe them further. “There we go..little water, some food, and you’ll be good to go..” He moved the flowers up onto his shoulders, where they curled around him like some sort of scarf or a pet snake.

“……” Megavolt was…well, for lack of a better word, SHOCKED by the surprisingly tender display. He’d never seen a villain act so caring or paternal towards their weapons and/or minions before.

While he was caught in that stunned state of trying to process what he’d just seen, Bushroot stretched one of his already long arms so that it could reach the area of garden hoses that Megavolt had fallen in earlier. “Alright, I’m bored. Let’s wrap this up.” He brought the hose over to himself and gripped it in both hands while glaring at Megavolt.

Still a bit thrown off from the villainous vegetation’s previous demeanor, Megavolt clenched his hands into fists again. “Y-Yeah..right..” He charged a little electricity into them, but it was nowhere near the amount he’d used before- his heart just wasn’t in it this time.

The two rushed at each other again, Megavolt throwing punches while Bushroot evaded. Only, this time, Bushroot looked for openings and, when he found them, bound Megavolt’s hands one after the other by catching them mid-strike with the rubber hose. This was a sound strategy, as the rubber was not only difficult to break out of, but it also cut off the flow of Megavolt’s electricity.

Soon enough, Bushroot had both of Megavolt’s hands tied behind his back and had even tied them to his feet for good measure. “There..” He let out an exhausted sigh when he finished and lifted Megavolt easily by his arm, tossing him behind the counter next to the still bound and squirming Quackerjack. “Do me a favor next time you see me-” Bushroot leaned over the register-counter to glare down at the pair of heroes, a stern, warning tone to his voice. “Leave me ALONE.” Having said his piece, he turned and walked away, but not before calling one last message over his shoulder. “Oh, and for the record- THEY started it.”

After Bushroot left, it took about twenty minutes of Megavolt biting through the vines tying up Quackerjack for the clown to finally break free and untie the electrical rodent as well.

“Sooo…” Quackerjack began, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of him. “We just got our butt’s handed to us by a talking thorn bush, huh?”

“Yeah.” Megavolt rubbed at his sore wrists under his gloves. “Yeah, we did..”

Neither of them were strangers to losing battles- it kind of came with the hero territory, especially in a city of so many super-powerful beings in a place like Saint Canard- but, since they’d teamed up, the two of them were usually able to handle whatever adversary they came across with varying degrees of ease or difficulty.

In the months since the two had known each other, aside from Negaduck and his lackeys they had NEVER fought someone that was both strong and clever enough to beat them so effortlessly and it was, honestly, a bit unnerving.

Quackerjack jumped up to his feet, offering Megavolt a hand up. “Wanna track him back to his lair?” Megavolt pulled himself up with Quackerjack’s help, but, before he could answer, something on the counter caught the jester’s eye. “Huh? Hold the phone, Megs..” He reached over with his free hand and grabbed the object he’d spotted by the register, showing it to Megavolt. “Check this out..”

Megavolt’s eyes widened when he saw the crumpled up wad of fifty dollar bills in Quackerjack’s hand. “He PAYED?!!!”

“Yeah..” Quackerjack looked down at the money as well. “If he’s supposed to be a villain, he sure doesn’t make a lot of CENTS.”

Megavolt rolled his eyes slightly at the pun, but was too busy processing everything they’d just witnessed.

Maybe there was more to the moody plant mutant than there appeared to be…

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

The second time they ran into Bushroot, Megavolt and Quackerjack were responding to a shrill scream and had gone to investigate.

When they arrived, they saw Bushroot lifting a crying little dog girl with white fur up onto the back of his pitcher plant pet while a woman, clearly the girl’s mother, shouted at him.

“You put her down this instant, you disgusting freak!” The woman shouted, seething with anger but keeping her distance since she clearly understood that attacking him would be unwise. “Give her back RIGHT NOW!”

Bushroot just scowled at her and folded his thorny arms over his chest with a cocked brow. “Oh yeah? And what if I say no? What are YOU gonna do about it? Hit me?” When her only answer was to glare and fume silently, the corner of Bushroot’s beak lifted slightly in a smirk. “Uh huh. That’s what I thought.” He turned back to the girl and his pet and patted Spot on his side. “C’mon, Spot, let’s go.”

“Not so fast, Bushroot!” Megavolt shouted, sending a warning spark from the tip of his finger to land near the plant mutant’s feet and get his attention.

Bushroot turned to look at the heroic duo and glared. “You two? Seriously?”

“Yep. Us two. Seriously.” Quackerjack replied sarcastically with a grin before sticking his tongue out at the grumpy plant man childishly.

“Return that girl to her mother right now!” Megavolt commanded while pointing another electrically-charged finger at Bushroot.

Bushroot didn’t flinch or even bat an eye at the tone of Megavolt’s voice or the clear but unspoken threat of physical violence. “Yeah- not gonna happen.” He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed in a silent warning of his own. “You couldn’t stop me last time- this won’t be that different.” He unfolded one arm and patted Spot on his side. “Get her out of here, Spot- go.”

“Woof!” Spot let out a loud bark and ran off, bounding past the heroes and the girl’s mother thanks to Bushroot reaching his long arms over to shove all three of them aside roughly.

“No!” Megavolt scrambled to his feet and ran after the pitcher plant. “I’ll get the girl!”

“I don’t think so.” Bushroot tried to grab him again to prevent his pursuit, but his long arm was suddenly pinned to the ground by the tip of Quackerjack’s bat.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Quackerjack wagged one finger at Bushroot in a scolding manner. “You get to play with me first, Bush-brain.” Quackerjack flicked his bat, sending the green appendage back in the direction of its owner and standing in Bushroot’s path with a challenging grin on his face. “You won our game of hide and seek last time, so I think I should get to choose the game this time. Sound like fun?”

Bushroot glared at him with an irritated scowl. “Sounds like something, but fun’s not the word I’d choose..”

“Awww, c’moooonn- this one’s a classic!” Quackerjack gave him a fake pout and reached into his toy pouch to grab something. “It was one of my FAVORITE games for recess.” He pulled out a small red sphere that, when he pressed a button on the bottom, inflated into a big red ball. “Dodgeball!!” The excited clown shouted as he threw the ball at Bushroot.

Bushroot easily dodged the ball by leaning to the side. “Eh, never really saw the appeal of dodgeball..the ‘dodge’ part’s fine-” He suddenly ducked, narrowly avoiding the ball when it rebounded off of a wall behind him and nearly hit him in the head. “It’s the ‘ball’ part I’m not a fan of…” He glared at the ball that was now faintly flashing red.

Quackerjack held out his hand and the ball returned to it as if it were magnetic. “What? Seriously? But half the game’s only half the fun!” He tossed the ball again with a chuckle. “Why don’t you try and catch it!”

Bushroot dodged the ball again both times- the first time when it was thrown at him and then again when it rebounded back to Quackerjack. “Gee, thanks, but…no.” He replied sarcastically. “It probably explodes or something, right?”

“Or something.” Quackerjack answered vaguely with a mischievous grin and a giggle. “You’ll see when you lose!” He reached into the pouch again and pulled out a handful of the little red balls, tossing them on the ground to activate them.

Meanwhile, Megavolt was in hot pursuit of the pitcher plant and the girl clinging fearfully to its back. He had magnetized his shoes and was now skating across the tops of the power lines, using the electrical currents running through them to go even faster.

Finally seeing an opening, he jumped over to another set of cables and slid down to the ground so that he ended up ahead of Spot and the girl. “Sit!” He commanded, holding a hand out to stop the plant in its tracks.

“Woof!” Instantly, the puppy-minded plant skidded to a halt and sat down on the ground in front of Megavolt, its tail wagging excitedly.

“Good boy.” Megavolt praised, slowly walking closer. “Now..just give me the girl..”

When he made a move to reach for her, however, the large plant suddenly stood up again and growled, even shaking its “head” back and forth in a negative motion. “Rrrrh!” It backed up, squatting slightly on its front legs like a dog ready to attack.

“Easy, boy..” Megavolt tried to soothe it with one hand, discretely charging electricity into his other hand while hiding it behind his back just in case. It appeared to be working at first, so Megavolt took a step closer. “That’s it..just relax..I just want to-”

“Camilla, you get off of that disgusting thing THIS INSTANT!!” The voice of the woman from earlier suddenly shouted, making Megavolt turn his head to see her running up to them from down the street and looking rather winded.

Whatever progress he’d been making with Spot was suddenly and rudely shattered when the pet plant let out a decidedly darker and more vicious growl, backing away from Megavolt and the approaching woman. “!!!!!”

“AAAAAAH!” The girl, still clinging to Spot’s back, screamed and held onto it tighter when it began to move. “No!!”

The plant took off running again and Megavolt chased after it, firing off the electrical charge from his hand in an attempt to scorch one of its feet just badly enough to trip it.

The attack worked, but it sent the girl flying into the air. “!!” Megavolt ran as fast as he could, then, at the last second, he charged two blasts of energy to his feet and used them to propel himself up into the air. He managed to grab the girl and magnetized his shoes to some metal siding on a nearby building so they could slide down safely. “Whew..that was a close one..”

To his surprise, the girl in his arms started crying again and struggled in his grasp once they were on the ground. “No! Let me go! Let me go!”

“W-Woah, there! It’s okay! You’re safe now! I’m one of the good guys, promise!” He tried to calm her down and keep her from running away. However, in the process of doing so, and thanks to his closer proximity to her now, he saw something dark under her white far that he’d missed earlier. “Huh? Wait..” He carefully pushed some of the fur on her cheek aside and it confirmed what he thought he’d seen: Bruises. Large bruises of varying shapes and colors scattered between her face and her neck that were far too big, and some far too old, to have been caused by Bushroot with his leafy hands just a few minutes ago. “Who did this to you..?” He asked with a frown, his confusion replaced with concern and righteous fury for the poor girl’s state.

His question was quickly answered when the girl’s mother started to catch up to them. The girl saw her coming and gasped, a panicked look in her eyes. “Ah!” She squirmed out of Megavolt’s grasp and ran back over to the pitcher plant. “Help me! Please!”

Spot whimpered as it stood back up on its vines properly, but it lowered itself enough that the girl could climb onto it again. “Woof!”

As Megavolt watched the girl interacting with the pitcher plant- as he saw the fear in her eyes looking at her own mother and the way the injured giant waited until she was clinging to it securely to move again- he finally understood the truth of what happened.

“……” With a strong stride that spoke of firm convictions, Megavolt stepped out in front of the pitcher plant while facing the approaching woman. He raised a single finger and pointed it at her, firing a spark that hit the ground near her feet. “That’s far enough!”

The woman gasped in surprise and nearly fell back to avoid the warning shot. “Wha-?! What are you doing?! That beast has my daughter! Aren’t you supposed to be a hero or something?! Do the right thing and BRING. HER. TO. ME!” The indignation and rage was clear in her voice, but Megavolt chose to ignore her.

“I am doing the right thing.” Megavolt turned around to face Spot, holding one hand out by way of a peace offering and keeping the other one visible this time to show he wasn’t planning anything. “Sorry about earlier. Can you take me back to Bushroot?”

“……” Spot was quiet for a moment before barking and nuzzling Megavolt’s out-stretched hand. “Woof!” Spot kneeled down so that Megavolt could climb on too, its tail wagging happily behind it.

“Thanks, Spot.” Megavolt gave it a gentle pat on its head before climbing on behind the girl, holding onto Spot with one hand and her with the other to help steady her.

With an excited bark the plant took off running back the way they’d come from, though not without bowling over the indignant and enraged mother and knocking her into a pile of very old and disgusting trash bags along the way.

By the time they’d returned to where they’d left Quackerjack and Bushroot fighting, the tide had certainly turned in Quackerjack’s favor.

While he’d gone down from five flashing red balls to two, the sacrifice of his toys had been worth it: All across the impromptu battlefield were globs of a red putty-like substance that seemed very sticky and squishy at the same time.

Bushroot looked exceptionally irritated, as he was currently stuck in one of the globs. Specifically, his arm was stuck in one on the side of a building, leaving him pinned in place. “……” He glared silently at the giggling jester in front of him.

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself in a pretty STICKY SITUATION, eh, Bushy?” Quackerjack teased while idly balancing the two remaining balls on the tip of his bat. “Maybe it’s time for you make like a tree and LEAF.” He laughed at his own joke, ignoring the way Bushroot rolled his eyes. “Unless you’d rather STICK AROUND!”

Bushroot scowled at him. “Do you EVER stop talking?”

“Hmmm…” Quackerjack tilted his head in mock-thought before shrugging. “Who knows? It’s a MYS-TREE to me!”

Bushroot groaned and looked down with a shake of his head. “That one barely even works…”

Their bantering was interrupted by the noisy return of Spot and his passengers. “Woof!”

“Spot?!” Bushroot stared at his pet in shock. “What are you doing?! I told you to get out of here!” The dog-like plant started to bark something at him, but it only seemed to rile him up more. “HE BURNED YOU?!!” Bushroot’s earlier shock turned into rage and he started pulling against the putty holding his arm to the wall.

“Hey, take it easy there, Bush-brain.” Quackerjack let one of the balls drop back into his other hand, preparing to throw it. “Don’t make me-” Whatever he was about to say died on his tongue when he saw the upper half of Bushroot’s trapped arm start to tear and green liquid ooze out. “H-Hey, take it easy! You don’t have to-!”

“!!!” With a pained hiss and a clenching of his teeth, Bushroot tore his own arm off to escape. “Out of my way!” He tried to run past Quackerjack, shoving the shocked clown out of his path with his remaining hand.

Still startled by the plant-duck’s act of self-mutilation, Quackerjack ended up dropping his bat and the remaining red balls he had. Regardless, he caught his balance and tried to grab Bushroot by his more in-tact arm. “Wait a sec-OW!” He winced when his bare hand met the various sizes of thorns on the viney appendage.

“Wha-?!” Bushroot’s anger turned to shock once more as he tried to snatch his arm away. “Are you an idiot?! Don’t touch me!!”

The warning seemed to come too late, though, and Quackerjack started to sway on his feet right as Megavolt finally reached them on Spot’s back. “Quackerjack?!” He jumped down and ran over just in time to catch his partner when he fell over. “Quackerjack!!”

“Sparky..?” Quackerjack wheezed out, his gaze hazy and unfocused. “I..I feel funny- not haha funny…why are you green…?” His eyes began to close and Megavolt felt a surge of dread creep into him.

“H-Hey! Come on, Quackerjack! Stay with me!” He patted the duck’s face a few times in an attempt to wake him up.

“Dang it..!” Bushroot scowled and snapped his leafy fingers at Spot. “Open up!” Spot did as it was asked and kneeled down low to the ground with its mouth wide open. Bushroot then walked over to the pair of heroes and grabbed Quackerjack’s hand to examine the thorns that had broken off into his skin. “We need to get him to my green house.” He tugged Megavolt along roughly by his elbow and pointed at Spot’s mouth. “Put him in there- head first.”

“……” Megavolt looked at the sticky interior of the purple plant, feeling reasonably hesitant about placing his partner in crime-fighting inside of a carnivorous plant.

“Oh, for the love of-!” Bushroot rubbed his hand over his face in annoyance. “We don’t have time for this! Look, Spot’s insides are sticky, so that’ll keep him from moving around! Plus he can start leeching out some of the toxins and thorns on the way there!” When Megavolt still hesitated, Bushroot snapped at him. “Do you want him to live or not?!!”

Megavolt blinked in surprise at the tone of the other man’s voice.

Yes, it was definitely frustrated, but it was a frustration born of something else…

Worry?

Desperation?

Concern?

Guilt?

He couldn’t tell at the moment, but, as he took one look from the frustrated expression on Bushroot’s face, to Quackerjack in his arms, then finally to the little girl still seated on Spot’s back, he made a decision he felt was the right one in that moment.

“Alright. I trust you.” Megavolt said as he carefully placed his friend into the large plant’s waiting mouth.

“……” Bushroot’s brows knit together for a brief moment at the other’s choice of words, but he ignored it with a shake of his head and reached in with his elongated arm to help settle Quackerjack properly- even making sure that his injured hand was palm-down against the area at the bottom of the plant’s body near a pool of liquid. “Get on.” He commanded with a jerk of his head as he followed his own advice and climbed on top of Spot.

Megavolt did as requested after grabbing Quackerjack’s bat and took his place from earlier behind the girl to help hold her in place.

The whole time they were riding on Spot’s back, Megavolt quietly prayed that his friend would be okay- that they would get to the greenhouse Bushroot spoke of in time. And that he really was making the right decision…

They reached their destination around sunset, the last of the light dwindling by the time they arrived at the surprisingly well-maintained greenhouse.

Bushroot was the first one to jump off of Spot’s back and he was already motioning for the pitcher plant to open up once again. “We don’t have much time left- carry him inside.” He directed the order to Megavolt once Spot opened its mouth enough for them to retrieve Quackerjack from inside. “Spot, take the girl and, I don’t know, go play with the petunias or something.”

Spot barked happily and ran off with the girl, taking her over to a small patch of dancing flowers just outside of the greenhouse. “Woof!”

Bushroot then led Megavolt inside, the various trees, shrubs, and flowers swaying and reacting to their master’s presence immediately. “Yeah, yeah, hey..” He grumbled as he made his way to an open patch of grass. With a wave of his hand, the patch of grass sprouted new plants that grew surprisingly quickly and smelled strongly of-

“Green tea leaves?” Megavolt questioned while sniffing the air.

“They can help stop bleeding.” Bushroot explained with a waving gesture indicating he wanted Megavolt to set Quackerjack down in the fragrant patch while he busied himself with going to various herbs and flowers around the green house. “Hey, guys..yeah, sorry, I hate to ask this..really? Okay, thanks, I appreciate it.” He went to an equipment locker against one of the walls and pulled out a bottle of water, a bowl, a jar of black powder, a pair of scissors, and, oddly enough, some surgical tubing and alcohol.

In a hurry, he carelessly dropped most of the gathered equipment on the floor, leaving only the bowl and scissors in his hand. As he started going around to the various plants he’d spoken with before, he carefully clipped off different pieces- seed pods, leaves, roots, even whole stalks or flowers- and collecting them in the bowl.

“Is there anything I can do?” Megavolt asked, feeling bad that he was just standing there doing nothing while his friend was dying –heck, even the tea leaves were helping out by removing the thorns still embedded in Quackerjack’s hand!

Bushroot paused a second to think over the question before pointing at the bottle with his scissors, keeping the bowl propped against his torso with his damaged arm. “Heat that up for me.”

Megavolt nodded while Bushroot continued gathering the ingredients he needed. “Got it.” He picked up the bottle and opened it before concentrating a small electrical current into the container. Minding his powers and controlling them could be difficult at times, but he kept his mind focused by reminding himself how important it was not to mess up. “For Quackerjack..” He muttered, closing his eyes and maintaining the current just enough to cause heat but trying not to warp or damage the plastic and spill the liquid inside.

“That’s good enough.” Bushroot’s voice cut through his thoughts and Megavolt opened his eyes to see the plant duck seated beside him on the ground with the bowl of plant parts in his lap. However long he’d been focusing on the bottle had apparently been enough time for Bushroot to chop up the various plants he’d gathered into tiny pieces. “Pour it in.” He instructed while managing to open the jar of black powder and pouring a fair amount of it into the bowl as well.

Megavolt did as he was told and poured the hot water into the bowl with the other ingredients, watching as Bushroot summoned a series of vines that rotated quickly like beaters for a mixer to combine the bowl’s contents accordingly. “What is that stuff anyway?”

“A few aromatic flowers to open up his airway, some herbs to restore any lost nutrients and boost his immune system, and some activated charcoal to absorb the toxins in his bloodstream.” Bushroot explained, checking the consistency of the mixture to make sure it was thin enough before dismissing the vines.

“Charcoal?” Megavolt questioned disbelievingly at the idea of putting charcoal into someone’s body. “Is that safe??”

“It’s a centuries-old, well-proven method for treating deadly nightshade poisoning.” Bushroot assured him while grabbing the surgical tubing. “Roll up his sleeve so I can find a vein.” Once Megavolt did as the plant-duck asked, Bushroot took the scissors from earlier and used them to cut a small incision into Quackerjack’s arm after finding the proper vein. “Good. Now, hold him still.”

Megavolt moved to the other side of Quackerjack’s unconscious body and held his arms down. “Just hold on a little longer, Quacky..” He said softly, looking down at the duck’s flushed and sweat-dampened feathered face as he remained completely unaware of what was going on around him.

Bushroot carefully inserted one end of the surgical tubing into the open wound, a large leaf-bearing plant sprouting up beside him and curling into the other end of the tube to act as a funnel. “Alright..here goes nothing…” He brought the bowl up to the make-shift funnel and began to pour in the freshly made medicine.

Quackerjack remained still at first…but that didn’t last long.

A few seconds after the mixture began to enter his veins, the duck’s eyes flew open and he stared ahead unseeingly. “!!!!” His mouth opened in a silent scream and he began to thrash against Megavolt’s hold in a panic.

“Quackerjack! Quackerjack, calm down!” Megavolt held his friend down harder, not wanting to hurt him but not being given much choice in the matter.

The silent screaming soon gave way to ACTUAL screaming once Bushroot finished pouring the mixture in. “Just hold him a little longer!” Once the bowl was empty, he tossed it aside and used his hand to hold the tube in place while the last of it entered Quackerjack’s bloodstream.

“Spiders! They’re crawling on me! In my brain! In my veins!” Quackerjack’s screaming began to form words, but they were all nonsense and he seemed deaf to Megavolt’s voice. “Ahahahaha! It tickles! I see it! Rainbows- so many colors! I can taste them! I-!” His eyes rolled back into his head and he gasped sharply before going still again, his eyes shutting.

Megavolt reached up to check the pulse on Quackerjack’s neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the tell-tale thump of a heartbeat beneath his fingertips. “Is he gonna be okay? What was all that?” He questioned while looking at Bushroot with concern.

Bushroot took a seat and began carefully removing the tube from the clown’s arm. “He’ll be fine. Hallucinations and delirium are common side-effects of solanum carolinense poisoning, but his breathing is stable now and the poison’s moving out of his body thanks to the charcoal.” Once the tube was out, he held out his hand and another leafy plant grew so he could pluck the leaf and wrap it around the spot the tube had just occupied with some tea leaves underneath to help stop the bleeding.

“Good…” Megavolt said simply as they sat there and watched over Quackerjack. Unfortunately, now that the threat to his partner’s life was gone, things felt…awkward. “Um..thanks for helping him-”

“Don’t thank me.” Bushroot replied automatically without even looking at him.

They sat there in a tense silence for a few minutes while Megavolt tried to think of what else he could say.

“Sorry..about blasting Spot..and about your arm-” He began, feeling that would be an appropriate conversation starter.

Apparently Bushroot disagreed, however, because he cut Megavolt off once again. “We’re plants. We’ll heal. It’s fine.”

This was getting painful. Seriously, what do you say to someone you had pegged for a villain after they’ve saved your friend’s life?

“Is there..uh..something we can do to repay yo-” He tried to start another conversation, but was interrupted yet again.

“Just leave.” Bushroot said firmly, finally getting back up to gather his equipment. “And take the girl with you- you two can probably find a better place for her.” He turned away from Megavolt, using the bowl to hold everything he’d used that evening.

“Fine..” Megavolt conceded, carefully picking up Quackerjack’s unconscious body and making his way to the door.

When he was close to the exit, however, he heard Bushroot speak one more time. “He’s gonna feel nauseous when he wakes up- that’s normal. Make sure he stays hydrated, but no ice water or he’ll feel worse. If his fever comes back..just…I don’t know, bring him here or something…”

Megavolt couldn’t help but smile slightly at the plant-duck’s tone of voice. He was trying to come off as cold and clinical, like a doctor giving a diagnosis. But, beneath the harsh exterior and forced neutrality of his tone of voice, Megavolt could hear the genuine worry and caring nature hidden deep down that the odd creature was trying so hard to hide.

“I will. Thanks.” He replied without turning around.

“I told you not to thank-” Bushroot turned to snap at the hero, but it was his turn to be cut off- this time by the closing of the door after the two heroes were already gone.

Finally alone once more in his greenhouse (well, alone aside from his plants, of course), Bushroot allowed himself to heave a sigh, the tension releasing from his hunched shoulders all at once.

He looked oddly relieved..yet..sad…

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

The third time they ran into Bushroot was on purpose.

Bushroot was busy tending to his greenhouse when, much to his startled surprise, there was a knock at his front door. “?!” He glared suspiciously at the door, preparing for a fight, when Spot ran up to it and started barking excitedly. “Huh..?” Deciding to investigate, he walked to the door and squinted through the glass to see two very familiar color combinations standing outside. “Ugggh..” He rolled his eyes and opened the door to see a pair of heroes standing there “WHAT?” He asked with a clearly irritated expression, folding his thorned arms over his chest.

“Good to see you too, Bushy.” Quackerjack grinned at the clearly annoyed flower-headed duck, keeping one hand held behind his back. He looked at Bushroot’s arm and his smile softened slightly. “Your arm feeling okay?”

Bushroot spared a glance down at it and shrugged. “It grew back after a couple days.” He glanced over to Quackerjack’s hand- the one that had been pierced by his thorns and was now currently wrapped in bandages. “Your hand…?”

“Like almost-new.” Quackerjack noticed the look of poorly concealed concern and raised the wrapped hand up to wiggle each of the fingers in demonstration. “See?” He pointed his thumb at Megavolt with a childish pout. “The only reason I’m still wearing these is because Sparky here’s a worry-wart.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.” Megavolt replied automatically, but there wasn’t any real annoyance behind his words. “Can we come in for a bit?” He directed his attention back to Bushroot.

Bushroot eyed them skeptically, one brow cocked. “You’re not here to arrest me or something, right?”

“No, but that is part of what we wanted to talk to you about.” Megavolt’s answer was elusive, but his tone was straight-forward and honest- something Bushroot could appreciate.

“Fine..” The perpetually-grumpy plant-duck led them further into the green house. Not having any real furniture (due to not needing any), Bushroot had to wave his hand to summon soft, gigantic flowers for them to sit on- one by itself for him and two across from it for the others. “So..” He began while taking his seat. “What do you want?”

Quackerjack and Megavolt took their seats across from him, Quackerjack being the first one to speak after hiding whatever it was he’d brought in behind his back. “Gee, right to the point. Not even gonna offer us a drink first?” He teased.

“All I’ve got is water and pesticide.” Bushroot responded dryly. “Now, are you gonna tell me why you’re here, or should I just cut to the part where I throw you out?”

Megavolt sighed in mild annoyance and rubbed his eyes under his safety-glasses. “Ignore Quackerjack, he can’t be serious to save his life…literally.”

“Aw, it was one time!” Quackerjack pretended to pout before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Besides, the look on that witch’s face was priceless!”

Bushroot got the feeling that was supposed to be a pun of some sort, but one that was more situational humor that he wouldn’t understand without a story that he really wasn’t in the mood for. So, instead, he just did a “hurry up” gesture with his hand to move the conversation along.

“We wanted to apologize for how we treated you.” Megavolt began, the frown on his face clearly showing the guilt he felt. “We judged you way too harshly, and we know that you’re not a bad guy now.”

“Yes I am.” Bushroot insisted with a scowl, leaning back in his flower-chair with his arms crossed defiantly. “I’m a poisonous species of plant mutant that can kill anything I touch. I stay out here so I don’t have to deal with the stupid people in town because I HATE everyone. The closest thing I have to ��friends’ are my plants- plants that I create and control.”

“Plants like Spot?” Quackerjack questioned with a quirked brow while casting a poignant look in the direction of the large pitcher plant that was currently chasing its own flowery tail in circles. “Because that’s really not helping your case, Bushy.”

“He’s a carnivorous plant that can dissolve people with acid if he swallows them.” Bushroot glared at the overly cheerful and sarcastic clown.

Quackerjack smirked at the frustrated plant in amusement. “Funny, I don’t FEEL digested.”

“That can be changed.” Bushroot warned him, growing more frustrated with the clown by the minute. “EASILY.”

“Like I said, ignore him.” Megavolt reached over and lightly smacked Quackerjack on the back of his head before looking at Bushroot with a serious expression again. “And we know you’re not a bad guy. Honestly, I don’t think you ever were, even before..” He gestured to Bushroot’s body as a whole. “THAT.”

Bushroot scowled slightly and looked away, his arms wrapping tighter around himself. “You don’t know anything about me…”

Megavolt frowned, easily able to see through the mutant’s façade now that he knew what to look for. “We know that you’re a better person than you pretend to be. Those guys at the gardening store started the fight with you, but you didn’t kill or seriously injure any of them. You easily could’ve killed US, but you let us live. You didn’t have to pay for the things you took, but you did, even though no one even worked at that store anymore.”

Quackerjack nodded in agreement, finally allowing himself to be slightly more serious. “Not to mention the whole ‘saving my life’ thing.”

“I was the one that poisoned you.” Bushroot tried to retort, but it was half-hearted at best.

“No, I poisoned MYSELF when I grabbed you.” Quackerjack reached behind himself and finally revealed the large but flat box that he’d carried in with him, holding it out towards Bushroot expectantly. “Which reminds me- this is my way of saying thanks.”

Bushroot glared at the box, refusing to touch it. “I don’t want it- I told you not to thank me.”

“Bushroot..” Megavolt cut in before Quackerjack could say something about the plant-duck’s attitude. “Whether you want to admit it or not..you’re a hero. You’re a good person that wants to help others- we can tell. You saved Quackerjack’s life, even though you didn’t have to.”

“I just didn’t want you to come looking for ‘heroic vengeance’ or something..” Bushroot scowled, clearly uncomfortable with being called a ‘hero’.

“And what about the girl?” Megavolt questioned, eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

Bushroot frowned and glared at the floor, not having a comeback for that one. “…….”

Megavolt’s gaze softened slightly as he continued. “She told us everything. About her mother hurting her, about you stepping in and yelling at her mom, and about you saving her. You didn’t HAVE to do any of that. She was a complete stranger. You could have just ignored it and walked away and nothing would’ve happened-”

“What was I supposed to do?!” Bushroot snapped, finally uncrossing his arms and glaring at them. “Just stand by and do nothing?!”

“Only if you were as cold and mean as you pretend to be.” Quackerjack commented with a smile that was slightly teasing, but mostly just understanding.

Bushroot’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open for a moment when he realized exactly what he’d said. “!!”

Megavolt’s smile matched Quackerjack’s. “You act tough and scary but, deep down, you’re a good man that just wants to help people- like us. The only thing we don’t know is WHY you try to hide it.”

“…‘Why’?” Bushroot asked once his shock turned to frustration once again. “You REALLY wanna know why?” His leafy hands clenched at his sides, a scowl on his face. “It’s because this world takes ‘good men’, chews them up, and spits them out when they’ve got nothing left to give. I TRIED being a good person. I TRIED helping the world…and look what it got me..” He uncurled one of his hands and looked at it, the anger that had started to creep into his voice slowly being replaced with sadness. “I was a botanist, you know..probably not the best, but I was still good at my job. I was coming up with a way for people to feed off of sunlight and water like plants, thinking that would be a way for me to solve world hunger and get me everything I ever wanted- fame, glory, money…love…but Negaduck’s ‘no plants’ law made being a botanist impossible unless you found a way to make him money or weapons. When he found out about my research, he threatened to close down my whole department. My so called ‘colleagues’ kicked me to the curb without a second thought.” His eyes drifted over to the remains of some long-damaged machinery in the corner of the greenhouse that looked like they once contained a pair of raising platforms. “I figured my life was over anyway, so why not go all-or-nothing? I tried my experiment on myself and..well…” He held his arms out for emphasis. “You can see how well that turned out.” He lowered his arms again to look down at his twisted root-feet. “It was..surprising..but my research ACTUALLY worked! I ran back to show the others and they said that they were..they were actually..impressed with me…” He choked back a bubble of some sort of emotion on the word “impressed”, unintentionally letting the other two know how much that meant to him. “Rho- I mean, Dr.Dendron, one of my co-workers, asked me to meet with her that night. I thought I was finally getting everything I ever wanted…” The next expression they saw on his face looked…heartbroken. “But..it was all a trap…they went behind my back and called Negaduck. When I went to meet Dr.Dendron, he was waiting there instead and he gave me an option: Make an army of plant mutants for him, or let my colleagues dissect me so they could figure out how to do it themselves. I barely escaped with my head…” He shuddered painfully at the memory, wrapping his arms around himself in a subconscious need for safety and comfort. “So..that’s why I’d rather stay out here…why I’d rather make people think that I’m a horrible monster…it’s better than letting them think I’m just another sap they can take advantage of.” He looked back up at them, a bitter frown on his face. “Do you two get it now? Being ‘nice’ or ‘good’ in this world..it’s pointless..you’ll just be a loser in the end…”

Megavolt was silent for a while, absorbing everything Bushroot just told him. With everything he’d said, he could definitely understand why he felt so betrayed and disheartened with the world and its people. But, even still, he had to-

“Boy, do I know how that story goes.” Surprisingly, it was Quackerjack that spoke up first. Both Megavolt and Bushroot looked to see him reclining back as far as his floral seat would allow, the box he’d brought with him sitting in his lap. “You know, I used to work at a toy company.” He began with a wistful smile. “That’s actually where I got the name from- it was called ‘Quackerjack Toys’, and we were one of the biggest toy companies in the world for a while. I was PRETTY high up there on the corporate ladder, too. I tried to be a role model for other big-shots like me and started all sorts of things like orphanages and children’s hospitals and charities. I thought I could use my money to make a difference in the world.” His smile fell slightly, looking much sadder than his usual grins. “But..then Negaduck started to change things in the city…I tried speaking out. I tried rallying people together to stand against him..and he decided to silence me for it. He teamed up with one of my company’s biggest enemies- Whiffle Co. Video Games- and they framed me for embezzlement and grand-larceny. I went to prison because Negaduck had the judge in his pocket and spent years in there..most of it in solitary..” His fingers fidgeted slightly and he brought one of his bells around to the front so he could give his hands something to occupy themselves with. “It was..well…it was terrible, not gonna lie. I kept trying to find a way out, or find a reason why what happened wasn’t so bad, but half the time I just wound up stuck in solitary confinement again. I..went pretty crazy for a while there. I started to hate other people...and hate myself even more. I started to wonder if anything I ever did mattered at all. I mean, I dedicated so much of my life to helping other people, but where were they when I needed help? There was no one…” His smile lifted slightly after he took a deep breath. “But..then I met someone really sweet while I was there..she helped me out and I decided that I wanted to help other people, too. She tried to talk me out of it- she said I’d spent enough time trying to help others and that I should just worry about myself for a change.” He shook his head with a sad chuckle. “I tried to do what she said, I really did..but..I couldn’t fight it- helping people is just a part of who I am. No matter how mad I get at the world, I feel like I have to try and smile so the rest of the world can learn to smile back.” He looked at Bushroot with an understanding smile, handing him the box again and looking relieved when Bushroot actually took it that time. “So..I get it. This world is really messed up and it makes it hard to be nice sometimes..but I think that’s just a bigger reason to fight bullies like Negaduck even harder- otherwise, they win and that’s the end of it all…and I know I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

Bushroot looked down at the box in his hands for a while, clearly debating about what to say in response, when both he and Quackerjack were startled by a muffled sniffle. “???” They turned their heads towards the sound and saw Megavolt holding his face in one hand and his safety glasses in the other, his shoulders shaking as if he were…crying?

“Megs?” Quackerjack frowned and placed a hand on the rat’s shoulder. “You okay there, buddy?”

Concern was clear on his face and in his voice, and for good reason: He’d never seen Megavolt cry before, over ANYTHING. No matter how badly injured he’d seen the electrifying hero, or how dejected he’d looked after a lost fight with Negaduck and his goons, the rodent had stayed as bright as the lightning bolt on his cape.

Now, though, when he removed his hand from his face and looked down at the glasses in his other hand with his glistening shrunken pupils, he looked so..small..and frail…and so, so very tired..

“I…I’m sorry…” Megavolt took a few deep breaths to try calming himself down, but the pained frown remained on his face. “It’s just..when I hear about good people like the two of you that had their lives ruined by Negaduck, it reminds me of how much I’ve messed up…and…how it’s all MY fault…”

“Your fault?” Bushroot questioned the miserable rodent. “How the heck is any of that YOUR fault?”

“Because I haven’t been able to stop Negaduck, no matter how many times I’ve tried.” Megavolt’s frown turned bitter, his empty hand clenching into a fist.

Bushroot stared at him in mild surprise. “Wait, wait, back up- you’ve fought that psycho before?”

“And on your OWN?” Quackerjack’s look matched Bushroot’s as the pair stared at Megavolt in clear expectation of an answer. The pair of heroes had gone up against Negaduck more than once, sure, but he’d never said anything about previous fights with the chainsaw wielding psychopath from before the two of them had teamed up. Quackerjack sure as heck wouldn’t have tried to do that by himself, even with his questionable sanity!

Megavolt gave a half-hearted smile and rubbed his thumb along the edge of the glasses in his hand. “You guys already told your stories, guess it’s only fair for me to do the same.” He took another deep breath before looking up at them again. “This probably comes as a BIG surprise, but I was pretty much the class nerd back in high school.” He gave a light chuckle at that, one that was echoed by the other two since they were the same way back then. “In my senior year, I was more focused on inventing things than on relationships or dances..so, when it was time for prom, I decided I’d rather spend the time working on my new static generator. It was going to be my big breakthrough in electrical engineering that would help solve the world’s energy crisis! Just think about it- a generator that produces electricity using nothing more than simple kinetic motion and naturally occurring static electricity found in mammals and shag carpeting! It would have reduced the carbon footprint of a city like Saint Canard by at least 40%!” His face had lit up with an excited smile as he described his machine and what it would have been able to do, but he quickly reigned it back in with a slight flush to his cheeks and a clearing of his throat to get back on track. “A-Anyway…some bullies came to make fun of me for ‘hanging out with the wrong kind of electric hottie’ that night and overloaded my machine.” He held up one finger on his free hand and caused a spark of electricity to dance along the tip. “The accident gave me my powers, which was pretty cool, even if it did mess up my hair..and my eyes…and gave me some nasty scars…” He trailed off on that part, subconsciously touching one of his hands with the other. “It was scary..but..also really cool..I spent hours testing out my new powers and figuring out what I could do. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with them yet, but I knew I wanted to impress people.” His smile fell into a slight frown. “Then…I heard the screaming..” He shuddered, drawing his arms in closer to himself. “I went to the gym where they were holding prom…and I saw Negaduck attacking my classmates.”

“!!!!” Both ducks stared at him with equal levels of shock, experiencing the same revelation of just HOW LONG Megavolt had been fighting against Negaduck by himself.

“I didn’t really know what I was doing.” Megavolt continued, sparks flickering around his fingertips as he remembered that night so clearly, even after all these years. “I’d only just gotten my powers..but..I had to do SOMETHING, right? After all, I-I was the only one that could, so I fought him off while everyone else tried to escape.” He set his glasses down in his lap and started to remove his gloves. “But…he still won..” With the gloves removed, he held up his hands to give the other two a clear view of his injuries: A jagged gash that lined up perfectly across both palms, two-thirds of his right pinky finger missing, and a nasty split between his left pointer and middle finger that had long since scabbed over but was clearly never stitched back together properly. “I barely escaped in one piece and Negaduck still managed to send half of my senior class to the hospital with serious injuries, but at least I kept him from actually..well, you know..” Megavolt sighed heavily while putting his gloves back on. “I gave everything I could to beat him and I still came up short…and when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING.” With his gloves back on, he reached up and gave his head a light tap. “Turns out using too much electricity messes with the electrical field around my brain, causing all sorts of memory problems. After the fight, I forgot where I lived and I even forgot who I was for a few months. I haven’t seen my family in over twenty years and I hardly remember what they even look like anymore..but..that’s probably for the best- if Negaduck found out who I was, he’d definitely go after them to get to me..and I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me..” He looked at his hands, that earlier look of pain and guilt on his face returning once again. “But..it seems like no matter what I do, there are people who still get hurt because of Negaduck: Poor people who don’t have the money to pay off Negaduck’s goons. Sick people dying in the streets because of the pollution he forces into the air. Children that had to grow up never knowing the feeling of sunlight and fresh air. Guys like you who were just trying to live your lives and make the world a better place until HE came along and ruined everything for you…” The last comment was directed at the other two with a sad, apologetic half-smile before he looked back down at the safety glasses in his lap. “Sometimes I wonder if these powers should’ve gone to someone else. That, maybe if someone smarter, or stronger, or braver had them, then Negaduck would’ve been stopped years ago..before he had the chance to ruin so many people’s lives. But…it’s just me. I’m the one who has the power, so I’m the one that has to do something.” He finally put his glasses back on for the first time since he started his story, taking one last deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I know there’s not much I can do on my own, and I’m probably insane for not giving up yet..but, if I don’t do something, then I feel like no one else will. It HAS to be me. This town needs a hero to save it, and, even if I have to sacrifice everything I am, I’ll be the one to save it one day.”

A light slap to the back of the hero’s head made the ending of his monologue fall flat and he turned in confusion to look at his colorful companion. “Geez, listen to this guy, would ya, Bushy? Getting all over-dramatic and junk- honestly makes me wish I had some popcorn and a soda.” Quackerjack offered Megavolt a sympathetic smile and moved his hand down so it could rest on the rat’s shoulder. “Would you quit with the lone-hero routine already? In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not the only superhero in this greenhouse!”

Megavolt had the decency to look embarrassed at that comment, rubbing the back of his head and glancing away. “O-Oh. Right. Sorry, that really isn’t fair to you two, huh?”

“Why are you bringing ME into this?” Bushroot asked with a frown that was trying to show irritation, but just came off as confused. “I’m no hero.”

“Yes, you are.” Megavolt returned his attention to the plant mutant with a confidant and kind smile. “You can fight it all you want, but, deep down, there’s a full-fledged hero waiting to bloom- all you have to do is let him out.” He stood up, smiling down at the still seated ex-botanist, and placed a hand on his shoulder (careful to avoid the thorns, of course). “We won’t force you into anything, but we just wanted you to know that we understand how hard it is trying to be a good person in this world, and, if you ever want to help make a difference in this town, or just want someone to talk to, you can come find us- we’ll have your back, no matter what.”

Quackerjack stood as well, giving Bushroot a grin of his own accompanied with a wink. “You can keep the gift no matter what you choose, by the way- it’s my way of saying thanks.” Quackerjack turned towards the door and walked out, petting Spot along the way. “We’ll show ourselves out- don’t wanna wear out our welcome, so we’ll be taking our LEAF now.” He chuckled at his own pun, grinning even when Megavolt shoved him out the door for it.

The pair of heroes waved a final farewell over their shoulders to Bushroot and did as Quackerjack said and took their leave (no, Megavolt wouldn’t let him get away with the pun twice, even if it did make him chuckle under his breath).

Bushroot sat there for a long time after they left, silently thinking over their parting words to him.

After a while, his curiosity finally got the better of him and he opened the box that Quackerjack gave him. Inside, he saw dark fabric that was mainly two colors- extremely dark brown and a slightly less dark green. He squeezed the green part with his thin “fingers”, feeling how thick the padding was for the green parts.

Staring intently at the fabric, Bushroot frowned and set the box down on the ground, stubbornly crossing his arms and looking away from it. “Couple of sentimental fools full of more sap than a maple tree…”

Still, despite his words, his eyes ended up being drawn back towards the fabric…

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

A few days later, Quackerjack and Megavolt were locked in a fierce battle against an old foe they’d bested before: Morgana Macawber, the sorceress of St.Canard.

The dark and demented duck was a towering witch of a woman with long, curly dark hair streaked with red highlights. What would normally be an imposing figure thanks to her tall stature, beautiful face, and glowing magical aura, was slightly diminished by the fact that she was wearing a red sweet-lolita style dress with a long, puffy skirt accented with white lace along with a matching head piece, white stockings, and red shoes with more lace around the buckles. All-in-all, it was an…interesting set of contradictions that certainly showed in her personality when she spoke.

“I have you this time, foolish heroes!” Morgana giggled with twisted glee as she floated in the air in front of the roughed-up pair of heroes. “You two will be the PERFECT gifts for my beloved Lord Negaduck!”

Quackerjack picked up his bat from where it had been knocked out of his hands on the ground and used it to help hoist his battered body back up to its feet. “Yeeeaah, no thanks- I’d rather not become one of your creepy chocolate-covered valentine gifts…” He glanced at the various people around the town square that had been immobilized and frozen solid by different flavors and colors of chocolate.

“That goes double for me..” Megavolt pulled himself up as well with Quackerjack’s help. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s gay…”

“No he’s not!” Morgana stamped her foot in the air like a petulant child.

“Gotta go with Megs on this one.” Quackerjack chuckled at the sorceress’s immature temper tantrum, ignoring their impending doom in favor of teasing her a bit more. “Kinda hard to say he’s not after all the times he’s grabbed that big bodyguard of his and shoved his tongue down his-”

“SHUT UP!!” Morgana screamed and blasted the pair of already injured heroes with a burst of red magic. “My sweet Lord Negaduck loves me! He does! He just doesn’t know it yet!” She continued blasting them, hitting them again anytime they started to get close to the ground to keep them airborne. “We’re perfect for each other! You’ll see! EVERYONE WILL SEE! I’ll get rid of you two and then he’ll see that I’m the better partner- not that smelly brute Launchpad!” She hit them with one more powerful blast, leaving them prone and injured on the ground of what was once a thriving park but was now filled with nothing but dirt and dead trees. “Now..” She glared at them and her whole body glowed with a menacing red aura as she prepared to finish them off. “Say goodbye, heroes!!”

“Alright.” A voice that definitely didn’t belong to either of them spoke up. “Goodbye.”

Before Morgana had a chance to find out where the voice was coming from, she suddenly found herself being tied up by a patch of living daisies that sprung to life beneath her, seemingly out of nowhere. “What?! Let go of me! Grrr, stupid flowers!!” She struggled against the surprisingly strong flowers as they dragged her down towards the ground.

When Quackerjack and Megavolt had the strength to lift their heads again, they saw someone wearing a dark brown coat with puffy dark green sleeves standing in front of them- the image of a purple flower with a yellow center on the coat’s back matching that of its wearer’s head perfectly. The person wearing the coat had his back turned to them with his hands in the coat’s pockets, but they instantly knew who it was.

“Bushroot?!” They said at the same time with equally mixed feelings of surprise and relief.

Bushroot looked back at them over his shoulder, eyeing them up and down with a neutral expression. “Wow..you guys look like fertilizer right now.” He looked back to the struggling sorceress calmly. “Why don’t you two take a breather- I’ve got this one.” He took one hand out of his pockets and waved it back in their direction, causing a variety of fragrant plants such as lavender, peppermint, rosemary, and green tea leaves to sprout beneath the injured heroes and begin wrapping around them- secreting oils to help heal and soothe their wounds.

By the time he’d turned back to Morgana, the sorceress had managed to free herself from the debilitating daisies and was kneeling in the dirt. She got to her feet and looked at her dirtied dress with an angry expression. “Ooooh..you’ll pay for that, you overgrown weed!!”

Bushroot took both hands out of his pockets and did a slow clapping gesture that didn’t produce much sound. “Wooooow.” He said sarcastically. “You just won the award for the most UN-original insult I’ve ever heard. Seriously, like I haven’t been called a weed a million times already.” He walked towards her with no hesitation or fear visible anywhere in his voice or in his body language. “Besides, I technically AM a weed, so it’s not even that much of an insult, it’s just a fact. That’s like calling YOU a duck- it’s not really an insult..well, unless you’re trying to say it’s an insult to BE one, in which case, wow, that’s just racist and you DESERVE to go to jail just for saying that.”

“W..What..?” By the end of his comeback, Bushroot had reached a now very confused Morgana who just stared at him, unsure of what else to say.

“Here, let me give you the shorter version-” Bushroot stretched his torso so that he could look the sorceress in the eyes and smirk at her properly. “You’re an idiot.”

Capitalizing on the witch’s confusion, Bushroot had one of his legs detangle and grabbed her by the foot while she was distracted. He then latched onto the ground with his other foot and spun around in a circle, sending the startled sorceress flying when he let her go.

“!!!” Morgana’s eyes widened as she was sent careening through the air, trying to regain some control of her magic.

Not giving her a moment to catch herself, though, Bushroot brought his leafy digits to his mouth and whistled, making one of the nearby nearly-dead trees come to life and reel back one branch before slamming it right into Morgana’s head like a baseball bat. This rendered the Lolita-themed lady unconscious and sent her sprawling into the dirt below.

With the source of the curse unconscious, the people who had previously been frozen were suddenly granted their freedom and began to move around again. They were left sticky and stained from the quickly melting confection that had imprisoned them, but no worse for wear.

Speaking of no worse for wear, Quackerjack and Megavolt had watched the whole scene with their jaws dropped. Bushroot made beating one of the most magical ducks in the world look like child’s play!

Bushroot walked back over to the slightly less injured heroes and offered them each a hand up. “You guys just gonna sit there all day or actually pick your jaws and butts up off the ground?”

Quackerjack grinned and grabbed the offered appendage to pull himself up. “Considering you already saved these butts, guess we should do something with ‘em, huh?”

Megavolt pulled himself up next, giving Bushroot an equally big smile. “You really saved us, Bushroot- we owe you one!”

Bushroot let go of their hands and shoved his own digits back into his pockets. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I was just in the area and thought I’d lend a leaf.”

“You just happened to be in the area around the same time we were fighting a super villain?” Quackerjack asked with a cocked brow and a knowing grin.

“Yeah. That’s right.” Bushroot avoided eye contact with the grinning clown in a desperate ploy to appear aloof and uncaring, but, when he glanced back over, he saw that Megavolt was giving him the exact same grin. “What?” He glared at them, but they could easily tell how half-hearted it really was.

“Just glad to see you finally came around and decided to join us, Bushy.” Quackerjack teased while looping one arm around Bushroot’s shoulders,

“Welcome to the team!” Megavolt said while looping his own arm around Bushroot’s- the padding on the sleeve preventing the thorns from harming him at all.

Bushroot sputtered for a bit, looking between the grinning heroes with an expression of disbelief on his face. “Wh-Wha-?! I didn’t-! Who said-! I-!” He tried to shake and shove them off with an annoyed grunt. “I never said I was joining your stupid team! I told you before- I’m not a hero!”

“Scoreboard says otherwise, Bushy.” Quackerjack gave him that same infuriating grin that made Bushroot scowl at him.

“He’s right, you know.” Bushroot turned his head to the other side to look at Megavolt- the rat giving him a much kinder smile than his partner was. “You’re our hero, Bushroot..and we’d be happy to have you on our team.”

It was hard to tell with his pigmentation, but it looked like Bushroot’s cheeks turned a shade darker when he looked down to avoid seeing either of their faces. “Hmph..sappy idiots- both of you.” He tucked his hands back into his pockets, but didn’t try to shake off their grip on him like last time. “I’m not a hero, no matter what you two try to say.” He paused for a moment, only continuing when they looked ready to argue with him. “But..” He looked back up with the corners of his beak lifted in a half-smirk half-smile as he glanced between them. “You two would probably get yourselves killed without me, so I guess I’ll stick around to keep you out of trouble.”

Quackerjack and Megavolt stared at him for a minute, stunned into surprised silence from seeing a rare smile on the moody plant-duck’s face.

Then they grinned and cheered, celebrating their team’s newest member (even if he denied it), and jokingly started coming up with names for their little group- Bushroot giving Quackerjack an annoyed roll of his eyes but an undeniably fond smile whenever he tried coming back to the name “Thunderous Threesome” and saying it somehow sounded inappropriate.

Despite everything he said to the contrary, the reluctant smile on Bushroot’s face told his new friends exactly how happy he was to be there.

<-First Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: Warned you guys that one would be long. Heads up, the next one’s gonna be about as long as this one ^^”

By the way, for Morgana’s design in this, I decided that since her original version was based off of the Bride of Frankenstein with some influences from Dracula’s brides (and a little Morticia Adams), that the horror movie inspiration for her Negaverse-version would be Claudia and her Lolita style from Interview With a Vampire. I liked the idea of trying to appear sweet (here’s an image reference for the sort of outfit I saw Morgana wearing but with red shoes) while actually being an adult and her flipping back and forth between childish tantrums and psychotic obsessions. Also, it should be obvious, but I also based parts of her personality off of the classic yandere style characters from a few Japanese anime and games.

Oh, and Spot is essentially this universe’s version of Spike, and he’s based off of pitcher plants, another type of carnivorous plant like venus flytraps. In particular, I based the design off of Australian pitcher plants because I thought the vibrant purple color would coordinate with Bushroot’s purple petals nicely.

#negaverse #friendly four #megavolt #quackerjack #bushroot #morgana macawber #quackervolt #bushvolt #quackerroot #ot3 #nega-megavolt #nega-quackerjack #nega-bushroot #nega-morgana

6 notes · View notes

anonthenullifier · 6 years

Text

Alone for the Holidays

Summary: Vision discovers the holidays are very different when half the team is on the run.

Word count: 4k

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069387

Wishing everyone a peaceful holiday season.

Vision always finds hovering above the stairs is preferable to physically stepping, a preference that is amplified in this moment as it allows him to focus on balancing the stack of boxes in his arms. If he were to step down it is possible that the weight distribution would shift ever so slightly as to unbalance his carefully arranged load leading to an unpleasant outcome. Hovering efficiently removes such nuisances.

“You know you can take more than two trips, right?”

Sage advice that Vision typically follows, but each descent into the storage room tonight has led to an increased weight in his chest, one he desired to stymie by reducing the number of trips. Which is why he is unable to see his companion from behind the wall of boxes in his arms. “I did not wish to unnecessarily draw out the process.”

Though he cannot see him, the tone of Rhodes’ “Fair enough,” conveys an image of the man’s characteristic nod and shrug he utilizes whenever readily accepting someone’s reasoning. “Come on over and learn the system.”

“Of course.” Vision slowly squats as he places the last of the boxes on the ground next to Rhodes’ wheelchair and then stands to attention as he awaits further instructions.

“Alright, so this one,” Rhodes points towards a pile on the coffee table of opened and partially sorted boxes, several stray pieces of tinsel clinging to the tape residue on the flaps, “is for the tree. This one,” a new pile that looks almost identical to the other one minus the tinsel is on the chair Vision uses when playing chess, “is for the halls and common area.”

There is a third stack, located on the couch, where all of the tape has been cut and the flaps delicately folded shut again. “And these?”

“Those need to go back in storage.”

Vision feels foolish after asking as the answer would have been apparent had he simply stopped and applied logic before speaking. “Oh yes, I recall now.” Given their former teammates are still internationally wanted fugitives, it was determined that any object or decoration traced to the rogue Avengers should be kept in storage. Invoking the old adage of out of sight, out of mind. Yet Vision is not certain hiding it will truly remove all thoughts of their friends. Or at least, it has not done so for him, the compound’s silent rooms an ever present reminder of the schism.

“We should probably just get this over with.” He suspects Rhodes feels similarly, though they have not spoken about it. It is a hunch predicated on the knowledge that both of them have put off decorating the compound until it was unavoidable. “Want to take the tree or the boxes?”

Neither is particularly enticing or meaningful since this is only his second holiday season and he still lacks the traditions so deeply embedded in his teammates, so Vision chooses what he believes Rhodes would prefer. “I can sort the rest of the boxes and then aid you.”

“Sounds good.” A pang of guilt stabs Vision’s chest as he watches Rhodes’ onerous ascent from his wheelchair, the exoskeleton Stark crafted for him still in beta testing and prone to giving out unexpectedly. It is amazing to Vision how unperturbed Rhodes is most of the time and how, besides their first conversation post Leipzig, he has never lashed out at Vision for what happened (unlike Tony, who has done so on a handful of occasions). It doesn’t mean Vision allows himself leeway in accepting responsibility for what occurred, but it does help him breathe easier knowing there is no ill will between himself and Rhodes. “I’ll need your help towards the top, I’m not climbing that ladder.”

“Understood.” The year before, when everyone was present, including Tony in an askew Santa hat and a drink in his hand as he directed everyone’s decorating, there was music streaming from the surround sound and a fake fire crackling on the television. Wanda stayed with Vision in the kitchen, stirring the hot chocolate and spiked cider, commiserating with him about how odd all of the traditions were to outsiders such as themselves. Now it is silent minus the clink of ornaments and rustle of tinsel as Rhodes works on the tree.

Vision isn’t sure if this paradoxically weighty hollowness overtaking his limbs is normal, a topic he will need to investigate more tonight once Rhodes has retired, the past several nights introducing him to the possibility of seasonal affective disorder, though he has yet to have Helen test his melatonin levels. Vision tries to shrug the feeling away, or at least ignore it for the time being. So he begins his task, slowly forming a rhythm of running the box cutter through the tape, opening the box, and then sorting it to the appropriate pile. The process is fairly quick, his impeccable memory about where all the decorations went the year before means he doesn’t need to investigate beyond the top item in the box. That is until he glances at the contents of the second to last box. The glittery and cheerful golds, reds, and greens of the other decorations have been replaced by shiny whites and blues. Something in his chest seizes and he can’t stop his fingers tracing the dreidels printed on the crinkly paper of the string lights. The year before, long after all the holiday parties were thrown and gifts given, Wanda had confided in him that she didn’t actually celebrate Christmas. Vision, for a reason he had not been able to fully understand back then, felt a deep desire to honor her heritage and had gone to a local store to buy an assortment of, what he hoped, were acceptable decorations for Wanda. She had hugged him tightly and made him promise he’d help her hang them the next year. Only now it is a year later and he is folding the box shut and stacking it with the other off-limit decorations, somewhat concerned at the faint tremor of his hands as does so .

“Can you help me out?”

The request draws his mind back to the present, hands smoothing out his sweater as he turns towards Rhodes, “Gladly.” Vision studies the pattern and placement of the string lights on the bottom of the tree as he takes the dangling, sparkling bulbs from Rhodes and flies carefully around the tree to finish. Rhodes passes the rest of the decorations, occasionally directing Vision (in a much more subdued fashion than Stark did the year before) on the placement of the garland and ornaments.

Vision lands next to Rhodes once the star is affixed to the top of the tree. “It’s um,” the man next to him studies the large evergreen, one that could easily be placed on the cover of a magazine and will soon be on the covers of all newspapers and news sites, “a bit impersonal.”

“It is.”

Amongst the boxes in the pile going back to the basement is the vast array of personalized, garish ornaments the team traditionally gifts each other. Tony had insisted they put up the ones for the three of them, but Rhodes and Vision agreed it would only draw more attention to the missing members. What is left is a gorgeous albeit meaningless tree. “You doing okay, with all of this?”

The question is quiet, almost remorseful - whether because it is out of obligation or because he is worried about stepping on Vision’s toes is difficult to discern. “I believe so,” which is not entirely true, but is what Vision believes is socially the most acceptable answer.

“You’re still welcome to come to my sister’s, she won’t mind.”

It’s an offer Vision truly appreciates despite having no interest in accepting. “I believe it is mandated in the Accords that at least one Avenger must always be on the premises.”

This line of reasoning has not stopped Rhodes from pestering him, and it likely still won’t, but Vision can’t muster a better acceptable explanation for his refusal. “I doubt anyone would know if it was empty for a few days.” The truth is that no one realizes when the compound is empty because Vision is the only one who is consistently there to notice. “I just,” Rhodes sighs, hands waving in an attempt to convince Vision to change his mind, “I hate to think of you alone for the holidays.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Vision offers a brief, friendly smile that hopefully conveys his genuineness, “but I will be fine.”

Rhodes inhales deeply, seemingly contemplating if he continues to push on the matter, but then his chest deflates soundlessly as he accepts Vision’s decision. “Okay.” A shrug sends away the last of the concern from his voice, replacing it expertly with a more lighthearted topic, “Please tell me you remembered to order the backup sweaters for tomorrow.”

The sweaters Tony ordered for the annual Avenger Christmas card are...questionable at best, caricatures of their faces with Santa hats on with The Accordions embroidered underneath. “Yes, I have them in my quarters.”

“Thank God.” There are still half a dozen boxes of decorations left for the hallways and windows, yet Rhodes rubs his hands together the way he usually does when a task is complete. “I think we can finish the rest tomorrow, I’m kind of tired.”

Vision wonders if it is the same tiredness he has been feeling since the fallout of the Avengers. “I believe we only need the tree for the picture.”

Rhodes nods, eyes glistening from the glow of the trees, “Alright.” This is how each evening ends between them, at least when Rhodes is at the compound, very little interaction, awkward silence, and then one of them (typically Rhodes) extricates himself from the situation. “Goodnight, Vision.”

“Goodnight, Rhodes.”

Alone, standing in front of the tree, Vision searches for anything similar to his first Christmas: the awe that filled him each night when he would hover in front of the tree while the others slept, the confusion he experienced at each new tradition he was introduced to, and the warmth that bloomed from the sheer joy of the people around him. Unfortunately, he comes up empty handed.

Deciding that brooding is not the most productive use of his time, Vision glides to the couch, rearranging the closed boxes based on size and weight into a well-balanced, easily movable stack. Once it meets his specifications, Vision transfers the boxes back into the storage room, strategically placing each one on the shelves to take up the least amount of space, a real-life game of Tetris minus the disappearing lines. He would have lost the game, however, as the last box should have been placed third, its size and shape more parsimonious for the position than the one he put in its place, yet he failed to do so. Instead he slowly re-opens the box, sifting through the decorations as a gloom seeps deep into his vibranium cells. Had so many things been done differently, words been exchanged, or perhaps words been kept silent; some emotions kept in check while other, more useful, emotions were followed; actions withheld or even actions completed (he still cannot bear to think of the multitudinous options he failed to consider at Leipzig to stop the fight earlier), then this box might not be shoved into the darkness of the basement.

Vision closes the box, careful not to tear any of the delicate papers inside, and slides it onto the shelf. At this point he should retire to his quarters, or at least move to a more suitable location in the compound. He doesn’t move, however, eyes remaining on the brown wall of the boxes as his mind works.

There is a knock at the door. Wanda ignores it, certain it’s the guy from two doors down coming back drunk, yet again. Another knock and she rolls over, tugging the sheet up higher, body strongly disliking the stark temperature difference between day and night in the desert. A third knock and a painfully polite “Wanda?” jolts her out of bed, her powers flickering in the darkness as she pulls her sweatshirt towards her with one hand and closes the curtains over the window with the other. She steps in front of the door, hand poised over the knob as she sends a tendril of scarlet to confirm she wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t. Wanda yanks the door open with a, “Vizh, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I-” this is not her normal response to seeing him, but this is also not a planned rendezvous, something they both agreed should be avoided in case other factors, like their teammates being around, would create a perilous situation. Vision seems shocked at her ire, his human disguise faltering around the eyes as she watches his irises spin. “I um wanted to bring you this,” he holds out a box to her, as if that should be answer enough.

The hallway is empty, thankfully, but there is no guarantee it will remain that way. “Just, come in.” Wanda steps aside to allow him to enter the tiny space, which is about half the size of her room at the compound, if she wants to be generous in her estimation. With the door shut and the lights on, she is torn between her desire to hug him, always elated to see his face, or scold him for misusing her coordinates given his demeanor doesn’t suggest there is any real emergency. “Vision, what’s going on?”

A quick assessment of potential sight-lines to the outside precedes the disguise dissolving into his crimson and silver visage, a sight she misses daily. Vision turns towards her, lips pursed and eyes incapable of settling on any one object. “Rhodes and I were decorating the tree for the Christmas photo tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

She is waiting for him to tell her the compound burned down or the tree somehow crushed Tony (she can hope). “It was,” a long, timid pause breaks up his sentence, a realization dawning on his face that is soon followed by a frown and flick of his eyes to her, “I feel quite foolish now.” Which confirms there is no emergency.

“Vizh,” a squeeze of his forearm draws his eyes to her, his embarrassment bursting in the air around them, “I won’t judge you, you know that.”

He sends her a sheepish, appreciative smile, “I know.” Another long pause and three breaths is what he needs to continue. “It was very disheartening to partake of such an activity without you and the rest of the team.”

A hairline fracture forms in her heart at the sorrow swirling in his eyes. “It’s always hard to celebrate without everyone you care about.” The hollowness and confusion she senses in Vision’s mind is one she knows intimately. The holiday season has long been something she tries to avoid, as best she can, wrought with reminders of all that’s been lost, of times when she didn’t have to stare at the empty seats at the table or feel the absence of the pressure of arms wrapped around her or hands gripping her own as they prayed. After their parents died, she and Pietro found one way to cope was to adopt their own traditions, taking only small pieces of their parents with them. It worked, for a time, until they just stopped celebrating other than occasionally eating Hanukkah gelt and lighting a candle in remembrance on particularly difficult nights. Last year, her first without her brother, almost destroyed her, even with her vain attempts at sidestepping it by simply not acknowledging her roots, because if the holiday doesn’t exist then it can’t haunt her. Unfortunately that’s not how it works, all the parties and the shows, the cheesy movies on television and the songs on the radio, the cards plastered to the fridge of happy, smiling families, all serve as reminders of how very much alone she is. It all leaves a bitter taste in her mouth - one she hopes doesn’t develop for Vision, his own experiences still so new to be sullied already.

“It’s not foolish Vizh,” she grips his arms and waits until his gaze meets her own, her voice developing a firmness that he won't dare to counter with any of his logic, “at all.” She wants to reassure him more, explain how she can’t make it through the season without at least three breakdowns in the privacy of her room, but the tears are already building in her eyes and she knows she won’t make it through the explanation, especially with the way he is looking at her, head cocked in empathetic concern. Wanda directs the conversation down another avenue. “So what’s that?”

“Oh, right,” they both stare at the box in his hands, “I did not want to renege on my promise.”

Wanda’s eyebrows lift as she grabs the box, inviting him to sit on the bed with her as she pries open the container, the sight of the overly commercialized, slightly tacky decorations he bought the year before shattering the dam of her tears which fall in time with her shallow, disbelieving laughter, “Vizh, you’re ridiculous-”

“I apologize for-”

“No, no no,” she puts the box on the ground and grabs his hands, hoping to convince him she’s not upset, “I mean it in the best way possible.” More laughter comes unbidden from her mouth, her reaction confusing to herself but she imagines it is even more confounding to the man next to her, how she can be crying and laughing all at once. “You flew all the way to Marrakech to give me this at three in the morning.”

Vision’s mouth quirks up into an uneasy smile as his eyes search for more information from her face, “I admit it was not the most well-thought out plan but it felt enormously important to do so.”

“What are you hoping to do with this stuff?”

He contemplates her question, his flimsy plan falling apart at the seams the longer he studies it, and she knows if he could blush that his cheeks would be turning beet red right now. His explanation comes out in a quiet, stuttery mess. “I, um, thought we could possibly, if you are amenable and interested, um, decorate your room.”

“Natasha is going to be here in four hours.”

This seems to confuse him even more, his brow knitting around the Mindstone as if her comment is in a foreign language that he is unable to translate using the internet. “Yes and I have to be back to the compound in the morning for pictures. I do not think it will take more than that.”

One the the main rules of being a fugitive is to travel light and keep only the smallest of personal mementos to reduce the risk of someone inadvertently learning too much about you. It means that Wanda knows she can’t keep the decorations, if they were to be discovered, there’d likely be questions which could lead down a dangerous road. There is no reason to tempt fate and risk losing her contact with Vision. At the same time, however, she’s unexpectedly excited at the prospect of decorating. “I suppose we could put it up and enjoy it for just a little bit.” The smile on his face is mesmerizing, his cerulean irises twisting joyously at her decision. “But you have to take it all back with you, understood?”

“Understood.”

Eagerly Wanda stands from the bed, holding her hand out to help Vision up, knowing full well he doesn’t need the aid, but he obliges, gripping her hand as he stands. “Okay, let’s see what we have.” It’s a small box and it takes them longer to decide where to put the Star of David garland and dreidel lanterns than it does to actually hang them. As Wanda fixes the angle of the lights, Vision places a cardboard cut-out menorah on the coffee table before stepping back to admire their work.

“It is not as much as I remember buying.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at the regret lacing his words, curling her fingers around his wrist and pulling him backwards until he sits with her on the bed. “Good thing this place is so small then.” They’ve grown closer in the months of clandestine contact, but not close enough to still the flutter in her stomach as she lifts his arm so she can snuggle into his side, a rush of victory to her chest when he hugs her to him. “Thank you for this.”

“You are most welcome.”

A snap of her wrist turns the overhead lights off, allowing her to more thoroughly enjoy the soft and pleasant glow emitted from the lanterns and the way it reflects off the vibranium on Vision’s face. “Are you feeling better?”

He nods, “I am, though it is always lonely whenever I leave you.”

An irrefutable statement. “I miss you too.”

Wanda smiles as he draws her closer, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, an action that encourages him to lay his cheek on her head. Several minutes pass in companionable silence, only the synchronization of their easy breathing disturbing the quiet. She contemplates staying like this, cozy in his embrace, but she also, given his motivation for breaking protocol, feels a need to probe just a bit more. “Vizh?” His hmm? buzzes happily against her head. “Is anyone going to be around the compound for Christmas?”

“No,” which is what she suspected. “Rhodes has invited me to join him at his sister’s house.”

The way he says it brings to mind a shrug, the intonation of the words dismissing the concept before it is even fully formed. “Why don’t you want to go?” Wanda knows the answer, has turned down multiple offers in her lifetime to join random (or not so random sometimes) families in their celebrations.

Vision inhales deeply, her own body rising and falling with his steadied breath. “I worry that I would merely be intruding. Given their ages and closeness, I imagine there are numerous deeply ingrained, unspoken traditions and normative expectations."

”You don’t want to feel like a stranger or risk unintentionally ruining anything.”

”Precisely.”

What social etiquette dictates is she argue against this reasoning, because she knows Rhodes and his sister would likely understand, have already accepted this possibility with the invitation. But Wanda has been that stranger, has seen Vision be that stranger for a large part of his existence. “Then don’t go. Or,” she does have one good memory of crashing someone’s holiday, last year the Bartons invited her out a couple days earlier than the rest of the team. It had the same strangeness, but it faded quickly due to how welcoming and understanding they all were of her situation, “maybe just go for a couple hours and see if you enjoy it?”

Vision’s nod shakes her head, his fingers cinching into the fabric of her sweatshirt as he considers the amended proposition. When he speaks it is quiet, a bit nervous, but filled with a renewed hopefulness. “That is a fair suggestion but I was actually wondering, even though we have a planned excursion in early February, if you might possibly be available to meet before the New Year -," the more flustered he gets the higher her smile climbs, "I, um, given that Rhodes and Tony will be gone from Christmas until the New Years Eve party, no one will notice my absence.”

The plan for Wanda is to travel with Natasha to Belarus where they are being joined by Steve and Sam for a rare week together. Technically it should be deemed too risky to even consider his offer, but technicalities are never her main concern. Wanda wraps her arm around his waist and squeezes him closer, an eager smile gracing her lips, one she isn’t sure he can see in the dim lights. “I’m sure I can sneak away for a day or two.”

“Fantastic.”

Life has taken a lot from Wanda, sometimes through her own decisions, sometimes due to outside forces she can’t control. After Pietro she had accepted that, even surrounded by teammates, she would always feel alone for the holidays. Somehow, however, the thought of spending time with Vision partially fills the hollowness of that fate, and maybe, if they can manage to keep going in this direction for years to come, neither of them will have to be alone again. “It is.”

#scarlet vision #wanda maximoff #vision #mcu #james rhodes #fanfic #mine #ao3

31 notes · View notes